Chapter 4

~Jumping In~

They ignored the voices of concern in the front room and ushered Evan straight upstairs. Vish tried to pry Evan from Callie’s arms, but he refused to let go. He clung to her middle, his teeth still chattering, mumbling, “I’m sorry. It was stupid.”

“It was stupid,” Callie agreed, feeling more maternal than she wished to with a naked man pressed against her. “But don’t you worry. We’ll take care of you.”

Vish cackled, throwing his head back like an insensitive fool. “Hear that? Dante’s mom’s going to take care of you.”

That statement irked Callie, but it brought a giggle to Evan’s lips. “I want you both to take care of me.”

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you into bed.”

Vish pulled down the covers and Evan sat on the edge of the mattress with that fleece blanket around his shoulders. When Callie backed away, Vish laughed. Callie had closed up and knotted her robe before realizing he was laughing at poor Evan.

“Look how much your cock shrunk, dude! And where are your balls? They’re like…gone!” Vish got on his knees to investigate. Without warning, he wrapped his mouth around the frozen stub of Evan’s cock.

“Oww! Get off!” In one swift motion, Evan lifted his foot to Vish’s forehead and kicked him away. Cradling his crotch, he rolled in the bed. Callie tucked him in.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, hovering over him like a nursemaid.

Vish rubbed the spot where Evan’s foot had touched down. “Why’d you kick me in the head?”

“It burned,” Evan said.

He was still shivering, so Callie got in behind him. He pressed his back side to her front, and she struggled with the knot in her belt.

Vish walked to the far side of the bed. “What do you mean it burned?”

“Like in the winter when you go outside without gloves and them come back in and wash your hands in warm water?” Evan stopped shaking when Callie wrapped her arms and her robe around his frigid body. “It burns. Even warm is too hot. It hurts.”

The expression on Vish’s face seemed apologetic now, smile fallen, brow slack. “Sorry, man. Can I get in with you guys?”

Under the covers, Evan patted the mattress, and Vish must have seen because he climbed on board.

Callie sang, “Three in the bed and the little one said…”

“Roll over,” Evan chimed in. “Roll over.”

Vish picked it up: “So they all rolled over and one fell out.”

“Who’s going to fall out?” Callie mused.

Vish quickly said, “Not it.”

“Not it.” Callie chuckled at the childish game she’s started.

“Well it can’t be me,” Evan scoffed. “I’m in the middle.”

“Mmm-hmm…” Callie cupped her hand over his. It felt so cold that she nudged it away, encasing his frozen cock in her palm. It felt larger than it had appeared moments earlier. “Does this hurt?”

“No, that’s good.”

Vish ran a hand along Evan’s thigh. His fingertips brushed Callie’s, too. She watched the boys’ faces get close, observed the intensity in their gazes. When they kissed, she saw their tongues mingle and their heads turn. Vish had a bit of black stubble growing in, but Evan’s cheeks were smooth as a baby’s bottom.

It suddenly occurred to Callie to ask, “How old are you guys?”

“Nineteen,” Evan said.

“Twenty.” Vish looked up at her. “Why, how old are you?”

His presumptuousness made Callie laugh. “Like I’m going to tell you.”

“Why not?” Vish asked, like it was no big deal. And maybe it wasn’t…

“All right, then. I’m forty-six.”

“Spring chicken,” Evan said. His voice still had a shiver to it.

Callie chuckled. “I don’t know about that.”

“Yeah, forties isn’t old,” Vish agreed. “Even, like, fifty isn’t old anymore. You’re not old until you’re into triple digits, these days.”

Maybe the boys were just humouring her, but she didn’t think so. They really seemed to believe what they said. She felt young, in bed with these boys, and she didn’t want that feeling to go away.

Pressing her palm against the thickening head of Evan’s cock, she rubbed it in slow, lazy circles. The boys kissed, and in time Evan’s dick came out of hiding—his balls, too. When she took those frightened orbs in hand, Evan hissed.

“Am I hurting you?” Callie asked.

“No, no.” His breath was coming rather fast already. “No, that feels good.”

Callie traced the backs of her fingernails across that wrinkled flesh, trying to smooth it, willing his balls to grow big and heavy. There was something incredibly sexy about a big set of balls, especially on a little guy like Evan. It made for a pleasing juxtaposition: skinny body, fat dick, big balls. She found her breath quickening as she thought about it.

As she played with Evan’s dick, Vish’s hand found its way to her side. She could tell he was trying to get at her breast, and she angled to give him access. He was so warm compared to Evan, and his touch seemed to transfer desire through her body, infusing Evan’s dick. It grew in her hand as Vish thumbed her nipple. She wanted to open up to him, give him fuller access to her body, and, amazingly, Evan moved up and away.

“I want to fuck your tits,” Evan said, shifting her onto her back.

That was a surprise, but a happy one. Her robe still hung off her shoulders, but her front was bare in the mid-morning sunshine. The light hurt her eyes a touch, but she focused on Vish reaching across her body for a bottle of lube.

Evan straddled her belly while Vish drizzled clear liquid between her tits. She shivered even though it wasn’t half as cold as Evan’s toes pressing between her butt and the mattress.

“How’s that?” Vish asked as Evan snuck his dick between her tits and pressed them together with both hands.

“Oh my God…” She gasped at the sight of Evan’s cock growing between her breasts. The tip was already quite engorged, red and curving up. If he came right now, he would cream the headboard. The thought made her clench, and she whipped her head to the side. “Eat me.”

Vish looked at her, wide-eyed. He was still fully dressed—hadn’t even taken off that lavender scarf. “Yeah?”

“Please?”

