Chapter 7: Friday

I woke up alone, again, in Walker’s bed. Usually, Vanessa and I had to wrestle him out of the sack — sometimes resorting to tickling, ice water, and other tactics. What’s up with this sudden early-riser? The new Walker Jennings? My boyfriend?

After my shower, I donned one of his dress shirts — the tails hang down below my knees, how the fuck did he get so tall? — and padded out to the kitchen. Ah, espresso burbling, bacon sizzling, a handsome boy at my service.

He was wearing his old robe and pouring Bloody Mary mix over ice, one of my favorite morning pick-me-ups. I stood on tiptoes and brushed my lips against his, “Good morning, baby.”

“Winter.” He patted me on the butt like I was a good little girl.

I leaned back against the counter, sipping my coffee, and smiled up at him as I unbuttoned the top button of my shirt, “Want a wakeup BJ, honey?”

He smiled fondly at me, lovingly, “I do, but I have to catch an early bus.”

Oddly, his passing on a blowjob comforted me. Why? Because it was another sign, a signal, that he was no longer the eager little boy who couldn’t get over how lucky he was. No, Walk was now fully on his way to manhood — his inner person was catching up with his now-grownup body.

He served us poached eggs with the bacon, rye toast with orange marmalade, and topped off the coffee. I teased him, “Your cum is so delicious.”

He grinned, “You’ve mentioned that, once or twice.”

We continued teasing back and forth as we finished breakfast. I was doing the dishes when I felt his palm slide up between my thighs. I automatically inched my feet apart as my heart skipped.

He slid a fingertip in and I sighed with pleasure. Then he backed off, “You taste good too, Winter.”

I turned to face him, “Thank you, kind sir.” My voice was a little raspy, my cheeks a little warm. He looked me up and down, his smile gentle, his eyes kind. “Let’s do the neighborhood tonight — I want to show you off.”

“Your wish, milord.”

I followed him back to his room and watched as he pulled on a pair of bright blue boxer-briefs. What a scrumptious bulge! I walked him to the elevator, “What should I wear tonight?”

“I’ll decide when I get home.”

“Will it involve undies?”

His answer was to take me in his arms and deep-kiss me.

Then he was off, and the loft was suddenly empty. No Walk, no Vanessa, just me.

As I dressed for my own day, sorting through the outfits he had moved into his closet, I tried to picture my life after Vanessa returned. She would be delighted with his newfound confidence. And, she’d be pleased to share me with him.

How would that work? Who would decide where I slept each night? They’d probably play it by ear, decide who was in the mood for what. Then I grinned — suddenly realizing that some nights they might share. Send me from one bed to the other. From one sex partner to the other.

I loved, loved, loved that idea! I would be pleasing the two most cherished people in my life. I giggled out loud.

Walker called me at work around 2 in the afternoon. He went right to it, “Winter, I want a video of you and me.”

My heart skipped, but I answered immediately, “Of course, baby, whatever you want.”

No hesitation, no back and forth, no negotiations. Just instant and complete compliance.

He said, “Tonight.”

“Tonight?” My voice had cracked a little. “Okay, sure. Fine.”

“You decide who you want to film us.”

“Oh. Um, okay, honey. I will.”

My reaction to the outrageous news was interesting. What Walker and I were doing in bed was beyond inappropriate. It was more than naughty. To many people, probably the vast majority, it was wicked, immoral, depraved, and, without question, illegal.

And now, to compound the felonies, he wanted to film it, to create a permanent record. These days, whatever Walker wanted, I often found myself wanting it too. My acquiescence was not only instantaneous, it was enthusiastic.

So, who would tape us?

Normally — and of course normally is hardly the word — it would have been Vanessa, but she wasn’t home. Pilar would have been a logical choice too, but she had dumped Walk, so that could be awkward. Vanessa and Pilar had popped into my mind, but the instant Walker told me he wanted someone to shoot us, I knew it would be Lina Paloma.

