I stared at the counter. Music played faintly over the speakers, sunlight shining through the windows as happy customers chatted around me. And I kept staring at the counter. The spot where James made me cum the night before. People had been ignorantly passing me their money over it all morning. I couldn’t escape the shame from such a constant reminder, and I wanted to scream.

I nearly did when James walked into my store.

My eyes tried to jump out of their sockets at the same time the sudden butterflies in my stomach began to panic.

"Get out," I snapped under my breath when he was close enough.

He looked smug as always. "That might be a bit awkward considering George gave me a ride," he whispered, then stepped aside, my son and another student named Stuart wrapping up their banter as they approached.

"Hey mom," George grinned.

"Hey!" Recalibrating my facial expression left me in excess of enthusiasm. I tried to dial it back. "Come to see me for lunch?"

"Yep. James still hasn't had one of your famous bagel sandwiches yet."

I knew James wouldn’t reveal the truth–that he had, in fact, had one, the first day we met–but what he did say shocked me nearly as much.

“I do remember how good her cookies were, though.” He grinned.

Was he serious?

"Thank you." I flashed him a tight-lipped smile I hope he interpreted as, shut the fuck up. "Stuart, nice to see you." I greeted my son's other friend, anything to change the subject.

"Hey Mrs. Carter," Stuart replied eagerly. His eyes sparkled at my attention. 

While prepping their lunches, I considered the juxtaposition between James and Stuart. They were both seniors in high school, tall and athletic, both attracted to me, but that was where their similarities ended. Stuart saw me through an innocent, nervous crush. James saw through me, in no way nervous with his fixated, deep eyes. He wasn't a sweet boy like his peers. Where Stuart was coming into his own, James had already gotten there. 

___

When Saturday came, my head was clearer than it had been all week, my thoughts as clean as the air in my lungs, running along my usual trail. After seeing James in my store, he came to my house the following day to practice with George, though he didn't corner, coerce, or otherwise seduce me, and I was feeling optimistic. Maybe he finally realized how completely inappropriate what happened was. Maybe I could move past this now. Maybe.

Maybe I knew I was lying to myself when James materialized beside me the way he had last Saturday–jogging lightly, a grin on his face–and my heart started pumping undiluted excitement through my body. The low music emanating from my earbud became distant behind my now very loud thoughts.

He was silent, in no rush to begin a conversation that would surely end in a fight. Yet here he was anyway. Exuding carefree ease as if he were completely unaffected by the insanity between us, though I knew that wasn't true. If it were, he wouldn't be here. He couldn't stay away from me just as I couldn't say no to him. Hadn't, I mean, not couldn't...

Following the trail into the trees, we came to the spot where James first kissed me, and I couldn't run anymore. Slowing to a stop, he did the same. His hard chest heaved as he caught his breath, hands on his hips, waiting for me to begin.

I didn't start right away. Studying him instead. An ocean of tenacity stared back.

Why are you here? I didn't say.

Because I knew you missed me, his eyes didn't reply.

I don't miss you.

Just because you can't admit it to yourself doesn't mean it isn't true.

I looked away from his accusation, folding my arms. 

"Why are you making this so difficult?" I was officially exasperated.

"I could ask you the same," he claimed.

The urge to scream returned.

"What can I say to make you leave me alone?"

"Is that really what you want?" He was quieter than usual.

I sighed angrily. "Last time we were here, in this very spot, you insulted who I am, what I do, what I wear, and then kissed me. You came onto me when I tried to tell you to leave me alone-"

"I asked if you were lonely," he interjected firmly. "I asked if you really enjoyed serving suburbia because I think you're better than this place, and I love the way you dress. I am more than happy to give you the attention you deserve."

"I don't need your attention," I hissed through my teeth.

"Well, you want it so bad, at this point it might be a need," he mused cockily.

I was reeling. "What makes you so sure?"

"If you didn't want me, you'd tell me that." There was a sharp edge to his words. James took a step toward me, his frustration with my resistance coming to a head. "All you can say is 'I can’t do this' and 'this is wrong' but you have yet to explicitly tell me you aren't attracted to me and that you don’t want me to fuck your brains out. You told me to come to your store when you knew we’d be alone. That's how I know."

