Day: March 14, 2022 (Page 2 of 5)

The Road Less Traveled – Chapter 10
By
Caliboy1991

“How’s it feel being twelve,” I asked as Gabe and I walked from the Durango LaPlata County airfield to the parking lot where the RV was parked.

“About the same as yesterday when I was eleven,” Gabe said, carrying our travel bag over his shoulder.

I twirled the RV key fob on my finger, “There are plenty of restaurants in Durango. Let’s celebrate.”

We reached the RV, and the door swung open with the press of a button on the fob. Gabe stopped on the first step, “I guess we can go out to eat. But, Syd, I don’t feel like celebrating. Not yet.”

I watched him climb the other steps and followed. I had the Cummins diesel running a moment later, cooling the RV’s cockpit. “There’s an old timey train that runs from here to Silverton. Maybe when you’re ready, we can come back and celebrate by riding the train. It’s supposed to be a lot of fun.”

Gabe gave me a wan smile, “That’d be fun. Maybe soon.”

Because it was his birthday, we picked up to-go from McDonalds and drove to a nearby RV park for the night. Despite his melancholy, Gabe helped connect the water and sewer lines while I put the slide-outs out. Thank God for microwaves, otherwise we’d have eaten cold Micky Ds.

I settled into the bench across from Gabe, who was drowning a french fry in ketchup. “How’s it taste?”

He held the mangled strip of fried potato up, “Dunno. I’ll tell you in a sec.”

With that, he plopped it in his mouth. I unwrapped my burger and took a bite. Somewhere in between bites, I said, “I can’t really put myself in your shoes, Gabe, to know how you’re feeling. But I’m here for you when you want to talk.”

He shrugged, “You know the score. I’ll get over it.”

Gabe fell silent for a bit; Even though I was still learning some of his mannerisms, I could see he was working through a lot of things. “Syd, are there any other relatives of you and mom?”

I never knew my dad. He was splitsville before I was born. When I was growing up, Abby didn’t talk about him much, and Mom, not at all. Mom was an only child. I shook my head, “Not that I know of. It’s just you and me.”

He crumped up his fry box and shoved it in the bag, “I knew a kid in school. His parents died. They put him in foster care. How do you know that won’t happen to me?”

I hadn’t given that much thought. I had power-of-attorney over him, and Abby named me guardian in her will. I took the bag of trash and slid from the bench seat and threw our trash into a trash bag under the sink. “They had a chance when we were in Bakersfield. I’d think that someone would have to report you to social services.”

“What about school?”

I sat on the sofa, and patted the spot next to me, “I’ve been thinking about that. I’ve done a bit of research about online schools. There are some private schools into which we could enroll you in the fall; everything is done online. Your school will get the request for records and they’ll figure out your where you’re supposed to be, send the records to the new school, and you will start the seventh grade in a couple of months from the comfort of the RV.”

He collapsed on the seat next to me, “You promise you won’t abandon me?”

The vehemence in his voice caught me by surprise, “Fuck yeah. You’re more than just my nephew, Gabe. You’re my best friend in the whole fucking world. I’ll fight like hell to keep you with me.”

Then I smirked and gave him a snide smile, “Plus, they’d have to find us and we can go anywhere we want. Our house is on wheels.”

It felt good to hear him laugh. He offered a grin, “So, you weren’t just being silly last week, about being friends?”

I snaked an arm around his shoulders, “No way. If you haven’t figured out, as aunts go, I’m fucked up. If you need a lot of parenting, we’re both going to be in deep shit. But I can be the best friend in the world. Probably be a huge fucking bad influence on you. Let you read all my smutty stories, be the woman you need me to be for you, let you fool around with me, that kind of friend and so much more.”

He rested his head against my shoulder, “No matter what, you’ll let me stay until I finish high school?”

I squeezed his shoulders into a hug, “Absolutely. But even then, this will always be home for you. Got it?”

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, “Yeah. So, you’re really gonna make me go to school in the fall?”

“Yep. You need to learn more about writing, math, history, all that stuff.”

He gave me a skeptical eye, “Really? Like I’m going to have to know algebra to be a writer?”

I laughed, “You’d be surprised by the things I’ve learned that I’ve worked into my stories, Gabe.”

He gave a mock huff, “Fine. That means we’ve got two months for you to teach me more writing and for me to finish my book. What about you? You decide what you’re going to write next?”

That was something else weighing on me. The only thing I had ready to go was Give the Devil His Due. But if Bess was right, releasing it under my pen name could blow up. Given what Gabe and I had already shared, there wasn’t any point in not telling him about it, “I have a book that makes most of my books feel like sweet romance for high schoolers. It’s called Give the Devil His Due.”

Gabe perked up at the name, “Cool name. What’s it about?”

I smirked, “Sex, power, and more sex.”

He returned the smirk, “I thought you said it was different.”

Jokingly, I smacked his arm, “Smart ass. It’s about a billionaire-“

Gabe poked me with his elbow, “You said it was going to be different? I’m waiting.”

I gave a theatrical sigh, “Fine, I’ll let you read it. But don’t let me find you in the bathroom rubbing one out to it.”

His eyes grew wide. Three weeks ago, he didn’t even know how to masturbate. Now, at least, he understood. “I wouldn’t do…”

His voice faded as his cheeks turned red. He had retreated since the morning we learned of Abby’s death. I longed to pick things up where we left off. But so far, he’d shown no interest, and I was beginning to wonder if he regretted our brief time together. I pushed that aside and leaned over and kissed his cheek before getting to my feet, “I’ll fetch it. You can read it if you want. I need to catch up on some work.”

***

Amazon pays me commissions every month. About half the money comes from e-book sales. The other half comes from page-reads from Kindle Unlimited. Thrown in the mix are some paperback sales. But those never amounted to more than a couple of hundred copies a month. The money hits my business account around the end of the month. I pay an accountant to do my books, pay my estimated taxes, and the like. But that doesn’t mean I get to ignore it. While Gabe sat quietly on the couch, flipping the pages of the manuscript every few minutes, I reviewed this month’s sales report. Even though we were at the tail-end of June, the data was from April sales.

At first glance, the numbers were impressive. Between e-books and Kindle Unlimited, my fifty-four books, at that time, sold just under eleven thousand copies. And that translated to around twenty-six thousand dollars. Not bad for a twenty-four-year-old, you’d think.

I found March’s report and opened the spreadsheet. Fifty-three books on the sold report that month. And a bit more than twelve thousand books. That was my problem. Over the past year, even though I’ve released ten books over the past twelve months, my sales were going south.

Too much competition diluted the market. There were content mills churning out a book a week, paying ghost writers to churn out fifty-, sixty-thousand-word romance novels. They were formulaic, write-by-the-numbers fluff pieces. And my target audience voraciously read them. But more titles were chasing the same number of readers and with Gabe living with me, I wasn’t sure I could maintain my publishing schedule of ten books a year.

Thinking of the boy, I glanced over at him. He lay on the couch with the manuscript propped on his chest, his head inclined, reading. Absentmindedly, he reached down and adjusted himself. The board shorts were ugly things, and despite the way they bunched up at his crotch, I could see by the tent in his shorts, he enjoyed the story. The sight of the distended material was a pleasurable distraction. I didn’t know if he’d ever want to pick up where things left off the previous week. But at least I could enjoy a furtive glance now and then at his budding sexuality.

Hoping he hadn’t seen me, I cut my eyes away. I closed down the sales reports and opened up the most recent account statement from my accountant. The first page was a standard balance sheet. On one side, it showed the debits. On the other, the credits. Despite the fall-off in sales, the credits outweighed the debits by a wide margin. The biggest expenses were marketing campaigns. Just below that line item was another sizable expense. My virtual assistant ran my marketing campaigns. And she didn’t come cheap, at twenty-five dollars an hour. The RV was even on there as an expense. I owned the motorcoach outright, paying cash for it over a year ago, when I traded up from a used Winnebago. Even so, there are plenty of expenses. The diesel engine was a gas guzzler, netting me six or seven miles to the gallon. It had to be serviced regularly to keep it in tip-top shape and those service calls weren’t cheap.