He was already fucking Pilar’s mother. And he had taken Lina and me to bed last Sunday. She loved Walker, and that alone was enough. But more than that, she loved Vanessa and me — we had, literally saved her and Pilar.

But even more than all of that, she knew about Walker and me, knew how crazy we were about each other. Knew, and approved. Lina not only wasn’t judgmental on the subject, but she, like Vanessa, was all for Walker fucking me.

So, Lina.

Let’s see ... Friday was the busiest night at Euforia, so we’d have to wait until the dinner service was about finished. I called her as soon as Walk hung up.

She laughed out loud, delighted at the idea, “Of course! God, this will be so hot! Winter, is he going to fuck you?” That charming Latino accent — so brimming with approval.

“No! Are you crazy? I mean ... uh, no, I don’t think so.” Backpedaling, “He ... well, he isn’t ready. And he wants to talk it over with Vanessa. It’s a big step — huge — for him. For me too, of course.” Quit babbling, Winter. Jesus.

“You want it though, I see how you look at him.”

“I don’t think he’s ready, Lina.”

“Are you? Like I have to ask.”

“Well. Um, yes and no. I mean when he gets me going, he could do anything he wants to me. And doesn’t he just know it. But that’s passion, passion of the moment, that’s taking charge of me. Like right now, talking with you ... no, I don’t want him to.”

“Really? Winter?”

“Well, I mean it is a delicious fantasy. But it’s such a huge step, Lina, it really is. I mean I just started sucking him off this week.”

“What took you so long?” That’s what I loved about Lina. No phony shock, no moralizing. Just a practical question, borne of genuine curiosity. And, of knowing the players, knowing Walk and me.

“Oh, I know it sounds silly — hell, it probably is silly — but it meant crossing a line ... and I just wasn’t ready.”

“But now?”

I giggled, “Oh, hell, Lina, I told him he can cum in my mouth anytime he wants.”

“Didn’t he already know that?”

“Yeah, yeah he did. But I just liked saying it out loud. Looking into his eyes and saying the words.”

Lina was quiet for a few moments, “It was like making a pledge, wasn’t it? Telling him he could cum in your mouth was another way of telling him you love him.”

I laughed, “Yeah, it is. Can’t you just see me, sitting around with a bunch of moms, telling them that I love my boy so much that I suck him off on demand.”

Lina laughed too. Then she became thoughtful, “I bet it didn’t go to his head, not Walker. I mean having a hottie like you — a mom-hottie — is a huge deal.”

“You’re right, hon. His attitude — well he was pleased at the words, but it was kind of like a mental shrug. Like I was stating the obvious. Of course he can cum in my mouth. He knew it, I knew it, he knew that I knew it. So, no, he didn’t get smug or anything.”

Two grownup women, in our 30s, talking about sucking Walker off. In a normal, conversational tone. Boy, isn’t this weather splendid? I can’t decide what to fix for dinner. Last night, you wouldn’t believe how much cum he spurted.

Then we got into the details, the mechanics of the sex tape. She owned a tripod, so she’d set up a second camera. “Will he want me naked, Winter?”

I laughed, “What do you think? In fact, he may have me film you guys too.”

“Good! I’m up for that.”

Two grown-ass women, in our 30s, talking about making sex tapes with a 16-year-old boy. And not finding the subject to be the least bit implausible.

The extraordinary had become, conversationally anyway, normal. Well, why not?

We left it that she’d work as late as needed, then come straight to our loft.

I sat there in my office, musing. I knew exactly why Walker had stepped out of the classroom to call me hours ahead of time. He wanted me thinking about it, imagining it, anticipating it.

Was it a huge step for me? Not really. I trusted Walker Jennings with my life. That video would be a felony crime if the wrong people ever saw it. I trusted him to safeguard it, to safeguard me.

