Chapter 2: Saturday nights in the sewing room

Why hadn't I disputed his assertion that there would be a 'next time'? Why had I stood quietly while he asked me to pick up some rubbers because it was difficult for him, being under age, to procure them?

Had he forgotten that his being under age could get me into one hell of a lot of trouble if the authorities found out what I'd let him do to me?

He'd asked me to get him hard, and then he'd ordered me to get on my knees so he could fuck me from behind. He'd been in total control, making me beg for him to put it back in me.

I went to bed, but couldn't sleep. Had he made it home without the police patrol spotting him? I listened, expecting them to knock on my door at any moment. What would I tell them? Should I call to see if he was home? No, Marion might be there. What would I say?

I got up, and took my nightgown off. Back in bed, I spread my legs, recalling the delicious feeling I got when he entered me. I brought my hand to my pussy, and felt moisture.

Was Cotton Fabric a man in a lad's body? No, Cotton Fabric was a sixteen year old lad with a man's sexual prowess. Cotton Fabric was trouble, my trouble. I slept soundly for a time, until I awoke in a fit of sexual turmoil, thrusting my pelvis upward, relentlessly striving for satisfaction.

On Sunday, I overheard my daughter tell her brother, "Mom made cookies, but she burned them. She must not have had her mind on what she was doing." I discarded the house dress with fourteen buttons in the trash bin. That night, I dreamed I was behind bars, wondering who was taking care of my children. Jack wouldn't take them. His new wife wouldn't want them.

On Monday, I inspected my pussy. It looked abused. Had I really let him put his shaft in there, and begged for him to fuck me?

On Tuesday, I had a serious talk with myself. If he came back on Saturday night, I would tell him to go. I'd say that I hadn't bought the condoms he'd asked me to buy. He would leave, wouldn't he?

On Wednesday, I retrieved the dress from the trash. As I washed and ironed the dress, I resolved to never wear it again. Was that a button missing? I found a replacement and sewed it on.

On Thursday, I got on-line, and researched sexual acts between an adult and a minor. The first case I found involved a forty year old woman and a sixteen year old male, a friend of her son. The woman declined to accept an offer of an eleven year prison sentence in exchange for pleading guilty. The case went to trial and she was sent to prison for thirty years. That was enough for me to decide to refrain from future coupling with Cotton. Even with good behavior, I would be forty-seven when I was released. Jeanette would be twenty-three, and Jess would be twenty-one. Would they know me?

On Friday, I felt that I needed to talk to someone about the dilemma I found myself in. Patti Gibbons was my best friend. Being divorced, we shared the same issues, and always confided in each other. It didn't occur to me that I was doing exactly what I'd warned Cotton not to do when I invited Patti to my home. We banished the kids to the basement playroom, and opened a bottle of wine.

Where to begin? I waited until I was refilling her glass before I broached the subject that was burning its way through my psyche.

"I got laid," I said, and watched Patti's eyes expand.

"Good for you, Jane. It's about time," she whispered, reaching out to pat my hand.

"It's not what you think. I didn't screw the handyman or anything like that."

Patti waited, knowing I would eventually open up and spill my guts to her.

"I let a sixteen year old boy fuck me," I said, pleased with myself for being able to get it out.

"Jail bait!" Patti said, grinning at me. Then, seeing the desperation in my eyes, "Poor Jane, I had no idea that you were that horny."

"What am I going to do?" I asked, putting all my hopes in her ability to say the right thing in my time of need.

"Stop doing it, and hope he doesn't brag about nailing a thirty-two year old looker to the wrong person."

Patti's answer was right on, but it wasn't the one I wanted to hear. I would have liked for her to tell me to keep on fucking the young lad, and Cotton would not be tempted to boast about nailing a thirty-two old looker.

"Thanks," I said, empting my glass with one long drink.

"How was it?" Patti wanted to know.

"It was ... it was ... his cock is just the right size to ... God, Patti, it was so good. It was better than ... I can't describe how good it was."

"I'm surprised. Are you sure he's only sixteen?"

"The first time wasn't that great, but he lasted longer the second time."

"What? You did it twice with him?"

I looked at my friend. Was she becoming as excited as she looked? I loved seeing her that way, and it made me want to whet her appetite for more. I avoided telling her how I'd planned the first meeting because she would have known I was talking about the lad from the florist shop. I did tell her how I'd let the freezer door fall on his head, consoled him, and then let him fuck me on top of the freezer, and that when he came back, I'd taken him into my sewing room where we had oral sex and fucked, twice.

"See for yourself," I said, opening the sewing room door, and letting her see the mattress, still on the floor, and my panties and shoes, lying where we'd left them. "He ate my pussy like it's never been eaten before, and then he fucked me until I thought I wouldn't be able to walk."

Patti had heard enough. "As your friend, I advise you to stop, but I can see that you're not going to. You're going to do it again, aren't you?

"No! I'm not," I said, denying that I was even thinking about letting Cotton back in my home, let alone in my pussy.

"What if I were to join you? Why not let me see if he's as good as you say?"

Was she serious? "I couldn't, and anyway, he wouldn't go along with it."

