Home > Other > Alone With the Best Friend (Alone #1) > Page 2 Alone With the Best Friend (Alone #1) Page 2 by Summer Wynter For tonight, Mrs. Fisher. Ethan. While I was reading messages, Ethan was recording himself jerking off and sent it to me. His hand wrapped around his engorged cock, pumping furiously until he erupted all over a hand towel I keep in the guest bathroom. It was the first time I had ever seen him other than deeply erotic words on a screen. I quickly hit the replay, and this time with each pump of his fist, I plunge one, two fingers into me. By the second watching, I’ve timed my orgasm to be in sync with his. I bite my bottom lip, willing myself to keep quiet. While he still has the ability to get me aroused as Battleship8, Ethan in the room next door doesn’t need to hear that and know. Not now, anyhow. Not until I’ve figured out how to process all this information. Chapter Five Two nights later, the tension is palpable as we three sit at the dinner table. I’ve managed to avoid being alone with him while he and Jack have busied themselves hanging out in town. I nervously keep looking at Ethan, wondering if the tension I keep feeling is all in my head. He smiles at me, revealing nothing. I’ve been tripping over myself to try to keep away from him as much as humanly possible, to the point that Jack asked me this morning why I was being so standoffish. If only he knew. “Great dinner, Mrs. Fisher,” Ethan says, scooping the potatoes onto his plate. I didn’t normally cook dinners with Jack out of the house. I just didn’t see the point in it. Hell, it had been a while since I ate at the table and didn’t just bring a bowl of whatever with me to the couch to sit and eat while I watched N.C.I.S. “Thank you, Ethan, but please call me Melody.” I hadn’t been Mrs. Fisher in years and the reminder made me stiffen a bit in my seat. “Right, right, sorry…. Melody.” The name rolls off his tongue like butter hitting a lobster fresh from the boiling pot. Melted and hot. Should a voice affect you like that? I can’t even think straight so I try to switch to a topic a bit safer with my son at the table. “So, Jack, how’s school been?” I say, as my side vision shows Ethan licking the last remnants of the sauce off his fork. I try not to think of how that tongue could lick other juices. “Same as always; wake, class, study, sleep.” “Except for when you skip class because you’re hungover from the kegger the night before.” Ethan says it without looking at him, as he reaches for a slice of bread. Jack looks at me in horror, his face struck in a classic O form. “Chill out, Jack,” I tell him, “believe it or not I was once your age.” “Yea but when you were my age, you had already had me so you weren’t like that.” It is with that statement that I laugh so hard I choke, my fork slamming down on my plate with a ceramic thud. There are tears streaming down my face as I look at him, “Oh child, you continue to believe that.” After that, we ate in relative silence for the most part. At least up until the time that I brought the dessert to the table. Ethan had stood when I got up, a gesture that took me off guard. Young, sexy, and chivalrous? When I sat back down after giving everyone a plate for the lemon chess pie, my son’s favorite, I nodded briefly in Ethan’s direction as he sat back down. While we may have previously known each other without realizing it, I definitely didn’t want Jack to know how. There are some things that a mother just doesn’t want her child to know about. “So, Mrs. Fisher,” he began, heaping a forkful of pie into his mouth, “that’s why you seem too young to have had a son Jack’s age.” I’m momentarily startled before regaining my composure. “I was right out high school when I had him. His father left for college and I stayed home to raise him.” “Well his father sounds like a fool,” he tells me, before a slight smile brushes across his face. “Dad is a fucking idiot,” Jack interrupts us saying, “Did you know that Jessica is knocked up again? Bitch is a digging herself quite the alimony settlement.” “Jack!” I exclaim. No matter what I may or may not think of his father and the way that he left, I wouldn’t have him disrespecting him in such colorful language. He sighs, picks at his food, and then looks up at me. Those big blue eyes like his father’s. It was one of the very first things I noticed when I held him for the first time in the hospital and it was one of the things that gut punched