Chapter 5

The next day was New Year's Eve. In Boston that means First Night Boston — an arts festival on steroids. First Night is a party centered on the Boston Common, but celebrated all over the city.

At one o'clock on the afternoon of New Year's Eve, Debbie and I were at the Frog Pond to look at the ice-sculptures and from there we wandered, picking up a bit to eat there, hot-chocolate here, a trinket over there. We were tourists, locals, friends, and lovers. The afternoon was magical.

We had a late sit-down dinner and found our way to a good spot to watch the fireworks. We cuddled under a blanket I'd carried in my backpack all day. The fireworks were spectacular... and so was my company.

We got back to the hotel about three in the morning, stripped down, cuddled up, and fell into exhausted sleep. It is a measure of how tired I was that I almost didn't notice that Debbie was naked, too...

... But waking up next to a naked, warm, cuddly Debbie is a treat. I'd recommend it, but this is my Debbie; find your own. During the night Debbie had rolled so her breasts were mashed against my chest, her fine pubic hairs were tickling my thigh where she had wedged it between her legs, and her lips were pressed onto my collarbone where she was lightly sucking and nibbling me in her sleep.

My arms were wrapped tightly around her and as I awakened I just pulled her tighter, and tighter to me.

Her soft breath was tickling my throat and her hair was in my nose. It was a lot more comfortable than it sounds.

I kissed her forehead and gently massaged both her back and her butt.

She must have liked it because soon she was gently humping against my thigh and moaning in her sleep.

Debbie's butt is the softest skin I have ever felt on any person, I any place, at any time. The term "baby soft" is a perfect description of her baby soft butt. I gently caressed it, allowing my hand to slip down to the back her thigh and then up past her tailbone and back in a gentle cycle. It felt wonderful.

Pretty soon my other hand had slipped up and into the thick blonde curls where I gently massaged Debbie's scalp.

Debbie was purring like a pussycat. At some point she had awakened. "Good morning lover," she whispered.

I kissed her forehead again, "Good morning sleepyhead."

"Were you starting without me?" she giggled.

I tilted her head back and kissed her, morning breath be damned. That kiss went from zero (well fifteen or twenty) to a hundred in nothing flat.

Debbie moaned into my mouth as I pulled her even closer. I gasped a breath, sealed her mouth again with mine, and rolled my hips bringing me fully between her thighs.

"Michael!" Debbie nearly shouted as she broke our kiss. "Yes!"

I surged forward, slipping into her in a single motion causing both of us to groan and push together. I backed off, nearly popping out, and then slipped forward again. We kissed, Debbie pulling at me, tugging, grinding, demanding.

Who was this tigress?

I rolled us over so I was on my back and Debbie took advantage of her freedom to show me what she needed. Her motions were frantic, impaling herself over and over. Her body flushed, her breath coming in gasps. A sheen of sweat covered her body.

Debbie lunged and groaned and then arched her back, and screamed her release.

I watched in awe.

"Wow," I said.

Debbie blushed. "Umm."

"Really needed that, huh?" I asked.

Debbie leaned forward, putting her head under my chin. "Sometimes I really do need it..." she said.

"Wow," I said.

"Did you... ?" Debbie asked.

I chuckled.

"What?"

"I was just thinking I should fake an orgasm... just so I can say I did once."

Debbie giggled. "Only girls are allowed to fake orgasms," she told me. "And then, only when they're married!"

I pulled her up and kissed her. "Let's get ready and go get some breakfast," I suggested.

"Ummm. Do you want me to, you know, help you out?" Debbie asked.

"Help me out?" I asked, Mr. Innocent.

"You know... like a hand job..." I stayed quiet. "... or something?"

"Or something?" I was grinning, but Debbie wasn't looking.

"Well..."

I laughed.

Debbie looked up at me, saw my merriment, and stuck her tongue out at me.

"You're so cute," I said.

She retaliated and tickled me.

That couldn't end well for her. It took several minutes and progressed from the bed we were on, to the floor, to the other bed, to the little table by the television, and back to the floor, but I eventually pinned Debbie and tickled her until her screams and giggles turned hoarse.

She was limp below me as I stood in victory, hands clenched above my head.

However, in some females-only jujitsu move, Debbie twisted and ended up with the remnants of my earlier erection deep in her mouth.

It did not take long for my erection to resurrect itself.

Between the excitement of Debbie's orgasm, the thrill of chasing her around the room, and the pleasure of her lips and tongue, I doubt I lasted a minute. But it was a really, really good minute.

We took New Years Day pretty easy. I finally called mom and brought her up to date — though I may have neglected to mention I had a roommate. Oops.

Other than that Debbie and I went back to the beach for a short cold walk and then to a coffee shop for a long comfortable conversation.

An early dinner, a long cuddle and it was Monday morning.

I called dad's attorney to check to see if there was anything more I could do — like I'd done anything — and then I called the travel agent to reorganize flights for both of us. It took some convincing, but she finally understood that Debbie and I wanted to fly back on the same plane and Debbie wanted to continue to Cheyenne with me so we could drive home together.

If we got going, we could just catch an early afternoon flight to Denver, have a short layover, and get into Cheyenne early enough to get home at a reasonable hour. So we got going.

I called mom from Denver to let her know where I was. Debbie called Barb from Cheyenne to tell her we were getting close.

I-80 brought us to Laramie just after sundown. I couldn't believe it, but I was happy to there.

Mom came out when she heard my Jeep pull up in front of the house. I waved, walked around the back of the Jeep and opened the passenger door to let Debbie out.

Maybe I should have told mom that Debbie had come to Boston.

"Well," mom said, "this is a surprise... Hi Debbie." Mom looked at me with a hint of something... Disappointment? Concern? Love? I wasn't sure.

"Hi Mrs. Wilson..." Debbie said.

"Uh... Debbie came out to Boston," I filled in, a bit unnecessarily.

"So I see," mom said. "I expect you're both tired from the trip. Let's get you in. Debbie, would you like to stay for dinner?"

Debbie looked at me looking at the ground and back at mom. "Uh... Michael?" she asked.

I looked up at her and smiled. "My fault," I said. "Please stay for dinner."

So she did.

Dinner would have been a bit more comfortable if mom hadn't spent the bulk of the meal looking from me to Debbie and back again with a half amused, half annoyed, and half puzzled look on her face.

I'm a math major. You explain why the square root of negative one is imaginary, and I'll explain how three halves can equal one. And no circular logic, either: "it is because it is" won't fly. — And don't show me that minus-one times minus-one equals one, "proving" that minus-one doesn't have a square root. I know that. I digress.

We told mom about First Night and about Revere Beach and dinner and lunch in our old neighborhood and the fun we'd had. We failed to mention the great sex, but it was right there for mom to see... too many three and four hour holes in our story for her to miss. Mom is smart.

After dinner I drove Debbie home. At least her mom knew we'd been together in Boston — and had a pretty good idea how we'd spent our "private time." So, while slightly nerve wracking, helping Debbie in with her bag (now enlarged by half a dozen trinkets she or I had purchased) was a non-event.

I'm pretty sure that Barb and Debbie did discuss the goodbye kiss. After Debbie caught her breath.

Mom was waiting for me when I got home.

"So that was a surprise..." she said.

I blushed. "It sort of caught me off guard, too. Uh. Sorry?"

Mom ignored the apology. I appreciated that. "I can see it in your eyes Michael, but I need to ask... how close are you two?"

"Uh," I said.

"Pretty close?" mom suggested.

"Well..." It wasn't that I wasn't proud of Debbie. I was. It's just that I didn't know how to talk to mom about it.