Chapter 7B: Summer Crushes

No human thing can last forever.

I moved off Rachel and lay beside her. I could not break the contact so I kept a hand on her breast and stroked her hair with the other. She turned to face me, and we spent a few minutes gazing at each other. I would have fallen asleep staring into her eyes had she not sat up.

"Let's get food," she said, smiling down at me. I nodded and got out of bed.

I could feel her eyes on me as I walked to the bathroom, picked up my swim trunks, and left the room. She met me downstairs wearing jeans and a loose white blouse. She put her arms around me and kissed me so naturally anyone would have thought she did it everyday. I was ready to drag her to bed after the kiss, but she pulled me out of the house.

She dropped the keys to her BMW into my hand and smiled. She knew the pleasure I would get from driving it. I got my license in the ritual manner of seventeen-year-olds but rarely got the opportunity to drive. The BMW pulled us out of the driveway so smoothly I laughed from the joy of a different kind of pleasure. I knew the most direct route to her favorite restaurant but took a scenic route. Rachel entertained herself by telling me how a turn I 'missed' would have gotten us to the restaurant faster.

It was a quiet hole-in-the wall; the female owner came over when we walked in and gave us Rachel's table in the back. We ate in near silence with Rachel eating as much of my food as her own. We sat quietly afterwards, our hands barely touching as we talked about the only safe subject at the moment, the twins.

I did not take the scenic route back to the house.

She waited for me to open the mansion door before stepping out. Rachel stared into my eyes and leaned forward for a kiss. She took my hand and led me inside. She walked me up the stairs and into her bedroom.

She pulled my t-shirt off and pushed my sweatpants down. She did not say anything as she pushed me onto the bed. I scooted over to make sure she had room to join me. She walked to the foot of the bed and played with her belt.

I was not pleased when she winked and walked into the bathroom!

She made it up to me by walking back into the room naked. She crawled onto the bed and straddled my hips. After sitting down, she wiggled her hips until she had my dick straightened out. She settled herself so that my dick was splitting her pussy lips. She smiled and slid along my length. Her head dropped back and she shook her shoulders reacting to the stimulation on her clit. Her pussy painted my dick with moisture. I tried to move my hips back so I could fuck into her, but she grabbed my hands and put them over my head.

Rachel had size, but it would not have mattered had I been willing to push it. She kissed me gently as a reward for my capitulation and continued rubbing her clit on my dick.

"We can't do this when the twins come back," she stated breathlessly. I wanted to deny the reality of our situation, but the words would not come out. I knew how the twins would react and that no one else would do so as positively (except maybe my mother). I nodded as her eyes drilled into me.

"But I'll make you a deal," she continued. Her head dropped and she pushed down with her hips. She looked at me from beneath her eyelashes; Rachel's eyes definitely lightened with passion.

"I'll be your woman for the summer if you accept a gift from me at the end." She said it sincerely and made sure I understood every word. I tried to move her off me, not liking the force of her words, but she rode me well enough to stay on top.

"I don't mean it that way, baby," she said. "You know, I don't!"

Her eyes pierced deep into me, getting close to parts I did not want exposed. I had never been able to say no to Rachel anyway; if she could convince me to be in school plays, she had probably won years ago. She moved her hips slowly; one part of my body yelled at my head to nod like the good boy I was not.

She smiled when I nodded. It was worth anything to have Rachel smiling at me like that.

Her hand moved between our bodies and held my dick so it pointed up. She raised her hips and sank me into her pussy. I grabbed her hips, holding on as she moved up and down. Rachel's hands fluttered on my stomach as her body was assailed with pleasure.

She rode me to orgasm and beyond. It was only when she settled down and smiled with her hair framing her face that I took over. I turned us, and she went willingly to her back. I grabbed her legs and put her ankles on my shoulders.

The summer of my Rachel fantasies continued with long, slow strokes of my hips. She let me watch the pleasure come to her, allowing me into her soul. She bit her lip and forced her eyes to stay open so I could see the moment of vulnerability I was causing. I let her legs fall to my hips and moved down to kiss her. We embraced and looked into each other as I increased the tempo of my strokes. She thrust her tongue into my mouth, and I suckled it.

She broke the kiss and pushed my face back to look into my eyes again. I pumped in and out of her hard, allowing only blinks to interrupt our eye contact. The power came to us suddenly.

My eyes burned with the effort to keep them open so she could see inside me as I flooded her. Her pussy squeezed me as her orgasm washed in behind mine. Staring into each other made the pleasure last longer, run deeper.

We lay in bed for hours, touching and kissing. We did not speak; it was enough to enjoy the reshaping of our connection.