me every time I saw him now. “Russell made a decision. You know he’d never been fully committed to me or to being a parent. Maybe this time around, he can be a proper father.” Jessica wasn’t my favorite person, but I tried not to wish anyone bad. I get up and refill everyone’s coffee. Ethan stands again as I rise from the table and sits down only when I return. Damn, where are manners like that today? I take my napkin and place it in my lap as I scoot the chair closer to the table. As uncouth as it may be, I wanted to prop my elbows down and relax as I ate the last half of the pie slice. “It’s been a great meal,” Ethan says, dabbing the corners of his mouth. He hands go to his lap and I saw him slide a little closer to the table himself. He clears his throat and says, “So, Jack, are you thinking about moving up to Advanced Placement Chemistry?” at the precise moment his hand falls to my thigh. I turn to cast a glance at him as if to say, what do you think you’re doing?, but there’s no change. His fingertips glide under the fabric with ease and he’s using them to dance across my tender flesh, working closer and closer to the warmth that begins to build in me. I try to stay in the conversation in hopes of taking my mind off the slow, methodical tease of his finger work. “AP Chemistry? That’d be quite the accomplishment, Jack.” “It’s really nothing. I just have a knack for equations. I’m the same way in Math. I just don’t know if I want to go from being the Easy A to having to work my ass off for a B.” “But are you…” I begin, but his fingers are teasing the crease of my crossed legs. It’s almost as if his fingers are knocking, asking for entry, “…are you really wanting not to be challenged?” “I love a good challenge. It’s more exciting when it’s hard. The more difficult it is to get, the sweeter it tastes when you’ve got it.” Ethan is talking to Jack, but I swear it’s aimed at me. His fingers tap the crease of my crossed legs again, and this time I close my eyes and exhale, opening them. “I mean, I want to, I just don’t want to let you down, Mom.” Jack has always been the one to be the rock, the stability of the household. “You’d never let me down.” I look directly at him, hoping that he can hear my sincerity, at the precise moment that Ethan’s finger slides my silk panties aside and flicks my clit. It’s all I can do not to gasp. It takes only seconds until his finger finds its way inside me. “Is anything wrong?” There’s concern in his voice. Can he tell what is happening? Am I so starved for a man’s touch that I’m actually allowing my son’s best friend to finger me under the dinner table? I sit up as straight as I can, which is just out of the reach of Ethan and his devilish hands. Ethan smiles as he draws his hands back. “Not at all, son,” I say, rising from the table, “now, you two head off somewhere while I get started on this mountain of dishes.” “Can I help, Mrs. Fisher?” Ethan offers, his face showing nothing but innocence, “I’d love to help you in any way I could.” His hand goes to his mouth as he licks his fingertips. The smile on his face makes me even wetter than I was at the table. He will be the death of me. “I’m good. Y’all go.” “Ok, if you’re sure Mom. Me and Ethan will go hang out for a little while before calling it a night.” He grabs two beers from the fridge before reconsidering and grabbing two more. “Night!” I wave haphazardly toward him, only crumbling against the kitchen sink after I know the two of them are out of sight. Chapter Six After washing up the morning’s breakfast dishes, I turn to see the two of them on the sofa. While my son was in a set of pajamas that should have been thrown out ages ago, Ethan was in a white V-neck tee shirt and some black sweat pants. The way the shirt accented his muscles was not unnoticed. Jack had dug his old Xbox out of the closet and the two of them were playing some first-person shooter game I remember him playing into all hours of the night before he left for college. I stood there for a moment with my hot coffee, just enjoying having him home and trying to quiet my mind with all the turmoil that having Ethan in the house -or rather having Battleship8 in the house-presented. “Dude, you’re so dead.” “Quit throwing grenades at me!” There is the cacophony of gun fire and explosions as they rock back and forth on the sofa as if their motions could telekinetically move their bullets better to their intended targets. I don’t even