Before long, the shadows were getting longer. The clock in the laptop’s task bar showed most of the day was gone. I closed the laptop. Gabe turned another page as I said, “You haven’t said much.”

His cheeks flushed, “It’s really great, Syd. I don’t know why your agent said it wasn’t.”

I felt my own face grow warm as I thought about the many sexually explicit scenes in the book, “She didn’t say it wasn’t good, just that it was too controversial.”

An embarrassed smile creased Gabe’s face, “Oh. Um, yeah. Th-, they were good. Why not publish it yourself?”

I bit my lower lip, thinking of all the bad things that could happen if I were to ignore Bess. “You can tell a difference between this one and the others?”

The same flush–Gabe nodded, “Yeah, the, um, sex is hotter. And the girls are younger. The main girl the billionaire likes, he kidnaps her and, um, talks her into doing stuff and she’s only a few years older than me.”

“Yeah,” I said, “My agent thinks it’s too much like a story that just broke a few weeks ago about a guy named Jeffrey Epstein. And, yeah, I was kind of thinking about him when I created this billionaire, just figured he was above the law with too many powerful friends to protect him.”

Gabe shrugged, “Whatever. I think it’s fun. You’re always going on about books need to be in a series to be successful. I’m not finished yet, but it seems like the billionaire is going to win by the end of the book.”

My mind went through dozen different scenarios for a series. “No spoilers, young man.”

Gabe stuck his tongue at me. I grinned and flipped him off, making him laugh. “You’re a mean girlfr–” his voice caught in his throat before he looked down at the pages, and continued, “friend. I’ll read to the end.”

My stomach grumbled. I didn’t feel like fixing anything and the RV park was close enough to town, I figured we could get pizza delivered. When he heard me on the phone, Gabe’s voice reverberated through the RV, “No veggies! We’re not herbivores.”

When the pizza guy, who happened to be a pizza gal, showed up, Gabe finally closed the manuscript and grabbed some paper plates from the kitchen cabinets. As we ate, he said, “I really like Holly.”

Holly is the focal point of Give the Devil His Due. She’s the kind of high school girl I wished I’d been when I was fifteen or sixteen. Gabe added, “She reminds me of you.”

I shook my head as I wiped a stray string of cheese from my mouth, “How’s that?”

The crimson returned, and he focused on devouring the rest of his first slice. When he reached for a second, I swatted his hand, “Come on, Gabe. How does she remind you of me?”

He glanced down at the pizza box, “Well, um, she’s really pretty and outgoing, like you.”

I wasn’t sure I saw the connection, but it wasn’t lost on me how Gabe saw me. I wondered if that was all, “Thanks, Gabe. I think. Anything else about her?”

Gabe’s ears and neck grew red when he became really embarrassed; like now. “Um, her boobs, they reminded me of yours.”

My eyebrows were arched, my eyes round, “Really?”

His voice was almost too low. “Y-, yeah. You described her boobs as perky and, um, petite.”

Damned if he wasn’t right. Without realizing I’d done it, Holly was me physically. “You think I’m pretty?”

More of that gorgeous flush. He wouldn’t look at me as he nodded, “Duh.”

“Boys,” I muttered.

The day had been long. And even though it wasn’t my normal bedtime, I said, “I’m going to bed. You going to be okay?”

He nodded, returning his gaze to me, “Yeah, Syd. I’m going to read your book for a bit longer.”

I gave him a big grin, “Enjoy. But no beating off in the bathroom to my smut. Got it?”

He giggled; the crimson reached his collarbone, “Got it.”

The past few nights had been rough on us. Gabe’s mood about his mom had been worse when it had been just the two of us in the hotel room. I said, “Don’t feel like you have to sleep up here, sweetie. There’s plenty of room in my bed.”

He grabbed the manuscript from next to where he sat on the couch, and fiddled with the pages for a moment, “If I do, um, you won’t want me to pretend to be one of the billionaires in your stories, will you?”

Funny how he conceptualized our sex play. I desired him. Even while we’d been eating pizza, at least on a subconscious level, some part of me still wanted him to dominate me, to take me and make me his. But his desires mattered as much as mine, maybe even more; after all, he was the minor and I, the adult, who should know better. “No, sweetie. If you’re feeling anything like me, you might not like sleeping alone right now. About the billionaire stuff, we don’t have to do that again if you don’t want.”

He cracked open the manuscript as his lips curled at the corners, “It’s not like that. It’s just Mom’s death still has me out of sorts. I gotta lot to work out, ‘kay?”

Never have I wanted to hug and hold him more than that moment. But I used what little self-control I possessed and turned and retired to the bedroom.

Copyright 2022 – Caliboy1991
All rights reserved

The Road Less Traveled – Chapter 9
By
Caliboy1991

I pulled the key from the envelope. Looking back on that last fateful day, I spoke with her, she knew what was coming. Knew, or at least suspected Gabe and I would want to go into the house. With his hands stuck deep in the pockets of his jeans, he slouched beside me. It wasn’t that he was silent. He was dealing with some deep anger at Abby for hiding her illness and depriving him of the right to be with her at the end.

I was torn by it. I remember how worn and, at the end, resentful Abby had become by the time our mom died. I didn’t have it in me to condemn her decision to not put Gabe through that hell. If anything, the past couple of weeks had been some of the best in the boy’s life. And while I had serious doubts Abby would approve of everything to which I introduced Gabe, he needed to grow up and spread his wings. And even as I slid the key into the lock, I remained convinced Abby had chosen me, even though she knew Gabe’s life would spin away from my sister’s sheltered world.

I pushed the door open and found the light-switch on the wall. The living room was empty. The walls were bare, the furniture gone. Even the vinyl floorboards were spotless. Except for one corner of the room. Over there were a dozen boxes of various sizes and shapes.

Gabe pushed past me and stared about him, “Where is everything? It’s all gone, Syd!”

I was as taken aback at him as I crossed the threshold. As Gabe darted toward the hall to his bedroom, he muttered, “We’ve been fucking robbed!”

I moved past the boxes and passed through the small dining room. The plain table with wobbly chairs was gone. Even the kitchen was pristine. Thanks to the poor decisions our mom made when we were growing up, there weren’t very many family heirlooms or favorite porcelain plates to pass down. Abby hadn’t been able to add much to that very meager collection from a teacher’s aide’s salary. She had decorated her home from Walmart and Sears, with the occasional item from Goodwill thrown in to the mix.

Twenty-nine years on this earth and the sum total of everything she had was in a dozen boxes. When I returned to the living room, I noticed a manilla folder. Someone had written in cursive, “Gabriel Nelson” across the middle. Gabe burst into the living room, tears scalding his cheeks, “It’s all gone. Everything.”

He spun and ran through the dining room and into the kitchen, “They took everything! Even her angels!”

When I reached the kitchen, Gabe’s eyes were round, wild with distraught. I spread my arms, and he ran to me, nearly barreling me over as fresh tears fell shamelessly onto the shoulder of my blouse. I patted him on the back as, through broken sobs, he continued, “Mom had the most beautiful collection of angels. She kept them on the mantle in the living room. They’re gone too!”

I glanced through the doors. I could see the mantle against the outside wall. Seventy or eighty years ago, when the house was first built, it had included a fireplace. But somewhere between then and now, someone had bricked it up until the only reminder was the painted-over mantle. I hadn’t thought about them at the time, but I recalled a small collection of angels from when I picked Gabe up. They were carved angels you might find at Hobby Lobby or other craft stores.

I ran my hand through his hair as he cried. When he finally stopped, he confessed, “Me and Grandma went to her hobby store and picked them out for Mom each Christmas.”

I had no idea. No wonder Gabe was so distraught. I pulled him back into the living room and pointed to the envelope on the top box, “There’s a letter on top of the boxes. It’s addressed to you.”

He glanced at his name before wiping tears from his face, “Can you read it, Syd?”

I opened the envelope. A lone sheet of paper was its only occupant. “You want me to read it aloud?”

He nodded, resting his head on my shoulder. I pulled it out and read, “Dear Gabriel, your mom asked a few of us from school to help her clean up the house after she went into hospice care. She has been so supportive of other teachers over the years we couldn’t possibly have refused. We know you’ll be living with your aunt, so we boxed up everything from your room that we could and have set it in the front room. One of the boxes, labeled ‘Gabriel’s keepsakes,’ are things your mom wanted to give to you. If there’s anything we can do to help, please let us know.”

