Chapter 17

I stood at the threshold of the Russo’s living room, wringing my hands and staring at Mr. Russo. He and Mrs. Russo had just talked and he looked as nervous as I felt. He couldn’t be, though. No one else could be that nervous.

My gaze fell on Mrs. Russo. “You want me to have sex with your husband?” I asked, incredulously.

“I want you to learn what it’s like to have sex with a boy who knows what he’s doing.”

“But he’s your husband!”

“I’m willing to share.”

“What about you?” I asked.

“What about me?”

“Where will you be?”

“Well, I can be there and help if you want.”

“Oh god no! I can’t do it in front of you.”

“Then I can stay in the living room with Suzy. You two can have the bedroom.”

“Do it in your bed?”

It was getting more bizarre by the minute.

“Unless you want to do it on the floor.” Mrs. Russo chuckled. “But I suggest the bed. We’ve done it on the floor and the bed is more comfortable.”

I turned and gawked at Mr. Russo.

He shrugged. “Wanda is right, the bed is more comfortable,” Mr. Russo said with a faint smile.

“You’ll have sex with me?” I asked.

“It would be my pleasure, but only if you want to.”

This was overwhelming. Mrs. Russo was telling me to have sex with her husband. And Mr. Russo wasn’t a boy, he was a man. An adult. I was only sixteen. Not that I didn’t think of him that way sometimes. Usually my masturbation fantasies were with Mr. Roman, who was also an adult, but sometimes after leaving the Russo’s apartment after doing sexual things there, I had fantasized about Mr. Russo. But they were only fantasies, never expected to be real. And now it was real, as real as it could get.

I stood there trembling, waiting for— I didn’t know what I was waiting for. They were waiting on me. I looked from one to the other. They remained silent, staring back at me. Finally, Mr. Russo got off the couch and came over to where Mrs. Russo and I were standing. He placed his hand on my shoulder.

I jumped.

“It’s up to you,” Mr. Russo said to me. “We don’t have to do this.”

“Don, I—” Mrs. Russo started, but was cut off by her husband.

“Hush, darling,” Mr. Russo said, “it’s not up to you. You explained why you’re doing this and I sort of understand, but it’s not your decision. It’s Julie’s.”

Mr. Russo turned to me. “Julie, I’ll be gentle, I promise. And if there’s anything you don’t want to do, let me know and I’ll stop. Or we don’t have to do this at all. I know I’m old to you.”

“You’re not so old,” I said.

Mr. Russo’s face broke into a smile. “Thank you for that. So it won’t be disgusting to have sex with me?”

“Oh no!” I hadn’t meant for it to come out so enthusiastically and blushed furiously.

Mr. Russo tilted my head back with a finger under my chin and pressed his lips to mine. I parted my lips expecting his tongue, but he just let his lips linger there in a soft, loving kiss. He pulled away.

“You are beautiful,” he said. “And sexy. There were times after you left that I made love to Wanda because seeing you got me so hot. She told me more than once she would have to thank you. So I meant what I said. It would be my pleasure to make love to you.”

He said make love to me. Not have sex with me. Not fuck me. The butterflies fluttered in my tummy. No one had ever made love to me. Joey had sex with me. But Mr. Russo didn’t love me so what was the difference?

I turned to Mrs. Russo. She smiled and nodded. Then she took my hand and squeezed it.

“Trust me,” she said. “I’ll call your mother and tell her you’re feeling better and that she doesn’t have to come home.”

Still holding my hand, Mrs. Russo passed it to her husband. She was giving me to her husband. The three of us stood like that for what seemed like hours to me, but it was only seconds. When Mr. Russo started walking to the bedroom with my hand clasped in his, I followed.

The master bedroom was familiar to me. I had been in it often. Sometimes with Mrs. Russo, sometimes with her and her husband, and sometimes alone using the cylinder dildo. But this was different. It was only me and Mr. Russo and we were going to have sex. Mrs. Russo was on the telephone with my mother telling her that I was fine and that she didn’t have to come home. I wasn’t fine. If my mother had taken my temperature at that moment she would have called the doctor. Maybe rushed me to the hospital. I trembled as I watched Mr. Russo pull the bedcover down.

Mr. Russo finished getting the bed ready and came to where I was standing at the foot of the bed where he had left me. He took my hand and tugged. Both of us sat down next to each other on the end of the bed. He looked into my eyes as he cupped my face in his hands.

“I meant what I said,” Mr. Russo said. “You are beautiful.”

He pressed his mouth to mine. But this time his tongue poked my lips and, when I parted them, entered my mouth. I started flapping my tongue wildly against his, but Mr. Russo was more deliberate. His tongue moved against mine in a soft, loving way. Like he was stroking it. I soon followed suit and we ended up in a loving, not passionate, kiss. When the kiss ended, my heart was beating faster.

I didn’t know what to expect next. I assumed he would grab my breast like Joey had, or maybe just throw me down and stick his dick in me, but he stroked my cheek. I tilted my head into his touch. It was so loving. And then it dawned on me. Everything Mr. Russo had done so far was done lovingly. Much gentler than Joey. And my body reacted more slowly. Rather than wanting to hump something, I luxuriated in the touch.

His hand remained on my cheek as he leaned in for another kiss. Our lips met. His tongue entered my mouth. And then his hand slid to the side of my neck and caressed it. I moaned into Mr. Russo’s mouth.