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Category: Caliboy1991 (Page 3 of 28)

Life goes on – Part 2

Life goes on – Part 2
By
Caliboy1991

When I woke up later that morning, the sun was trying to peek through the curtains on my window. I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. It was after nine. The house was quiet. I got out of bed and went over to my door and looked out. The door to Mom’s bedroom was open and I could see her still on her side.

Worried, I went back into her room, “Mom? You awake?”

I had to repeat myself a few times before I heard, “Hmm? Jerry, is that…”

Her voice cracked as she rolled onto her back. Although she wasn’t crying, the grief in her eyes cut me deeply. “Todd.”

There was nothing else for several dozen heartbeats. Finally I said, “You want some breakfast? I can pour you some cereal.”

Her lips twisted, almost as though trying to turn the deep-set frown into something else. “Thanks, sweetie. You might want to put some clothes on first.”

I looked down and blushed. When I had gone to sleep in my own bed, I had stripped down to my gray and white boxer-briefs. I turned and hurried from the room, embarrassed. It had to have been at least two or three years since Mom had seen me in as little.

Clothed in shorts and a t-shirt, I returned with a couple of bowls of cereal. Mom had taken off the women’s suit jacket as well as the black pantyhose. She reclined against her pillow in the white, long-sleeved blouse and black skirt. Her face was puffy from all the crying.

While we ate, she said, “I guess we should clean up from yesterday. I’m sure the guests made a mess of everything.”

I had just come from there. I’d seen worse after some of Mom and Dad’s family get-to-gathers. But getting her up to do something, anything, was better than leaving her to mope all day long.

We cleaned the entire downstairs, vacuuming and mopping as needed. Lunch and dinner were from one of the casseroles. It was about six that evening when the doorbell chimed. I hurried to open it. I didn’t recognize the Hispanic woman standing there, but in slow Texas drawl, she said, “My husband, Juan worked with your daddy. I’m bringing over a platter of tamales for dinner.”

After taking the disposable dish from her, I closed the door as she walked away, wondering how many more meals Dad’s coworkers would bring.

Things were better tonight than last. At least at first. After dinner, Mom retreated to the bathroom. I heard the shower running for a bit, while I played on my PS5 in my room. I was just about to go knock on the bathroom door to see if she was alright, when the shower turned off and I heard her moving about. She spent the rest of the evening in her room until bedtime.

I kept my door open that night when I went to bed. And It was close to midnight when I heard hard-wracking sobs from Mom’s room. Worried, I pulled on my shorts and hurried into her room. Even though it was pitch black, I knew where she was and I climbed onto the bed, saying, “Mom, Mom, it’s okay. I’m here.”

Mom threw herself into my arms, pushing her face against my neck. I could feel the flannel nightgown that Jerry had bought her this past Christmas, rubbing against my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, confused about what to say or do, so I did nothing but hold her.

As I held her, I realized something soft pushed through the fabric of Mom’s gown. I knew immediately what it was. After all, I’m a twelve-year-old boy and I’ve been very curious about some girls in my junior high for the better part of a year. I’d be lying if I told you I had never looked at Mom’s breasts through her clothes. After all, she was the one girl I saw every evening. But I had never considered touching them. Heaven forbid!

And I didn’t, not even now, as I felt her small mounds, now unrestrained by a bra, pressed against my chest. So, I ended up thinking about Mrs. Abernathy, my math teacher. She seemed like a hundred years old, and she was as mean as the day was long. If I hadn’t done that, I would have died of mortification if I had gotten a boner while Mom was hugging the front of my body.

Mom eventually let go of my neck and she lie back down, “Thanks, sweetie. I hate that I’m a fucking spigot, and can’t seem to turn off my eyes.”

Before then, the only time I heard my mom cuss had been when we were stuck in traffic and someone had cut her off. I said, “I don’t mind, Mom. I’ll stay in here.”

She rolled onto her side and I fell into place beside her, also on my side. This time, I pulled the covers up. Last night, falling asleep in my dress clothes, I hadn’t gotten terribly cold. But I was only wearing a pair of basketball shorts tonight. Mom took my hand in hers when I put it across her arm, and before long she was asleep.

I dozed off, but when I awoke. Just like before, Mom’s butt was pushed against my crotch. And just like last night, I was hard as a rock, my penis sliding against her backside. I felt dirty, knowing my man-parts had pushed against Mom’s woman-parts. And even though I knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault, I figured Mom would be even more embarrassed, and that was the last thing I wanted. I pulled my ass back, putting some space between my groin and Mom’s butt.

The next morning, I awoke to the sound of my alarm in my room. It took me a moment to figure out why. But then it dawned on me. Today was supposed to be my first day back at school. I slipped away from Mom, thankful she was still asleep, because at some point my groin and her backside had moved back together during the night.

When I got into the shower, I couldn’t ignore my erection any longer and as hot water sluiced down my body, I wrapped my fingers around my erection, stroking it and feeling the magical tingling that always came with touching myself. Still, I hadn’t jacked off since before Jerry’s death. Maybe I lasted a minute. But I doubt it. My vision dimmed as I felt my climax pulsating in my fist. A little blast of clear cum shot into the air, splattering on the shower stall floor. A couple of more clear drops flew out in subsequent spasms. This felt so much better now that I could actually cum. The first year after I learned about jacking off, it had been a lot of fun playing with myself, but since my penis began shooting a few clear drops of my boy-juice around Christmas, I was pretty sure, this was the best feeling ever.

Feeling more in control of myself now that my hormones weren’t messing me up as much, I finished getting dressed and then came back into Mom’s room. I knelt beside her, “Um, Mom, I gotta go back to school today. You going to be okay?”

I wondered if she heard me. Then she nodded. In a dead voice, she said, “Yeah.”

I hated leaving her home alone, but I didn’t have a choice.

I jumped to my feet, pumping my scrawny arms into the air as DeQuan sank the ball from the three-point line. It was about all I could do from the bench. Coach Brown was required to put me in each game, according to the UIL rules. But as one of three white boys on a team with seven black boys, with a black coach, I didn’t get to play more than that.

