Trent
It’s crazy, what we’re doing. The sex is crazy, the loving is crazy, and this woman is crazy and I fucking love it. Because for the past week, I’ve been sneaking up to Marie’s room each night, fucking the woman until she can’t breathe, can’t speak, delight shining from her eyes, her arms and legs clasped around me like the sweetest bonds.
And it’s amazing in every way, the way she shudders around me, taking me deep, the way she pants my name, screams it when she comes. Shit, I’m surprised we haven’t woken Robbie, the way we’re going at it for hours, non-stop, barely breaking between each session.
But Marie laughed lightly, a soft giggle that made my heart hum.
“My son’s a heavy sleeper,” she breathed softly, still hot from our last session. “I was really worried when he was younger that we’d have a fire and I wouldn’t be able to wake him.”
I studied her closely, that perfect peachy pout, the brown eyes still flooded with warmth, liquid in the aftermath of our loving. And I leaned forward to kiss her, to run my tongue against the seam of her lips, where my dick had just been moments before.
“Robbie’s always been like this?” I rumbled as she gasped. “So what did you do?”
And Marie panted a little, still breathless.
“I kept a cowbell by his bed,” she admitted. “One of those big ones that they sound a races to cheer on runners, the kind where the clanging can be heard from blocks away. That, and a megaphone,” she added. “I was so afraid that he wouldn’t wake up in case of fire that I stashed those by his bed for years, so I could get him up if there was an emergency.”
I grunted. That sounded about right. During my two semesters rooming with Robbie, he’d slept like a log, I’d fucked a couple girls in our dorm room while he snored, and the dude had never woken once, not when the girls cried out with lust, their small bodies shaking with orgasm as I dicked them deep.
And I guess this was a version of the same scenario. I was taking another female within spitting distance, except that this time the girl was his mom. It should have felt wrong, it should have felt incredibly criminal and disgusting, but it didn’t. Because somehow my hours with Marie were so fucking fantastic, fulfilling in every way, her sweet form milking me, pulsing around me, giving it up every which way that it felt absolutely right actually, like I was walking on air most times, hand in hand with my best girl. And I could tell Miz Sands felt the same way. We should have been ashamed at what we were doing, going like rabbits just a few doors down from her son, but instead it was good, there was sweetness and light, fireworks as our bodies met and exploded, desiring one another, savoring the loving that warmed us from within.
But this was different from my past fucks because Miz Sands wanted to get pregnant. So I was always careful to pull out now, to make sure she came hard with the dildo was lodged in her puss, the fat head bumping against her cervix. Because that’s how insemination works, evidently you can load that dildo with real sperm and shoot it in while she orgasms. So yeah, it’s a little weird. And I’m not sure how I feel about it. On the one hand, this is totally Marie’s business, it doesn’t matter what I feel, I’m a mere passerby, a dude here for a week, nothing more. It shouldn’t matter to me.
But it does. It feels like Marie’s biological clock is my own somehow, and I care about the woman, about her attempts to get pregnant, her desire for a baby so strong that she’s willing to consider the sperm of an anonymous donor. It still blows me away, to tell you the truth. I mean, how much can a piece of paper tell you about a donor? You have stats, sure, but numbers are just numbers. If you met the guy in person, you might decide within five minutes that he was a loser, even if he graduated from an Ivy League school and had an IQ of 200.
So yeah, I had my doubts about this donor shit. But I couldn’t say anything because ultimately, it wasn’t my call. I could only support Marie, help her with the inseminator, loosen her pussy, get her wet so that the dildo went in easy. And when the time came, she might even ask me to press the plunger, to spurt the semen into that warm channel, her sweet pussy fertile and hot, another man’s jizz doing its business.
So fuck me, but the situation was weird. I didn’t want to, I didn’t want to seed her with some other asshole’s jizz. I didn’t want Marie to be pregnant with some douche’s child. But it wasn’t my business either. I was a vacation guest, a flyover at best, teasing her body, using her, letting her use me for a week of fun, and nothing else. Fuck, I should have been floating on Cloud Nine, overjoyed at having no responsibilities, isn’t this what guys dream of? But instead I wasn’t. And I didn’t want to. Fuck fuck fuck. What a fucking disaster.
But to take my mind off this shit, to make it seem like this was a normal week out, I’d invited Robbie and Marie to a basketball game to show my appreciation. Yeah, it was just a D-league game, guys like me who wanted to make it to the majors someday, but no worries, it was gonna be fun in the stands, lots of people, cheering crowds, hot dogs and beer. And I wanted Marie to have a good time, wanted to see the brunette light up with excitement as she cheered on her local team, spending time with her beloved son … and me. So we piled into the car, Robbie in the driver’s seat, and sped to the stadium.