The thought that it would be gone with the summer months broke our interlude. I sat up and thought about the inevitable end. I dropped my hand into hers and held on.

She did not say goodbye when I kissed her before leaving. We did not have to use the word; every kiss would be tainted transience and the desperation of holding back the end.

I biked home trying not to think, but the question of my motives for leaving kept intruding. I tried to ignore it, but I had to admit I ran away. I was fleeing from my feelings for Rachel. I ran from my dread of the terminal nature of our affair and how I would feel when summer came to a close. As the struggle inside me grew, I peddled faster. When I got home, I threw the bike at the wall and opened the door leading down to the basement.

I could not hear any sounds from the living room when I opened the door to the rest of the house. The girls would have been arguing had they had been awake. I stared out the living room window as foreign emotions tore at me.

I was angry, frustrated, and hard again. I should have stayed in Rachel's bed, but the dark parts of me understood what was coming. Someone else might have conveyed desperation and need in the lovemaking, but I was not raised (Rachel had been a party to that raising) to be the needy or desperate type.

I was hard, angry, and unwilling to accept an objectionable outcome. I was not the master of my fate when it came to Rachel. The frustration and anger had to come out but not with her. I knew with whom it could, a woman who understood the rage and would accept the translation of it into the physical.

My mother raised a wolf, and it opened the door to her bedroom.

She was asleep on her stomach. Were I a good son I would have let her sleep, but I had been a good boy all day. I ripped the covers from the bed, waking her up. I grabbed her legs and pulled my mother to me. I kept pulling, until I could grind my hard-on into her nightgown-covered ass.

Wolves know.

Instinct made her fight; it was what I needed--to bend something to my will. I put my weight on her ass. She tried to turn around, but I put my hands on her upper back to prevent it. I grabbed her nightgown and ripped it down to her ass. I moved to place my knee on her lower back, keeping her in place as I finished tearing the nightgown to the bottom. She was not wearing panties as I had instructed after we became lovers.

I grabbed the neck of the gown and pulled her up with it. I wrapped an arm around my mother and pulled the neck of the gown over her head. She fought by moving her head until I had to grab her throat to keep her still. She resisted me as I moved my hand to allow the gown to fall down her body. She grabbed my arm and dug her nails in.

The room turned red as I grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled. I stepped back and continued pulling until she came off the bed. The nightgown dropped to her feet. I pushed her back on to the bed and moved forward to press my crotch against her ass. She put her hands on the bed and pushed backwards to get me off her. Needing only my lower body to keep her in place, I took my t-shirt off.

I put a hand over my head and brought it down on her ass. She arched and pushed into my crotch harder. I brought the hand down on her ass again; she tried to escape by heading up the bed. I wrapped her hair in my fist again and pulled. Taking advantage of only needing one hand to control her, I pushed my sweats and underwear off with the other.

The move up the bed aligned her ass better for my cock. She shook her head trying to make me let go. She growled in frustration when it did not set her free. I reached down and grabbed her ass, still warm from the slap. I opened her as much as I could while moving my hips to get my dick into position. She fought until the moment I thrust hard into her body.

Our bodies reacted like always; I thrust and something in her body pulled at me. I drove into her until the inside of my hips pressed against her ass. Her pussy bore down as she came hard. Her upper body fell to the bed when I let go of her hair.

It was time to exert a different kind of control.

I put my hands on her ass cheeks and spread her for my thrusts. I pulled back and thrust as hard as I could. She grunted to give me the pleasure of hearing her. I fucked my mother, not as a man but one of our kind. It was a mindless thrusting in and out.

I kept what I did not want to feel at bay with the sound of our bodies striking each other and my mother's pleasure. For the first time, the girls' presence in the house did not matter. If they stormed into the room, they would learn what ran through their veins. Equally mindless of our situation, my mother moved with me until a second orgasm came upon her. I thrust through her climax to hear her scream louder.

I did not care about anything except the feel of her pussy as I thrust faster and harder. I let go of her ass cheeks and grabbed her hips to give me added leverage as I felt my end approaching. It was not a bitter one, like what I had to swallow with Rachel.

My mother put her hands over mine and squeezed with her pussy. It was not what I wanted; I wanted her to be a vessel of my male pleasure. Her actions on my cock brought the anger and the frustration to the forefront; a part of me knew she had done it on purpose. I thrust into her, not with desire but with the darker side of my nature. She stopped squeezing and took my thrusts.