Copyright 2022 – Caliboy1991
All rights reserved

Life goes on – Part 1

Life goes on – Part 1
By
Caliboy1991

I held my mom’s hand as another one of my dad’s co-workers said, “We’re so sorry for your loss. Jerry was a great guy. A real one-of-a-kind. He’ll be missed.

If there was anything good about the funeral, it was the weather. It was early March, and the temperature was in the lower sixties (18 C). Of course, the weather was also to blame for the funeral. There had been a freakish winter storm a week before, and my dad had been killed in an accident when his car had hit a patch of ice, sending him careening into a tree.

Mom had been on auto-pilot the past week, just going through the motions. She was still in shock. I couldn’t blame her. Jerry had been almost as good a step-dad as he had been a husband. He treated my mom like a queen. In fact, my earliest memories were a couple of years after he had married my mom. I was five, and it had been Valentines’ Day. Jerry started sending flowers over to the house in the morning. And every couple of hours, he would send over a bigger flower arrangement, until just before he was supposed to get home, he showed up with several dozen red roses for Mom.

Mom married him when she was eighteen and he was twenty-four. I was already three years old when they married, although I don’t recall the wedding. Just the fact that he treated me just like he would his own kids, if he and my mom had been able to have any. Because of Jerry, I never missed or was curious about my real dad.

The minister from the funeral home put a hand on Mom’s arm, “Becky, let’s get you and Todd over to our limo. We’ll get you folks home so you’ll be ready for the reception.”

I put my arm around Mom’s shoulders and helped her toward the black limousine. The minister held her other hand and once we got her into the back seat, the minister closed the door and patted me on the shoulder, “Your mom is blessed to have a fine son like you, Todd. Things are going to be rough for a bit for her, just be patient with her and eventually the days will get a little brighter with time.”

I felt myself flush at the compliment and mumbled a thanks. At twelve, I wasn’t used to talking to adults who weren’t my basketball coach or my teachers, or my parents. Perhaps the minister thought I was older. I was one of the taller boys on my seventh-grade basketball team, just short of five-six (165 cm). I felt like I towered over my mom’s five-foot frame (152 cm), although I could just barely see over the top of her head. Of course, since the beginning of the sixth grade, I’ve grown eleven inches (28 cm).

I went around to the other side and climbed into the back of the limo and settled in next to Mom. We didn’t say anything. What was there to say? Jerry was dead and our lives would never be the same. Even though the reception was at our house, my dad’s co-workers put it together it. There were bottles of booze in the kitchen and lots of food. And after getting mom settled onto the couch, I grabbed her a plate of food and a short glass of some whiskey. It’s funny, nobody said anything about me pouring a shot of alcohol. And when I sat down beside my mom, I glanced over to the folks in the kitchen and none of them even gave me a second look.

I held the plate on my lap and put food into Mom’s hand every once in a while. She was mechanical, raising her hand to her mouth periodically, taking a bite, or lifting the liquor to her lips and taking an occasional sip. After an hour of this, Janet, my mom’s sister, came over and sat beside her and I took the opportunity to get up and stretch my legs and get something to eat for myself. I hung out in the kitchen, snagging a few sandwiches as I people watched.

There were a few women in the kitchen, all secretaries at where my dad had worked. They were quietly talking. The one time I listened in on them, I heard one of them say tampon, and pretty quickly tuned them out. After eating, I glanced over at the women and then back into our living room. Everyone was whispering. I grabbed one of the glasses by the bottles of liquor and poured myself the same stuff I had poured for mom earlier and headed toward my room.

The door was closed behind me before I took a sip of the fiery liquid. Once, at the beginning of the year, Demarcus, the star of our basketball team, had brought a flask of whiskey to school and all the boys on the team had taken a sip. This stuff was just as potent as it burned my throat going down. But it was also smoother, and it didn’t burn quite as much. I took a few more sips until I had drained the glass. The warmth in my stomach spread until I felt it even on my cheeks. It made the terrible ache in my heart hurt a little less than before.

But after a bit, it also made me have to pee. Our house was two stories. The lower level had all the rooms except for the bedrooms. My bathroom was down on the first floor, while the master bath was between my bedroom and my parents. I had no interest in going back down and mingling with people as long as Mom’s sister was with her. So, I went into her bathroom and locked the door before remembering to raise the lid on the toilet. The last thing I wanted to do was piss off my mom with a wet seat.

I left the black dress belt fastened and unzipped the slacks and pulled my underwear down enough to pull my penis out. Every boy grows at their own pace and in their own way. As I stood there, holding my two inches and waiting for my plumbing to turn on, I wondered why my body was so out of whack. I was the tallest white boy on our basketball team. Yet, in the showers, it was bad enough to be the only boy without hair number one downstairs, but I was also the smallest. When soft, I was about two inches. God, I hated showers after basketball practice.

When I came out of the bathroom, I saw my Aunt Janet’s head peaking over the lip of the stairs. “Oh, there you are, Todd. Most everyone’s leaving. I’ve got to get home too. Give your mom a bit of time and she’ll be fine. She’s a real trooper.”

I came back downstairs. She was right. Most of Dad’s coworkers had gone. But they had been kind enough to leave a half-dozen bottles of half-empty booze; most of it top shelf quality. Mom was just where I had left her, sitting on the couch, while my aunt and her husband made an effort to give her hugs before leaving.

Mom had never been a heavy drinker before. Neither had Jerry. They might drink a bottle of wine every month or so. And a bottle of whiskey might stay in the cabinet for a year or two. Still, I grabbed the alcohol and stashed it on the top shelf of our cabinet, out of Mom’s reach. I felt numb. I had just lost the man I called Dad, and I had kept the grief away by compartmentalizing things. Mom was barely functioning at all, and I’ve seen enough things on TV and online that I worried she might crawl into a bottle to deal with the deep and intense pain she felt.

The minister from the funeral home was the last person to leave. From the front door, he pointed toward the kitchen, “I left you and your mom a couple of plates of food. There’s plastic wrap over the tops. Just put them in the microwave when you get hungry. There are a couple of casseroles in the fridge too.”

I mumbled my thanks.