What about down the road? Here again, it was trust. If he decided to show it to someone, I had full confidence in his judgment. It wouldn’t be to a bunch of frat bros. It would be someone very special, someone he had full confidence in.

But that was getting way ahead of myself. Which was exactly what Walk wanted — his girlfriend running different scenarios in her head. Fantasizing not only about the event itself — the video — but all of the delicious possibilities, the nooks and crannies of what he might do with it down the road.

In my office, I checked myself out in my full-length mirror. Pleased, as usual, with the inventory. Tall and tan, blonde and slender. But who was that silly woman with a grin plastered all over her face? Who was suddenly in a giddy, giggly mood?

Okay, focus, Winter. Plan ahead.

I reached for my cell and called Wendy to schedule a full salon workup.

She said, “Winter! I was just about to call you. Walker made a 4 o’clock appointment for you.”

“He did? I mean, good, I’m ... uh, glad he remembered. Um, what did he tell you?”

“The complete works — tip to toe. Hair, facial, nails, pussy, massage.”

I started to ask, “Did he really say pussy?” But I caught myself. “Okay, good, see you at 4.”

God, do I love that boy! Cheeky, impudent, even brazen. But I admired both his thoughtfulness and his initiative. Plus, it gave me a little tingle, knowing he wanted to showcase me at my shaved-legs, bald-pussy best. Even if he and Lina and Vanessa and I were the only ones to screen the video.

Even when I was a little girl first exploring all things sexual, I never posed for nude photos like many of my friends had. Both boys and girls. And when cell phones made videos so easy to shoot, I still refrained. Looking back, I’m not sure why — I didn’t hesitate to experiment, to fool around. But something deep inside must have counseled me about naked images, made me wary.

But I was no longer a little girl.

That set me off on a fantasy tangent. What if, say in college, somewhere far away, someday Walker showed his sex tape to a pal or two, and told them he was fucking around with his sister? I mean it was so obvious that we were closely related. And I could, and have, passed for his older sister. Easily.

Most teenage boys, being teenage boys, would hardly be turned off at the idea. Especially when they saw how hot I was. And noted my enthusiasm. And watched how easily, and how often, he could make me cum.

Over the years, Vanessa and I had given the lad a few sexy pictures and video clips of me. In a bikini, in a thong. Pussy covered, nipples covered, but about everything else just ... right there.

Vanessa had told him, “Don’t be indiscriminate, but you can share them with a pal or two.” It amused her to think of their reaction. And, she knew how much I loved the idea of horny boys beating off to me.

I especially enjoyed it when they came to visit Walk. And he ‘secretly’ showed them five and ten-second clips of me strutting my stuff, nipples fluffed, in a string bikini. Then they would come out of his room, and I’d fix them snacks, acting blissfully unaware of their covert peeks.

Just imagine how hot a sex video would be! Stop it, Winter! This is exactly what Walker wanted — getting myself in a lather. Still, I would love to be a fly on the wall when he showed them what he could do with his sister.

Glancing again in the mirror, I touched my hair. A shampoo and blowout would be just right.

Lina called me, “Pilar just waxed me. Walker likes us baby-bald.”

“What about Matt?” He liked her bush.

“He doesn’t own my body. But anyway, he’s not turning down pussy, bush or not.”

I laughed, “True. And I’m just on my way to Wendy’s.”

“I am so excited about tonight.”

“Not me, just another Friday night at home.”

“Yeah, right. Um, Winter?”

“Yes?”

“Have you thought about tonight? I mean ... what he’s gonna want?” She was serious. Not worried-serious, but genuinely curious.

“Of course I’ve been thinking about it, Lina. Ever since he called me. But you know what? I’ve decided not to obsess about it. I’m just gonna go along, do whatever he wants. It’s his sex tape.”

“Whatever?”

“Whatever.”

“Even...?”

“Even.”

“God, I’m tingling. I never been in a sex tape. And with Walker? And you? I could almost cum right now.”

