by Aven Jayce
It’s ironic that most teens his age will end up in a hotel room for a night to fuck, yet Jack stays in a hotel every night and I’m saying ‘no,’ not here. I’m trying to have all of the control, including when and where he fucks, or smokes, or does whatever, knowing it’s gonna happen anyway... and if not here, then where? At the resort in some restroom? Out on the slopes in the bitter cold with skiers passing by? Or maybe he’ll go off and drink on his own and end up face down, frozen in a snowdrift—all because I didn’t want to deal with any unknowns or surprises in my life, or him... my son. Well, have some fucking goddamn balls, Mark, and stop being such a dick.
“Fuck, I can’t figure out what I’m doing.”
I ease into the club chair in the corner of the room, unbuttoning my jacket and rubbing my lips with two fingers, watching him, eyeing every breath, up and down. I’ve never felt so lost and confused about a situation in my life. Everything with him seems like a mistake. And I know, I’ve been saying that to myself for years. All I can do is try another approach, take another shot, and keep guessing my way through fatherhood.
“Jack, we’ll work something out, only don’t lie to me and sneak around behind my back. There’s too much shit that could go wrong. If you need something, we’ll discuss it, but my business isn’t going to turn into a brothel for a bunch of your friends or a house of weed.”
He moves the pillow away from his face and listens.
“You’re still grounded, but in a few days you can have Emma or someone else over, and you can smoke here, upstairs, where the smell isn’t going to drift into the corridors for my guests to track. And I don’t want anyone to see you take some young girl into a room. The suite you’re staying in on the other side of the hotel is for you alone, no one else. If you have friends over, you can use the pool, the weight room, the restaurant, or stay in my suite, but don’t take anyone into any of the other rooms. Got it?”
“Yes,” he mumbles. “Thanks... and you didn’t need to apologize for hitting me. I wanted you to. The throbbing in my jaw is a perfect distraction from everything in my life. I knew if I provoked you enough you’d lose your cool.”
Sounds like a good cover. He’s clearly embarrassed I took him down. But if pain distracts him, then he’s got the temperament to become a cutter, and fuck, I’d rather see the kid smoke weed than slice his flesh.
I leave for a second and get the metal container from my dresser. “New road, new method, take another shot at this,” I declare, packing a bowl before returning to the room.
“You still high?” I ask.
“Only a little bit. Emma smoked before me while I was eating her out, so I only had one drag before you walked in,” he says.
“Here.” I set it on the nightstand, ignoring his sex comment. “Hell, I can’t believe I’m doing this, but... if you need it to ease the pain about your mom or to help you sleep,” I sigh, “it’s... it’s here.”
“Really?” He turns and sees the bowl on the nightstand. “So, use drugs? That’s the solution? Another one-eighty?” He smiles and wipes the tears off his face.
“Watch yourself. Don’t switch back into a smartass so quickly or I’ll change my mind.”
“This is awesome,” he gives me a thumbs-up with an instant change in demeanor, “you’re the best.”
“Yeah, I know, I’m such a wonderful dad when I cut people’s throats and give drugs to my son; the perfect father and the perfect guy for any woman. That’s why Jules is MIA at the moment.”
“I thought so.” He sits up and takes a hit then passes it along, but I decline. I may be a dumbfuck for giving him pot, but I’m not going to smoke it with him too. “Dad, try the Pop Rocks on her. Place some inside with your finger then start licking. I swear she’ll forgive you for whatever you did, you gotta try it. And then when she uses them on you, oh man,” he laughs. “Dang, this is good stuff.” He looks at the bowl and takes another hit.
“Are you okay for a while?”
“Yeah.” He wipes the remaining tears off his cheeks and grins. “Am I allowed to talk to my friends online? They’re waiting for the details about Emma. That okay so I don’t have to be alone?”
“Are you telling them the part where I walked in on you?”
“Hell no,” he expels.
“And it didn’t happen in my hotel, right?”
“Nope. Won’t mention it.”
