The Preacher's Son #1: Unbound (2 page)

"Aww," I said, genuinely disappointed. "I was hoping to talk to you some more."

"You were?" He seemed shocked by that.

"Yeah, I was. Maybe you could come over to my house, sometime, have some sweet tea with me." 

He shifted his weight, obviously struggling with the decision. After a long moment, he nodded.  "I'm off work all day tomorrow."

I dug in my purse, pulled out an old gas station receipt and scribbled my address on it. He needed something bold, a gesture that'd hint at what I really wanted; I slipped the card into his back pocket, and I left my hand there, not squeezing—although Lord knows I wanted to grope his tight little ass—just resting in his pocket. I kissed him, just for good measure. It was a light thing, a peck on his lips, a lingering touch. He tensed, startled, and then parted his lips against mine, making the kiss into something more. 

I pulled away first, and he looked disappointed. 

"Why don't you swing by around lunchtime?" I said.

He just nodded, licking his lips, probably still tasting my lipstick. He looked shocked, both at me and at himself.

I hoped he'd show up the next day. I wanted to show him what he'd been missing all his life, and it sure as shit wasn't sweet tea I had in mind.

My own hunger surprised me. Watching him go, I felt a twinge of guilt; I was seducing a preacher's kid.

He knocked, rather than ringing the doorbell. It was a light, hesitant knock. He was nervous, I could tell just by that. I went to the door, tugging my yellow sundress down, adjusting my breasts higher. My heart was hammering in my chest. I brushed a lock of my thick black hair back and smoothed my dress over my thighs, opened the door. 

He was wearing tight blue jeans and a plain white T-shirt with a thick leather belt. Oh, my Lord. His arms were brawny and bulging with the power of youth, and the shirt clung to his stomach. I felt desire pooling in my belly, turning to fire as his eyes devoured my body. 

"You're here," I said. 

It felt like a foolish thing to say, but he just nodded and stepped inside, brushing close to me. 

"I'm here," he repeated. 

I took a deep breath and gathered myself. I wasn't really nervous so much as flushed with anticipation. I closed the door and put my back to it.

"Well, I'm glad you came." I took his hand, leaned in to kiss him.

He kissed me back, clumsy but ardent. I stepped into him, pressing my body up against him. He tensed and pulled away.

"I thought we were having sweet tea?"

I went for broke: "That was just to get you here. I do have sweet tea, but...I had something else in mind."

His eyes darted around the foyer, to the kitchen, and last to the stairs. "You did? What else did you...did you have in mind?"

His confusion was so cute, so innocent. He just didn't want to believe the signals he was obviously receiving in spades. I ran my hands down his chest and back up, touching his cheek. I stared up into his eyes, trying to communicate too much with one little look.

"Well, Tre, it starts with kissing you," I said, and touched my lips to his jaw, then to his ear, then to his neck, still holding one of his hands. 

I led that hand to my back and left it there. He took the cue, tentatively exploring my back, daring down my hip, hesitating there. I kept my eyes on his, smiled my encouragement and pushed my breasts against him. He took a deep breath and moved his hand around from my hip to my backside. I curled into his chest, put my hand to the soft thatch of hair at the back of his neck and pulled him down into a kiss, and this time I made it full and deep, putting a promise into it, slipping my tongue between his lips to touch his.

He pulled away and looked down at me. "What are we doing, Shea?"

I knew he was asking a whole bunch of things. His eyes showed the conflict: desire and guilt.

"I like you. I want you."

"You want me?" He licked his lips, eyes darting over my face and my eyes. "What do you mean, you want me? And why me?"

I laughed. "Why you? I don't know, other than....I like you. I think you're sexy, and I like kissing you. I want to kiss you more."

His eyebrows dug down, and I saw desire winning the war. I ground my hips into his, felt the hardening length of his penis through his jeans. 

"Is it...should we...I mean..." 

"Tre, if you don't think you should, then don't. I want you to want me, but if you don't, then you can go, and nobody will know anything different. So the question is, do you want me?" 

"I—yeah, I do, but—"

"Do you like kissing me?"

