“You better take care of the condom,” I tell him as I ease my soggy pussy off his limp cock and roll onto the bed beside him. He scoots to the other side of the bed and gets up.
I ponder his question while he’s in the bathroom. Is this going to continue? Now that we’ve fucked, will Jenny encourage a continuing sexual relationship? I start thinking about other things I could teach him, other positions we could explore. And where does John fit into this whole thing now that he knows what’s going on? I’ve yet to come to a conclusion when Jeremy returns to the bedroom.
“I know you just needed some time to think about it,” he says, crawling up on the bed next to me. God! He is smart beyond his years! “I know what we’re doing is probably wrong,” he adds, brushing hair from my eyes and running his hand over my bare shoulder. “But we’re consenting adults, Aunt Sara. We should be able to do whatever we want,” he says as his hand moves down to my chest and caresses my breast.
“Let’s see how things go with Megan tomorrow night,” I tell him, wondering if he’ll still want to be with me after he’s had sex with someone his own age. “If you still want to continue this, I suppose we could develop some sort of alumni program,” I tease.
“I love you, Aunt Sara!” he says, laughing. “No matter what happens tomorrow night, I’d love to be part of your alumni program,” he says, kissing me.
We lie there naked on my bed, talking for another hour or so working out all the details regarding his date with Megan. I promise clean sheets and towels while he decides to leave the condoms in the nightstand drawer.
God! It feels so natural being here with him. I don’t want him to leave. It’s after eleven when I reluctantly send him home and fall into a wonderfully blissful, post-coital sleep.
*****
Friday night, I leave my apartment unlocked and walk up the sidewalk to the main house. I’m excited for Jeremy and surprisingly looking forward to spending the evening with my big sister. When we were growing up she always took care of me. Being ten years older than I am, she frequently babysat me when our parents were out. I’ve always looked up to her and she’s always been there for me.
When I walk into her kitchen, I can’t help but laugh because we are wearing identical outfits; white shorts and red halter-tops. She has a pitcher of margaritas ready and is preparing taco meat.
“Well, I guess we know what the uniform of the day is,” I laugh as she hands me my drink. It’s a large margarita glass with the rim salted.
“Hi Sara,” she says, smiling at our choice of clothing. “Do you mind grating the cheese while I finish with the meat?” I take a sip of the margarita and it’s delicious.
“No problem,” I tell her, going to the fridge and getting the cheddar cheese. “This is good!” I compliment her on the margarita.
“It’s a new recipe that John got from someone at work,” she smiles. “Too bad he’s not here to enjoy it,” she laughs.
“More for us!” I declare, taking a big gulp and breathing a sigh of relief that John isn’t here. I don’t think I’m ready to deal with him yet.