He squeezed my shoulder, “It’s tough, kid. And the numbness will wear off in a few days, and y’all will hurt like nothing else. But there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. That’s when it gets easier.”

He ran his hand through graying hair and gave a loud, unhappy sigh. Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small flask. He unscrewed it and took a sip. His eyes winced as he swallowed, “I know. Ministers aren’t supposed to do this. But all I do is bury people, and sometimes it really sucks. The only thing worse than burying young men like your daddy, is when I have to bury children. You’re young and you’ll bounce back first. It’ll be hard, but you need to be there for your momma. I’ve seen a lot of widows, kid, and she’s deeper into her despair than most.”

I nodded. I didn’t know what to say. I took his hand when he offered it and then closed and locked the door behind him. Mom hadn’t moved. I came over and resumed sitting beside her. I slid my arm around her. I didn’t know what to say, so I just sat and held her until she finally stirred as the light outside slowly faded and the room darkened.

Her voice was quiet, just a whisper, “What am I going to do without you, Jerry?”

“I’m here, Mom. You’re not alone.”

She rested her head on my shoulder. A moment later I felt wetness on my oxford dress shirt. She was silently crying. With my arm around her shoulders, I pulled her against me. By the time her silent tears finally stopped, the room was nearly dark.

“Is there anything to eat?” she murmured?

“Yeah. Let’s go into the kitchen and eat. I can warm it up for you,” I said as I let go of Mom and stood, offering her my hand.

Her sigh was heavy, even painful. But she took my hand and climbed to her feet. She shuffled her feet over to the bar that separated the kitchen proper from the dining room. Whenever it had just been me or her, or me and Jerry, we would eat dinner at the bar. But when it had been all three of us, we sat in the dining room, around the table.

She climbed onto the bar stool and I warmed up the two plates and joined her. We ate in silence. I didn’t know where her head was, but figured she was still in shock. All I could do was be there for her. Afterward, I took her by the hand and led her to the stairs. I had to help her up each step and once I got her to her bedroom, she grabbed my arm, her fingernails digging into it, “Don’t go, Todd. I can’t do this.”

I wasn’t sure what ‘this’ was, but I guided her to her bed and she sat down on it. She was frail and lost. In all my twelve and a half years, I had never known her to be anything but petite. And even now, as a twenty-seven-year-old widow, I doubt she breaks the scale at one-oh-five (48 kg). And now, as she teared up again, you’d be forgiven for thinking she was half her age.

I knelt down beside her and slid the black low-rise heels from her dainty feet. Then I helped her lie down on what had always been her side of the bed. Before I could move, her fingers reached out, gripping my wrist, “Stay in here. I can’t stand the thought of being alone.”

I nodded, “Okay.”

I slipped my dress shoes off and climbed into the bed on Jerry’s side. Mom rolled onto her side, facing away from me. I could hear the sobs again, and it broke my heart to see her in such a state. I slid over next to her and rolled over, resting my chest against her back and sliding my arm around her. I whispered, “I’m here for you.”

Ever since the cops showed up and told us about Jerry’s death, I have been bundling thing up inside me, compartmentalizing my emotions. But lying on my side, listening to Mom mourn, I let the grief wash over me too. I fell asleep crying my eyes out, holding the woman who had given birth to me as she wept herself to sleep.

It was pitch dark when I woke up. My eyes were itchy and my throat was dry. I heard deep, slow breathing coming from Mom. She hadn’t moved an inch since I had cuddled with her, my big spoon to her small one. Although with only a five-inch (13cm) difference in height, I’m not much of a big spoon. My arm was still draped over her arms and her body was molded against mine.

And I realized then I had two problems. The first, I had to pee. The second, I was as hard as I could be in my dress pants. Worse, Mom’s backside pressed against my crotch, and I felt incredibly uncomfortable when I realized against what my pent-up erection was pressed.

I shifted my hips, moving back, and then when I was a few inches away, I drew back my arm and crawled to the end of the bed while Mom slept through it all. Barefoot, I slipped out and went into the bathroom. I closed the door and unzipped my dress pants and fished out my penis. Some guys are showers. Whether soft or hard, there’s not much difference between the length of their penis. Others, like me, are growers. My little two inches was now a full four inches. Thankfully, I have never been erect in the showers after basketball practice. But I was under no illusion. Even my four inches was below average for the guys I showered with after practice.

It took a bit before I could pee, but once done, I felt better and my little nail had returned to its noodle size. It was almost four in the morning and as much as I love my mom, I wanted to get some better sleep, so I went into my bedroom and undressed and climbed into my bed. My head hit the pillow, and I was out.

Copyright 2022 – Caliboy1991
All rights reserved

The Road Less Traveled – Epilogue

The Road Less Traveled – Epilogue
By
Caliboy1991

I stared at the white plastic stick for what seemed an eternity, and bit my lower lip. Gabe was in the front of the RV, the TV playing some Christmas movie off of Direct TV. Knowing him, it was probably one of the Santa Clause movies with Tim Allen. I had no idea how to tell him about those two little pink lines staring remorselessly back at me.

With things became sexual in the middle of the summer, I made excuses for not getting on the pill; He’s just twelve. His cum is clear and watery. He’s not making any sperm yet. And maybe that was true for the first few months. But over the past couple of months, as he’s added another inch in height and become a bit more endowed below the belt, the clear cum clouded up and grew thicker and apparently more potent.

I chuckled as I opened the cabinet under the sink and buried the stick in the trash can. I was so fucked up. But, if I had it to do all over again, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. There was nothing I loved more that Gabe sliding his six inches into me, owning me, dominating me. Cumming in me. And even though I knew it was the height of idiocy, something stirred within me, knowing my twelve-year-old lover put life inside me.

Under my breath, I muttered, “I guess I’ll need to get on birth control.”

Then I realized I was already on nature’s perfect birth control; I couldn’t get any more pregnant that I was already. For the next eight months, Gabe and I could fuck until I couldn’t any more. It’s not like I could put the horse back in the stable. That’s when I realized my Catholic upbringing was a real thing and some things had stuck. I couldn’t kill the life growing inside me. The women in my books, when they faced similar crises, did whatever was expedient for the plot. Despite the fantasies Gabe and I lived almost nightly, I was a bit surprised I couldn’t bring myself to do likewise. It felt wrong.