“You’re learning.” I pick up my shoes and head to my bedroom to change.
“Except I’ll tell them I albino clammed her!” he shouts with a burst of laughter.
“Fucking teenage boys,” I grumble. At least he stopped crying. I know he’s gonna break down at his age, especially over his mom, but I’m not the best at dealing with that shit. That’s why I love Jules—the badass that she is; she rarely sheds a tear.
Now, where is my princess?
EXCUSES, EXCUSES
THE ROOM’S DARK except for the flickering lights from the hotel grounds that pervade the window. I can smell her perfume and see her silhouette stretched out on the bed, but she’s not asleep. I know because she says cocksucker and fuckhead as I undress. I slide alongside her warm, nearly nude body and kiss her shoulder down to her forearm, gazing at her illuminated tits. I lovingly profess that she’s beautiful, feeling my cock rise and nudge against her flesh.
She drops her underwear partway down and spreads her ass. “Is this what you came here for?” she asks in a defeated voice. “Go ahead, Mark. Do your thing.”
I tug them back up and pull her close so I can view her face. “No. I came to apologize to an alluring, strong, caring woman who deserves better than a prick like me.” I brush her cheek with the back of my hand. “And after I apologize, I want to make love to her.”
She rejects my touch and turns away. “I hope you came with a wheelbarrow full of flowers and chocolates,” she states. “Did you track me on your security cam?”
“Yes.”
“Why? Because you can’t stand to lose and you need to be in control of everyone and everything at all times?”
My fingers run gracefully along her back, tracing the word dick as a second apology.
“That’s exactly what you are, and you reek of booze. How much did you drink tonight?”
She’s angry, yet she knew I’d be here since she’s not hiding under a robe or flannel pajamas. That means she’s craving my touch, but I’ll have to beg if I want anything in return.
“I’m sorry. This is my fault, right?” Her voice is lifeless. “You said you didn’t want to meet my parents and I should’ve listened. I should know by now how much you hate people.”
“Don’t turn things around and blame yourself. That’s an evil trick to make me feel like shit, and it’s working... and I don’t hate people... just... I’m not... eh,” I exhale. “Your mom was nice, but men are assholes, including your dad.”
“So you should be the lone man on this planet?”
“That would be great, but I’m also an ass so I guess I fit right in with the rest of them. But yes, if it was just me, life would be grand.”
“You need help... and what about Cove?”
“He’s like a woman so he can stay.”
That produced a fraction of a laugh; good, I’m making a comeback.
“I’m aggravated, Mark, and what really sucks is my mother asked if I knew the guy who went missing the other night from the bar. Her question took me by surprise. I hope they don’t have someone snooping around us still. I can’t imagine them finding out I’m a murderer.”
I can tell by her cracking voice that she’s worried, more about her parents than killing the guy. I didn’t realize before tonight how much she cares about them, and her concern over what they think about her. She was trying to put on a good show, wanted to impress them, and I destroyed the entire night.
“You’re a victim, not a murderer. And everything’s been taken care of. The cops are focused on the guy’s friend who was with
him that night at the bar. Plus, I read in the paper that a snowplow went through the back lot and alley that morning, sweeping the scene. I had already checked and cleared the area, but that plow did double duty for us. Everything’s fine and it will remain a missing persons case forever.” She faces me and our eyes finally meet. “Jules.” I set my hand on the side of her neck and cradle her jaw. “I’m sorry for treating your parents like shit. I was a disrespectful fuckwit who embarrassed you in front of your family. I should’ve walked into the situation like it was a business deal. That’s the only time I’m ever charming and civil around people, especially men. And don’t...” I cover her lips with a finger before she has a chance to protest my pathetic rationalization. “Don’t be offended that I just said that. You’re the most important business deal of my life, and coming from a guy like me, you should take it as...”
Her head turns to detach from my finger and she says, “A compliment. It’s flattering, but only coming from you because you’re such a bastard.”
“I’ll make everything up to you.”