"Well, yeah, I do, but—"

Time for the clincher: "Do you think kissing me is wrong? Is that what you're afraid of?" He nodded. "Don't be afraid, Tre. Remember how we talked about making your own choices?"

He nodded again, thinking. I could feel the decision clicking into place. 

"Make this choice for you, for what you want. It's not about your father, or your future. It's just about you and me," I said. "If you want to go, you can. I'll still be your friend, and I won't be mad or anything. But I would like it if you stayed with me."

His hands both moved to my ass, squeezed, caressed, explored, and he kissed me. "I'll stay," he said, his voice husky.

"Good," I said. "I was hoping you would."

"I'm a little nervous," he said.

"That's okay," I told him. "You're allowed to be. But you don't have to be."

I took him by the hand and led him upstairs to my bedroom, let him stop in the French doorway and take in my room, my king size four-poster bed and the wide window overlooking a field of wildflowers. I led him down the three steps and stood in front of him at the foot of the bed. 

I turned around and presented my back, pulling my hair over a shoulder. "Why don't you unzip my dress for me?"

He took the zipper with two trembling fingers and drew it downward, slowly. I stood still and let him go at his own pace. When the zipper was at my waist, put his hands on my bare shoulders and pushed the straps off, letting the dress fall to the floor. I turned around and let him look at me.

"It's okay to look at me," I told him. 

"You're so beautiful," he said. "I've never seen a woman like...like this. Like you."

"I know," I said. "Would you like to see more?"

He flushed and smiled in response, and I turned back around.

"Take off my bra, then," I said.

He fumbled with bra, the four hook-and-eyelets frustrating his attempts to free them. He huffed, in embarrassment or frustration. 

"It's okay," I said. "Take your time. It can be tricky if you've never done it before."

Finally, he got the bra free and it fell off, freeing my heavy breasts. I turned around to face him, now just in my panties, a barely-there red lace thong to match the bra. His eyes were about to pop out of his head, then. I stood still and let him look for a long moment before I pressed myself against him.

"Touch me," I said. "You can touch me everywhere. I want you to."

His cock pushed against my belly, a huge, hard bulge against the zipper of his jeans. I kissed his chin, and then his lips. He deepened the kiss on his own this time, and we were lost, then, mouths apart and tongues delving, and his hands began to roam over my body, stroking down my spine to my ass, feeling the curve and tracing the crack, hefting the individual globes and moving down my hips and back up to my breasts, crushed between us.

I pulled away and lifted his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. His abs were a wonderland of male perfection, toned and hard, dusted with a trail of hair down into his boxers. I reached with both hands to unbutton his jeans, unzipped them as slowly as I could, pushed them down to his feet. He stepped out of them and kicked them aside. His cock was leaking pre-come, moistening his boxers, pressing up against the fabric. He looked down at himself, and seemed embarrassed by the touch of wetness there.

I touched the wet spot. "Don't worry about that. It's normal."

He nodded and touched my nipples, lifted my breast in a hand.

I wanted to shock him, make him understand my own desire for him. "I want to see your cock," I said. "I want to feel you. You're gorgeous, Tre, do you know that?"

He just shook his head, unable to speak. I curled my fingers inside the band of his boxers and pulled them away from his body, glancing in. I looked up at him and grinned my delight at what I saw, then giggled at the terrified expression on his face. I pulled the flannel-print fabric down around his hips, tugging slowly by the bottom hem, freeing his cock in slow increments. Then, with a sudden rush, they fell to the ground and his penis was free, laying up against his belly, wet at the head, throbbing and undulating with his breathing. He was huge, thick and long and straight, and so, so beautiful.

I touched the glistening tip, licked the pre-come off my finger, my eyes locked on his. Then I grabbed him, first with one hand, pumping slowly, then the other, both hands around his pulsating girth and still the tip stood above my hands. 

"You are so huge," I told him. "Your cock is so perfect. I want it inside me. I want it my pussy. I want it in my mouth."

He laughed, nervous and disbelieving, his hips moving in time with my hands. He was so close, already. His knees were about to buckle. 

"Your...your mouth? You would really do that? Put your mouth on my...on my—"

"Say it," I commanded him, slowing my ministrations and leading him to the bed. "Say a dirty word for me."