“Save it for him, babe, see you tonight. Oh, you are spending the night? I mean he’ll be wanting some early-morning pussy.”

“Of course. And I don’t have to go back to Euforia until around six, get ready for the dinner service.”

“Good girl.”

At ten minutes after 4, I was nude, reclining comfortably as Wendy herself washed my hair. Then she sat me up as she dried it with a low-speed blower. No curling iron, no flatiron needed.

Wendy was in her 40s, a little stocky, a plain country face, but she was a wizard in her shop. She led me over to an enclosed shower/lounge and gave me a full-body scrubbing before laying me back to shave my legs. As always, she saved my pussy-touchup for last.

Wendy called in two of her Korean girls — one to do fingernails, the other, toenails. She ran a fingertip up and down my pussy, “Isn’t this the tiniest one you’ve ever seen?”

The two girls nodded and giggled behind their hands. I was in pamper-heaven, and the two-girl massage hadn’t even begun. After Wendy finished my pussy, they started on me. You could get a deep-tissue massage at Wendy’s, but I usually opted for a light, sensuous, fingertip caress. Four tiny hands barely touching, lightly fondling, every square inch of my body.

There was no pretense that this was to provide muscle-aching relief. No deep-kneading, no Rolfing to reorganize the connective tissue. Before turning her girls loose on me, Wendy asked one question, and one question only, “Do you wanna cum, honey?”

I was lying, nude, on my back, on a long, leather cushion, “No thanks, not this time. I just wanna get my motor humming.”

Wendy arched her eyebrows in a show of mild surprise. Usually, I liked one or two mild climaxes at the end of a session. But she just nodded and spoke a few words in Korean to the two kimono-clad girls. They placed their palms together under their chins, bowed slightly, and giggled.

Wendy watched approvingly as they began their languorous, sensuous, soft handwork. Wendy reached down and moved my feet to the edges of the cushion and said, “You must have a really hot date tonight.”

One girl was lightly twirling my nipples while her partner caressed my pussy with one fingertip. I brought my heels back to my butt and moved my thighs apart. My voice was a little raspy, “The hottest.”

Wendy smiled, checked out the scene one more time, nodded in satisfaction, and left me to the ministrations of her team.

Walker was waiting when I got home that Friday evening around 6. He smiled, cupped my chin, and gave me a peck on the lips, just a quick hint of tongue.

“Show me, Winter.”

I stood there in the kitchen. Kicked my sneakers off. Unbuttoned and slithered out of my blue summer dress. Slid my panties down, and tossed them on a chair.

Walk stared at me. The cool, confident boyfriend vanished for a moment. He whispered, “God, Winter.” He was once again that awestruck 16-year-old boy, the one I simply adored. The one who couldn’t quite believe that I had undressed, was standing right there naked for his viewing pleasure.

His voice was filled with wonder, still whispering, “You are magnificent.”

I winked, “Did Wendy do a Walker-approved job on me?”

He blinked, and recomposed himself. Cleared his throat. Bent down and ran a palm up the back of my calf, up my thigh, to the juncture. “So smooth, just perfect. Perfect.”

Then, bringing himself back in charge, he handed me one of his dress shirts. I put it on, symbolically ceding control to my boyfriend. I rolled the sleeves up to my elbows, and buttoned enough buttons to cover the essentials.

He tried to act casual, “What time is Lina coming by?”

His real question, unasked, was, “Are you really going to let me make a sex tape with you?”

“It depends on how busy Euforia is. But she’ll get away as soon as she can.”

“Winter, I was thinking.” So serious, so solemn. The night was so important to him.

I said, “Oh no!” I placed the back of my hand on his forehead, “Does it hurt? Do you need to lie down?”

“Winter.”

“Walker.”

“I was thinking I’d better cum before, you know, before she gets here.”

“So you’ll last longer?”

“Yeah.”