"I was just joking," Patti said, but I wondered it she was being truthful.

I thought of a question that had been on my mind. "How many times do you need to go out with a guy before you have sex?"

Patti considered my question for a few seconds. "Three, I would think, but that's just me."

"That's what I was thinking," I said, happy that she agreed with me.

"It depends on his age, I suppose. If he's sixteen, you don't have to go on any dates. You just conk him on the head with a heavy freezer door, and jump his bones," she said in a gleeful way that I found annoying.

"Okay, you made your point. I'm not going to see him again."

"If you want to send him to my house..." she stopped talking when she saw me glaring at her.

"You're not helping."

"I'm sorry, Jane. Let me know if you want me to take your kids for the night."

I threw up my hands. "How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not taking any more risks? It's over, done, finished."

Patti got up, went to the door leading to the basement, and told her children it was time to go. "Wipe that permanent smile off you face, and I'll believe you," she whispered. "I've never heard you exclaim, 'it was so good, ' before."

I capped the wine bottle, and was putting it in the cabinet when our children came into the room. Patti caught Jess and held him. He struggled to get loose. "Did you have fun being the only boy with three lovely ladies?"

Jess blushed, and wouldn't answer her. Patti looked at me. I knew what she was inferring; in ten years my little boy would be Cotton's age. How would I react if a neighbor lady let him dip his pen in her inkwell?

I thanked her for coming. We kissed farewell, and I put my children to bed.

Patti had been a big help. She had convinced me to do the right thing. All I had to do now was to convince myself that I would be able to send Cotton away.

What if he became angry with me, and went to the authorities? I would deny his charges. No one had seen him come or go, had they? I quickly went to the sewing room and put it back in order. I found the button that had come loose from the dress, and rolled to the other side of the room. I even placed a fresh candle in the holder.

Saturday dragged by. I kept looking at the clock. The kids wanted to go to the park to play on the swings and the slide. We walked past the flower shop. I kept my eyes on the door, looking for any sign of Cotton, but he didn't appear. After an hour, they were ready to leave. As we passed the florist's shop, Cotton came outside, looking past me like he didn't know who I was. I was both hurt and impressed. He showed more maturity than I would have thought possible.

It was three o'clock when we got home. I had six hours to plan what I would say to him. I knew I had to be cautious. Summarily rejecting him without reason would surely anger him. I would appeal to his ego by praising his maturity. I would reason with him. He would ask if I'd bought the condoms. I would say no, and he'd leave, dejected. I'd be dejected, too.

While preparing dinner for the children, I became faint. Was it unusually warm tonight? I went to the refrigerator, opened the door, and peered in, as if I were looking for something. Just thinking about the way Cotton ran his hands over my back, cupped my ass cheeks, and tweaked my nipples made my pussy tingle. I put my hand on my ass, remembering how he had slapped me there, and felt moisture between my thighs.

"Come on, kids. We're going to McDonalds," I announced.

Jess cheered, but Jeannette was dubious. She caught me before I went out the door. "Are you going to turn off the stove, Mom?"

"Ah, yes, thank you for reminded me, Dear."

"What's wrong with you, Mom? You burned the cookies, and you almost burned our dinner."

"It must be a phase I'm going through," I answered, off-handedly. It wasn't that I minded making dinner for us. I needed an excuse to take a ride. "We'll go to the McDonalds in the neighboring town. It will be fun!"

The kids didn't care where we ate. All McDonalds are the same. I didn't care either; I was too busy concocting an excuse to stop for condoms to be hungry. Where did they sell them, anyway?

"Why are we stopping here, Mom?" my daughter asked when I parked in front of a convenience store. It didn't look busy.

"I need to pick up a few things. I'll only be a minute," I explained.

I'd never left my children alone in the car before. I couldn't very well object when they followed me into the store.

Inside, I surveyed the store. There was one other customer paying for his purchase. The only clerk was a man of about forty-five. He wore his hair long, and had a thick mustache.

"Is there something I can help you with, Ma'am?" the clerk asked me, ignoring his customer.

I had spotted what I was seeking. The condom display was next to the counter.

"See if you can find the potato chips," I said to Jeannette, pushing her in the direction of the far aisle, adding, "Go with her, Jess."

The clerk handed the other customer his change, and looked at me, expectantly. I picked up the first pack of Trojans that I saw, and handed the clerk a ten dollar bill. He looked at me for a long moment before ringing up the sale. I put the package of condoms in my purse, just as Jeannette was trying to get my attention.

"Are these okay, Mom?"

I looked at the bag of potato chips she was holding. It was not a brand that I would have chosen, but I told her to bring the bag to the cash register.

The clerk was handing me my change, but when he saw the potato chips, he rang them up.

"Do you want the Trojans in the same bag with the potato chips, Ma'am?" the clerk asked. Did I detect a smirk?

"No thank you," I answered, glaring at him.

"You and your husband have a good time tonight, hear?" he said, as I was trying to usher my children out the door.

"Is Daddy coming tonight?" Jeannette asked.

"No," I said, wanting to get them buckled in so we could leave this place behind.

"What's Trojans?" she persisted.

"Stay in the car. I'll be right back," I ordered, marching into the store with vengeance.