There was a lump in my throat that I had to clear before I could add, “There are several names of her fellow teachers. Even phone numbers.”

He released his hold and found the marked box and sat on the hardwood floor and opened it. Wrapped in bits of newspaper were the angels. When he got up, the tears were still there, but a smile played at his lips, “I thought I had lost them, Syd. But they’re still here.”

Gabe experienced something profound as he gently put the angel back in the box and closed it. While he was occupied with the box, the doorbell rang and a moment later the door cracked open, “Anyone here?” a voice called out, “I’m the landlord.”

A plump man stood in the doorway. Gabe and I were taller than him. He peered into the room, which was lit only by light filtering through the windows. “Ms. Nelson?”

Gabe was on his feet, interposing himself between me and Mr. Roly-Poly. For an instant, I thought of him as my bad-boy billionaire, and I alone was his conquest. The moment passed, and I rested my hand on the boy’s shoulder, “Yes?”

He eyed Gabe for a moment before nodding, “Sorry about your momma. I ain’t had a tenant stay longer than her. She was one of the good ones.”

Gabe relaxed a beat. “Thanks.”

The landlord scanned the room, “She was good at her word, when she told me about her illness. This is cleaner than the day I leased it to her.”

I marveled at how my older sister, facing her own mortality, wrapped everything up. Even now, I don’t know if I could do it half as well. I slid my arm down Gabe’s shoulder until I rested it on his upper arm, “We’re here for Abby’s funeral. Maybe take a few days to confirm everything is in order. We’ll get the boxes out before we leave.”

“Take your time. The house is still hers through the end of the month.” Roly-Poly reached for the door and paused. After a long moment, he reached into his back pocket and added, “I was going to inspect the house before deciding what to do about the deposit. But Abby was a woman of her word.”

He crossed the room and handed an envelope to Gabe, “When your mom first rented from me, she paid a deposit. She kept up her end of the lease better than most. It’s only right I do the same. Here’s your momma’s deposit back.”

With that, he turned and left.

Gabe opened the envelope. There was a small stack of bills with Ben Franklin’s face on them. I lived in a cashless world. Everything I earned was electronically deposited into my account. Every purchase I made was just as electronic. In Abby’s world, with small rental houses and postage stamp sized yards, cash was king.

I squeezed Gabe’s arm, “You ready to go? We should get checked into the hotel before the vigil. We can come back later and get the rest of your things.”

Gabe bent over and grabbed the box of angels, “This is all I really want. I don’t want the rest; it’s just stuff I’ve outgrown.”

***

Even though I’ve always resented my mom her choices, I couldn’t find it within me to resent seeing Abby laid to rest beside her. The writer in me found closure in it. And in a moment of reflection, maybe my problem with my mom was mostly about growing up poor than anything else. That first novel was like bottling lightning, and I never looked back.

Despite the working poverty Abby lived, one thing she had over Mom was a stable of good friends. People who know Abby kept coming up to us, bombarding Gabe and me, and telling us how much Abby meant to them. They were mostly teachers and teacher assistants at the school where she worked.

The tent over Abby’s grave was big enough to hold a couple of dozen chairs. While we had reserved seats at the front, some of my sister’s coworkers couldn’t find space under the temporary enclosure and had to stand under the warm early summer sun.

While we waited for Father Sandoval to prepare the area between the seating and the casket, a woman of indeterminant years approached. She gave us a weak smile, as though anything other than a somber expression was against the rules, “Ms. Nelson?”

I nodded toward her as Gabe fidgeted next to me. “Yes?”

She offered me her hand, “We’re all very sorry about Abby, and I felt called to come over and tell you how much we appreciated your sister. She was one-in-a-million.”

I wondered how many people get to hear this kind of praise during their lives. Or is it the salve that people who yet remain salve their consciousnesses for saying too little before it’s too late. I shook her hand, “My sister had a heart of gold, Ms.…?”

“Fuentes. I’m the PE teacher. Your sister liked bragging about her kid sister, the writer.”

I shrugged. “It pays the bills.”

She gave me an appraising look, “She said you did better than that. When I asked what you wrote, she was evasive.”

That was Abby. Proud of my success, but more than just a little embarrassed I made my living from soft-core smut for middle-aged women, like Mrs. Fuentes. “Lots of women enjoy a good romance novel.”

Her eyes perked up, despite the setting, “Really? I like sweet romances.” She listed off a few authors who played it safe with sweet romance.

I don’t know why, but I felt like she was being nosy. For fuck’s sake, we were there to bury my sister. I gave her a plastic grin, perfect for the setting, “Oh, then you’ve probably read some of catalog.” I gave her my pen name, “Maybe you read my breakout novel, Can’t Buy My Love?”

Mrs. Fuentes’ nostrils flared and recognition flickered in her eyes. She licked her lips, “Ah, I don’t think I’ve heard the name.”

By this time, Gabe wasn’t fidgeting in his seat; he leaned against me, “You’re Ms. Fuentes, right?”

She nodded.

He said, “Mom thought you’d enjoy my aunt’s books.”

Mrs. Fuentes worked her jaw, but no words came out. Finally, she managed a squeak, “My condolences for your loss.”

She beat a hasty retreat. Gabe leaned in and whispered, “I bet she has every one of your books, Syd.”

I bit back a chuckle. Without hypocrites like Mrs. Fuentes, writers like me would have much smaller audiences; still the encounter galled me. Fortunately, that’s when Father Sandoval stepped up to a lectern provided by the cemetery.

He offered a sad smile to me and Gabe, before sweeping a gaze across the crowded tent. He cleared his throat and said, “Our sister Abby Nelson has gone to her rest in the peace of Christ. May the Lord now welcome her to the table of God’s children in heaven. With faith and hope in eternal life, let us assist her with our prayers. Let us pray to the Lord also for ourselves. May we who mourn be reunited one day with our sister, Abby; together may we meet Christ Jesus when He who is our life appears in glory.”

I fought Mom tooth and nail when I was a teen and refused to go to Confirmation, and hadn’t been to a confessional since I was Gabe’s age. Still, I couldn’t deny there’s a pageantry to the liturgy. Gabe leaned his head against my shoulder. A single tear streaked his cheek.

Father Sandoval added, “Amen.”

A smattering of Amens greeted him from the crowd of mourners. The priest opened a Bible and read, “We read in sacred Scripture, from the book of Saint Matthew, chapter twenty-five, verse thirty-four. Come, you whom my Father has blessed, says the Lord; inherit the kingdom prepared for you since the foundation of the world.”

From there, he took a flask containing holy water and sprinkled it over Abby’s casket. Another prayer followed, in which he prayed for Abby’s soul. I wondered if it was a waste of time. It seemed to me if there was a heaven, Abby would have been one of the first to get in.

The liturgy continued, where he explained the ashes to ashes and dust to dust. God or not, it dawned on me sitting there, staring at my sister’s casket, the whole thing wasn’t for her. She was either with the angels or she was only a memory. Were I to strip away the veneer of religion away from the priest’s words, this was all about making it easier for those of us still here to move on. After all, life is for the living.

For the first time in more than a dozen years, I bowed my head and tuned the priest out. If Abby was still around, I needed her to know I would always take care of Gabe. In the stillness of my mind, I said, “Hey Sis, I don’t know if you’re still around, or if I’m just talking to myself. But if you are up there, I just want you to know how much I miss you. If you’ve been watching from up there, you’re probably ready to kick my ass, but I want you to know I love Gabe and promise to take care of him. You knew when you asked me to watch him I’d be a shitty aunt, but you still asked me to do it. So, I figure you knew I’d do my best to be his friend.”

I sighed and looked up. Father Sandoval was still reciting liturgy. Gabe leaned forward, his lips pursed, listening to the priest. I wasn’t very good at this prayer thing, but I needed to unburden myself to my sister, I looked down at the grass, “And as you’re my witness, I’m doing the best I know how. I vow I’ll keep him by my side until he’s eighteen. And I hope for a lot longer. I hope you can forgive me for the things I’ve already done to him, and for the things I’m still hoping for. Just know, I’m going to do my best for him, teach him everything I know, and help him become a man we’d both be proud of.”