Of course, that brought another chuckle. What a tangled web I was weaving. I knew that society would judge me harshly for bedding a boy who, by birth and blood, was my nephew. But society didn’t know the bond we shared. I couldn’t predict the future, but I couldn’t see a future without him. I shook my head, maybe society would judge me harshly. But my research for my stories showed human history was filled with far worse ills than two people following their hearts.

I would tell Gabe. He deserved to know. But not now. There would be time enough later to let him know he was going to be a daddy. I flushed the toilet and joined him on the sofa.

His eyes lit up as sat next to him. His voice cracked as he spoke. It had been doing that a lot lately, “Check it, Syd. Have you seen Give the Devil His Due’s ranking on Amazon today?”

He spun his laptop around. The sultry artwork showed less flesh than I liked, but compromise was necessary if I wanted to publish with Amazon, the prudes. He added, “Look at your rating!”

Just above the cover was that coveted Amazon Best Seller badge. I turned the laptop around and snuggled against Gabe as I scrolled down the screen to where Amazon displays a book’s rating. The book was rated number one in women’s romance fiction, and number five on the whole Kindle store. I swore, “Holy shit! That’s incredible.”

The book had only been out for a week, already it had amassed over a hundred reviews, most of them five stars. Gabe tabbed over to the kindle reports website and clicked on the sales of the past seven days.

Because of some strategic marketing on my virtual assistant’s part, we had notified everyone on my mailing list the day the book went live. That strategic move brought in over fifteen thousand sales on the first day alone. Enrolled in Kindle Unlimited too, where I was paid by the page read, there were more than a million page reads just on day one. Of course, the book clocked in at just under four hundred pages based upon the wonky formula Kindle uses to count pages.

The rest of the week was just an upward trajectory of both sales and page reads. Gabe summed it up, “See, Syd. Seven days and over one-hundred-twenty-thousand sales. And in KU, you’ve got twelve million page reads.”

I whistled appreciatively. My retail price for my books was just four bucks; well, technically, three dollars and ninety-nine cents. For the most part, Amazon pays me seventy percent in royalties, with a download fee that amounts to about seven cents per book.

The nice thing about the kindle reports is that with the click of a button I could look at November’s numbers. The slide had reduced my monthly sales to six thousand books and their Kindle Unlimited equivalent. Sure, lots of authors would give their ovaries for those numbers. But compared with where I started almost six years ago, it was discouraging.

Not any more. I bent Gabe’s face around and kissed him, “And we still have three books to release in this series.”

He grinned when the kiss ended. “You’re rocking it. I wish my book had sold like yours.”

I tousled his auburn hair, “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, Gabe. In one month, you’ve sold over two thousand copies. That puts you way ahead of most writers.”

He leaned in and gave me a quick peck on the lips, “That’s okay. I’m really glad your book is killing it.”

Our chemistry was such that I could look into his eyes and see he meant every word. “Thanks, sweetie. Is that the baked alfredo I smell?”

He slipped away, and pulled a small casserole from the oven, “You looked tired earlier, so I put this in the oven.”

I felt pampered as Gabe dished the fettuccini alfredo onto a couple of plates and carried them outside, “Let’s watch the sun’s reflection off the water before it goes down.”

Our lounge chairs sat on a pristine golden beach, just a few dozen paces from the Gulf of Mexico. We packed up and left Colorado a few days after the first snow of the season, winding our way south and east. We were just about as far south as one could go and still be in the US; camping in a county park just outside of the town of South Padre Island. Sure, we were boondocking, but the county’s rules were a lot less strict than any of the federal parks. We’d been there for a week already, and we had no plans to leave until after the new year.

Although the sun set to the west, which was landward, it still sent flashes of reds, yellows and oranges reflecting off the water as it slowly ebbed below the horizon. When the ocean water darkened as the sun disappeared, I said, “That was pretty. You want to walk on the sand?”

Gabe was out of his chair and came over and pulled me from mine, “Sure, Syd.”

He disappeared into the RV with the plates and came out with a blanket we used at the hot springs draped over his shoulder. Even though it was Christmas time, the breeze off the water was just warm enough for him to go around in just his shorts. Although even this far south, the weather could change, forcing pants and a shirt on his gorgeous frame.

We were only a few yards into our walk when he said, “I still miss Mom. But, Syd, I’m really glad she picked you for me to live with. This has been so much fun.”

I squeezed his fingers, “Even the schoolwork?”

He shrugged, “It’s not that bad. And now that I know what to expect with it, the teacher thinks I can finish a year, maybe even two early if I work hard.”

“If that’s what you want, sweetie. You sure you don’t miss your friends in school?”

He let go my hand and put his arm around my shoulders, “I’ve got my best friend in the world right here. And she’s fucking hot!”

I chuckled. Would he still think so when I’m nine months pregnant? “You’re biased, sweetie. You’re just saying that because you love fucking me. You’ll grow up and want to see if other women are as good a fuck.”

Despite the darkness falling, I could tell his face was scarlet. He squeezed me, “When I turn eighteen, I was wondering, could I stay?”

Despite the deep well of feelings Gabe stirred inside me, I tried not to get my hopes up. There was just too much of a risk as he grew up, he would grow tired of what we had together. I tried to not dwell on that. I nodded, “Of course, Gabe. You can stay with me for as long as you want.”

He pulled me along, our feet digging into the wet sand, “You always say that, Syd. I know you’ll be thirty when I’m eighteen. Lots of people that age, um, they get married. Do you think…”

There was no pretense, no attempt to roleplay my fantasy. My twelve-and-a-half-year -old nephew had just asked me to marry him in less than six years. Stunned, I stammered, “You’re asking me to marry you?

He stopped, warm ocean water lapping at our feet, and turned to face me, “I know, I’m just a kid. And it’s still a long way away. But I don’t want you to meet some young, hunky George RR Martin novelist who steels you away from me.”

