The Lottery – Chapter 9
The air nipped at my cheeks as I keyed in the code and waited for the gate to swing open. For so early in October, it was unseasonably cool. Once the gate swung open, I pushed down on the gas pedal and rolled into the near-abandoned sub-division. Apart from the light on the outside of the security shack, the streets were dark.
Sam reached over and rested her hand on mine, which was on the gearshift. “It’s kind of forbidding; it’s so dark.”
While it was dark, the SUV’s headlights pierced the gloom, chasing the night away. I gave the vehicle more gas, enjoying the throaty roar of the engine. Over the past few months, since the lottery, Sam had taught me how to drive. I spent almost as much time behind the wheel as she did. I had been driving since lunch time, almost eight hours before, and was glad we were almost there.
The house was in the back of the empty subdivision. When we reached it, a light pierced the darkness from the porch. The front of the house looked little different from the one time they visited, in between their trip to the coast and San Antonio. Now, a couple of rocking chairs were on the wrap-around porch, and a cement cherub shot water into the air from the small water feature next to the walkway between the porch and the street.
As I pulled into the drive, Sam said, “I hope the pictures do it justice. Grant had nothing but nice things to say about it.
I parked the SUV along the drive, a few feet from one of three garage doors along the side of the house, and climbed from the driver’s side. My bones ached. Over the past five months, this had been the longest Sam let me drive, and I felt every hour behind the wheel as I stretched.
Sam came around the front of the SUV and hugged me. My eyes could almost see over the top of her head. Slow and steady seemed to be the way my body wanted to grow, and I had added another inch in height since the start of the summer. My hands roamed her back. The angles and ridges of her shoulder blades were now familiar territory, and she sighed as her hands slid along the outside of the t-shirt I wore.
Finally, when chill bumps covered my exposed skin, I said, “Let’s go check it out. It’ll be nice to have a place of our own to crash at between trips.”
As I took Sam’s hand and we walked toward the back of the house, I found myself agreeing with her. Even though we had more fun than I’d ever had in my life, every place we had stayed had just been a condo rental or hotel room. San Antonio had been fun. We had visited the amusement park and SeaWorld and just about every authentic Mexican restaurant in the city over our month’s stay. Anaheim had been cool. The weather at Disney Land had been just about perfect. And nobody had batted an eye at what appeared two teens in love, as we rode every ride and saw every show. But after a week, we’d seen what we wanted to see and done what we wanted to do.
From California, we had driven up the coastal highway, all the way to Seattle. We saw what we wanted to see, and grew even closer as boyfriend and girlfriend, driving back through Oregon, Idaho, and Montana, where we stayed a couple of weeks at Yellowstone during the height of the summer season. After that, we spent some time in Vegas. We stayed clear of the casinos. After all, to the rest of the world, we were a teenaged couple in love.
Say what you will of Vegas, even without the casinos, there was plenty to do. We took a helicopter tour of the Grand Canyon, watched more shows than I can remember over the time we stayed there. But even as the weeks came and went, it wasn’t home. And all the money in our bank account would not make it so. By the end of September, we needed a break from traveling. And that’s how I found myself holding Sam’s hand as she slid the key into the back door of our home outside of Texarkana.
Once past the French doors, we stood in a dining room. The table in the middle of the room wasn’t big. It hardly needed to be; A set of four chairs fit comfortably around it—two more than we needed. The walls were a pleasing shade of pastel yellow. It was warm and inviting.
Sam gushed, “Oh, this is nice, Robin. It’s just the way I imagined it.”
She pulled me through the kitchen. The appliances were all black, which complimented the cherry finish on the cabinetry and the dark marble countertops. Sam let go my hand and ran her fingers along the polished marble, “Shame I’m not a better cook, Robin. This is so much bigger than the kitchen in the trailer.”
It had been a while since Sam brought up Earl. Whatever had become of him, neither of us cared. Still, we had spent years of our lives under his roof, and the kitchen in the trailer had been tiny compared to this one.
I came up behind her and wrapped my arms around her stomach and pulled her into a hug, “Maybe we can learn together. I fix some killer Pop Tarts.”
Chuckling, she turned around and tilted her head slightly as her lips found mine. The familiarity and rightness of her tongue in my mouth made it easy to think of Sam as only my girlfriend. Ours hadn’t been a relationship defined as mother and son for months now, and I think Sam liked it as much as I did.