“Trent,” said the brunette, twisting around to make eye contact with me, shooting me a smile like we were in a normal carpool. “Tell me more about your baseball career.”
I grunted from the backseat. To be honest, there wasn’t that much to tell. When you’re on a club team, every day is a trial, you have to prove yourself again and again, it’s a ton of stress because any day, any minute, you could be cut and told to pack your bags and go home, dreams of playing ball over. But I didn’t want her to worry, didn’t want her to know about the cutthroat competition. So instead I was vague.
“It’s great,” I said smoothly. “We work out with the best coaches, the best trainers, the best everything, they oil and polish you until you’re a machine practically, not even human.”
And Marie giggled from the front seat.
“You sure?” she asked archly. “Some of those guys, going all the way back to Babe Ruth, definitely had human appetites.”
I grinned at her. Oh yeah, baseball players were dogs, absolutely, we’re dirty dudes who deserve the reputation.
“Yeah, we have a saying,” I started, with a sly smile of my own. “When you’re shit outta luck and the losing streak’s got no end, you’ve got to keep fucking ugly girls to make it stop. The uglier the better,” I added for emphasis.
“Hey hey hey!” sounded Robbie from the driver’s, mock glaring at me in the rearview mirror. “No language like that in front of my mom, this is my mom!”
Exactly, this was his mom and Marie was a whore and a cunt slut, taking my dick every which way. But yes, delicate and sensitive when I touched her pucker, how it contracted immediately, or when I ran my hand through her legs, how wet and trembly she was, shuddering at a mere light brush, a sweet butterfly touch. So I grinned at the brunette again, leaning back so Robbie couldn’t see.
“Sorry Miz Sands,” I ground out. “Too much time with the boys makes me lose my manners in front of a woman as beautiful as you.”
And she smiled back, making my heart pound, the blood rush to my head, my dick.
“No worries, Mr. Markham,” she said archly. “I get it, it’s a big world out there, and I’ve lived a little myself, believe it or not.”
Our eyes sizzled at each other, practically lighting a fire in the small car, but Robbie was completely oblivious. The possibility of anything between me and his mom was so farfetched, so impossible that he couldn’t see the signs even though they were right there. So we pressed it even further. After I slid into my seat at the stadium, Marie had to get by for some reason or other. And of course, the seats were stacked like legos, so tight, so close, to be almost interlocking.
“Sorry,” she breathed, scooting by, wiggling her butt in my face as she went out into the aisle. “So sorry Trent, that was a tight fit.”
I was rock still, barely even able to breathe. Because oh yeah, Marie’s rump had been inches from my mouth and it’d taken all of my self-control not to take a bite of it right there, bite right through that denim and get a hunk of love, taste that hot white meat. But shit, we were in public. So I merely smiled tightly.
“No worries,” I grunted, clearing my throat a little like I had a cough. “These are nosebleeders, we can’t expect too much here.”
And Robbie came back at that moment.
“Mom, here’s yours,” he said, handing her a hot dog, “and here’s yours,” he said, handing me a foot-long wiener, obscene-looking, the sausage sticking out of the normal-sized bun on both sides, flopping disgustingly.
“You gonna eat that?” Marie said cheekily to me, one hand on the railing, poised, like she was ready to take flight.
And I looked again at the huge wiener, the skin tight, crackling almost, a deep red color, glistening under the stadium lights.
“I’m gonna devour every inch of this, unless you want some?” I said casually, blue eyes gleaming at her. “Want a bite?”
Marie laughed throatily then.
“Maybe when I get back,” she giggled, before spiriting herself away.
Robbie couldn’t have missed that exchange, he couldn’t have missed the sparks between me and his mom. But instead, my friend was turned towards the court, eyes like a hawk as he watched the players scurry here and there, sneakers squeaking on the paint. Suddenly a three-pointer swished and he leapt to his feet, waving his arms wildly.
“Go Chargers!” he bellowed. “Fuck yeah!”
I rolled my eyes. My friend was clueless, too into the game to notice anything, completely caught up in the action miles below. Shit, his mom and I could probably have sex right here and he wouldn’t notice, jumping and cheering like a madman, windmilling his arms so that he almost hit the people around us, swinging a little towel in a circle like it was a rotor, a blur of white.