I took both his hands in mine, “Oh, Gabe. You’ve just described yourself. You’ve published your own fantasy novel and you’re young and hunky, if you haven’t noticed.”

I had to tilt my head slightly to reach his lips. I put everything I had into that kiss and when it ended, I whispered, “Yes.”

His eyes shot open wide, “What?”

Louder, although we were alone on the beach, “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

He snaked his arms around me and kissed me, “I’m not going anywhere, Syd. I don’t know how I can know it, because I’m still growing, but I know it.”

I bubbled at the idea of being engaged to my lover. I was never more certain about my decision to have Gabe’s baby than at that moment. I was certain as he grew, Gabe would make a fine husband. I hoped I could be half the wife he deserved.

Still holding me, he cautiously asked, “Do you think they’d let us get married, Syd? I mean, I don’t think of you as my aunt. But if they knew, would they let us get married?”

You might think by reading my smut that I wasn’t a big believer in marriage that followed all the social protocols. But thinking about being with Gabe, I realized marriage was a concept that was as old as humanity. Nobody could stop us from living as husband and wife. “If you want it, sweetie, we’ll get married. No fucking minister or judge is going to stop us. We could have our own private ceremony and nobody else could stop us or keep us apart.”

Gabe’s eyes sparkled under the rising moon, “Really? So, unlike in your story about the marriage license and the bride who was already married, you don’t have to do all that legal stuff?”

“Plenty of people get married without bothering with a license from the state. It’s just between them.”

He pulled me deeper into his embrace, “I don’t want to wait. Let’s get married on our own. Have our own private ceremony. That way, you’ll know I’m never leaving you.”

Tears wet my face as I nodded, “That would make me so happy, baby.”

We moved away from the water and Gabe spread out the blanket and then we lay next to each other under the starry skies. I still had a powerful need to be dominated by him, but now wasn’t that time. Snuggling against his bare chest, I slid my hand to his shorts and unfastened them. I pushed my hand down his briefs and encountered a few short stray hairs at his base. I sighed; my boy was fast becoming a man.

Gabe responded by slipping his hand under my t-shirt and cupping a tit, caressing it. Brazenly, he raised his head and looked both ways down the beach, then pulled my shirt off and cast it aside. His tongue felt wet and hot on my nipple before he closed his lips over my areola and sucked it. For the first time, my body actually felt like I had something growing inside; the tingling surged through me just from the way his tongue and lips worked my tit, far more powerfully than ever before.

The past few months had been good to my young lover. I pushed his shorts to his knees and grabbed his cock. Not even thirteen, and already he was a full inch longer than Kyle. My fingers could still wrap around his shaft, closing around each other, but one day within the next year or two, they wouldn’t. Another tingle surged through me at the thought of taking Gabe’s seven or even eight-inch cock down my throat or into my pussy. For now, as I slid my hand up and down his shaft, I would enjoy his six inches.

Without ever missing a beat, working his mouth on my tit, Gabe’s hands pushed at my elastic yoga pants, pushing them and my panties down. I shuddered again as his finger rubbed my clit. So young, yet so experienced.

My hips bucked as I got my first O of the evening and Gabe, sensing my need, sat up and stripped and then finished undressing me. He shifted, kneeling between my legs, and leaned forward until his glans pushed through my pussy lips. Slowly, he sank into me, sliding all the way in one long, slow thrust. Another little orgasm shook me. I groaned, “Fuck me! I’ve never been so horny.”

I couldn’t be more than six weeks along, but apparently my body’s natural pregnancy hormones were at work, making little changes in my body for what was to come. And I loved it. Gabe settled over me, resting his torso, half on me, half on his elbows, “God, you feel so good.”

Slowly, with an ease that came from several months of daily practice, he rocked his hips back, dragging his cock along the walls of my pussy, only stopping when his glans was halfway out of my sopping hole. He hissed in pleasure, sliding back in until gradually, his dozen little lonely strands of pubic hair pressed into my pubic bone.

That barrier to my big orgasm was usually much higher, but like water flowing over a dam, I felt my orgasm hit me hard when he slid into again. My body shook as I came. Gabe thrust into me again, and I came again, my pussy shaking and undulating around his cock. I moaned loud enough that I bit my lip to keep from drawing anyone’s attention on the darkened beach.

Within a couple of minutes, Gabe’s hips rocked back and forth, faster and faster, slamming his cock hard against me, making me cum anew with every thrust. Then he groaned and pushed me enough to make us move up on the blanket. When his cock seemed to expand and that magical warmth of his cum splattering my insides, it brought out the most powerful orgasm yet. I wrapped my legs around his backside as he pushed and pulled just enough to keep the friction along his shaft alive as he spasmed within me. Having jacked and sucked him, I knew what his cock was doing inside. That first blast shot a powerful jet of thick, white cream, hitting my cervix. Another spasm, another rope of cum, almost as powerful as the first, covered the walls of my vagina. If it was like the last time I took him in my mouth, another smaller blast would accompany the next four spasms, before the last few dry spasms would finish Gabe’s orgasm.

He collapsed on top of me. Although he was heavier than me, it wasn’t uncomfortable. He grinned through his post orgasm haze, “I want to make love to you every day for the rest of my life.”

He made me orgasm again when he flicked my sensitive nipple. After biting back another moan of pleasure, I said, “Your cock inside me feels amazing. When you cum inside me like now, it makes me cum even harder knowing you’re putting your seed in me.”

Gabe shifted his hips, sending more tingles through me, “Do you think I’m old enough yet for my sperms to make you pregnant?”

I leaned up and gave him a kiss, “About that, my love…”

The End

Copyright 2022 – Caliboy1991
All rights reserved

The Road Less Traveled – Chapter 13

The Road Less Traveled – Chapter 13
By
Caliboy1991

Gabe leaned against the corner sofa-back, his legs stretched out length-wise along the sofa. He perched a lap-desk on his legs where his laptop set. He set his lips in a slight frown as he studied the screen. It was his first day in the seventh grade and of home-schooling, although that was a bit misleading, because I enrolled him in an online private school.