“Yeah, you will,” she states, digging her fingernails into my ass and drawing my body closer. “Believe me, I’m annoyed and plan on giving you a hard time for days, but I’m not going to let your bad behavior take away from my needs. Keeping my legs shut because you screwed up would punish both of us, and why should I suffer? Now, I want a visit from your cock—an extremely slow visit. Enter and admit your guilt, then make your request for forgiveness on your way out.” She removes and tosses her underwear across the room. “I’ll decide after a few remorseful departures whether you deserve to continue on.”
“Mmm, I love your games.”
She spreads her legs wide, yielding me the right of entry. I pause, my tip snug between her inner lips while my mouth hangs open like a drooling junkie waiting for a fix.
“You’re powerless,” she says with an erotic hiss. “Defenseless, and my prisoner until you cum.”
I seize her chin and move slowly like she asked, deep inside with my mouth pressed delicately to hers.
“Repent,” she demands.
I slide back gradually and kiss her again, hoping my look of adoration, sensual movements, and compassionate touch will convey the regret that I feel. With my forehead resting on hers, I travel calmly in, exhale, and retreat with a second intense rush of air. Repeat... gently, feeling every tiny spasm inside her pussy, every slick fluid secreted over my dick, and hanging on every inciting, amorous remark between her warm breaths.
Inch by inch, I gift her my hard cock with confidence, knowing I’ve been forgiven. We’ve become lost in a steady motion. Her lips are nibbled, mouth occupied, and hypnotic tits caressed.
“Oh,” she says in a quiet, loving voice. “Mark.”
I remain graceful, moving on top and pulling her legs around my waist. Her pussy is seduced, aching, rubbing across my groin, being enticed to cum.
We kiss, pant, and fuck. Kiss, pant, and...
“Mark.” Her hands move in a whirl down my chest and up my back. “It’s perfect. I love you.” She fondles her tits then lowers her fingers to her clit. “Jesus, Mark,” she whispers. “Fuck me. Keep fucking me.”
Her words are whispered as I coax her clit and kiss her precious skin. She knows saying my name when we fuck makes my heart skip and cock swell. I only wish she could feel how incredible this is from my end. The nerve endings in my dick are on fire and my head’s spinning like a dancing devil.
“Can’t wait to hear you cum. I’ll hold out for as long as it takes.” Licking my lips in anticipation, “I can see your muscles tightening, your tits swelling. It’s so fucking good, isn’t it?”
“Mark...”
“That’s right.” I straighten my arms and watch her body rock under mine. “Feel it. Focus on my cock. Let it control you.”
She lifts her chest off the bed. Her arms and legs tense while she holds her breath. There’s a soft ohh, ohh, wavering from a low to high pitch while she powers toward my dick. Her head tilts back, she clutches my flesh, and an eruptive outpouring of, “I’m cumming. Oh god, I’m cumming,” is a rewarding song to my ears.
We pant and convulse as one until I lower over her heaving chest to taste her plump, salty lips. Her neck and chest blaze like welding sparks, lit from the outdoor lights. Gorgeous. She’s beautiful.
“Forgive and forget.” Her fingers run provocatively down my back, across my ass then back up my sides. I shudder from the arousing touch, my dick still gliding in her pussy. “I can never stay angry with you for long. I’d miss the sex too much.” A warm, glowing, smile appears. “Do you want me?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“You need to get off?”
“Yes,” I repeat, drunk, and acting like an innocent, submissive boy.
“I suppose you’ve been good and deserve to cum. Stand next to the bed,” she requests. I pull out and stand with my stiff cock bouncing eagerly. She kneels on the bed and gives it a long, wet lick. “I know how much you love a titty fuck, so slide in.”
I hold her chest with a grin, squeezing her tits together onto my cock. She’s so fucking right; I’ll take a good tit fuck any day of the week, especially from her... only from her... and that wild tongue of hers. Damn.
I moan and watch my dick slither through her sweaty tits. Her tongue gives it a good lick on the way up... yep, there it is again. Fuck, I love it. Fuck.