But I was kinda bored, to tell the truth. On the one hand, I love all sports, and basketball is up there. I love seeing the speed, agility, the blocks, the “nothing but net” moments. But tonight, I wasn’t interested because there was a female that spoke to me, someone who occupied my mind. And speaking of which, Marie had left for the ladies’ a while ago. Where the fuck was she? Stretching, I got to my feet, surveying the crowd. Nope, nothing but a mass of strange faces.
“Yo, I’m gonna take a leak,” I rumbled to Robbie. Fat chance he noticed. The dude’s eyes were intent on the court and he mumbled something or other while taking another swig of beer.
So I shrugged, taking the stairs in huge strides until I was on the concourse. Where was Marie? As usual a long line wound its way out of the women’s restroom, whereas there was no line whatsoever for the men’s, guys striding in and out, pulling their zips up as they finished their business.
So I walked around a little, restless, in search of my best girl. Where the fuck was she? Arcade Arena was huge, and they recently remodeled it so that the concessions were top of the line. There were hot dogs, sure, but they were Famous Nathan’s, the place that hosts the hotdog eating contest each July Fourth out on Coney Island. And shit, there was Shake Shack, plus some sushi, and some artisanal beer too, for those that wanted to be fancy. Of course, this all cost an arm and a leg, like they say in the Mastercard commercials, the experience is “priceless.”
But I know a little about sports being a pro athlete myself, and yeah the trappings are nice, but without a good team, you’ve got nothing. So there was no reason to be blindsided by huge stadiums with retractable roofs, twenty dollar Cokes, or seats with personal TV sets. At bottom, it was all about the game, the quality of the sportsmanship, the sheer athleticism and hours of practice. This extra stuff? Icing only. Without the underlying cake, you’d have nothing but a mouthful of sickly sweet cream.
So I sauntered around the concourse, taking in everything, but not letting it get to me. One day, I’d hit the majors and it’d be my face on the walls, my name on the jerseys. But for now, I needed to sit tight and see where life took me.
And suddenly, I spotted Marie. A rush came over me seeing that curvy form, the wavy brown hair. It was weird. We travel a lot for my job, and it’d never bothered me before, having no one. Made things easier actually, I had no responsibilities, no obligations, the only thing I had to do was get myself from one place to another, make sure my form was in tip top shape.
But unexpectedly, seeing the brunette changed things. There was a feeling that yeah, maybe I’d like to see her after my games, I’d like to have soft arms around me, a warm body in my bed. And not just any warm body, but one I adored, one that welcomed me, curvy, delicious, not some strange pussy that I’d picked up for the night.
So I shook the head ruefully. What the fuck was going on? This was my best friend’s mom for crying out loud, someone who I’d known for a couple days. And in another couple days, I’d be gone again, nothing but a memory, a hot memory, sure, but a memory nonetheless. Disgusted, I shook my head. Fuck, I was losing it, really losing my shit on this trip, but this was no time to let on. Pasting a smile on my face, I walked up to the brunette.
“Hey,” I said, smiling at her. “What’s going on?”
And Marie turned to me, a smile on her lips, but her nostrils flared slightly, there was a nervous edge to her voice.
“Victor here was just telling me that he owns the team,” she said lightly, trying to seem casual and fun. “Isn’t that a coincidence? Who knew!” she said with a tremulous shake to her voice despite the fact that her lips were twisted upwards.
And I swung around to look at the man talking to her. Oh yeah, just like the first time at the bar, this dude was old and then some. He had to be at least seventy, with snow white hair, stooped a little, wearing designer jeans and a fancy puffer jacket, the kind that cost eight hundred bucks.
“Yeah, I own the Chargers,” he croaked, his features creased, like he’d slept on his face. “This here’s my team, I’m not a part owner, I own this club one hundred percent,” he bragged.
I tried not to show my disgust. Once an asshole, always an asshole, even when you were seventy. But I didn’t want to be rude to a senior citizen, so I merely smiled neutrally.
“Well congrats, this must be a great night for you cause the Chargers are up by ten,” I rumbled.
“Yeah, and I pay a ten thousand dollar bonus to whichever player scores the most each game,” he chortled, wheezing and huffing a bit. “So long as they win,” he added. “Nothing if they lose.”
My expression remained neutral, but inside I was disgusted. Really? This dude was all about money. In addition to casually “dropping” that he owned the team, he was also flagrantly discussing money now, openly mentioning his cash, how much he paid, who was gonna get it, and who was shit up the creek. It was baldly transactional, but I manned up. After all, sports is a business, money makes it go round just like any other business. I just didn’t like the way this dude was so mercenary and out in the open about it.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” I said casually, taking Marie’s elbow. “Come on, we got you that beer, Robbie’s waiting,” I rumbled.