A breeze rustled the foliage around us when we fell silent, the indistinct conversation of a distant pair of runners on the trail behind us. A full minute must have passed before he spoke again, more gently this time.

"Tell me your husband pleases you."

The last sex I had with Eric passed through my mind: It was last Thursday before his work trip and I thought about the person currently in front of me to make myself cum…

"Tell me you're not tired of playing the perfect host; the perfect mom; perfect wife. I can see the disappointment behind your constant smile. When are you going to start being honest with yourself?"

Without another word, I turned and jogged away. James let me go, knowing I would take his words with me and consider them against my better judgment.

___

He was right.

I wasn’t happy about it.

I did want him to fuck my brains out, I acknowledged, when my stubbornness receded a few hours later. The night at the bakery exceeded my fantasies. After it happened, I’d gone home and masturbated furiously several times to the thought of James’ hand inside me. His pursuit of me as well as the truth from my lips was relentless and matter-of-fact. He was a go-getter. I hoped that would help him get far in life. It was certainly getting him far with me…

But while half of me ached for him, my more sensible half considered his comments on my repressed depression. George came home as I sat at the kitchen table with my laptop, stewing over these problematic developments.

“Hi mom,” he greeted me when he entered the room.

“Hey, sweetie.”

“You okay?” George paused, taking a closer look at me.

Shit.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I tried to sound surprised, smiling widely. “What’s up?” I sat forward to look more lively. If my son ever discovered something happened between me and his friend, I would die on the spot. If I just pretended like everything was normal…

“I was gonna let you know I’ll be out for the night.”

“Where?”

“Eastwood. But I might crash at Stewart’s.”

“What’s her name?” I guessed.

George blushed, smiling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, okay,” I teased, earning a laugh from my son. He’s had girlfriends before, not many, but each a commitment he took seriously, never bringing them home unless he was certain of his feelings. His emotional maturity afforded him consideration for each decision. I used to think he got that from me.

“I’ll be back in the morning,” he assured, “But call if you need anything.” I knew I was lucky to have a kid like him. Whether or not I deserved him was another matter.

After he’d gone, I continued the search for my husband’s online accounts. When I’d been through everything twice and was just about to give up, I looked one last place, and there it was.

___

A knock sounded from the front door. The sky was black outside the windows, I wasn’t expecting visitors and George had long been gone by then. When I answered, James was waiting. He gave me the same smile he always did; heartbreaking and flawless and carnal.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi… George isn’t here.”

“I know.”

He watched me process that. We exchanged a long, loaded look, until I broke it to glance behind him.

“I walked,” he answered my silent question. No car in the driveway.

With a nod, I stepped into the house and James followed, shutting the door behind him. Walking into the kitchen, I asked, “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

“What perfect host behavior," he mocked.

I took a breath, turning to face him head-on. It sounded like he was ready to get this started.

“I thought about our last conversation, and I just want us to be friends," I explained.

He didn’t believe a word I said.

“Friends?"

“I want us to have a normal relationship, James. Yes, I am… attracted to you,” there, I said it, “but we both know it would be wrong to continue acting on that. I’ve been very irresponsible for allowing what’s happened so far.”

James considered my words. “Gonna tell me I’m too young? That you want no part in destroying my innocence?”

Yes, my eyes said.

“I hate to tell you that my innocence was destroyed before you came along.”

“You don’t understand-”

“I don’t suffer any delusions about the possibilities between us, Samantha. I don’t want George to know anything either.” My throat tightened at the mention of my son. “The way I see it, this is between you and me, and it isn’t anyone else’s business if I’m pleasuring you.” The tightness turned to asphyxiation at the non-mention of my husband.

My heart thudded.

“And you think you’re old enough to have an affair with a woman old enough to be your mother?” I clarified, putting a little fire in my own eyes. James smiled.

“I don’t know, how do you think I did?” He took a step toward me. “Good enough to be worth having an affair with?”

I bumped into the counter behind me as he continued closer. My mouth went dry, my attempt to swallow the lump in my throat audible.