“Oh, getting off fast tonight?” she teases. “Bet you can’t wait to shoot that cum onto my face.”
“Yes,” I pant.
“All... over... my face,” she says in her sluttiest voice. “I just love it when your warm cum covers me, dripping from my lips, down my chin, then falling onto my tits. Can you picture it, Mark? Is it coming?” she pants erotically. “You gonna shoot it out all over me?”
“Fuckin’ hell. St-stop,” I huff. “I mean, don’t. Don’t stop. Don’t.” I push her down and hurdle on top, my legs straddling her chest, riding her like the crazed sex fiend that I am. “Uh, I’m gonna cum, open your mouth, open it. Open it now!”
She raises her head and the first shot hits her forehead, but the second and third land deep inside. She grins with a lick of her lips, giving me a suggestive look as she lets it run down her chin.
“Oh, hell yeah.” I collapse. “That face, that look... I can’t wait to think about it next time I jerk off. Hell fucking yeah... man... I just want to stay in this state forever. Shit. Oh fucking, fucking, fucking, fuck, shit.”
She laughs and wipes her face on the sheet as I lie with my arms and legs spread wide on the bed. “I’ll never move from this spot again. Just come see me twice a day, get me off, bring me some food, and... and... oh... oh, crap.” That old guy just came to mind.
“Oh crap, what?”
“Nothing. My head’s a mess. I don’t know what I’m saying.” I’ll wait until the cum’s off her face to tell her about the incident with my birth certificate. “Jules.” I touch her arm softly. “You know I love you, but it’s also in my nature to feel superior to men. I’m an arrogant ass who needs to be in charge. That’s what happened at dinner.”
She rolls her eyes. “Excuses, excuses.”
“Hey, you’ve known since day one that I’m like this.”
“It is part of the reason why I love you.”
“So, we good? Because I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and find out you’re still fuming about what happened at dinner. If that’s the case, I won’t go back to being a fuckhead until you give me the okay... maybe.”
“I’m not as angry, but I still need to talk to my dad, and just so you know, I’m not marrying you anytime soon. After last night, it’ll be awhile before that subject gets discussed again.”
She ignores my look of disappointment while gliding her fingertips down my chest and abdomen, floating in a circular motion until she reaches my stitches. “How is it?” she inquires about the wound.
“It hurt like hell for days,
though it’s fine now.”
Her hand continues to drift, poking at my slack dick, exploring my abs and nipples before coming to rest on my shoulder.
“I think it’s great you came crawling back. How does it feel to be a pussy?” she teases like a bitch.
“Well, let me tell you something, beautiful princess,” I begin in my finest sarcastic voice. “That’s been my life’s dream ever since I saw my first porno mag. All I ever wanted was to become a soft, moist, pussy. And now that I’ve become one, I can fuck myself all day and all night. So I’ll take it as a compliment. Thanks.”
“Mark?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t ever use the term moist in the same sentence as pussy. Brownies are moist, not snatches.”
“Mark Jameson disagrees.”
“You’re starting again,” she laughs. “And while we’re on the subject, princess is such an overused pet name.”
“What?” I sit up, slightly offended that she’s now, on top of everything else, going to tell me what I can call her.
“Well, I guess it’s not as bad as baby, babe, or kitten.”
“There’re only so many fucking names out there. And most of them I wouldn’t use on an animal, let alone the woman I love.”
“Maybe you can call me princess and something else, switch it up occasionally. It’ll be fun and romantic.”
“Sure.” I get dressed, tossing her clothing on the bed. “I’ll call you shithead from now on.”
“Mark, seriously.”
“Oh, I’m serious, shithead.”
“Sometimes, I can’t tell if you’re joking or just unwell.”
“The latter. Picture this—a giant moist pussy walking around the hotel, carrying a knife, rubbing against its victims to get off while shouting, ‘princess, oh princess.’ That’ll be me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It doesn’t matter because I’m insane.”
“Oh, I forgot...” she dresses and zips her suitcase then stands by the door... “You’ve been drinking.”