“Oh thanks,” she said, shooting me a grateful glance, glad to have an excuse to leave. “Thanks, Trent, yeah, let’s get back to our seats.”
But it was then that this Vincent dude pulled out all the stops. Or more accurately, he went way overboard.
“Hold on a minute!” he wheezed, one gnarled hand reaching out to grab Marie’s other elbow. “I’ve got box seats up above, why don’t you come and sit with me, little lady?”
The brunette shot a horrified look my way before turning back politely, trying to pull her arm away discreetly.
“Oh no, Mr. Vincent, I couldn’t. I’m here with my son and his friend, it would be rude, I can’t leave them.”
“No it wouldn’t be rude!” Vincent’s voice rang out loudly, authoritatively, almost crackling. “Leave those boys be. When you got a rich dude like me, you gotta hang on for dear life, girlie,” he cackled, leaning towards Marie like he was telling her a secret. “Trust me, you’re no spring chicken, you’re over the hill and a man like me is good news for a woman like you.”
I was pissed then, absolutely fucking pissed. Had this dude just said that Marie was over the hill? That she was some kind of old hag that no one wanted? I stepped in then, forcefully yanking his hand off her arm, even pushing the senior away a bit, making totter unsteadily and let out a small scream. No one had probably touched him for years, too afraid of his money, but I didn’t give a shit. No one insulted my woman liked that, she was mine and worth much more than any money could buy.
“Back off,” I snarled. “Back the fuck off.”
But Vincent cackled like a hyena.
“You gonna let some young buck stand in your way?” he wheezed. “Serious, you gonna let some young, broke guy stand in your way when you could have me, a gazillionaire? Come on, pretty lady, a woman needs to count her blessings and frankly, the older the better, right?” he leered. “No need to smell the flowers, time’s a ticking, there ain’t too many opportunities for you anymore.”
And I fucking lost it then. This fucker was so unbelievable, insulting Marie, insulting me by intimating that I was some young stud with nothing to offer, just some promises and an empty bank account. He was so fucking rude too, telling Marie that he was her best option since she was over the hill, even though this shithead had liver spots on his hands, his neck, his wattle like a rooster, teeth decayed and yellow, breath stinking to high heaven.
“Get the fuck away,” I grunted. But I didn’t physically attack him, I can’t do that to a seventy year-old doddering fool, even if he was a slobbering idiot, it’s just not in my DNA. Instead, I nodded to the ground.
“By the way, your money clip fell. It’s right there,” I grunted, pointing with my shoe. And sure enough, there was a fat roll of cash clipped with the ugliest gold metal thing, a huge, gaudy red stone flashing from the center.
“Oh!” squeaked the old man. “Someone get it for me! It’s rolling away!”
Because he was leaning forwards unsteadily, trying to grab his money, but it was a shaky situation. Oh yeah, this guy wasn’t good on his feet, probably had inner ear problems from being so old and was reaching out with a trembling hand, looking like he was going to tip over any second.
The gentleman in me, the nice guy, would have helped him, would have retrieved the money and given it back to the old man in two seconds. But fuck, he deserved it. This Vincent dude was a dipshit and then some, let him fall over trying to get to his money, it was obviously the most important thing in life to him.
So seizing Marie’s elbow once more, I pulled her away, the old man not even looking up as we left, his eyes fixated on the wad of cash, so near and yet so far.
“Bye Vincey,” I rumbled, pulling at my best girl’s elbow, creating more distance by the second. “Have fun with your cold hard cash, hope it keeps you warm at night.” The words made no difference. Vincent didn’t even hear, he was too busy trying to retrieve his pot of gold, eyes still fixated on the ground, one scrawny, wobbly arm reaching out.
“Help, help!” he squeaked to anyone who could hear. “My money!”
But there was no one around, we were in a lightly trafficked area, the nearest concession stand was some fifty feet away. Well, no worries, someone would wander by soon enough and either pick up the money, or even better, ignore him and let him suffer. Serves Vincent right, what an asshole. But as I walked Marie back to our seats, she was oddly quiet.
“You okay?” I asked her. “That was shit, I’m so sorry that happened.”
She nodded silently, those brown curls bouncing. But I could tell she wasn’t alright, that the old jerk’s word had stung.
