Be Prepared
Copyright© 2025 by Han Jansz. van Meegeren
Chapter 7
Drew spent our honeymoon in his lab. The enormous amount of stimuli had become a bit too much for him. Not only autistic people have meltdowns; we all have them. Sometimes things happen that are just too much to handle. It’s healthy to have a meltdown. It allows us to regroup and face the future with fresh energy. I was just glad Drew had fled to his lab the day after the marriage and not a day before.
“Did you mean it?” Joyce asked me.
“About pushing you both into sex?”
“Yes. I was wondering.”
“Of course. If you don’t feel comfortable going with us, please stay here. If you don’t feel comfortable being in the nude around your son, put some clothes on while you still have the luxury of having a choice. But please realise that if you go with us, it will be the new normal to seduce him into having sex with you.”
“You’re right, I’m not ready for that.” Joyce sighed.
“That’s okay.” I walked behind her, pressed my body against hers and whispered in her ear: “Have you done it with women before?” I started kissing her behind her ear. Soft butterfly kisses that made her shiver.
“As a teenager, I fooled around with my best friend, but never seriously,” she sighed.
I grabbed a handful of her hair in my fist and used it to turn her head around towards me. Not giving her any time to protest, I pressed my lips on hers. With my arms tightly wrapped around her delicious nude body, my tongue was inviting hers. It had no intention of giving up before she finally opened up, and my tongue danced with hers. Lord, that felt so good. I moaned and released a bit of my tightening hold on her body. My hands were freely wandering around to find the spots on her body that made HER moan. Few people really know how to kiss. Joyce knew. I was in a trance from her kisses. Not just the acrobatics of her tongue, but the variety of pressure of my lips, the almost nurturing sensuality, unhurried, flowing and rhythmic. We kissed until our lips felt bruised; our feet felt tired from standing in one spot. I have no idea how long that first kiss lasted. I might have been an hour, two, three? Perhaps a day or two. Never in my life had I been kissed that way. Wow. I mean. Wow.
Somehow she managed to take over the initiative. In an effort to regain it, I said: “Sit.”
She sat down without complaint. I was a regular here. Since my mother disappeared, I’d spent every weekend here. I am talking about more than two hundred weekend days. I knew which step creaked on the stairs, what was in every drawer and cupboard, and I knew my way around the kitchen better than Joyce. From the drawer, I grabbed a pair of pantyhose. I moved her left leg against the leg of the chair and tied it with one leg of the pantyhose. The right leg followed not much later. She didn’t protest or struggle. She just sat there. I sacrificed another pair to tie her hands behind her back. I searched and found her hairbrush and moved my chair behind hers and started to brush her hair. Gently at first, until all the tangles were removed, and continued with long strokes from top to bottom in a steady rhythm. This time she moaned. I knew how it felt, that relaxation of softly pulling of your hair in a hypnotising rhythm. I took my time.
After a while, I took a comb and made a pretty complicated French braid. It’s easier to do it forsomeone else than to do it with your own hair. I kind of liked the result. I had the power to grab her braid and to pull her head backwards for a kiss, so I took advantage of it. To be able to guide her head in whatever way I liked, struck a chord in me somehow. I didn’t want to overthink it, and concentrated on her kiss. Even though she couldn’t move her arms or legs, it was still her kiss, not mine, even though I was the one that instigated it. My hands slowly descended from her throat to her shoulders, all the way to her big breasts. Without breaking contact with her lips, my hand caressed the soft flesh. Tenderly, I explored the conical shape, touching every millimetre with my hand, moving slowly in circles to the top. I felt a sudden burst of breath in mine when I reached the stiff nipples and mishandled them in contrast to the tender touch of her breast. She whined in my mouth as I used her nipples as if they were the ignition keys to start her motor.