The priest said, “Amen,” and again there was a smattering of amens in response.

He blessed the casket, then turned and made the sign of the cross over me and Gabe, “Merciful Lord, you know the anguish of the sorrowful, you are attentive to the prayers of the humble. Hear your people who cry out to you in their need, and strengthen their hope in your lasting goodness; We ask this through Christ our Lord.”

Again, that smattering of Catholics among the mourners responded, “Amen.”

They were the first to get up. Some filed by the casket, but most started back toward their cars. It was surreal. My mom never took me to a church funeral. Of the two I’d attended in high school and college, one was secular and the other was a Protestant service. I wanted to grab Gabe by the hand and make toward our rental car, but that seemed in poor taste, so I stayed in the seat, accepting condolences and making small talk with Abby’s friends. It was a shame Mrs. Fuentes beat a hasty retreat at the end of the service. I so wanted to suggest a reading list of other romance authors.

Finally, Father Sandoval came over, “You guys staying in town long?”

Gabe’s hand found mine as we stood. He spoke, “Mom took care of everything. The house, her stuff. Everything. Not that we had much.”

The priest said, “By the time Abby knew she was sick, the cancer was pretty far along. But she had enough time to make sure she didn’t leave behind a mess to clean up. I can tell you for a fact, most people either don’t get that kind of chance, or figure someone else will unravel the estate after they’re gone. At least your mom made sure that you have your aunt.”

Gabe shrugged, “I love my aunt. Some of me is glad Mom asked my aunt to come get me. But the rest of me is still upset she didn’t let me know she was dying. This sucks as a goodbye.”

The priest put a few items from the lectern into a satchel, “It’s okay to be angry at your mom, Gabe. But don’t let it turn to bitterness.”

He took his leave, walking toward the cemetery’s exit. I slid an arm around Gabe and we stared at the casket for a few minutes before eventually leaving.

***

The Holiday Inn Express was your typical hotel; two queen beds, a couple of chairs, and a table. When we returned after a painfully quiet meal at the Olive Garden, Gabe disappeared into the bathroom for a while. When he came out, he dressed like he’d been that first night he stayed with me, in just his underwear. He didn’t say a word, he just lay down and rolled onto his side, facing the wall.

“You okay, sweetie?”

He didn’t say anything. I let it alone for the time being. I tried to find something on TV, but after a bit, nothing struck my fancy. I turned it off and tried again. I crossed over and sat on the edge of Gabe’s bed, “Sweetie, you okay?”

His voice was muffled, “Leave me alone.”

When you love someone, you hate to see them hurt. Love can sometimes cloud our judgement. I reached out and touched Gabe’s shoulder. He shrugged it away, “I said, go away.”

I retreated to the other bed, “I’m sorry.”

He must have been trying to hide it until that moment. But now I heard his sobs as his shoulders shook. It took every ounce of my will to not go back to him. Frustrated because I didn’t know what to do, I went to the bathroom, where I tried to relax by taking a long bath.

As I lathered my legs and took my razor to them, I thought back to the last night, less than a week ago, when Gabe and I had fooled around in my bed. Since being back in Bakersfield, we had kept our distance from each other, at least sexually. He wore a shell of impenetrable grief. Although I had touched him, it had only been the way his mom might have. He hadn’t responded even to those awkward maternal touches.

On a scale of one to ten, where one is a preteen girl with no hair and ten is the wife of sasquatch, I’m probably a three or so. If I were to let my hair grow out on my legs, it would be pretty sparse. Even at its thickest, around my ankles, there’s not a lot. So, shaving my legs was a quick job. I’d been shaving my pubes since I found out several of the girls in high school shaved theirs. Once I realized how nice it made it when I masturbated, I never stopped shaving between my legs. After more than a week since my last shave, the stubble was thick between my labia and pubic mound. Still, with practiced ease, I returned it to its preferred state.

It had been a week since I last touched myself down there and part of me, the part who was hurt by Gabe pushing me away, wanted to ravage my clit, work myself up into a powerful cum. I discarded the idea when I realized the water was cooling; I’d been in the bathroom long enough. I dried off and wrapped a towel around my torso and went back into the other room. Gabe lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. His eyes were puffy and his cheeks were wet.

I grabbed a clean pair of panties from my travel bag and turned away from Gabe. I let the towel fall and then slid the underwear up my legs until I lightly slapped the frilly band against my lower abs. I felt his eyes on me and once I slid into my cami, I turned around. “Yes?”

Gabe said, “I-, I’m sorry about earlier. That was a dick thing to do.”

I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, but I crossed the room and sat on the edge of his bed, “No, I shouldn’t have pushed. You take all the time you need, sweetie.”

He scooted over, giving me a bit more room, “No. I’m really pissed off at Mom. She had no right to hide how sick she was. But she treated you the same way she treated me. It’s stupid to take it out on you. The only thing I’m glad of was that you came and picked me up. I know that’s crazy. Pissed at her because she made me go away. Happy it was with you because you… well, you love me even more than Mom.”

I place my hand on his knee, “I wouldn’t say more than your mom. She loved you like only a mother can. I love you, well, like a girlfriend, only more.”

He wiped at his cheeks. “I-, I like that. Me too.”

He yawned, and I looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand between the beds. It was almost ten. And the day had been one of the worst in both of our lives. I stood and tugged at the covers, “Come on, Gabe, go on and get under the covers.”

Once under the covers, he said, “Um, Syd, is it okay if you hold me tonight, even if I don’t feel like being touched?”

“You want me to hold you, but not touch you?”

A ghost of a smile played at the corners of Gabe’s lips. “You know what I mean. On my, um, dick.”

I had to repress a smile. As I slid between the sheet and the cover, I hoped his lack of interest would not be long term. Even so, it felt nice once I shifted my body over to his back and snuggled against him. Just before Abby’s passing, I wondered if he might have pushed past my height. And now, playing the big spoon to his small, I noticed he was now taller than me, if just by an inch or so.

He grabbed my hand and pulled it to his chest, “Mm, that’s better.”

Before long, his soft sonorous snores told me he was asleep. For me, I lay awake wondering what held. It was a long time before I finally drifted off.

Copyright 2022 – Caliboy1991
All rights reserved

The Road Less Traveled – Chapter 8
By
Caliboy1991

When you pay more than three-quarters of a million dollars for a luxury motorcoach, it comes with a lot of bells and whistles. Those I’ve enjoyed from the first day were the blackout shades in the bedroom. The first sign of morning was a delicate caress on my stomach. Fingers traced my microscopic vellus hairs around my belly button, circling the scar left by my umbilical cord over twenty-four years ago.

When Gabe reached my sternum, I felt the familiar fluttering in my stomach. He didn’t stop; his fingers arced around, swooping to the right of my navel before curving below. He stopped when his index finger found the lacy waistband of my panties. I admired his bravery while I slept. Every journey one takes begins with a first step.

I murmured, “Good morning, sweetie. I don’t think anyone’s ever awakened me in such a pleasant way.”

When his fingers retreated from my panties, I put my hand on top of his a few inches above my belly. He stammered, “G-, good morning, Syd. At first, I thought last night was a dream. Waking up next to you and, um, seeing your, ah, boobs, I knew it wasn’t a dream.”

Although my bedroom was dark, I could see Gabe’s body just as he had been last night. Naked. And sporting his morning wood. I could hardly believe he could cum, even though he was still a few days shy of turning twelve. With my hand over his, I guided it upwards, along the pronounced ridges of my ribs. I had never put my bra back on before falling asleep, so there was nothing to push aside before resting his palm on one of my tits.

Warm tingles spread across my chest as his fingers played with a nipple. I moaned as pleasure ebbed and flowed through me. I moved closer to Gabe, and leaned in, “Kiss me!”

Our lips touched. Gabe’s lips worked the kiss like a pro. He applied what he learned. I shifted in the bed until our bodies touched, although his hand kept playing with my tit.

With no underwear, his cock pressed against my pubic mound. When he came up for air, Gabe gasped, “This feels like we’re more than just friends.”

