Forbidden Love

Forbidden Love

By

Jack Gunthridge

Forbidden Love

Jack Gunthridge

Copyright 2013 by Jack Gunthridge

Smashwords Edition

ISBN:
9781311740519

Author's note: All characters depicted in
this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

Chapter One

When I first met him, he was way off
limits. And I didn’t think of him in that way, since he was dating
my mother. He was younger than she was. Even though he was a couple
of years older than I was and extremely nice, fun to be around, and
handsome, I didn’t think of him as anything other than one of my
mother’s boy toys. He seemed to be more style than substance, which
pleased my mother. She would date men like this in an attempt to
deceive herself that she was aging. I never knew if the men were
dating her for her money, for her advanced sexual techniques she
flaunted about in her conversations, or for the fact that she put
out.

I don’t mean for that to sound bad.
Men have a habit of knowing which women are easy to bed. Even he
has said, “Men are like electricity. We take the path of least
resistance.” Of course, he said it with a twinkle in his blue-grey
eyes and with a smile playing on his lips. I have always found him
to be the most handsome, the most charming, and the most
aggravating at these times. I’m torn between wanting to kiss him
and wanting to smack him as hard as I can. I don’t think it would
bother me so much, but I get the feeling he knows I find him
attractive and is playing with my head and emotions. It’s like he’s
trying to get me to admit something, so he can then deny he feels
the same way.

I don’t think he would affect me this
way, but… Since I first met, my opinion of him has changed. He is
my best friend, and yet, in a lot of ways, I don’t really know him.
The more he lets me in, the more he seems to be a mystery to me. I
get the feeling he enjoys being a mystery.

He met my mother at a wedding. She
came up to him and asked why a good looking guy like him wasn’t
dancing.

He said, “I’ve grown tired of the
game. This is the sixth wedding I’ve been to this year. The bride
and bridesmaids might change, but it’s always the same group of
women my age trying to find a man to prove to the world they are
successful. They don’t care what the man is like as long as they
can somewhat get along with him enough to get married and pop out
at least one kid before she hits thirty and thinks she’s going to
suddenly become barren.”

His game… His game may be that he
doesn’t see love as a game at all.

Once, when he was single for an
extended period of time, I asked him why he wasn’t seeing anybody.
Without disclosing too much, I told him he was handsome,
successful, sensitive, and good with children. He would make any
woman happy.

He told me, “That’s the
problem with women. They’re always judging a man by his market
value. I wasn’t born to be any woman’s possession, and I’m not
going to sell my
genetic stock
at a discount price just to make myself somehow
feel accomplished by continuing the human race.”

He said it with a charming smile and
without taking his eyes off of mine. It was like he was daring me
to make him settle down. As we both waited for the other to cut the
tension that was building, he finally broke it while breaking my
heart and making me want him more.

“Did your mother ever tell you about
the first time we made love?”

I shook my head no. It was all I was
capable of doing as I tried to hold back the tears.

“It was the first night I had met her.
I don’t remember now whose wedding it was. I know she approached me
in a sexual manner and wanted me just for my body. I flirted back
because she was different from every other woman there. She knew
what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it, even if there was
the possibility of the younger man turning her down because she was
no longer as young as she once was.

Youth may have no longer been her
ally, but she had confidence, poise, and the ability to carry on an
actual conversation. She wasn’t interested in me as a potential
husband. She was interested in me as a person.

Between the alcohol and the dancing,
what I remember most about that night was how she pointed you out
to me on the dance floor. You were with Rick then. She told me how
much she loved you and thought you were making a mistake by seeing
him. She wished you could see yourself the way she saw you, so you
could realize how much better you could do than him. She told me
about how important you were to her and how you were there for her
when she had endometrial cancer.

As we continued to dance and talk, I
could see her becoming torn between wanting me to be with you and
taking me for herself. I ended up making the decision for her when
I kissed her. You were still young and didn’t know what you wanted
out of life. Your mother was a lady that needed me.”

I had heard about their first time
several times, but it was always from my mother’s point of view.
Before I knew him, I thought she was just telling me about her
sexual exploits to let me know how well-endowed he was or the way
his abs looked while he was making love to her

Then everything about him began to
make me wish that it was me kissing him with my left arm around his
waist and my right hand on the back of his head pushing him in
closer to me. His hands are lifting up my dress and caressing my
back side. He’s pulling me in closer to him to where I am aware of
growing desire through his jeans.

As we pause to catch our breath, he
pulls my dress up over my head and tosses it aside. With my skin
bared, he goes in for my neck and works his way to my shoulders. As
I throw my head back in ecstasy from the wonderful touch of his
lips, he undoes my bra with such ease as if this is not his first
time.

I don’t know what it was about the
touch of his hands, but I let out a sigh that was a mini-orgasm in
and of itself. His hands gently slide down my back and rest around
my waist. They then stop, and I open my eyes to see his beautiful
blue-grey eyes looking at me wanting some sort of
response.