He lay down on his back, cupping my breasts as I sat astride him, still wearing my panties. I knew he wouldn't last long enough to even get inside, and I wanted to milk him, feel his cock in my hands and see his face as he came. This was just the beginning. 

"You'd really put my...cock in your mouth?"

"Oh Tre...there's so much I'm going to do you." I slid downward, taking him in my hands again. "This is just the start. This is just the very beginning of all the things I'm going to do to you."

He gasped when I licked him, his stomach pulling in as I laved the silky, salty length of his dick from the base up to the tip, swirling my tongue around his sensitive head. I cupped his balls in my hand, used my other to grasp him again, sliding my fist around him, tickling him with a gentle fingernail. I kissed the wet head, so pink and soft, and then wrapped my lips around him, taking him in just an inch at first, then moved back out.

"I feel like I'm going to explode," he said, his voice a panting whisper.

"You are," I said. "Haven't you ever jerked off before?"

"No...no," he gasped. "My dad told me it was a sin to touch myself except to...to pee." 

He was rocking his hips as I moved my hands on his dick, up and down, slow as molasses, milking the pleasure for him. I wanted this moment to be burned in his mind forever.  

"You are about to explode. Do you like this? Do you like it when I put my mouth on your cock?"

He nodded, desperate. "Yes, oh...it feels amazing." He looked down at me, his eyes hooded. "You're sure it's not gross for you?"

"No, Tre. I like it. I love your cock. It's so big. You taste so good in my mouth. And after you come, I'm going to show you some other things. I'm going to teach you how to make me feel as good as you do."

He nodded, and rolled his hips. I had his balls in one hand and I was massaging them gently, not touching his cock, letting him back away from the edge of orgasm. Now I took him in both hands, licking the tip, pumping up and down until he was grinding against me furiously. I took him in my mouth, slipped him in inch by inch, still moving my hands on him, sucking until he was against the back of my throat. I spat him out and sucked him back in slowly, and now he was groaning, arching his back, and his hips were rocking and I was matching his motion, and then he cried out and shot his seed into my throat, hot and salty and thick, not at all bitter, almost sweet.

I kept my hands on him, moving on his pulsing member to draw out his orgasm until he was locked in an arch. After a moment, I let go and moved up next to him, snuggling my head against his shoulder, rubbing his belly and stomach with my hand.

"Did you like that?"

He could only nod, and gasp. "Yes," he said, when had  his breath back. "Oh my God, yes. I didn't know nothing could feel that way. It was like I was on fire and then I exploded, and...oh God."

I laughed. "Good. I'm glad."

"Shea? What happened to the...to what came out?"

I giggled against his shoulder. "Your semen? I swallowed it. It tasted good." 

He didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything. 

Then: "Now what?"

I giggled again. "Oh Tre. You're cute, and so innocent. I'll change that." I pulled at his shoulder, rolling him toward me. "Now you touch me. Now you kiss me."

He moved for my lips, and I kissed him, then pushed him away. "No, Tre, I meant my body. I want to feel your lips on my body. All over."

He looked down at me. "Everywhere?" 

I just nodded, biting my lower lip in anticipation of his mouth on me.

He lifted up on an elbow and his gaze raked down my body to my panties and the damp spot on them. I wanted him inside me, I wanted his cock to be hard again and to plunge into me, but I had to wait a few minutes more, at least. I took his free hand in mine and moved it to my breasts.

"Everywhere. Touch me and kiss me at the same time. Take my tits in your mouth. Play with my nipples. Do everything. Do anything. Touch me everywhere."

He didn't need any further encouragement. His fingers took my stiffened nipple in his and rolled it, pinched it, not too hard, then he slid his palm along my ribs to my hips, touched a tickling finger to my thighs and traced up to touch the triangle of the panties.

"Do you like my body, Tre?" I asked him. 

I was asking as much because I wanted to hear the validation I'd needed for so long as to encourage him. 

"Yes, Shea." He kissed his lips to my stomach, put his tongue to my nipple and licked me, suckled me. "I love your body. I'd imagined what  a woman looked like naked, but you, you're like...I don't know how to put it. You're perfect."