When I realized how badly I wanted this young boy to take me, to own me, the last thing I wanted was for him to see the aunt/nephew dynamic. He had to see me as a friend first. My greatest desire was for him to see us as more than that.

I nibbled on his lip before resting my head on his shoulder, “I feel it too. Gabe, have you ever had a girlfriend?”

“No. Mom says I can date when she’s dead.”

The words hung over us like a knife. He muttered an apology, “It’s what she said, Syd. It’s just knowing how sick she is, I feel bad about saying that.”

I caressed his back, “It’s alright, Gabe. Your mom just wants to hold on to your childhood after it’s gone. But while you’re with me, how would you feel about making up our own rules?”

He nuzzled his face against my neck, “Like last night?”

Heat poured through me, “Yeah. I feel the same way you do; like we’re a lot more than just friends.”

Gabe’s lips sought mine. He kissed me and played with my chest until he ran out of breath. “So, we’re more than friends?”

I squeezed him in my embrace, “You’re so strong, Gabe. What did I tell you last night?”

“You said I conquered you. But I still don’t understand what it means, Syd.”

My lips brushed against his, and I slid my hand between our bodies and cupped it over his cock, “It means I want you to kiss me. To force your hands up my shirt and play with my tits, to take me and make me yours.”

I felt his heart pounding against his chest. His voice shook, “Like sex?”

I gazed into his eyes and nodded, “Yes, Gabe. I want you to possess me like the men in my books.”

His cock pulsed against my palm. His voice was raw with desire, “I, uh, I need to pee. I’ll be right back, Syd.”

Despite the blackout curtains, I enjoyed the sight of his ass before he disappeared into the toilet closet. I wanted to feel his nearly five inches slide into me. My panties were drenched with my juices. Were he to return and mount me and fuck me, I was wet enough.

It was a silly fantasy for sweet, adorable Gabe to play the role of asshole billionaires. Or for me to take whatever he dishes out. I hated every one of the five minutes Kyle fucked me when I was a college freshman. He was rough and unskilled and hurt me when he took my virginity. Yet, I was basically asking Gabe to play a similar role. Sometimes our psyches are fucked up. I won’t deny it. Gabe wasn’t like that one time before. He was the personification of my fantasies, of rough, capable men who knew what they wanted and knew how to take it and give the heroine what she needed too.

The sound of water being suctioned from the toilet alerted me that Gabe was done. A moment later, he came out and stood at the corner of the bed. His cock was limp. Absentmindedly, he toyed with it as he looked at me, indecision on his face. While I wanted him to take control, I knew I’d need to help him along, “What would you like to do first, sweetie?”

He glanced at his three soft inches, “Can you do what you did last night?”

I nodded, “Sure. Come here.”

He climbed onto the bed and I took his hand and pulled him to me. As much as I wanted him inside me, that look on his face reminded me sex was something to work toward. I said, “Straddle my stomach, Gabe.”

He slid his knee over my stomach and sat on my belly. Even though he weighed over a hundred pounds, it wasn’t too much. I took him in my fingers and watched the three-inch limp noodle transform into almost five inches of boy-steel. Once he was hard, I slowly jacked him up and down a few times. Even though he sat on my stomach, I wished his cock was closer to me. I don’t know why. Never in my life had I let a guy put his cock into my mouth, but Gabe’s beautiful cock fascinated me.

I let go of him long enough to put my hands against his butt and pulled at him. Without a word exchanged, Gabe inched forward, moving from my belly to just below my tits. My fist wrapped around him and I jacked him up and down a few more times. With just a finger, I pushed his dick down until it lined up with my face. Six inches separated my mouth from that morsel of boy meat.

He couldn’t help but notice, “Do you want to lick it?”

“If you don’t mind.”

He didn’t. Gabe shifted his hips forward until his circumcised glans touched my lips. I kissed the tip. Unlike sex videos, or what I recalled from Kyle, there was nothing leaking from that little hole, although there was a hint of piss. A second lick and even that taste faded.

I took him by the base and bobbed forward, sliding his helmet shaped head through my lips. My tongue slid through his tiny piss slit, eliciting an excited hiss, “Oh, wow!”

I was ready to take more of him into my mouth when my phone rang. We both ignored it. He pushed his hips, and I pushed my face toward him. My lips slid past the perfect ring formed by his circumcision. The heat from the first inch of his pole plus his glans made me salivate. I wanted all of him.

The phone rang again. Gabe’s hiss was one of frustration. I pulled back and grabbed the phone. It was from Bakersfield. Thoughts of Abby pushed through my horniness and I said, “Just a sec, sweetie. Maybe it’s your mom.”

I swiped the answer button, and tried to make my voice sound like I hadn’t been giving my first blowjob to a nearly twelve-year-old, “Hello?”

A gravelly voice responded, “Ms. Nelson? Ms. Sydney Nelson?”

“Speaking.”

“This is Father Sandoval, I’m a chaplain at Embracing Arms Hospice. Your sister has been our guest.”

I felt confused. When Abby had called, she told us she was being treated at one of the local hospitals. When had she gone to a hospice? And why the hell now? Even though I had Gabe’s succulent meat inches from my face, icy dread clawed at my stomach. “Is there something wrong with Abby?”

“I’m sorry to say, your sister passed away this morning.”

Gabe could hear the priest’s every word, so close was he to me. He leaned back, a stunned expression on his face. I stammered, “Wha-, how? She called us last night from the hospital. Sure, she said it was worse than she feared, but this morning? Good God, what happened?”

Gabe slid from my chest, nestling against me, tears falling down his cheeks. One of my arms slid around his back, pulling him against my side. I turned the speaker on; He was already listening, there was no point in even trying to hide the call. Father Sandoval said, “So that’s what she told you. She came to us about three weeks ago after receiving a terminal diagnosis for stage four breast cancer. She was terminal at that time.”

Nothing about this conversation was going the way I expected. “But the treatment? She told me when I came to pick up Gabe that her doctors wanted her to undergo a couple of months’ worth of chemo at the hospital. Why would she lie about that?”

“I think she wanted to spare her son the agony of watching her die over a protracted illness. Didn’t your mother pass from cancer too?”

My voice was raw and ragged, “Y-, yeah. Abby was there for the whole thing. Mom lingered for a while.”

There was compassion in the priest’s voice, “I’m really sorry, Ms. Nelson. I doubt there’s any consolation, but many of our guests linger until their bodies are all that remain. I heard your sister’s confession last night and although she was in a lot of pain, she was also very much of sound mind.”

He was right. I found little consolation. I looked at Gabe and through his tears he mouthed, “how?”

I asked the disembodied voice, “It sounds like you expected her to hang on longer. What changed?”

The priest said, “Abby went into cardiac arrest around five o’clock this morning. Like most of our guests, she had a Do Not Resuscitate order on file. There was nothing to be done.”

I wanted to scream that he could bring back my sister. But I knew it wouldn’t help. Abby went out the way she wanted, even if she cut Gabe and me out of the process. I wanted to blame her, but after what she went through with our mom, it was hard to fault her.

Gabe looked at me with his tear-soaked eyes, “What’s going to happen now?”

The priest must have thought he was talking to the phone. “Young man, I’m sorry for your loss. Your mom told me how much she loved you. For now, she took care of her own arrangements. She wants to have a graveside mass once you guys are back in town.”

Bakersfield was a two-day drive in the RV. I couldn’t imagine putting Gabe through that. Not now. “We’re in Colorado at the moment. We can probably fly out later today and be there tonight.”

The priest said, “You’ve got a bit of time. If you’d like, you can have the vigil on Friday evening and interment at the cemetery on Saturday. Most of Abby’s friends aren’t Catholic and she asked to forego the funeral mass at church.”

As a lapsed Catholic, I didn’t care. But it meant a lot to Abby, “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Father Sandoval spoke with us for a few more minutes. When the call ended, Gabe wrapped his arms around my neck and cried. I held him close as my tears mixed with his. In one unexpected phone call, his world had been upended. The security he found in his mom was gone, crushed under the terrible weight of cancer. My world was upended. The uncertainty of Abby’s diagnosis and treatment was over. Her fight was over. There was no pretending that she would recover or that Gabe would return home.

