My Daughter's Boyfriend (11 page)

Aaron 14

I led the way in my ride. Tracey followed in her own.
Nighttime had settled, and the darkness robbed my ability to see clearly, but I could still imagine the expression on her face. Maybe it matched the way I felt inside. I was about to be with Tracey, yet the contour of her daughter’s face popped in my head no less than five times. I turned up the music, selecting various preset FM radio stations. The latest Will Smith song, one of Lauren’s favorite jams, invaded the radio. I didn’t even give Big Willie a chance to make my head bob before I pink-slipped the sounds.

After driving thirty minutes, we stopped at a motel near Hobby Airport.

Tracey waited in her car while I got the room. I fingered the key in my hand, took a deep breath, and drove around to room 180. When Tracey entered the suite, she went straight inside the bathroom, opened the door to the walk-in closet, and inspected windows and locks.

“You are too paranoid, Miss Lady,” I told her.

“I can’t afford not to be, don’t you think?”

“Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you.” She sat on the bed hard enough to make it squeak. Her protruding mouth was filled with trepidation. I could tell she was her daughter’s mother. This wasn’t going to be as easy as I thought.

“Tell you what, Tracey. Let’s get undressed, turn off all the lights, and cuddle. I know you can use that. Ain’t no harm in me holding you, is there?”

Her face brightened like lightning, but darkened just as fast.

“I—I don’t know,” she uttered, gnawing on a fingernail and looking at the floor.

“Hey, this room is paid for. We’re not leaving until the morning, so let’s—let’s just relax, Tracey.”

She went to lie down on the bed and closed her eyes.

It wasn’t my birthday, but I still put on my favorite birthday suit.

Then I slid in bed next to Tracey and started rubbing her from the top of her warm shoulders to her cool fingertips.

I know one thing for sure—I’ve walked on concrete that felt softer than Tracey.

“Hey, what can I do to make you relax?” I asked, and squeezed one of her hands.

She opened her eyes. “How do you feel about Lauren?”

“Huh?” I asked with a where-did-that-come-from look.

“What are your feelings toward her?” she asked with a you-know-exactly-where-that-came-from glance.

“I—I like her,” I said, gently releasing her hand and hoping she wouldn’t notice.

“Like her?”

“Yep.”

“Nothing more?”

I hate when women dig, because they usually regret discovering what they find, which lets me know they probably shouldn’t be digging in the first place.

“Uh, she’s cool. Young. Impressionable. But—”

“But you’re not exactly in love with her?”

“Noooo, nothing like that,” I answered, shaking my head like an accused little boy.

“I see, mmmmm,” she nodded, and then made a noise that was a combination moan/airplane-about-to-crash/I-feel-sick sound.

“Why do you ask?” I said.

“Just wondering.”

“What’d you expect me to say?”

“Didn’t know. I guess I need to do something to assuage this—this
nagging
feeling I have inside. I can’t even believe I’m here with you right now.”

“Believe it, because you are.”

“Hmmm,” she said, and bit and then spit out fragments of a fingernail.

That looked so nasty I wanted to gag, but instead I got refocused and asked, “Tracey, may I flip the script?”

“Flip it,” she mumbled like she had nothing else to lose.

“What . . . how do you feel about me?”

She laughed. “I’ve never met a guy who wanted to know how I felt about him. Most of them never seemed to care.”

“I’m not most guys.”

“Oh, really now. Well, what makes you different, Aaron?”

“Everything.”

“Sounds like a good answer, but I’m not sure it’s the correct answer,” she said.

“Look, I don’t mean to sound rude, but I didn’t spend sixty bucks on this room just to chit-chat.”

Even though I wasn’t touching her, I could feel her stiffen.

Muttering, “What the hell?” I lay on top of her. With my body hovering over hers, I was careful not to place my entire weight on her. She was too fragile, perhaps more delicate than she appeared. So I lay over her, looking down at her closed eyes and her long eyelashes. She smiled like she could see what I was doing. I was adoring her, taking in her physical beauty like she was the finest woman on earth. I began to tantalize her with a slow grind. Her legs opened automatically, like they were electronic doors inviting me to come inside her super-store. At least that’s what I thought.