“Hey, don’t listen to anything that guy said, it doesn’t matter okay?” I said seriously, pulling her to a stop and looking into those deep brown eyes. “Ignore it, okay? He’s just riffraff, it was totally random.”
The brunette nodded her head, biting her lip, but it wasn’t enough.
“It’s nothing,” she said, a little too loudly, clearing her throat. “It’s nothing,” she said, trying again, a small smile edging her lips. “I guess, you know, I’ve never really thought I was … old,” she hesitated a little on the word. “But this guy made me feel really ancient.”
And I stopped walking completely, pulling her around to face me.
“Marie, you’re not old,” I said forcefully. “You’re perfect, you’re a woman, it’s life.”
She shot me a wobbly smile.
“I know,” she replied softly, “it’s just that I’ve never heard it so clearly. I know I’m almost forty, but that dude threw it in my face, like it was a huge liability.”
And I snorted then.
“Who cares? That geezer was seventy if he was a day, and he’s got an evil mouth, he thinks his money lets him get away with anything. What he said wasn’t true,” I continued forcefully, “you’re not old, you’re perfect, you’re amazing, I adore you.”
And I stopped short myself then. Had I just said “adore”? Oh shit, that was weird. But even as the word left my mouth, I knew it was true. Because in my own way, I adored this woman, absolutely worshipped her, was putty in her hands, in her arms at night.
And although Marie smiled gently at me then, her eyes were still a little sad.
“I know, Trent, I know,” she said softly. “But there was truth in his words, and that’s why they stung. I am old, I’m older than you, a lot older in fact. You’re my son’s best friend, we’re not exactly peers,” she said with a wry smile.
And my hand on her arm grew tighter then because I had to make her see, had to make her realize that I didn’t give a fuck, that the world didn’t give a fuck. When you find someone who’s right, it’s a miracle no matter what. So I looked her straight in the eye and told her my truth.
“Marie, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and the sex between us is crazy good,” I rumbled in a low voice. “The best I’ve ever had in fact, and I’ve had a lot.” It was the most I could offer at the moment, I didn’t know how to disentangle the feelings knotted in my chest, couldn’t figure them out myself even. So I went back to what was absolutely good for us, what we knew worked like clockwork. The physical.
The brunette smiled at me slowly, a real smile, brown eyes growing warm, her hand lightly tracing my cheek, moving to caress my jaw.
“I know, Trent, it’s the best I’ve ever had too,” she confessed, cheeks slightly pink. “But maybe it’s good that this is just a one-week thing, because you belong with someone else. Someone, I dunno, younger, fresher, closer to your age. I’m someone’s mom already. Maybe this way it’s for the better, this way we’ll both move on easier, forget each other that much sooner.”
My heart pounded painfully hearing those words, a loud rushing sound in my ears, deafening, like the world was crashing in. Because I understood what she was saying, and why she was saying it. We’d never made any promises, hell, even the one-week thing had been pure coincidence, we’d started as a bar hook-up of all things. But somehow, hearing the words, out in the open, no bullshit-style, really fucking hurt, making my jaw ache. Because I’d been living in wonderland as well and hearing the bald truth fucking sucked. So I took a deep breath, eyes serious.
“Listen, this is so complicated, and let’s just leave it for now, okay?” I ground out even as my heart ached, my lungs literally having trouble inflating. “There’s no sense in getting into it here, at Arcade Arena, with a basketball game to watch, Robbie waiting for us, and god knows who else in the crowds,” I rumbled. “So let’s just have fun, okay?”
And Marie’s mouth quirked even if her eyes remained sad.
“Of course Trent, let’s have fun,” the brunette said, with a forced air of cheer. “Come on, Robbie must think the earth’s swallowed us by now,” she teased, turning to head up the stairs to our seats.
And I watched, a lump in my throat, as that juicy ass swayed in her tight jeans, taking the steps one by one, moving in front of me and away. Because yeah, our relationship wasn’t traditional, this wasn’t how things usually happened. But that’s the thing. Is there a “usual” way anymore? Is there really “normal” anymore? I mean, on-line dating didn’t even exist ten years ago, and now swiping left and right is what everyone does. Plus, there were so many older woman / younger man celebrity couples, so why did we have to fight the current? Why did we have to swim upstream?
But I forced myself to follow her, my steps heavy, my heart even heavier. Because for some reason, it mattered to Marie, and because it mattered to her, it mattered to me too. And I only hoped that after this week, I’d get out alive because I was losing my heart to the brunette … with absolutely no hope of getting it back.