We're getting ready to get hit with a little hurricane down here
in sunny FL, so I thought before that happens and maybe I lose power
for a few days, I should post another chapter.
By the way, if anyone's wondering, this story
should go on for about 14 or 15 chapters, so we're more than halfway
through, but lots of good stuff coming up! Lots of drama!
WARNING: Explicit! If you are easily offended, you might want to skip this chapter and suffice it to say that Gordo comes to a full realization of how sexually attracted he is to Jo. If you are not offended by the realities of the human experience, then read on.
-
So here I was now, in Jo's bedroom, in my underwear.
This was turning out to be a pretty wild night, a night of firsts. I had never been in her bedroom before that I could remember. I had never been "felt up" by somebody's mother. Also, I had never imagined that I could feel the way I was feeling at this moment.
This wasn't supposed to be happening, but something was happening, and it was a little scary. I'd spent the last several weeks getting to know this great lady, making her more than a friend's mother, making her my own friend. And I treasured that friendship, especially now at this transitional time in my life. But I never meant for it to go beyond friendship. That was the last thing I was looking for at this point.
But it was starting to feel like it could go there. And it was starting to feel like I wanted it to go there.
And I want to say right now, by the way, that I am not a pig. This was not just about her boobs, though they were fabulous. It's true that I couldn't stop looking at them. I admit it. Each night, when she gave me that little kiss on the cheek, standing by the front door, I noticed more and more each time that I waited expectantly to see if she would pull in close enough that I could feel her breasts pressing lightly against my chest.
Sometimes I could, sometimes I couldn't.
But even when I could, and I would get that tingly feeling inside, that didn't make me a pig, did it?
And then I started to wonder, as she pulled up close to kiss my cheek, what it would be like if I were to unexpectedly turn my head and let her lips catch my lips instead of my cheek….but that didn't make me a pig, either, did it?
I wasn't sure.
-
So here I was now, in Jo's bathroom, naked.
I had hung my socks and underwear over the towel bar and was looking at myself in the mirror. She liked my chest hair….I smiled. I looked down my body and thought I've got other hair she would probably like just as much…
Man! I was starting to feel like a pig.
Okay, I'd had some fantasies, but only in the last week or two, really only since that night when she and Sam fought so badly and I had to comfort her, and got to dance with her in the backyard. These fantasies had started out very tame, only that stuff about turning my head when she kissed me at the front door, but after that night she gave me the backrub, my imagination kind of kicked it up a notch.
I was having some more intense fantasies lately. But I wasn't a pig. I was just a guy who had this woman in his life who kept flirting with him and telling him how attractive and sweet he was, and how some lucky girl was going to be so very happy. So I don't see how there was anything so very wrong with fantasizing that somehow she could be that lucky girl.
I looked around the bathroom, noticing all her stuff. Her makeup, her hand cream, her hairbrush. I could tell it was her hairbrush and not Sam's, because the stray hairs stuck in the bristles were brilliant blonde, not dark. I picked up her hairbrush and ran it through my hair. I felt the tingle moving down my body, settling in its usual place.
There were hooks behind the door, and several bras were hanging from the hooks. Most were white, but one was black, and the red one was of such a thin lace it was practically see-thru. I touched the bras and the tingling sensation increased pleasantly.
I stepped into the shower and turned on the water, letting it get good and hot before I switched from the faucet to the showerhead. When I finally did, it felt good to have all that hot water running down my body, washing away the mud which was now caked onto my skin.
Jo had said to use any of the products I saw there, but I'm sure she didn't mean the pink loofah scrubbie, though I so much would have loved to run that thing, which every day touched her body, all over my own body.
No, I wasn't that much of a pig.
But I would use her shampoo and her body soap. I could tell it was her shampoo, because the bottle said it was for enhancing blonde highlights, and besides, the Head and Shoulders had to be for Sam. Sam had dandruff. I knew that, because Jo had told me.
There was some liquid soap in a pump bottle that smelled like almonds and honey. I knew that was Jo's, because I had smelled it on her before, usually when she reached up to kiss me in the foyer each night. I also knew this soap was hers and not Sam's because I saw Soap on a Rope hanging from the shower fixture. Sam McGuire was apparently a big Soap on a Rope fan, and Gammy McGuire gave him one every year at Christmas.
Damn, I knew a lot about Sam. Jo had told me all kinds of stories and secrets, knowing that I would never tell anyone else. Who was I going to tell? I knew about things that were more intimate matters than dandruff and Soap on a Rope, things I'm not going to mention here, because some of it is pretty personal But who really cares, anyway? Jo is the one who really cares about Sam, and I only cared because I knew it made her feel better to get some of these things off her chest.