For better or worse, we were going to be together until his eighteenth birthday. The part of me who was still his aunt knew I needed to do better; I was a horrible parental role model. The other part of me wanted something more. It was that part of me who saw Gabe’s potential as a writer, as someone who made me feel alive and part of something wonderful.

I didn’t know which of those two parts to give Gabe, so I cried with him until we could find no more tears. Eventually, he let go of me and wiped his nose with his elbow. He hiccupped, “Wh-, what am I supposed to do now, Syd?”

Drying my eyes, I said, “Can you google the nearest airport with commercial flights? I’m going to get dressed and start loading the RV. Today’s going to be a long day, sweetie, and we best get moving.”

Copyright 2022 – Caliboy1991
All rights reserved

The Road Less Traveled – Chapter 7
By
Caliboy1991

“How many sales so far?” Gabe asked as he put a pan into the dishwasher.

The laptop was open and on the dining table. I wagged a soapy finger at him from where I scrubbed a pot we’d used to cook some veggies in, “You’ve gotta give it some time, Gabe. The novel’s been live for less than four hours.”

He went around to the laptop, wiping his damp hands on his shorts, “Can I hit the refresh button?”

I set the rinsed pot on the counter, “If you want, then come back in here and finish loading.”

A moment later, he exclaimed, “Holy shit! You’ve already sold a hundred copies of the new book!”

I grabbed a hand towel and went and stood next to him. He was right. But this wasn’t my first rodeo. The first thirty days were critical to most books’ success. Rarely would they sell more books than right out of the gate. My problem was, book four in the series had only sold about eight-thousand copies since its release about six weeks ago. Book 5 would probably only sell six thousand copies over the same amount of time. The only saving grace is it was time to take on a new series and the only thing I had available was Give the Devil His Due, which my agent was convinced would kill my career.

I tousled his hair, “Not too bad. But I’m only as good as my last book.”

Once the dishwasher started, I said, “We’ve got a bit of light still left. Want to go lounge in the chairs and read for a bit?”

Gabe looked out the window, “Dunno. What about the pool? The sign says it’s open until ten.”

That gave us plenty of time. “I guess so. Go on and get changed.”

When we had stopped in town on our way to Mesa Verde, we went into a Walmart and picked him up some clothes. One of which was a swimsuit. The way Gabe hurried to the bedroom and rooted around in the drawers told me he was ready to try out the pool.

He bolted into the bathroom area and closed the pocket door, and I could almost hear clothing flying about as he changed. I found my swimsuit in another drawer and placed the two pieces on the bed. I had bought the swimsuit last year. It had been on a lark after finishing an earlier book series. At that time, I had been fantasizing about my previous bad boy billionaire and had impulsively bought the purple string bikini. I used it a few times in my fantasies before moving on to the next fantasy. Since then, the swimsuit remained in the drawer. Was it too revealing to wear to the pool with Gabe? I wasn’t sure.

The door slid open, and Gabe appeared. The swimsuit wasn’t those horrid board-shorts that were only slightly less long than pants. No, he wore an honest-to-God swimsuit. The blue and red stripped shorts ended about halfway above his knees. I hadn’t noticed until now, but going around wearing just shorts, the boy was developing a nice tan across his shoulders and stomach.

He came over and looked at my swimsuit, “Is that yours?”

“I bought it last year. I’m not sure about it.”

His eyes flitted between the swimsuit and my body, “Why not? I think you’d look nice in it.”

Seeing the look in Gabe’s eyes was enough, “Okay. Give me a moment and we can go.”

The door safely closed behind me, I stripped down. I tied the bottoms into place and admired myself in the mirror. Really, it was just to wish my body had more definition to it. I didn’t think skinny was sexy. The cups on the top were slightly larger than my breasts. If I had it to do over, I would have bought a top with padded breasts. The material was supposed to stretch a bit, make other women jealous and men take notice. Now, I was hoping we would have the pool to ourselves.

I sighed as I tore my eyes away from the reflection staring back at me and opened the door. Gabe sat on the end of my bed, lying back with his hands folded under his head, waiting. When he turned, I could feel his eyes taking in the skimpy suit. Not content to give him the first word, I said, “Still think it looks nice on my boney bod?”

He sat up, not taking his eyes off me, “Y-, yeah. You look really pretty.”

I felt myself smiling. I didn’t get compliments about my body very often. I’d take all the compliments Gabe sent my way. “Okay. You look pretty handsome in your swimsuit, too. So, let’s grab a towel and head over.”

The pool was near the front of the park and surrounded by a wooden privacy fence. The sign on the gate said, “No children under 13 unless accompanied by an adult. No lifeguard on duty, swim at your own risk.”

The pool area was empty, although there were chase lounges scattered around the pool, enough for a dozen sunbathers. At either end of the pool area, a couple of security cameras were set up to cover the pool area. I ignored all that and dipped a toe in the crystal-clear water. It was almost warm after a whole day under the summer sun.

Gabe pulled his shoes off and came over and sat on the ledge, “When I was in the campgrounds office, the cameras weren’t working.”

I nudged his back, sending him into the water with a splash. When he came up, sputtering water, I said, “We don’t want you to drown. Nobody would know who to blame.”

He swam across the pool while I slid into the relaxing water. All the stress of the day ebbed away. From the stress of releasing my latest novel to the slow death of my sister, the water pushed all that aside for a while.

Gabe waited until I appeared relaxed, floating on my back in the middle of the pool. He came over. The water was chest deep on him. “You look comfortable, Aunt Sydney.”

“This was a good idea. Relaxing in the water is therapeutic.”

He grinned at me and I felt a moment of impending doom, “So is dunking your friends.”

With that, he sank into the water and grabbed me around the waist, pulling me under. As soon as I began to struggle against his hold, he let go and splashed toward the deep end. I ignored the tingle in my body in that too-brief moment when he wrapped his arms around me. There were more important things in life. Like revenge.

He was fast, I’ll give him that. By the time I nearly reached him where the marker said the pool was nine-feet deep, he kicked away from me. I finally caught him near the shallow end. I came at him with my arms outstretched, the water didn’t quite reach the tops of our swimsuits so there was less resistance as I grabbed onto his upper arms and pushed him over backwards.

My momentum kept me moving and as he gave way, I landed on top of him, driving him toward the bottom of the pool. I don’t think his butt touched the bottom, because he was kicking away from me. He surfaced where the game started, in the middle of the pool. He wore a huge grin as he said, “I see how it is. You’re going down, woman!”

To hear his unbroken, treble voice say those words sent a shiver through me. It was entirely inappropriate, but for the briefest of moments, I wanted Gabe to dominate me. So, when he charged me, I may not have been as quick to move out of the way. And when he threw his arms around my neck, pulling me under, I may have waited a few seconds before I wiggled myself free.

When our faces broke the surface, I splashed him in the face, “Is that all you’ve got, Mr. Nelson?”

If his howl of protest was muted, in awareness that we were playing in a public pool, who I was to say? In that moment of play, the look of pure joy on Gabe’s face was proof I may not be a good aunt, but I was going to be the best friend possible to this boy. When he lunged at me, I back pedaled into deeper water. When he caught me, he threw his arms around my neck and pulled me toward him as he sank. Our faces were inches from each other. I responded to his feral grin with my own smile. Instead of wiggling my way free, I let us sink. Finally, when my butt brushed the bottom of the pool, I snaked my arms around his waist and pulled his body against mine long enough to lean in and kiss his cheek. Then I broke free and pushed toward the surface.

Gabe’s head appeared a second or two later. The look of wonderment on his face made my heart melt. The alarm bells that should have been going off in my head were muted and I relished the thought I’d put that expression on his face. After a moment, with a silly grin on his face, he swam over to me. We stood on the concrete bottom’s slope, our shoulders still above the water. Our bodies were nearly touching. His face was a few inches from mine. His voice matched the surprised expression on his face, “Did I do a good job taking you down?”

I knew the difference between reality and fantasy. The fantasies I served up to middle-aged women were about being dominated by a man worthy of their adoration. But those were just fantasies. Why did my nephew make me feel like I wanted to be dominated? I didn’t know the answer, but I wanted my fantasy. I slid my arms around his neck, “Yeah, Mr. Nelson. You’re stronger than me.”