When she broke off the kiss, Sam grabbed my hand, “Let’s see the rest of the house.”
We trekked back through the dining room and through another door. The den was huge; a fireplace in one corner was encased in white Texas sandstone. Over it hung a painting of an old West cattle drive. Mom had pitched a fit when Grand and I had suggested mounting a deer head over the fireplace. We compromised with artwork that still exuded the old west theme captured by the ranch-style house’s design.
A flat screen TV covered the better half of one wall. It was easily ninety inches wide. It faced a plush leather sofa. I could almost imagine crashing on the sofa while watching some movie on the gigantic screen. Sam took in the room, “Thank God I talked you out of that ghastly deer head. It would have felt like something was staring at us had you put it up in here.”
There was a living room and a foyer at the front of the house. I didn’t really understand the purpose of the living room. It held similar furniture to the living room, but no TV. Grant had told me sometimes you just needed a room where the guests you didn’t really want wandering around your house to stay. That’s what a living room is for.
After checking out a few bedrooms, one of which was ostensibly my own, down a hallway on one end of the house, Sam and I eventually found the master bedroom. There was a massive king-size bed along one wall, a walk-in closet along another, and the master bath along a third. Sam stood in the bathroom’s doorway. The look on her face was priceless.
I stood behind her and rested my head next to hers, “What’cha think?”
She gushed, “It’s perfect, Robin. Just like I imagined it.”
A grin split my face, almost from ear to ear. Grant and I had spent a lot of time going back and forth over what Sam wanted. In the end, a contractor had come out and put an addition to the house to accommodate the changes. Seeing the look on her face made all the effort and expense worthwhile. The tub was recessed into the foundation and encased in marble. There was a seat that ran along the inside, all the way around the tub, and whirlpool nozzles built into the tub at regular intervals. I couldn’t decide if it was the largest bathtub I’d ever seen, or the smallest swimming pool. As if anything else was necessary, the remodelers built a gas fireplace into the wall on the far side.
A walk-in shower stood next to the tub. Poured marble walls formed two of the sides. A third was glass, and the fourth was a glass door. A huge rainfall showerhead was fixed to the ceiling. Along the wall, closest to the bedroom, was a vanity mirror, running from countertop to ceiling. Sam didn’t spend tons of time on her appearance, but all the things she needed were stored in the drawers under the marble countertop.
Sam gripped my arm, “Damn, Robin, this is incredible. I could practically live in the bathroom.”
The worry I had felt that it might not be exactly what she wanted washed away. I happily sighed, “I was kinda worried. Now that we’ve taken the grand tour, what do you want to do?”
Sam gave me an appraising eye and pulled me back into the master bedroom. She pushed me until my butt hit the side of the bed. “What I’ve wanted since waking up this morning. You.”
She grabbed my shirt and pulled it over my head. I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror over a chest of drawers on one wall. Sure, since winning the lottery, I had grown a bit, but to my uncritical eye, I was still the same skinny boy. My face was smooth and unlined; I had yet to develop the sharp angles that usually came with adolescence. My shoulders were still narrow, scarcely any wider than my hips.
Sam didn’t care about that. Her fingers undid the button above my zipper and worked the zipper down. With hunger in her eyes, she slid my pants down, where they bunched at my ankles. Gone was any embarrassment at Sam seeing the bulge of my erection in my immodest bikini briefs. She grabbed the front of my briefs and pulled them down, freeing my stiffy.
Now that I was thirteen, my erection had almost kept up with my height. Sam gripped my five inches, “Every time I see you like this, I can’t believe you’re mine. I love you, Robin and I’m so glad you want me too.”
She released my shaft and ran her fingers along my silky-smooth pubic area. Over the past couple of months, a few lone strands of pubic hair, barely any darker than the blond on my head, had come in. But Sam liked me smooth, the same way I liked her, and she enjoyed searching them out and tweezing them.
I stepped out of my pants. Now it was my turn. My fingers were sure and confident as I unbuttoned Sam’s blouse. I knew her body as well as I knew my own. Once unbuttoned, I pushed the blouse over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She hadn’t worn a bra. Her tits, small and well formed, bounced in front of me and I couldn’t help myself. I leaned down and kissed a nipple, feeling it grow hard between my lips. My tongue lapped at it until Sam pushed my head away, “Finish undressing me. I need you in me now.”