“I…”

“Yes?” he encouraged.

“That wasn’t the question,” I dodged.

“Come on, Samantha. You finally admit you’re attracted to me. You really think we can be just friends now?”

“Yes.” Even I could hear my uncertainty. Attempting to retreat around the counter and away from him, James followed, grabbing my wrist, my waist.

“So reluctant to take what you want,” he chastised.

"James-"

"Just say it. Say you want me to pleasure you." My hand went to his chest with intent to halt his descent on me, the density of his hard muscles distracting me instead. He pressed his lips to my ear. "God, what I wouldn't give to hear you say it."

My hands moved up to his shoulders. I only realized when I saw my fingers tangling into the hair at the back of his head. I pulled back, as if shaking off a trance. “Wait-”

"Let me lick you, Samantha. You can wrap your thighs around my head while I eat that yummy pussy."

Holyeverlovingfuck.

"James, no,” I whimpered, “this is wrong.”

"Yeah, and it's all I fucking think about."

His mouth found mine then. My head spun. He moved to my jaw so I could breathe as I broke into hyperventilation. Large hands moving over my round backside, he guided me up onto the island countertop, standing between my open legs.

"I want you so bad," he breathed.

"Ohh," I sighed worriedly.

"Come on. I know you think about this, too. Tell me you want me."

He clouded my senses, eliciting the words to the tip of my tongue. He filled my mind, eclipsing every rational thought, argument, anything standing in his way.

"I…"

"Yes?" He tucked his hands under the hem of my tight t-shirt, feeling my skin.

"I…" I mumbled once more. When he cupped my breasts, thumbs tracing over each nipple, I gasped.

"I want you, James," I confessed for the very first time, and the second it left my lips, he was tugging my shorts off, baring me naked from the belly button down. After planting a possessive kiss on my mouth, he dropped to his knees.

What was cunnilingus before James? I suddenly couldn't quite remember, each time before seeming utterly bland. All I knew was he wasn't doing anything familiar and it felt incredible. He suckled, flicked, and nibbled my clit all at the same time it seemed, focusing acute attention on the tiny bundle of thousands of electrified nerves. He fucked my pussy with his tongue. He licked and ate me with a starving vigor no one had performed on me before.

I moaned at my leisure, cradling his head against me, my thighs pressed to his ears just like he suggested. I had to put a hand behind me to brace myself when he spread my legs, and as he included my ass on his circuit, I knew I would cum much, much sooner than later.

"James!" I gasped. "Please don't stop! Oh fuck, yes!"

He liked my begging, refocusing hard on my clit as a reward. Different from the last time he made me cum when I asked him to stop.

His deep eyes burning into me, I began to cum against his mouth, cup running over with euphoria. James licked up everything I gave. I cried out, shaking under his touch, shocked he made me climax so easily. Did that last more than five minutes? I had never been multiorgasmic, but when I was done, the vixen in me was far from satiated.

Encouraging him back to his feet, I kissed him, tasting myself as I shoved the coat from his shoulders. When I reached for his belt buckle, he stopped me.

"You don't have to do that. I'm happy to focus on you," he insisted.

"What's wrong?" I demanded.

"Nothing," he chuckled. "We don't need to worry about me."

"Why?"

"I told you I'm not innocent. I know my limits."

I pulled back, still catching my breath as I searched his face for reason. 

"Are you… embarrassed about something?"

A funny, secretive smile crossed his face.

"If you really want to see my dick I'll show you."

My curiosity blazed as his own hands moved to his buckle now, and when his zipper and boxers were finally out of the way, he had to take a step back to leave enough space between us. When I laid my eyes on his hard member–my jaw dropping to the floor–I understood.

James was extremely above average. Ten inches? More? The circumcised, engorged head led to a nice straight shaft as thick as my wrist, reminding me of one of those oversized dildos not meant to be completely consumed by any hole.

I met his gaze; a resigned look graced his features. James was so blessed, he was cursed. His excellent oral skills immediately made sense. I imagined the damage he could do–or perhaps had done, if his words about limits were any indication–and my insides throbbed.