The grin that radiated from his lips was enough to set my heart on fire. For the second time, I pulled his body against mine and kissed his cheek. I let the kiss linger until I felt something against my bikini bottoms. Warmth spread across me as my entire body enjoyed the touch. Then, after far more time than I could ever explain away, I broke the kiss and let go of his neck, a look of worry creased my features. When I put an arm’s length between us, I stopped, “You okay, Gabe?”

His hand was on his swimsuit, adjusting himself. He glanced toward the gate before saying, “I-, um, I’m sorry, Aunt Sydney. I don’t know what happened.”

I was to blame for making him hard and there he was, blaming himself. I loved him all the more for his innocence. “Please, Gabe. That wasn’t your fault. That was just your body responding to something nice. I shouldn’t have hugged you like that.”

Gabe flushed, “Even though I liked it?”

We moved to the side of the pool, where we leaned against the concrete ribbon. He was on the shallower side, so appeared few inches taller than me. “I liked it too.”

This was getting too weird. I knew we needed to talk, but not like this. “Can I ask you a favor, Gabe?”

He nodded, “Sure, Aunt Sydney.”

I reached out and took his hand, “You know how I told your mom I wanted to be your friend, because I thought we got along well as friends?”

He squeezed my hand, “Yeah. It’s even better than you being my aunt.”

I smiled at that. “Definitely. For the rest of the evening, let’s focus on our friendship. Just call me Syd. Not Aunt Sydney… just Syd. Okay. And you’ll just be Gabe. Not my nephew Gabe.”

He grinned, “You never call me that. It’s always just Gabe. Okay… um, Syd.”

I wasn’t sure how to proceed. But I would not let myself be burdened by guilt. We needed a conversation between friends. “How much do you know about your, um, body? Like when you got hard?”

His cheeks flushed, “It happens sometimes. Sometimes when I get up in the morning, it’s like that. But it goes away after I pee.”

He looked at me out of the corner of his eyes, as though embarrassed to go on. “When I read your novels, sometimes, when the man and woman are doing stuff, I mean, having sex, I get hard.”

He looked adorable, giving up what he probably thought was a big secret. I whispered, “Sometimes?”

An embarrassed giggle slipped out, “Okay. A lot. Then when we touched. Those were the best hugs in my life. After reading the stories, I thought it was normal for it to get hard like that.”

I wanted to reach out and kiss him. He may have been incredibly naïve, but he understood more than most boys his age, more than a lot of men twice his age. But I also wanted to strangle my sister. She had kept him so sheltered; he didn’t appear to know what to do with himself.

I realized as we shared that moment, I wanted to have him hold me again. To feel him against me. He was my fantasy come to life. But how could I surrender myself to his power when he didn’t know the power he held over me?

I let the water pull me closer to Gabe, but stopped about half a foot away and looked up at him. I liked the illusion of him being taller thanks to the steeply sloping pool floor. “It’s completely normal, Gabe, to get hard when you read something sexy or when you touch someone you really like.”

The tiny eddies and currents of the pool closed the distance a bit more until only a hand’s width of space separated our chests, He breathed, “But what do I do when it happens?”

I rested my arm on his shoulder, “Have you touched yourself down there?”

He flushed as the current lightly brought our chests together. “Sometimes. But last year Mom told me not to put my hands down there.”

Our chests parted, leaving a couple of inches of water between us again, “Did you ever hear any of the boys talking about jacking off?”

Gabe’s cheeks flared crimson. He whispered, “Y-, yeah.”

“Do you know what they meant?”

The tiny currents connected our chests again, “They touch themselves.”

I wanted to cry inside. Every twelve-year-old boy should know how to masturbate. I knew Abby wouldn’t approve of our conversation, but frankly, I didn’t care. Gabe needed a friend a lot more than he needed an aunt. The hand on his shoulder slid around his neck, pulling our bodies gently together again, “It’s a bit more involved than that, sweetie. Would you like to hold me again?”

He let go his purchase on the concrete ribbon and his arms slid around my back. Almost immediately, I felt his hardness against my abs. His voice shook, “Is this okay, Aunt Syd-“

“Please, Gabe. No more aunt. Just Syd.”

“O-, okay. Is this okay, Syd?”

Perhaps it was wrong. But I didn’t care. Gabe was my fantasy incarnate. I needed him. “Yeah, sweetie. That feels nice. Do you want to kiss me?”

His body trembled against mine, in a voice that squeaked with emotion, he gasped, “On the lips?”

I nodded, “That’s the way we do it.”

I tilted my neck and put my face within a hairsbreadth of Gabe’s. I wanted this kiss. But more so, I wanted him to want it enough for him to put his lips on mine. When his soft lips pushed against mine, it felt like my heart skipped a beat; like a tiny electrical shock traveled between our lips. A heartbeat later he looked into my eyes, “Is that how it’s done, Au-, um, Syd?”

I squeezed him against me and nodded, “Yeah, Gabe. That was nice. You can do it again, if you want.”

The second kiss was even better. His lips melded to mine the way a kiss should be. A few seconds later, he grinned, “That feels really nice. Is that how men kiss women in your books?”

Baby steps, Sydney, I reminded myself. I nodded, “That’s right. How do you feel, Gabe?”

Lips curling into a smile, Gabe said, “Kinda good. Kinda weird. My stomach feels like a million butterflies are flying around. My, uh, penis is hard… And it’s… Um, Syd, should I move it?”

The heat radiating through his shorts against my abs was the best feeling I’d ever felt. The one time I’d had sex in college had nearly ruined it for me. This felt like a second lease on life. “No, sweetie. If it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, it feels nice our bodies being so close.”

The lights around the pool were weak; several of them needed to be replaced. We were more in the shadows now that the night was upon us. Still, I figured we had another hour until ten and I really didn’t want to get out of the pool now. So, I leaned forward, planted a peck on his lips and then whispered in his ear, “You’re the big, powerful billionaire. Catch me if you can!”

With that, I pushed away from the side of the pool and angled toward the deep end. Gabe stood, his mouth agape for a couple of seconds, before he chased after me. I splashed at him as he tried to close with me. I was scared because if someone were to barge in on us, explaining what we were doing was impossible. I was scared because I didn’t know what Gabe would do. I was scared for Gabe too; I didn’t want to push him too far or too fast.

He finally caught up with me at the deepest part, wrapping his arms around my neck and pulling me tight against his chest. Neither of us fought as we sank below the water. Instead, he leaned into me until our lips touched, bubbles filling the water around our heads. He broke the kiss and the hold around my neck first and kicked to the surface. When I broke the surface, he was beaming at me, “Caught you, woman!”

Even though I was still breathless, I closed the narrow space between us and took his hand in mine, “You did. You conquered me, Mr. Nelson. I’m yours.”

Despite the shadows, Gabe’s eyes grew round in shock. He gasped, “Really?”

I was treading water in the deep end in more ways than one, “Yeah, if you kiss me again.”

Gabe closed the distance, and we treaded water together as he leaned in and kissed me again.

The kiss had just ended when the gate rattled. A moment later, an old woman shuffled into the pool area. By the time she saw us, we were on opposite sides of the deep end. Her voice was a-pack-a-day rough, “You kids mind if I get in the shallow end? The water helps my arthritis.”

I leaned against the side of the pool, “Not at all. I think we’re about done here.”

***

Gabe fell against the couch once the door to the RV closed behind us, “Oh, crap, I thought for sure we’d been busted,” his laughter was fueled by the adrenaline we both felt after that near-scare.

I collapsed next to him, “No shit. Aside from some old woman scaring five years off our lives, how’d you enjoy the pool?”

His eyes gleamed as he leaned into me, his face inches from mine, “That was really cool, uh, Syd. I liked it.”

I traced my finger from his lips, along his neck, down his sternum, not stopping until I reached his innie belly button. “Enough to kiss me again?”

The lights were out in the RV and the shades covered the windows. We wouldn’t be bothered. His voice shook, “Here?”

Our bodies already touched. I moved, pressing my body against his, “Sure. You conquered me, Gabe.”