It was why I needed one of my own. I fucked my mother, driving my anger and frustration into her body with each thrust. The change of emotion forced my orgasm back far enough to give her enough time to peak again. Her body bore down on my cock as her third orgasm pounded into her in the rhythm of my thrusts. It was the last thing I needed to cleanse myself, to have to force my cock in and out of her body as it reacted to the pleasure I gave her.

It poured out of my body; the rage at having Rachel and not being able to keep her flooded my mother. I ground my hips into her ass, feeling the depth of her body clutching and releasing me. I collapsed on top of her and with my forehead between her shoulder blades I released the last of my emotions in a silent scream.

Finally, I pulled out and crawled onto her bed dragging my prey with me. We lay spooned together. Anyone finding us would have to deal; I did not care anymore.

"Remind me to thank Rachel for that," she whispered, putting her arm over mine and settling in to go back to sleep.

Sunday swim practice was later than practices during the week because my coach wanted 'one damn day to sleep in'. Marisa slept in any chance she got so I did not think anything of walking out of my mother's bedroom naked. I needed a shower and preferred using my bathroom.

I was not counting on Karen being awake and waiting for me. She stood by the window in a stance of a nervous young filly. Karen had made the turn around boyish hips and training bras to feminine lines. She turned towards me; dark hair framed clear, pale skin, which in turn framed dark eyes. She wore white shorts and a thin white top that did not cover her flat stomach.

At fourteen years old, Karen was the same age as my sister; physically a woman but crippled emotionally and mentally. I finally understood why she had been brought to my home--why her father was drinking himself to an early grave.

Karen shared more than age with my sister. They were dual-natured, capable of going either way, wolf or the alternative. No one had to tell me that my Marisa would remorselessly cut down anyone between her and a goal. She was too conscienceless to be truly human, but I had plans to make sure she never had to go for someone's throat. Given the option, the family always chose the alternative for those in-between; Karen's father raped her of that road.

My family placed Karen in my pack because I never had the choice available to her or my sister. She saw it as we stared at each other; I would drown her father in a tub of his favorite alcohol if he touched her again. She had as much choice as could be returned; it scared her, and the fear drove her away.

I wished Karen's father would drink faster. He took and gave back nothing. No one in our family would raise a finger to stop his suicidal spiral. He would think his daughter gave me what he took, even if she chose to be more than I could be.

It was our justice.

I called Rachel after practice. Like I hoped, she asked me to come over. I did not count on Michael being there, but he was sitting in the kitchen with coffee-stained papers in front of him. Rachel laughed at the look of disappointment on my face. I was surprised when she gave me a tight hug and kissed me.

The kiss was foreplay.

"Have you eaten?" she asked. I shrugged since being a seventeen-year-old athlete guaranteed perpetual hunger. She raided the refrigerator for me. Rachel had a cook on staff and like in my home the food catered to the twins' training needs. It was really meant to help control her diet though.

I sat on a stool, and Rachel leaned comfortably against me. When I put my arm around her, she stroked it in a way no one could have confused. Michael raised an eyebrow and snorted in amusement. I ate quietly and listened while they discussed problems they were having with over-ambitious members of the Smith Holdings management team.

Ambition made for good managers, until they hit the Smith Holdings' ceiling. Michael had the ceiling job, but he was a plodder. A lot of people felt they could have managed the Smith finances and Smith Holdings much better.

There were three avenues of attack the dangerously ambitious ones took when they bumped their head on the ceiling.

Challenging Michael's authority was a mistake; Rachel always sided with him. The option was not popular, but someone tried it every couple of years.

The second avenue was corporate espionage to undermine Michael's position or to get a cushy position somewhere else. It had been the most lucrative option until my mother became Michael's assistant. Rachel was courteous about firing people; my mother dismantled careers and lives. The company rumor mill had it that my mother did it because of everything she owed the Smiths. Bullshit! My mother liked the taste of blood, especially when it poured out of her pack's enemies.

The third was the personal one. Men tried to break through the ceiling by opening Rachel's legs. The only fun part of staying over when those dates occurred was 'asking a drink of water' just as the men were attempting to take it to the next level. The twins routinely cock-blocked, but I always had the privilege when I stayed over. She never held those interruptions against me; some of our best conversations had been over frozen yogurt when her dates had been cut short by my thirst.

Rachel told Michael that one of the managers they were discussing had made a strong pass at her. I realized I could not remember Rachel being with anyone after Roger died. She and my mother had a longstanding affair, but they were not a couple. It would have been impossible to hide an affair from two sons and a boy with a crush. She could have had a clandestine affair when the twins were away like we had agreed to. I could not imagine any man being happy with a summer fling (especially someone with their eyes on Smith Holdings).