I could probably write a book about Sam McGuire, with all the things she had told me, but I wasn't going to do that, because I didn't want to be thinking about him. I wanted to be thinking about her.
And I was thinking about her, as I lathered up my body with her honey and almond soap. I was thinking, This soap touches her body. Now, this soap is touches my body. Therefore…
Of course there was no logic in the way I was thinking, but I was beyond logic at this point. All I could think of as I ran my hands over my chest was how she has run her hands over my chest earlier that evening. And then I thought about how this soap was now the common element between my chest and her chest, between my chest and her breasts. I imagined myself lathering up not myself, but her, here in the shower with me, and then my soapy hands traveled downwards…
-
So here I was now, in Jo's shower, jerking off.
I was leaning against the tile wall, my left hand spread out to steady my arm on the wet surface, while I pressed my forehead into my forearm. My right hand was below, furiously working to relieve the pressure. This was going on for too long, too unbearably long, as the hot water pounded my shoulders. Oh God, I hope I'd locked the bathroom door. What if I hadn't? What if she were to come in? What if she were to come in and see me now…
And then, there it was, with a groan from the deepest part of me, the part I could only reach when I was doing this, blessed relief burst through the wall of sexual tension. The sudden flood carried away every remnant of frustration and anxiety. I felt my entire body melting under the steady stream of steaming hot water cascading down my body. My knees nearly buckled beneath me and I knew it was all over for me, it was official, I was a hopeless goner.
I had never imagined I could feel the way I was feeling at this moment.
-
When I finally got out of the shower and dried off and put on Sam's sweatpants, pulling the drawstring tight against my thin torso, only then did I begin to feel the guilt settling in. This was foolish. This could not go anywhere. This was Lizzie's mother, for crying out loud. I was insane! I must be insane.
These were the thoughts that tried to take hold of me, but they weren't having much success, because I was still in her bedroom, surrounded by her things, and as much as the voice of reason told me this had to stop, the voice of opportunity said this is your chance to look around, this is your chance to discover her most personal items, maybe find her underwear drawer, touch her panties…
Okay. I'm a pig.
And that's what I was doing, snooping around, compelled not by my usual sense of what was decent and proper, but by a sudden and overwhelming lust that after a few minutes had my incredibly resilient sex organ once again puffing itself up for another show stopping performance.
Only this time the show did stop before it got very far, because just as I found what I was looking for, just as I was dragging my fingertips along something pink and smooth and silky, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and Lizzie calling, "Mom! Mom! Where are you?"
-
I panicked.
If Lizzie was coming upstairs to look for her mother, she would obviously come into the bedroom. I couldn't remember whether or not I had locked the door, and now there was no time to check. There was only time to slam the drawer shut and lunge for the tee shirt on the bed. I wasn't going to allow Lizzie to find me in here half-naked.
I heard the knocking, and Lizzie right outside the door, saying, "Mom?"
I pulled the tee shirt over my head, and it was while my face was covered that I heard the click of the doorknob being turned. The shirt was all bunched up around my shoulders, and I was struggling to pull it down over my chest and down over my head at the same time. Which is probably why I was succeeding at neither.
The moment my head popped out of the neckbank, I saw that Lizzie was in the now open doorway, staring at me, her mouth hanging open in shock.
"Your mom is not here," I said instantly. I could hear the guilt in my own voice, as I pulled the shirt down to cover my chest.
Lizzie was looking at my chest. She was looking at my face. Most of all she was looking at my pants, where among the baggy layers of soft material, it was obvious that I was in an excited state.
"Ehhh!" Lizzie exclaimed, which is not really a word, but the best she could get out under the circumstances.
"It was raining," I explained nervously, sitting down on the edge of the bed, putting my hands in my lap, trying to appear nonchalant. "I got splashed with mud, your mom told me to come up here to take a shower. She's not here. She's downstairs. Did you check downstairs? You'll find her downstairs. Not up here."
"Ehhh!" Lizzie repeated, still staring at me stupidly.
"Lizzie---"
"Aaaahhh!" she screamed, changing her utterance a bit. "Don't even talk to me! Don't even look at me! Aaaahhh!"
With that she ran from the room, bounding back down the stairs.
I fell back on the bed, looking at the ceiling, thinking Oh, crap…oh, crap…oh, crap…