“Ooohh, please. Hold up,” she said struggling underneath me.

“No. No hold up.”

“Yes, wait. Wait,” she pleaded. Tracey scooted away from me and then stood up. “Let me get undressed. My clothes feel like a nuisance.”

“Don’t take your time.”

I leaned against the headboard. Her attempt at modesty made me laugh. Miss Tracey hid behind the bathroom door for a few minutes and came out wearing some peach panties and a black bra. Curvy, thick thighs, a nice deep valley between her breasts. Hair tousled and sticking out. My eyes glazed once again.

“Come to me, beautiful.”

She gave me a pouty smile and blew me a gentle kiss. Crawled next to me and laid her head on the crook of my arm. I rubbed her other arm, nice, slow, smooth.

“May I turn off the light, or at least dim it?” she asked.

“Go right ahead.”

The low hum of the air conditioner and our expectant breathing offered the only sounds. After a measured deep breath, I positioned Tracey on her side. Using one hand, I rubbed the top of her shoulder, my hands traveled along her curves and felt like I was riding over hills. She shivered like she was cold, but I knew for a fact that she wasn’t.

“Mmmm, that feels good, Aaron,” she said while I caressed her thigh.

“I know it does.”

“So when do I get to touch you?”

“When you slap a ‘Touch Here’ tag on my butt.”

“Well, let me run to the store and buy some real quick.”

“You ain’t running nowhere, woman.”

She laughed inside her mouth.

She ran her fingers across my chest; then squeezed my coarse nipples between her fingers.

Woo, that felt good. I wanted to bite my own hands and my feet too, if my mouth could reach ’em.

“Damn, baby,” I moaned.

“Whassa matter?” She snatched back her hands.

“No, keep going. You’re taking me there.”

“Mmmm, good.” She continued stroking me, rubbing my chest using every finger that she was born with. Then she placed her entire mouth on my right nipple. Biting, nipping, sucking. Sending shock waves throughout my entire body.

She mounted me. Got on top. I could smell her perfume, gardenias; the sweet fragrance filled my eyes and my nose. She started kissing me with such assertiveness it made me think her fears had run away. I was glad. Maybe the darkness and being far from home would make her forget what we were doing.

I let her dominate. She blew hot air against my neck, making me shiver. Then her warm tongue darted briefly inside my mouth. Using her hands, she turned my head toward her mouth and stuck her tongue in the center of my ear. I jerked.

“Awwww, hell, Tracey.”

“You like?” she asked.

“Mmmm, yes.”

Tracey licked me and put her warm mouth around my entire ear. It felt like she was tickling me and hurting me at the same time.

We simultaneously stroked each other. A tangle of legs and hands. I traced my fingers along the curve of her hips. Groped my way across the contour of her luscious body. I could feel the ridges of a few stretch marks. At first I stiffened, but then I remembered this woman was a thirty-four-year-old mother and not a young coed.

She abandoned my ear and made a move for my navel. I’m an outie, in more ways than one. She kissed my navel, squeezed and patted it. Her kisses then went below my invisible belt, between my legs. She took the most sensitive part of me inside her mouth, licking my growing desire and sucking me hard, like a thirsty baby just awakening to its mother’s breast.

“Mmmm, mmmm.” That was Tracey groaning, not me. I was floating in and out of consciousness with half-closed eyes. When I couldn’t contain the pressure any longer, I flipped Tracey on her back like she was an African-American pancake.

I started to remove her panties, but she pushed my hand away and flung ’em off herself. Moistened peach fabric hurled unmercifully against the wall. She positioned herself in the center of the bed, and right before I was about to enter her, something clicked.

“Tie up that horse,” she said.