remember being so carefree. I went from being a high school teenager just trying to fit in to a mom trying to hold her family together. These past couple of years have been the most liberating of my life. “God, you suck so hard.” “Bite me, asswipe.” In this moment, Ethan is like any other college guy to me. Laughably young and funny to watch. I watch his boisterous movements in hopes that he won’t hit the glass of water that is sitting close by him. I try not to think about that energy being used elsewhere. He is radically different with a game controller in his hand than when he had slid his fingers up my thigh at the dinner table, sending small shockwaves throughout my body. He is not the man that carried on a complete conversation with my son as he toyed with me, a secret I’m sure neither of us was about to let out into the open. The rest of the day mutters on in an array of normalcy. The boys go out for a while so that Jack can show Ethan some of his favorite spots. I try to clear my head with some yoga, but it doesn’t work. There’s too much going on up there. I know that I shouldn’t want my son’s college roommate as much as I do. That it’s a fool’s lesson to be had. Who’s to say that Ethan isn’t the biggest player on campus? Then again, why do I care? Hours after the two of them leave, they are back again to find me still sitting on the yoga mat in a relative daze. “Mom, I meant to tell you before, but seeing you exercising reminds me… You look really good. I’m proud of you for doing something totally for yourself.” He wipes a loose strand of hair away from his eyes as he’s speaking, and I’m touched by his words. “Yea, Mrs. Fisher, you’re smoking hot.” Ethan adds, inciting a playful punch from Jack. “Dude, that’s my Mom.” I just laugh at them even though seeing the full body shudder from Jack was entertaining. “Boys, I’m going to go shower and change, y’all try not to kill one another while I’m gone, okay?” **** “I’m going to go to the gym and then grab a couple of pizzas to bring back home. Want to rent a movie when I get back?” Jack’s been in a good mood all day today, which I love to see. After my shower and a change of clothes he even told me to sit down while he finished up the rest of the housework. He seem oblivious to everything, and for that I’m relieved. I’m stuck here, in this suffocating space of not wanting to succumb to Ethan, and not being able to say ‘no’. “Sounds great, Muffin.” I catch his look as Ethan laughs at him. “Muffin?” Ethan slaps Jack’s back, “Dude, I’m so using that.” “Thanks, Mom,” he glares at me again, “Ethan, you want to come along with me. Feel a good burn before we all relax tonight?” Ethan starts to answer, but not before looking pointedly at me while he does so, “No Jack, I think I’ll stay here and help clean up. Try to make a good impression on your Mom and all that.” We’ve not discussed it, but as sure as I’m standing there I know that when Jack leaves out, Ethan is going to have his way with me. I just can’t tell if I’m terrified or if I’m incredibly turned on by that. Chapter Seven He backs me up slowly to the wall, his one hand sliding up beside me while his other wraps around my waist. There isn’t but a breath between us before his mouth is on mine. Warm, inviting, and definitely against all better judgment. I try not to think that he is the same age as my son. Younger by a few months, I remind myself. His hand moves from my waist up the back of me, effortlessly going between shirt and skin. In seconds he’s unhooked my bra, clearly well practiced. My body reacts instinctively even though it shouldn’t. I shouldn’t want this as much as I do and I feel betrayed by my own wanton lust for Ethan. “We’ve two hours before Jack gets back, one and a half if he’s quick,” he whispers, “And I want to use every second of it to explore that body of yours.” I don’t speak, not trusting myself to say the right thing. He moves quickly, sliding the shirt over my head and tossing it in the corner of the room. His mouth goes straight to my breast, licking and teasing the nipple until it’s rock hard. I moan softly as his tongue flicks at it, nipping at it with his teeth. I’m wearing a high waist skirt, so the majority of me is still covered, only my breasts and arms are exposed. His face goes to the side of my neck, teasing me in a way that leaves me thirsty for more. I can’t seem to catch my breath or think about what is happening. It’s all sensation. He holds me