Chapter 4

“Oh, fuck me ... fuck me ... fuck me ... harder, please!” Katrina begged me as I pounded her on the umpteenth stroke from behind.

This position definitely allowed me to get a great view of her exquisite bottom, the finely toned muscles of her lower back, which had a tattoo that I now noticed in the form of a she-devil (even carrying a pitchfork), and those excellent shoulder blades just below her silky waves of jet-black hair. I grabbed her buns more than once as I thrust deeper inside her luscious body, each time probing further into her depths past her slick and slippery snatch. She had such sleek, oily, and delightfully tanned skin that there was no question that she took good care of herself. I swore to myself that I’d never go to seed, never be anything but as fit and firm as she, both to deserve her and to keep some leverage in our partnership.

I wasn’t blind to the nature of my charms. I had the classic olive complexion of a Middle Eastern man and if I kept my beard properly trimmed, it would enhance my allure rather than reduce it. I also didn’t want to draw unwanted attention, especially since this wasn’t too long after Clinton had bombed that factory in Sudan in retaliation for the attack on the U.S.S. Cole near Yemen. I didn’t know as much as I should about the various Presidential hopefuls, but I had no illusions about how much things were likely to escalate, so no wild, unkempt hair or beards for me, anyway.

“Oh, God ... oh, Jesus FUCKING CHRIST! Jesus ... oh, fuck!” Katrina screamed even louder now, especially once I slid a finger into her backdoor.

She tightened so much on my cock now that I had no choice but to explode inside and give her a gooey gash, bareback and all. I didn’t pull the finger out just yet, though, preferring to burrow a little deeper while she gasped, sighed, moaned, grunted, and whimpered. She then thrashed repeatedly, moving her legs wildly as she reacted to my choice of ass play. The deeper I put it and further I pulled it out, the more she squirted on her own bed sheets until they were entirely drenched. When I finally removed my finger, she leaned over and sucked it straight from her own booty with an impish wink in her eyes.

“Lovely surprise, babe! Trust me ... I adore sodomy in all forms! How about we freshen up for now, though, and watch some TV together? It’s a lazy Saturday and I fully intend to goof off and fool around all day, in bed and out of it. Today is not a day to be a productive, hard-working member of society. Today is a day to kick back and unwind!” Katrina encouraged me as she turned on the TV set in her ... our bedroom, “you’re the man of the house, so the remote’s yours now. This is your bedroom now, after all. Well, ours, but you get the idea.”

“Wow, you’re really treating me like a boyfriend or husband, aren’t you? Despite all of that adoption talk,” I smiled now.

“Well, the adoption would be for practical things, like signing report cards and permission slips. Emergency contact. And not getting weird looks at PTA, as we discussed. Also, you’re going to be my legal beneficiary on all life insurance and my sole heir in my last will and testament. I want the public to simply view me as your adoptive mother, so nobody asks weird or nosy questions. Also, in case I never can have kids, at least I’ll have you as my son. And it will be hot to have you call me ‘Mom’ in bed sometimes,” Katrina explained.

“And I’ll have your surname,” I pointed out.

“Exactly. You’ll be a Vanderwaal, heir to a considerable fortune, I might add. I’ll have finally given my late parents grandchildren. Or at least a grandson. I can rest a bit easier that way. But even though you’re gonna be my adopted son, that doesn’t prevent you from being my lover, my husband, my boyfriend, whatever. And if you don’t have a prom date, I’ll keep you from going stag. You can be the guy who brought his hot mama with him to the prom,” Katrina told me with a very passionate kiss.