I pounce on him. He tries to return
the passion I am giving him by pulling me closer to him so that his
forearms are on the upper part of my bare back and his fingers go
under my bra straps. I slap his arms off of me. With a stunned look
on his face, I bite his bottom lip and tell him through clenched
teeth, “You’re mine.”

As he goes willingly into submission,
I kiss him as if he is a meal I cannot get my fill of. I work my
way down his neck and take in the smell of his aftershave. As I get
to his shirt, I forcibly pull the two sides apart until the buttons
come out of the holes.

We are both breathing hard by this
time. He sits down on the bed and starts to undo his belt and pants
as I take off my bra and throw it to wherever it might land. As he
continues to take off his shoes and pants, I scoot over behind him.
I run my fingers through his hair dark, black hair, pull him back
towards me, and nibble on his ear. My breasts are against his
smooth back. I can’t stop myself with just his ears and neck. I
kiss his shoulders and muscular back while my hands feel his
pecks.

He has stripped down to his underwear.
I push him down on the bed. I hold his arms down to let him know
I’m in control. As I’m holding them down, they are bent at the
elbow so that he is really flexing. Little tufts of armpit hair are
sticking out. I’m straddling him as I’m pinning him down. He’s
letting me do with him as I please.

I find myself licking the outline of
his biceps before working my way to his pecks. He’s a lean,
muscular man. He’s not bulked up like he spends the majority of his
day at the gym. His nipples… His nipples are small and like a
delicious delicacy that sit gently atop his firm pecks. My tongue
plays with them and my mouth takes them in and then gently blows on
them as I gage his reaction from the feel of his dick through his
cotton underwear as it rubs up next to my lace panties.

As much as I want to play with him, I
can’t fight the prize that is waiting for me. I slide my body down
his. My hands get to enjoy his muscles as my bare breasts conform
to his clothed penis. I release him from the prison of his cotton
boxer-briefs.

I don’t know how big he is, but I’m
able to comfortably stroke him with both hands while still having
enough room to gently suck him and have my tongue tease him. He has
a sweet saltiness to him that I could enjoy all day.

Before I can get my fill, he gently
takes my hand which is resting on his upper leg. I look up at him
while I’m taking one of his balls into my mouth. He motions for me
to come up to him.

I slink up to him so I’m on top of
him. As we kiss, he rolls me over so that he is on top. He whispers
in my ear, “Now I will let you know you’re mine.”

Most guys fondle your breasts, or
slobber all over them in their excitement. He handled them as
delicate little orbs that were objects of beauty to be cherished.
He ate of them like they were a delicious apple where each bite was
to be savored. With each bite, he made my own self-consciousness
and insecurities disappear.

By the time he kissed his way down to
my panties and kissed me through them, I was ready for him. I
wasn’t prepared for him to take them off of me and to go down on
me. Most guys would have considered this enough foreplay and then
start to satisfy themselves. Not Jack. He builds the tension to
where you can’t wait for him anymore while making you feel like you
are the most beautiful woman in the world.

As more of my insecurities faded away,
I found my right hand running my fingers through his hair, grabbing
it at times, and pushing and pulling him as he continued to drive
me to pleasure. His right hand was on my thigh. My left hand
caressed his forearm before intertwining his fingers into
mine.

On the verge of orgasm from just his
mouth, I pull him up towards me. I kiss him as if I could never get
enough of that mouth. The warmth of his kisses linger in the area
no man has ever made feel so alive. I feel more warmth from him
that I can’t wait to feel deep inside of me.

He didn’t disappoint me, whether I was
on top or bottom or from behind. I didn’t want his body to be
separated from mine.

I cum three times before he finds his
release. I grab his ass as he does. I hold him close to me and
don’t allow him to pull out. He falls on me exhausted. As our
sweaty bodies rub against each other as if they are one, I pull his
head close to my mouth. “Stay inside of me.”

I don’t know how long he stays inside
of me. I only know I felt him going soft and then getting hard
again. It was like I was emptying him out. He was giving me all he
had, and I felt like no matter who either of us had ever been with,
we now belonged to each other.

That is the sex I could have had that
night. Instead, I was dating Rick. Rick is a good looking man. He’s
a bit of a frat-boy. He’s arrogant, self-entitled, and feels like
women should appreciate him for the gift he is to them.

He’s the father of my child, whom I
wouldn’t trade for anything. Instead of being with Jack, the man
who chose my mother over me, I was with Rick, the man who made me
question so much about myself. He tore me down as he was building
himself up. We would fight, and I would stay for the makeup sex and
because I thought I could never do better than him.

I don’t know why Jack chose my mother
over me that night. I have always kind of thought it was because he
knew Rick had me pretty messed up. Then again, I think he likes
women who are in need of a man and can truly appreciate what he has
to offer them.

The part I have always been jealous of
from their first night together was what happened after the sex.
They are laying in bed, and Jack notices my mom’s scar from the
surgery to remove the endometrial cancer. He asked her about it and
listened to her talk about it. He kissed her in a loving and gentle
manner across the length of the scar. He then told her she was the
most beautiful woman he had ever seen.