I couldn’t help but smile at him before returning to my screen. It was filled with characters; I was halfway through my first draft of book three of the Give the Devil His Due. Book two was with my editor and book one was nearly ready to publish. It was missing two key components still. I had commissioned cover art for four books, and the artist and I were still hammering out exactly how far to push the cover art and still stay on the good side of Amazon’s notoriously fickle censors. The other missing component was book three finished and back from my editor. I was two weeks away from my first draft, another couple of weeks away from the draft I’d sent to the editor, and then up to a month to get it back from her. I planned a pre-Christmas launch.

Gabe pushed the earphones from his head and stretched. If that boy had a uniform, it was blue, white, or red shorts. Today it was red. He yawned, “Finished for the day. How’s the book going?”

I saved my work. I’d been writing for the better part of six hours and needed a break. “Good. On track. What do you want to do for dinner?”

He came over and slid into the seat beside me, sliding an arm around me. After a deep kiss, he asked, “Is my book back from the editor yet?”

I smiled, whether from the kiss or because I’d seen it pop into my inbox earlier that afternoon, I couldn’t say. “Yeah, sweetie. Now the fun part begins. You get to review the edits and figure out what you need to keep, change, or just throw away.”

He grumbled, “You said it was really good. Do you think the editor will tell me I need to change things?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know. I went with Billie because she edited some of my earlier work and because she edits young adult fiction, so if anyone has their finger on the pulse of the teen market, she would. Whatever changes she recommends, you should consider them.”

Gabe’s fingers found my thigh, and he traced them under the hem of my shorts, “Whatever you think, Syd. Why don’t we go celebrate my book coming back from the editor?”

I sucked a breath in as his fingers touched my panties, “Feels like you’re ready to celebrate already, Gabe.”

He pulled his hand from my shorts, “Maybe later. Let’s go into town and eat at a real restaurant.”

I tried to hide my disappointment, “Fine. Which restaurant?”

He named one I had wanted to try when we were at Mesa Verde at the start of the summer. Now, with a rental car parked next to the RV, getting into town was a breeze. “Sure, sweetie. Why don’t you find a t-shirt and some sneakers and we can go?”

The drive into Durango took thirty-five minutes in the rental car. After spending the better part of two months boondocking in that little slice of heaven in the Rio Grande National Forest, I wanted plenty of creature comforts, including a rental car. When you have to roll in the slides and retract the levelers, to do anything, you really miss having a car. We had only been at the RV park outside of Mesa Verde for a couple of days, and already this was our third outing in the car rental.

Officially, Gabe and I have been dating for a bit more than two months. Of course, almost every bit of that had been in our secluded clothing-optional Garden of Eden. Now that we were around people, Gabe’s demeanor was much more mature than a typical twelve-year-old. it didn’t hurt that he was a bit more than an inch taller than me now. Instinctively, he seemed to understand our romance was for us, and us alone.

After we ordered our food, Gabe asked, “Every month this summer, your books are bringing in a bit less money. You could have published Give the Devil His Due a month ago. But you’re waiting. Wouldn’t it be better to get the books out, each one when they’re ready?”

While I had taught Gabe everything I could think to teach him about writing, we hadn’t delved into the publishing side much yet. “I could have. Although my cover artist is still working on the series. Do you understand why I’m waiting?”

He took another sip of soda, “Not really. I’d think that every day your book isn’t available, you’d be losing money.”

I stirred some sweetener into my tea, “You’d think so, but that’s not really how the online book market works. You see, I’m tapping into an audience who has a genuine hunger to plow through bodice rippers. These old gals will devour one book right after the other. They might give an author a month, maybe six weeks, to get the next book out. But that’s if they really like the author. The best strategy is a rapid release of the books, two to four weeks apart.”

Gabe shook his head, wide-eyed, “It took me all summer just to finish my story. I can’t imagine writing a sixty or seventy thousand word book every month.”

My ankle found his, and I slid it along his calf, “That’s why I’ll have book four mostly done by the time book one hits Amazon. The entire series will be out and available within three months.”

A smile played across his face as he responded by rubbing against my leg, “That’s still a lot of work. What did your editor think of Give the Devil His Due?”

Unlike most men, I admired Gabe’s ability to multitask, playing footsies while talking craft. I picked well. “Unlike my agent, she liked it. No, loved it. Now that this Epstein fellow has been killed or committed suicide, a story with a similar billionaire may catch fire. Sometimes, it’s just about hitting the market at the right time.”

I heard something hit the floor and glanced under the table. One of Gabe’s shoes lay there. I was grateful for the long tablecloth as his toe touched my inner thigh. He was good, though; he didn’t miss a beat, “I hope my book does well.”

Since he started writing, I’d paid more attention to other markets than just the romance. I slid my sandal off and put my foot on the edge of his seat, “Just remember, the average book on Amazon only sells five hundred copies. And that includes people like JK Rowling, who sells hundreds of thousands of copies of her books even after all these years, to Joe Schmoe, who only sells a copy to his wife and mother.”

Gabe wiggled his toe, sliding it inside the leg of my shorts, “But you said it was good. So, it should do well. Right?”

I sucked in a breath when his big toe touched my panties. Not to be outdone, my foot nudged his thigh, opening his legs a bit, and my toe slid against his inner thigh, “I loved it, sweetie. And you should consider it wildly successful if it sells five hundred copies. Do that, and you’ll more than cover the cost of the editor and book cover.”

Gabe’s big toe played with the front of my panties. I wiggled my big toe and slipped it between his inner thigh and underwear until I found his erection straining against his shorts. A startled look crossed his face as a smile danced on the edge of his lips. Before we could continue our conversation further, the waitress returned with our steaks. We forgot about playing footsies with each other’s crotches, although we left our feet where they ended up.

By the time I was halfway through my steak, I couldn’t eat another bite. But Gabe was still cutting away on his. I moved my foot until my sole lined up with his boner. He kept flashing me looks, like I was distracting him from some Grade A USDA choice. The problem was, I hadn’t had any Gabe A USDA choice today and fondling his cock with my foot was turning me on.

Once he finished his steak, he moved his toe around until he pushed my panties aside enough to find my slit. He had just managed to slide it between my labia lips when the waitress returned, “Can I get you anything else?”