“Oh yeah. Almost forgot.” I fumbled around till I found the lamp switch. Grabbed a Trojan from my wallet and did some expert horse-mounting.

Lights off.

No cameras.

Lots of action.

Her vagina felt like a bed of tangled roses after a light rain: furry, yet soft, slippery, and wet. And even though she begged and pleaded with me to go down on her, my nose and mouth weren’t about to go nowhere near that Petrified Forest.

“Mow your lawn and I might think about it,” I told her.

She groaned but, truth be told, the best thing I could do to make up for that was to pump her like she was my future wife. I rammed her slow but hard. It took a good fifteen minutes for me to find her G-spot. I knew I stumbled upon it because—well, one moment was normal breathing, and the next was this: “Oooohhhh, awwww, awwww, ughhhhh.” It was almost one in the morning, and Tracey was yelling and grunting like she was auditioning for a major role in a
Scream
movie. On top of that, the woman started scratching me with the remainder of her long fingernails, digging deep in my back, marking her territory.

Both major no-nos. I clamped my hand over her mouth. Felt her sharp teeth tear into the flesh of my finger. Then Tracey started the next round of “Oh, Aaron, aww, awww, awwww.” Her screams reminded me of that girl in the movie
Jurassic Park
after T. rex appeared.

“Would you
not
say my name?” I asked, and popped out of her so some sense could rush back inside her head. My back hurt like hell, feeling like flames nipping and burning without concern or mercy.

I turned on the lights so that they were low and not too bright. Heard folks knocking on the wall from the room next door.

“Don’t worry, we’re done,” I murmured to myself.

She cupped both her bouncy breasts, lifted her illuminated face toward the ceiling, and burst out laughing. “Ha, ha, aaaahhhh.”

But wasn’t anything funny.

I WATCHED THIS INCREDIBLE WOMAN
settle into a sensual sleep; she twisting next to me in bed, me staring at her voluptuous frame. I was pissed off yet amazed at what transpired. Ever since I was fourteen, I wondered if I could get with an experienced, mature woman. And Tracey didn’t even care about age. I must be the man; I
have
to be. Capturing her affection is no small thing.

Even though I didn’t climax, I still could have shouted until the walls vibrated. I sexually knocked her out just the way I imagined. And because I made her happy, I knew I did my job. But she also left me hanging, my job not quite finished. Our first encounter wouldn’t be enough. It would be like having the left shoe, but not the right. And since my crush on Tracey seemed to be escalating, I wondered if I could complete what I’d started.

And if that time came, I could only hope she’d feel the same.

Tracey hardly slept like a baby. She tossed and turned all Saturday night, banging and bumping her knees against my leg. By the time I woke up—if you can call it that—my back and legs were sore like I’d been running and throwing myself against a sharp-pointed object.

The only reason I got up was because I could smell her breath. I thought I’d heard her in there brushing her teeth, but still. Damn.

“You up yet, sleepyhead?” she asked with a light-sounding voice.

I opened one eye. She looked blurry, but I could still see her smiling and arranging her hair into a ponytail. I shut my eye and rolled over, pulling the covers over my head and my toes.

“Get up, you,” she sang.

What was she so damned happy about? That she almost killed me last night? That she had a colossal orgasm?

I’m glad she got hers.

“Aaron, it’s time to get up. I need to eat. Want some breakfast buffet?”

I opened my eyes under the covers like she could see me. This woman had to be out of her mind.
She
needed to
eat
. Hell, I needed to call 911 so the EMS could haul my mauled ass into a private room.

She nudged me on my leg.

“Stop it, Tracey.”

“Aaron!”

She snatched the covers off me.

“I didn’t know you liked to sleep late. What’s up?” she asked.

“It’s not that I like to sleep late. I like to sleep,
period
. Didn’t get any sleep. I guess you didn’t notice, you were so busy snoring.”

“I don’t snore.” She looked at me like I was a lying fool.

“Yep, you do.”

“No, I don’t,” she insisted.