"Oh my god." Severe disbelief saturated each letter.

His killer smile appeared, albeit a little weary. How the fuck does he hide it? 

After a moment, I slipped off the counter. His massive cock hanging between us, I reached for it, gingerly wrapping my fingers around the head. James sighed, eyelids flickering. I stroked him more firmly and he hummed. 

“How many girls have you fucked with this?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

His smirk twisted as he thoughtfully calculated. "Um, I could tell you how many I've tried to fuck." The shock on my face must have doubled. "Have to be very careful," he explained.

Geezus.

“You must be ravenous all the time.” I ached on his behalf.

A good-looking young man like himself limited by his own endowment was the cruelest of ironies. I wondered what he was really thinking every time he mentioned putting his dick in me before. Did he consider it a possibility? Did he know I wanted to be fucked by him and worried I’d say no after seeing it? Or that I’d be like his previous partners and wouldn’t be able to handle him if I tried?

“You’re making me pretty fucking ravenous right now.” He glanced at his heavy dick resting in my hand.

When I fell to my knees, his eyes grew. I’d never be able to perform oral on him like he did to me, but I wanted to try. Using two hands, I lightly stroked him, petting and touching every inch of his shaft before opening my mouth and guiding the verymost tip to my tongue.

"Oh fuck, Samantha," James moaned.

Thumbs hitched in his briefs to keep them low, he watched me begin the work of wetting his dick. Oh my god, he was enormous, the weight and warmth of him unbelievably arousing as I licked him all over. 

Finally putting it in my mouth and sealing my lips, my tongue massaged the flared ridge of his crown. I sucked hard and stroked what I couldn’t fit in my mouth–which was basically all of it–with both hands, back and forth between his pelvis and my face.

Obscene. The word came to mind as I learned my way around James’ massive secret. I had no experience with anything so large, though his tight-knit brow and vocal approval seemed genuine. One of his hands came to rest on my head, and somehow, James guiding me on his immense cock felt like the naughtiest thing we’d done so far.

“Ahh that mouth is nice,” he sighed.

He filled it completely, forcing my jaw to unhinge, spreading my throat and rubbing hard against my uvula. When he grunted in response to making me gag, my patience shattered. Rising to my feet, I kissed him deeply.

“Please, I want it, I want to try. Fuck me, James.”

Moving an arm under one of my thighs and hitching it high, he picked me up and set me back on the counter.

"What'd you just say?" he demanded.

I smiled, knowing what he wanted. "I want to try," I repeated seductively. "Fuck me with this, James," I directed, fisting his stalk and rubbing the bulbous tip against my opening. I couldn’t stop saying ‘this’, his appendage so large it seemed appropriate.

“Whatever you want,” he said in earnest.

I held his head in my hands, sharing his breath as he slowly started to push. That I was soaked from my previous orgasm and continued arousal assisted greatly. He wedged himself into my opening, then slowly went further, each centimeter more invasive than the last. Pulling out to start over, his next push got him even deeper, and we both moaned.

I couldn’t help but glance down, just to see how I was doing.

My god, it looked like barely more than the tip was inside me in spite of the fact that I felt more full than I ever had. I wanted more. I wanted to be James’ best fuck. I wanted all of him.

With my encouragement, he started a short, steady rhythm.

"Holy shit,” I moaned thickly, watching the head disappear inside me over and over. 

“How’s this?”

“Oh my god,” was all I was able to utter.

He grinned. After tugging the hem of my shirt up over my breasts to let them free, he wrapped a hand around my jaw and held me in place as he cautiously pumped into me.  

“You shouldn’t have fought me so long. I could have been in here a lot sooner.”

Oh yes, this young man lost any trace of ‘sweet boy’ long ago. I whimpered, moaned, and gasped all in one breath. The regret was strong.

“God, look at you. So fucking beautiful.”

His eyes roamed me as he fucked. His tight grip on my face said I was his, that I was giving him pleasure being right where I was; to just stay put while he worked. I loved it. I didn't get to feel his pelvis flat against me; his dick left too much room between us, but he fucked me faithfully, more gentle with me than he'd ever been. He was happy to pin me down, finger me hard, and take my orgasm, but with his cock, took no chance of hurting me.