there, on the wall, as his mouth slides the skirt around. The zipper is in his teeth as he looks up at me for a mere moment before he works it downward. There is nothing I can do to stop him. Correction, there is nothing that I want to do to stop him. There’s only the briefest moment of silence as my skirt hits the floor, but it’s all the time I need for the doubts to start flooding my mind. I’m not as toned as women his age. There’s the faded stretch marks. The cellulite. The… “Oh fucking Christ, Mrs. Fisher, I want to lick every inch of you,” he says to me, grabbing my face and bringing it up to his eyes. “Every. Inch.” This time, I don’t correct him. This time, he can chant ‘Mrs. Fisher’ as if it were a mantra and I’m not going to give a damn. All I want is to feel him inside me. Feel him break this stifling amount of sexual tension that has hung over us since he first arrived. “Fuck me, Ethan, right here, right now,” I purr, my tongue grazing up his ear lobe. “Oh, don’t worry about that, Melody. An army couldn’t stop me now.” He picks me up and carries me to my bedroom, using his boot to open the door. I’m frantically unbuttoning the shirt but have only two undone before he takes the thin fabric in his strong hands and rips it apart. Buttons fly and I move to his jeans. He kicks his boots off to the side of the bed as he toss me back onto the mattress. I’m laying there, looking up at the ceiling, not wanting to look directly at him for fear that the legitimacy of the situation will hit me full force. Instead I close my eyes, and feel his hand wrap around my throat as his tongue finds my wetness. It flicks and sucks around my clit, diving into me only every so often when the intensity gets too much. It’s been so long since anyone has touched me other than myself that I feel as if I’m going to burst before we even get started. When I open my eyes, he’s completely undressed and moves from the edge of the bed to the side. “Melody, I have to ask, are you sure?” His voice is a mere whisper. Am I sure? Hell no. I’ve no idea what will happen if we actually do this. All I know is that I can’t stop. Not now. Not even before. “Yes,” I manage to squeak out. “Good, because I really didn’t want to stop.” He flips me over and pulls me toward him, raising my hips up high. One arm wraps around my waist to support me as the free hand goes back to my clit. He teases me in the same way he did under the table and I can’t help but think of the naughtiness of it all. His fingering me at the dinner table. The subtle nipple grazes that has happened. His tongue flicking against my clit. And now this; his cock fixing to push inside me. “Are you safe?” His cock is there, at the entrance. Big. Thick. And waiting to give me the orgasm of my life. Safe? I can take that so many ways, but there’s only two ways I’m sure count at the moment. Pregnancy and STD. “Yes to everything,” is my answer. I don’t even get the entire word ‘everything’ out before he enters me with a deep plunge. His fingers go to a rhythm that is intoxicating. A pinch as his cock goes in and a thumb circle around as it retreats. In and out. Over and over. Pinching and circling me until my breath is unsteady and my chest flushes red. His hand goes to my hair, spinning it around his fist and drawing it back. An act that I always thought would be demeaning actually sent a shiver through me. I wanted him to use me, in every way, in every part of me. He’s going faster now and I can tell that it won’t be long for him. I’m surprised I’ve lasted this long. His warm body leans over my back to whisper in my ear, “I’m going to cum all in that hot pussy of yours, Mrs. Fisher, and then I’m going to want to do it all again.” That’s all it took for me, I yell out and cry as the waves go through me, clenching down over his cock to claim it. Milking that thick rod for every ounce of sticky whiteness that oozes out of me. He slides out of me and spanks me on my ass cheek as he says, “turn over, Melody, I’ve still got twenty minutes left.” **** We barely make it out of the shower and dress again before hearing the front door open. “Mom, I’m home,” Jack calls to me. I gesture for Ethan to come out in a few minutes, as if he were emerging from the guest room and not the master bathroom where he fingered me to yet another orgasm in the shower. “Coming, honey,” I yell back to him. I grin at the horrible truth that simple, innocent remark has loaded into it. ‹ Prev Next ›