I didn’t want to spook him, but my body felt more alive than ever, and I wanted him to. If I was wrong, then so be it. I added, “You can do what you want to me, sweetie.”

Again, I stopped just short of his face. A moment later, his lips pressed against mine as his arms wrapped around my back. The kiss ended after a few heartbeats, but we held on to each other. After a moment he said, “I never knew how much fun kissing would be.”

He fell into silence for a bit longer. He was processing our evening so far, “Syd, was this real or was it a fantasy?”

The question surprised me. “Of course it was real, Gabe.”

He grimaced, “Sorry. What I meant is that you pretended to be one of the women in your books. You treated me like I was like one of the powerful billionaires. That’s a fantasy, right?”

Maybe Gabe was smarter than me. But that didn’t change how I felt or what I wanted. It just gave me another reason to love the boy. “Yes, it is. But I still I enjoyed it when you were in control and kissed me.”

He gave me a perplexed smile, “It was fun. I liked how it felt to kiss you. But I don’t know what I’m doing.”

I knew the feeling. I’d only been with one man on one night six years ago and it left me nearly as inexperienced, despite writing hundreds of steamy sex scenes into my novels. “Can I tell you a secret, Gabe?”

When he nodded, I continued, “I don’t really know what I’m doing either. Almost everything in the books is just stuff I’ve read about or seen in videos. Before tonight, before you, I was with one guy when I was eighteen and it sucked. But it’s like I said earlier, I want to be your friend.”

He smiled through his confusion, “I like us being friends even more than being your nephew. I feel more like a grown up when you treat me like you did today. But…”

I finished for him, “You don’t know what to do?”

Flushing again, he nodded.

Like Julius Caesar crossing the Rubicon, or more aptly, like Blackbeard hoisting the Jolly Roger, I leaned against him and brushed my lips across his, “Would you like for me to show you?”

The eagerness with which he nodded his head set my heart racing. I pulled my body away from his and stood, “Okay, sweetie, take my hand.”

I pulled him to his feet and drew him to me. Our eyes were level, from our toes to our chests, our bodies touched. My arms went around his waist as I murmured, “Put your arms around my neck.”

When he did so, I felt his breath hot on my lips. Once again, something hard poked against my pubic mound. I said, “Do you want to kiss me?”

Instead of nodding, Gabe closed the last inch, and our lips met. Although it was still two people learning how their lips worked together, I felt passion rising in my chest as our heartbeats thundered in our chest. When he finally broke the kiss, he grinned, “That was really hot, Syd.”

I was breathing heavy, “Yeah, you’re a natural. What would you like to do now?”

He glanced between us. My bikini top pressed against his chest. I gave him a welcoming grin, “You can touch them. I’d like that.”

He retracted one arm and pulled it between us. He rested his palm against the flimsy fabric and despite the thin covering, my skin felt his fingers as they brushed against my tit. Tingly heat spread from his touch. “Wow, it feels so soft.”

Nobody had ever touched me like that. Gabe understood me more at eleven than Kyle ever did at eighteen. “I like it. Your fingers are like a touch of heaven. Do you want to see them?”

He gave me a questioning look. I grabbed one of the cups and pulled it open, giving him a quick flash of nipple, “If you want to see my tits, I’ll take my top off.”

Gabe bit his lower lip and nodded. His eyes never leaving his hand over my chest. My body must have trembled at the idea of letting Gabe see my tits. I fiddled with the ties around my back and neck for a moment before finally loosening them. Then I grabbed the string and pulled. The material slid between his fingers and my skin until I was free of the top. I dropped it on the floor and enjoyed Gabe’s admiring stare.

My nipple was hard under his delicate touch. “You can feel them, if you want.”

His other hand retracted from my neck and soon he cupped them both over my tits. Despite his young age, or maybe because of my small boobs, my little half-lemon shaped tits fit comfortably in his palms as he squeezed them. He was making me feel wet between my legs, and he’d only touched my tits. Gabe didn’t know what he was doing to me. “Whatcha think?”

His treble voice was full of worship, “They’re incredible, Syd.”

I took him by the hand and pulled him toward the bedroom, stopping only when we stood between the bed and the bathroom. I turned the light in the bathroom on, letting us see each other better. The first thing I noticed was the way his swimsuit poked out between his legs. For as long as I’ve looked at porn, I’ve known that men in videos are not normal men when it comes to the size of their cocks. Kyle had cured me of that belief. When he fucked me, it was as though he had something to prove, violently shoving his five inches into me. What little I knew of boys was they were much smaller versions of men. I dared not get my hopes up, reminding myself that even a three-inch cock was a thing of beauty.

I kissed him again and pressed my bare chest against his. The heat against my pubic mount drove me to say what I said next, “Gabe, can I see your cock?”

Gabe’s cheeks seemed to inhabit a permanent state of crimson. He stared at my tits for a moment before he said, “Y-, you want to see my penis?”

Count on Abby to teach him the right words. Shame she hadn’t explained how to use it. I nodded, “Only if you don’t mind.”

A few heartbeats passed before he nodded, “O-, okay. You can see it.”

He took a step back and put his hands on the band of his swimsuit. I reached and grabbed one of his wrists, “Can I do it? Pull them down?”

“Y-, yeah. If you want,” he breathed.

Kneeling before him, as gently as possible, I pushed his hands aside and took hold of the elastic. Slowly, like unwrapping a birthday present, I tugged his shorts down his hips. I kept pulling them down until the milky-white base of his penis came into view when his shorts became caught on his boner. Not wanting to hurt him, I pulled the front of the swimsuit away, freeing him and giving me the first few of an erect penis in six years.

I don’t know what I was expecting. He had been three inches soft, so it was reasonable to assume he would be close to that when hard. On the other hand, I’ve read plenty of teen drama online while researching stories. And well-endowed boys tended to brag about their dicks being huge. But the reality was somewhere in between. Gabe’s erection was closer to five inches than four. And unlike his thin, little noodle from a few years before, he was at least an inch thick at the base. It was breathtaking in its perfection.

Time stood still as I studied the indention above the base of his shaft. Unlike Kyle’s thick bush, Gabe didn’t have a hair anywhere. I wanted to touch it, to feel its heat under my fingers. Instead, I worshiped it. Finally, Gabe’s plaintive voice penetrated the fog, “I know it’s not very big, Syd. But is it okay?”

I turned my eyes upward and smiled, “Yeah, sweetie. Your cock is perfect. Do you want me to touch it?”

His eyes grew round, “You wanna?”

“Oh yeah. A lot.”

Much quicker than when I’d asked if I could see him, this time he nodded right away.

It was just my imagination, but when my index finger touched the soft, spongy skin of his shaft, I felt something like an electrical current shoot through my hand. For the first time in my life, I studied the paradox of a boy’s penis. Gabe’s penis looked younger than Kyle’s. And where Kyle’s penis, while hard, lacked the near absolute rigidity of Gabe’s erection, it was like feeling steel under Gabe’s soft skin.

I eased Gabe onto the side of the bed as I wrapped my fingers around his nail-like boner. Almost of its own volition, my hand stroked up and down on his cock. His eyes remained wide, staring at my hand on his erection. He stammered, “W-, wow. Is this what you meant earlier about jacking off?”

I nodded and kept my relaxed speed. Less than a minute passed when he said, “S-, Syd! It feels like I gotta pee.”

Thank God for a voracious literary appetite. I knew he was nearing his orgasm. Boys as young as Gabe were a mystery to me. Until he starts puberty, I figured his first orgasm would be dry. My fingers moved faster as he moaned again. A third moan and Gabe pushed his hip off the bed. How his cock managed it, I don’t know. But it grew even harder as it expanded slightly within my fingers. He grunted again when a drop of clear liquid fired out his piss slit. The drop hit me between my tits as both of us gasped in surprise.

I kept pumping him a few more times, but that was his only gift. He just stared at me in an orgasmic haze. I let go his boner and joined him on the edge of the bed. I looked down; this little bit of watery cum had slid down my chest, disappearing in my belly button. I chuckled as I slid my arm around his shoulders. My voice was shaky, “And that, my love, is how you jack off. What’d you think of your first orgasm?”

He lay his head on my shoulder, “Wow, Syd. Wow.”

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