My feet found their way up onto the counter for leverage. Leaning back on the island marbletop, I started to fuck him back. A growl built in his chest before escaping huskily from his lips, giving me chills.

“Holy shit, Samantha.”

He sucked air through his teeth, watching me ride him as he stood there. Being in control, rotating my hips, lifting and lowering myself on his impossible length, I was able to take him even further, and we both lost it.

His moans entwined with mine; a raw, unraveling melody, a song that devoured any semblance of reluctance that remained inside me. I’d never heard myself or anyone else moan in such a way before, baring ourselves so completely. Part of me felt like James now knew me better than anyone else ever had.

I rode the biggest cock I ever had (or likely would) in my life, stretched unutterably far, unspeakably deep. He was rearranging my insides, forcing me apart to make room for him.

"Oh my god, James," I mewled. 

"What, Samantha? Tell me,” he demanded, pinching my nipples in staccato to how deep I took him. I was quickly learning he liked when I spoke.

“You’re so fucking big,” I moaned throatily. Not that he didn't already know, but I couldn’t imagine saying that to anyone else ever again. He seized the meaning.

“Yeah? Is this what you wanted? This big dick deep inside you?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” I chanted, looking down between us as I wildly fucked the first half of his vast manhood. 

"My god, look at you take that dick," James marveled, hands wrapping around my waist to assist my rhythm. “Keep going baby, you’re doing so fucking good.”

Who’d have thought encouragement from a young man half my age would make me feel so special, so fucking incredible. I never would have in a million years, yet here I was, high on his approval to such a degree it was incinerating me. In fact, the moment he said those words, the prelude to my next orgasm began boiling in my center.

“Oh f-fuck, James,” I choked, eyelids fluttering.

“You like that? You like when I call you a good girl?”

“Oh god!”

Bracing himself on the counter behind me, he leaned forward, holding me up as we frantically connected.

“That’s so fucking good, Samantha,” he groaned into my ear, then warned; “You’re doing so fucking good, you’re gonna make me cum.”

I beat him to it. Dangling from his neck, I lost control as he held me.

“Oohh James I’m cumming, I’m cumming, fuck, I’m cumming!” I screamed, riding him fast.

“God damn. I have to cum in you, Samantha,” James said, shaking his head, informing more than anything, his tone telling me he was right on the verge.

I begged him to, clawing at his shoulders as I fell from the highest climax I’d ever reached. My pussy was tight on him, clamping down around him with every pulse of my orgasm. 

James held his breath and stilled, then moaned, “Fuuuck,” when his massive cock began to throb with his equally massive release. I couldn’t stop writhing while he could do nothing but tense as he unloaded into me, pulse after heavy pulse.

“Samantha, ohh fuck baby, ride that dick,” he encouraged breathlessly as we met in the eye of the chaos.

I obeyed, giving all I could until I simply couldn't.

“H-holy sh-shit,” I shivered, breaking through the surface of the ocean in which I threatened to drown. An ocean named James.

“Mmm, fuck, you can say that again,” he mumbled into my neck, shuddering as he throbbed heavily once more.

Neither of us said anything for a long while, catching our breath, James’ lips tracing my collar bones, my throat.

I thought of many things during this time. Many future scenarios. Many past exchanges. Many what ifs. I thought of the messages I found on my husband’s secret email, the pictures he received from women who weren’t me. The confirmation that he’d been fucking other people while ‘away on business’. I thought about how I broke down until I had no tears left, took a shower, then found James at my door. 

I finally parted my lips. “Do you want to stay a while longer?”

I felt him smile.

“I'm staying as long as you'll let me,” he whispered.

Planting a kiss below my ear, James pulled out of me, the sudden emptiness so extreme I felt like I was missing part of myself. His thickness acted as a plug, and the moment it was gone, a rush of his cum flooded out of me. He watched me gush and drip for a moment, tenderly rubbing my clit, then picked me up and took me to my bed.

The bed my soon-to-be ex-husband used to sometimes fuck me in.