She gave me the queerest look when I strangled my words, “Just the check, please.”

I pulled my foot down, leaving Gabe’s cock for later. Before I pulled out my debit card, I moved his foot away from my pussy. When the waitress returned, I settled the bill and worked my sandal onto my foot before scooting out from the booth. Gabe’s head disappeared under the table as he put his sneaker on.

Back in the car, I asked, “You ready to head back to the RV park?”

He glanced at the sky; the sun was low in the western sky. “You wanna go swimming at the pool? Like we did the first time.”

***

By the time we opened the gate to the pool area, even the purple hue on the horizon had turned black and stars were filling the night sky. And just like that first time, we had the pool to ourselves. Of course, with school back in session and the summer season officially over, the park was only at a fraction of capacity.

Gabe tossed our towel onto a chase lounge before dipping a foot in the water, “It’s a lot warmer than that creek, but not as warm as our pond.”

With that, he jumped into the deep end of the pool. For the first time in two months, he was swimming in a swimsuit. Even I felt overdressed in my bikini. Strange how two months of uninhibited living can leave a mark. The water was chillier than I liked, and I stood toward the shallow end to adjust. Gabe swam over to me and put his arms around my waist. Two months and not quite two inches. Still, I enjoyed looking up to him, however slight the difference. I put my arms around his neck and let him pull me to him. As we hugged, I whispered, “What would you have of me, my love?”

In a hoarse voice, reflecting a slight change to a voice that was starting to break, he said, “Let me show you.”

His lips found my neck, and he kissed me, sending tendrils of pleasure rippling through my body. A hand cupped my bikini-clad tit as his lips worked their way along my neck, then along my throat. He stopped, realized we were standing in the shallow end, the water not quite covering the bottoms of our swimsuits. He let go long enough to grab my hand and pull me toward the deep end. He stopped when the water reached our shoulders and we hugged and kissed.

As our kiss ended, Gabe pushed me toward the deeper water, “You’re it, Syd. You know what’ll happen if I catch you!”

I had a good idea, so I’m not sure why I swam away so fast. I circled around, back to the shallow end, where I could splash through thigh deep water with Gabe splashing behind me. From there, I pushed hard toward the deep end and finally to the middle, where he cornered me. As he closed with me, I threw my arms around his shoulders, “What are you going to do to me now, mister big, bad billionaire?”

A smile creased Gabe’s features. One thing hadn’t changed over the past couple of months. I loved being dominated by him. Gabe grabbed me around the waist and growled, “I’m gonna fuck you silly, Ms. Nelson. Show you who’s the boss.”

Two months ago, that would have turned my face scarlet to hear him become so assertive. Now, it just made me horny. I leaned in, pushing my modest bust against his chest. “Oh, really?”

We were just deep enough for us to stand and keep our heads above the water. He pushed at me until my back was against the wall. His hands slid under my bikini top, caressing my tits. Then he leaned down and kissed one of my nipples and then the other. “Take your top off, I wanna see them.”

I was putty in Gabe’s hands. A moment later, my top landed on the side of the pool. The risk of discovery only made me hornier. He fiddled with my bottoms until he untied the strings. He tossed them with the rest and I grabbed him and pulled him against me. His erection poked against my hip as my lips crushed against his. When we came up for air, he said, “Go ahead, pull my swimsuit off, slut.”

I don’t know why, but when we have sex, the dirtier he talks to me, the hornier I get. I kissed his chest as I slid below the surface. Then his navel. I grabbed his swimsuit and pulled at the elastic waistband, sliding them down off his hip and freeing his erection. He was longer and thicker than when I first saw him like this toward the end of June. Just a smidgen below six inches, but still naturally smooth. I kissed his cock and slid his domed glans into my mouth before finally running out of air.

I broke the surface to, “Ah, that’s right, suck your big boy, baby!”

As I brushed the hair from my face, he grabbed me by one of my legs and pulled it against his hip. His erection grazed my slit, “Put your legs around me, Syd. You want what I’ve got!”

With the side of the pool at my back and my legs wrapped around his waist, Gabe reached down and guided himself into me. He filled me even more, and it felt magnificent as he slid all the way into me. One difference, now when he pushed all the way, he found more sensitive spots to stimulate with his cock.

The way he slid in and out of me in the water, I didn’t last long. I bit my lip as I felt my cum hit me like a giant tsunami wave. I shuddered and Gabe groaned, “Oh! Oh! I’m there!”

He pushed against me as his body shuddered and his cock jerked inside me. Heat drenched my insides as he coated me with his cum. As our bodies recovered, I felt more alive than ever. It was ballsy of Gabe to risk something in the RV campground’s public pool, even if it was after dark. I squeezed him to me, “I love you, Gabe. So fucking much!”

In the afterglow of his bliss, Gabe forgot about my fantasy. He grinned, “I love you too, Syd. That was fucking awesome!”

Unlike our first time, we were not disturbed while we climbed out of the pool and dressed. That was a good thing; we were as naked as Adam and Eve when we climbed from the pool. Walking hand in hand back to the RV along the gravel park road felt liberating, as I declared my love for my twelve-year-old lover to the birds in the trees, a stray cat or two, and the closed doors of the other RVs.

Gabe leaned into me, almost pushing me into the grass, his voice was low as he slipped back into my fantasy world, “You’re hot as fuck, Ms. Nelson. Shame we don’t have a hot-tub; I’d fuck you in there, too.”

I giggled almost like a little girl. One of the sexier scenes from Give the Devil His Due was when the billionaire pushed himself on the heroine in a hot tub at the exclusive gym he owned. The public nature of the scene only fueled the eroticism I was going for. Despite the rough language, Gabe was sensitive to the forbidden nature of the love we shared.

I bumped my ass against his, pushing him toward the center of the road, “Oh, Mr. Nelson, you can have me anywhere, anytime you want.”

We reached the RV before we could see who could get any dirtier in our conversation. Once the door was closed, Gabe rounded on me in the aisle and put his arms around my waist and kissed me. His hand slid down the front of my bikini bottoms, until his finger touched my clit. He rubbed it, “Now, Ms. Nelson, what were you saying?”