The clerk looked up from the magazine he was reading, another smirk on his lips. "You idiotic, poor excuse for a human being. Because of your remarks, my daughter wants to know if her father is coming tonight, and what Trojans are."

He looked at me, blankly, shaking his head. "I noticed that you bought the lubricated variety. That customarily suggests there's been a long period of sexual inactivity."

His insinuation that I needed lubrication because of lack of sex infuriated me. "I'll have you know that I do not need lubrication. I'll be wet when my lover comes through the door tonight."

"Would you like to exchange your purchase for another model?"

Why was he being accommodating? I opened my purse and handed him the package of condoms. "Yes, please," I said.

He leaned over the counter, and picked out a different package. "Will six be enough?" he asked, just trying to be helpful, I'm sure, but I found him to be impertinent.

"No, give me another package. My lover may want to stay for breakfast," I said.

I paid for the second package of condoms, and was on the way out of the store when the clerk spoke again. "Have fun."

I turned, forcing a smile. "Thank you, I plan to," I said.

Back in the car, I was confronted by two, very inquisitive children. "Is daddy coming?"

"No, he's not coming."

"Why did that man ask if he was coming tonight?"

"He was being ... he thought he knew us. I went back in the store to tell him we are not from this town."

"Why did he ask if he should put something else in the same bag as the potato chips? What was that, anyway?"

"It's an adult word. He was just trying to be helpful."

Jeannette became quiet, and I was relieved that I didn't have to answer more (lie) questions. After some scheming, I had twelve condoms in my purse. Why had I let the clerk goad me into exaggerating our sexual activity? What was I going to do with twelve condoms? Was I insane?

My daughter put up a fuss about going to bed at eight-thirty. I promised to bake cookies as a trade-off. "Don't burn them this time," she said, jokingly. I assured her I wouldn't.

Jess was at the age where he parroted everything his sister said. "Don't burn the cookies, Mom," he said, as I closed the door to his room.

I was in the kitchen, wearing the dress with fourteen buttons down the front, and spooning the dough on the cookie sheet when I saw Cotton. He was jumping up, trying to get my attention. I left the kitchen, and practically ran across the porch to let him in the back door.

"Did you get them?" he asked, and he pulled me into his arms.

"Yes," I said, just before our lips met.

"I didn't jack off, so we'll start with a sixty-nine," he said, as if he had planned the agenda of our evening together.

"Sounds good," I said, taking him by the hand, and leading him to the sewing room.

He looked around the room, obviously impressed with the way I'd placed the mattress on the floor, and lit the candle. If he was surprised that I had nothing on under the dress, he didn't express it.

"I've been thinking about these all day," he said, as he sucked on my nipples.

I was busy removing his clothes. "Jane, you've got to keep your voice down tonight. I can do a much better job if I don't have to remind you not to scream."

"I'll try, Cotton," I said, as I lowered his shorts. His beautiful cock was standing at attention. Pre-cum was already covering the head.

He guided me to the mattress, and took the bottom position, pulling me down to straddle his shoulders. I went to work on his business end, starting by licking my way up his shaft. The head fit into my mouth perfectly. I sucked on it for a few seconds before releasing it, and was captivated by the way it pulsated on its own.

Cotton withdrew his lips from my pussy long enough to bark an order. "Get busy down there!"

Did he have no sense of humor; so much for my fun. "Please don't stop," I whined, and swallowed as much of his cock as I could handle. He must have approved, because he went back to pulling the lips of my pussy out, and letting them flop back into place.

I wondered why he didn't nibble on my clit the way he had done before. I tried to reposition my pussy against his lips so he would take the hint. I guess I pushed down too hard.

SLAP! I felt the flat of his hand come down hard on my ass, and pulled up a bit. "You're suffocating me, Jane."

"Sorry, I got excited."

"Go back to doing what you were doing. I'll take care of this end," he said, slapping my ass again, not so hard this time.

I blew hot breath on the head of his cock before taking as much of it in my mouth as was possible, and then sucked as hard as I could on the upward stroke, swirling my tongue.

It was evident that Cotton was enjoying my technique. The harder I sucked, the more furiously he fluttered his tongue. He had to slap my ass twice more, for grinding my pussy against his lips. "Jane! You're sitting on my face again," admonishing me. I couldn't help it.

He put his hands on my ass as a warning that I would earn another slap if I dared to shut off his air supply again. I concentrated on sucking the cum out of his cock, trying to take my mind off the way he was tongue-fucking me. I lost track of how many orgasms my young lad was giving me.

Wanting to return the feeling he was giving me, I sucked harder, and was rewarded with a massive blast of his semen. I swallowed the first one, but didn't expect the second one to come so soon. I pulled my mouth away from his cock, and caught the third charge on my cheek.

I waited to make sure he was finished before I got up, and ran to the bathroom. After using mouthwash, I returned to the sewing room with a wet washcloth. Cotton smiled as I approached the mattress.

"Where did you learn to do that?" I asked, as I knelt to run the washcloth over his mouth. His cock jumped as I took it into my hand. He still hadn't answered my question when I finished wiping off the head of his cock.