I was Sam’s willing slave. My fingers made quick work of her zipper and pushed her pants to her ankles. She picked up one foot, and I pulled her pants leg off. Then the other foot, and she was in nothing but a small pair of pink panties with tiny red hearts scattered across the small triangle of fabric covering her pussy. I couldn’t wait any longer. I pulled them down, exposing Sam’s smoothly shaven pubic mound. My erection twitched at the sight and she pushed me back against the bed until I fell backward.
Sam crawled onto the bed beside me and grabbed my stiffy, “How’s this for a house warming party?”
My voice trembled with excitement, “I like it. So, you okay staying here for a while?”
She leaned over me; hot breath on my glans sent a shiver through me as she said, “Yeah. Traveling around, even when we’re seeing new things, gets tiring sometimes.”
Her tongue touched my helmet shaped glans, and I gasped at the pleasurable heat. Her lips slid over my tip and her tongue played with my piss-slit, making my entire shaft tingle. A few heartbeats later her lips slid down my shaft, first sliding over the coarse skin of my circumcision scar and then, lower, sliding down until she had taken in most of me. She stopped when I touched the back of her throat. I was almost an inch shorter the first time she took my penis into her mouth. Back then, she could take all of me into her mouth. But now I was longer and her gag reflex kicked in if she tried taking me down her throat.
She held the base of my erection and bobbed up and down, her lips gliding over my shaft. Every time she came up, she stopped when her lips reached the flare of my glans. Her tongue never stopped working. It didn’t matter if she was going down or coming up, her tongue teased more intense tingles than if she had only used her lips. I could never grow tired of this, even as my eyes closed and basked in the joy of the moment. I was the luckiest boy in the world to have Sam in my life. She loved my body every bit as much as I loved hers.
I groaned wordlessly as the tingling in my shaft grew more intense. Sam’s fingers gripped the base of my penis and her lips pushed against her fingers and she sucked on me; she could tell I was close to cumming.
Sam’s tongue slid along the underside of my penis, sending me into sensory overload. My balls constricted and a surge like electricity shot through me, traveling from the tip of my stiffy all the way to my brain. Fireworks went off in my head as my five inches swelled in Sam’s mouth and I spasmed. The first blast of my thickening semen hit the back of her throat, and she sucked even harder. A second blast slid down her throat, followed by a third.
My balls were empty, but my dick kept kicking about in Sam’s mouth through a few more dry spasms. When she had drained me, Sam pulled back and kissed me. Her kiss tasted like my cum; mostly salty with just a tinge of bitterness. That had been a change over the past half-year. The first time she had blown me and then kissed me, I had tasted more sweet than salty. Of course, now, my cum was milky white instead of clear and watery.
Sam broke the kiss and said, “Now that you’ve had your fun, it’s my turn.”
She straddled my waist and took hold of me again as she slid my still sensitive head through the wet head of her slit. Even though my glans tingled with penetrating pleasure, I had just cum. It would be a while before I could shoot again. Sam knew this and as she slid down on me, she growled, “I’m going to fuck your brains out, Robin.”
I reached out my hands and caressed her breasts as I closed my eyes from the incredible feeling throughout my erection. Sam found a practiced rhythm, her knees and hips working together, to lift her up, but not so high as to have me slide out, before crashing against my groin with a wet plop.
With my eyes closed, enjoying the feeling surging through me, I felt Sam’s first orgasm. It arrived with a shudder as her pussy undulated and convulsed around my shaft. One thing I liked about making love to her was the number of times she could cum.
Sam had incredible stamina. I’ve felt her thighs before and there’s a lot of muscle on them. Riding me like she did only helped build up her endurance. She came a half-dozen times before I felt my balls start to boil again. My dick had never stopped tingling like it was close to orgasm. So, when my balls boiled, there wasn’t much warning before they constricted.
I moaned, “Ah, fuck!” as my penis surged within Sam. My stiffy kicked and spasmed, shooting my fresh seed deep within her at the same time her body shook with her most intense orgasm yet. I was still spasming when she fell against me, her breasts pushing against my chest, and her head resting against my shoulder.
Her voice was raw and low, “I love you, Robin. It feels great doing this in our own bed.”
My eyes fluttered open; I was still in my post orgasm high. Sex with Sam was amazing, no matter where it happened. But she was right. It felt doubly good knowing we were home.
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