The curtains were up; I gasped, “Gabe. The windows!”

For the briefest of moments, a worried expression crossed his face. He slid around me and pulled me into the bedroom, where the blackout curtains were drawn. “What windows?” he growled as his finger returned to my slit.

Gabe’s index finger slid through my juices until he found my vagina and slid into me, while his other hand pushed my bottoms down before going back to my clit. “That’s right, my lovely slut, you’re mine to do with as I wish.”

He left my pussy alone long enough to pull my top off, leaving me naked, my legs backed against the bed. Pushing me back until I lay prone, Gabe soon sat on my lap, his legs spread on either side of my hips. He leaned froward and held my hands over my head, given me the sensation of being trapped. Oh, the things I would do for that boy.

If I had wanted to break free of his hold, I’m sure I could have, but the feeling of being dominated was too great. “Are you going to put that huge cock of yours down my throat?”

A gleam came into Gabe’s eyes. Until then, I expected him to strip his swimsuit off and fuck me. Instead, he stood on the bed and stripped. Then he spread his legs on either side of my chest and sank until his bare ass cheeks rested on my tits. His erection bobbed in front of my face as he resumed holding my hands over my head.

Gabe shifted his hips forward, and I opened my mouth until his glans brushed against the roof of my mouth, and I clamped my lips around the first couple of inches. My tongue ran along the underside of his urethra, making him shudder. He leaned over my face as he grabbed each of my wrists in his hands, holding them apart. His cock touched the back of my throat.

Although his hands were soft, there was iron in them, and when I flexed my wrists, I couldn’t pull them away. While I trusted Gabe completely, in that moment that he pushed deeper, making me gag as his tip slid down my throat, I felt helpless; dominated. His hips rocked back, pulling his erection almost all the way out of my mouth, “That’s it, slut. I’m gonna fuck your mouth!”

Rocking his hips forward, his cock again pushed into my mouth. I gagged again when his glans slid down my throat. For a moment, I panicked, pulling my arms. But Gabe’s grip was firm and I couldn’t move. The weight of his body on my chest left me with no way to shift. He lifted his hips and pushed deeper, his pubic bone pushed hard against my upper lip. I needed to cough, to push his cock out of me. Until I breathed through my nose and swallowed. I swallowed again, and the urgent need to gag actually went away, and with it, my panic.

He rocked back, resting his ass on my tits, his saliva-soaked cock pointing at my face. “That’s right, slut, swallow my cock, like the good little slut you are.”

He shifted forward and this time, when he pushed his cock into my mouth, I was ready and I swallowed, overcoming the urge to gag. I was no stranger to Gabe’s cock, having sucked him off plenty of times over the past two months. But never like this, with no control over what he did to me.

Still holding my arms above my head, Gabe’s groin was poised at my mouth. He rocked back and forth. My lips did what they could to stimulate his erection with every move in and out. My tongue darted and twisted about his fast-moving thrusts. Still, it hadn’t been more than ten, maybe fifteen minutes since his last cum. Sweat glistened on his body as he worked his hips back and forth, thrusting deep into my mouth. Was it five minutes? Maybe even ten when he noisily exhaled, “Fuck!”

A final thrust, his cock buried as deep in my throat as possible, and he shuddered. He grew harder, a bit bigger, and then his cock kicked about in my mouth and something hot hit my throat. Another spasm wracked my mouth as he pulled back a couple of inches. A third blast filled my mouth with his bitter-sweet nectar. And again, a fourth blast, smaller than the ones before, filled my mouth.

My jaws ached, but I still wrapped my lips around his still pulsing cock, licking at the pee hole, nursing another drop of his boy-juice into my hungry mouth. When he was spent, let go my arms and sat up, ass-cheeks still on my tits, His grin was loopy, which was common after his orgasm, “How was that, slut?”

With my hands free, I rolled him from me and wrapped my arms around his back and pulled him into a hug, “That’s was some real power, sweetie. You actually had me feeling trapped and dominated.”

We were face to face as we lay on our sides, catching our breaths, “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

It was. There were moments of pure adrenaline and then that brief moment of terror. Only my absolute trust in my lover made it something I could enjoy. “It was. It is. You can do that anytime you want, my love.”

After a bit of cuddling, I noticed Gabe was still erect. He was like the energizer bunny. I reached between us, “Looks like someone still wants to play.”

He giggled, “I can’t help it. You make me horny, Syd.”

I kissed his lips and then bent between us and licked his shaft, making it twitch, “You’re not the only one.”

I pushed him onto his back and crawled on top of him, straddling his pelvis. With hardly any work, I slid down onto his cock, sliding down until my outer labia pushed down on his pubic bone. He put his hands on my tits and massaged them, drawing out tiny jolts of pleasure. I flexed my hips and knees, pulling, dragging his cock along my super-charged pussy walls until only his glans remained. Then I fell against Gabe’s groin, his cock going as deep as ever. With only Kyle to compare to, Gabe had long blown the college freshman away in the way he made me feel, the orgasmic bliss he pushed me toward. And not even thirteen, he was already bigger, if just by a bit, than Kyle.

I shuddered as a small orgasm surged through me at the thought, Gabe still had a few years of growth. What would it be like taking in a monster eight inches? I could hardly wait. It was my turn to sweat as my hips and knees flexed and bent, sliding my pussy up and down his cock. We had never tried to fuck three times in less than an hour, and as my insides felt a bit sore, I understood why. But I was determined.

I didn’t need to edge him, or work his cock a bit and let him relax. Thirty minutes passed before he tensed up and squeezed my tits hard, grunting as he came again. Where he stored his reserve of cum, I don’t know. But as his cock spasmed, and he sprayed his semen deep inside my pussy, I felt that warmth that came from his cum as he filled my pussy.

That threw me over the edge and I came time after time until he stopped grunting and mewing from the intensity of his orgasm. I collapsed against his chest, both our hearts pounding erratically from some of the most mind-numbing sex I’ve ever experienced. His hands wrapped around my back as we lay connected there.

We fell asleep like that, not moving a muscle until the following morning.

Copyright 2022 – Caliboy1991
All rights reserved

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