Evan started rocking on top of her. His dick picked up lube as it skimmed her breasts. He pushed them tight together, thumbing her nipples as he bore through her cleavage. The sensation was incredible—naughty and just this side of humiliating.

Just as Callie started to wonder if anything could feel better, Vishram’s tongue met her pussy lips.

Callie bucked without intending to, sending Evan’s light little body up in the air. When he landed on her belly, it winded her, but it was her own damn fault. He held her tits like reigns, looking down at her as if to say, “What the hell was that?”

“Sorry, baby.” She wrapped her hands around his ass and encouraged that rocking motion. His dick seemed much warmer when he thrust between her tits.

Callie’s temperature was also on the rise.

Closing her eyes, she took in the dual sensations of the cock between her tits and the hot tongue slathering her clit with liquid pleasure. Which felt better? She couldn’t answer that question. It was the combination that made her high as a kite.

With Evan sitting on her chest, Callie didn’t have as much mobility as she’d like, but she was free to wrap her thighs around Vishram’s head. He went a little nuts when she trapped him, fighting the power, licking her pussy like mad.

When Vish sucked her clit, the pleasure tossed her over the edge. She dug her nails into Evan’s ass, circling her pussy around Vish’s mouth, rubbing against his face. He must have been covered in juice, but Evan was blocking her view, so she watched his straining cock instead. It streamed through her tits. The pressure hurt a bit, but she didn’t care. She was coming hard against Vish’s wild tongue, shuddering, hollering, hoping no one was standing outside the door.

She wanted something in her mouth, and extended her tongue until its tip met Evan’s cockhead. She couldn’t do much more than tickle the slit, but that did the trick. Evan squeezed her tits, pinching her nipples so hard pangs of electricity shot to where Vish worked in a frenzy.

Punching his dick through her cleavage one more time, Evan let out a tortured yelp. He came, as predicted, against the headboard. Vish jumped up to watch as a few smaller spurts landed across her chest.

“Are you going to eat that?” Vish asked, like they were at a restaurant and she hadn’t finished dessert.

Callie laughed at the question. “It’s yours if you want it.”

Vish untangled himself from Callie’s legs and tumbled off the side of the bed. He crept beside her and she closed her eyes as he licked the cum from her neck and her chest. Then he descended to her breast, to lick there too.

Evan rolled to her side and took her other nipple in his mouth. A warm orgasmic wave pulsed across her body, and she surrendered to it. The boys sculpted her tits while they licked her nipples, and it occurred to her that this was supposed to be about warming up Evan, not making her come forty times.

Her ears were still ringing when somebody knocked at the door.

Callie bolted upright in bed, knocking the boys off to her sides. “Oh God.” She found the edges of her robe and pulled it closed around her. This was bound to end badly. “Coming. Just…wait!”

Scrambling out of bed, Callie tucked Evan in tight. He nipped at her tits when she reached across him to fluff the pillows. Thank God Vish was still dressed.

When she opened the door to find Dante waiting with a tea tray, her heart fell to her feet. “Hey, oh honey…tea…”

Dante seemed entirely nonchalant about the two young men in his mother’s bedroom. He swept inside, setting the tray on the dresser they’d fucked on last night.

Dante took a seat next to Evan. “You did not look good when you came inside, buddy.”

A stream of terror coursed through Callie’s chest as she realized she hadn’t cleaned Evan’s cum off the headboard. Thank God it got covered up when she fluffed the pillows. Still, the room smelled like every kind of sex and there was no way her son could overlook that fact.

“We were all really worried about you, so Geoff whipped up a special blend of teas to get your juices flowing.” Dante got up and brought the boy a cup. He looked to Callie and Vish, who was standing by the door, his eyes sparkling. “I wouldn’t recommend it for you two—you seem pretty juiced up already.”

Callie felt two feet tall as she watched her son care for the boy who’d just fucked her tits. Obviously he knew what was going on, but he didn’t know why.

“Dante.” She caught him by the arm on his way out the door. “I need to talk to you about this.”

“No you don’t.” He looked like a child in those suspenders and too-tight pants. His father was not happy about the retro Fresh Prince of Bel Air haircut, but who cared what Winston thought?

“Dante.” She followed him down the lopsided stairs, wondering if they’d fallen into disrepair overnight or if she was still a little tipsy. She didn’t want to embarrass him in front of his friends, but it was probably too late for that. “Honey, please let me explain.”

“Mom, you don’t need to.” He cut through living area and Callie followed him out the door, making every effort to ignore his friends’ stares.

Callie nearly tripped over her son when he halted on the deck. Suddenly, she felt very bare in her robe. She wished she’d put on something a little more presentable.

“Your father…”

“I know,” Dante said, cutting her off without looking at her. He stared at the lake, which sparkled under the April sun. After a moment, he walked the deck that spanned the perimeter of their summer retreat.

Following close behind him, Callie asked, “What do you know?” They must be talking at cross purposes.

He glanced down at her—when had her son grown so tall?—before returning his gaze to the lake. “He wanted me to tell you, but I said no. I told him to tell you himself, don’t put me in the middle.”

“Dante...” She couldn’t allow herself to believe they were discussing the same matter. “He wanted you to tell me what?”

Leaning against the broad wooden railing, Dante shook his head and let out an unamused sort of laughter. “About the baby.”

Callie’s heart clenched. The deck was hot against her bare feet, and she allowed the burn to consume her. Better than dwelling on the matter at hand—it was just too much to think about.

“So he finally told you, I guess,” Dante went on. “The prick. Asking me to do his dirty work for him...”

“He told you?” Callie asked. She wasn’t thinking now. The words streamed out. “He told you about the French Bitch? He told you he was cheating on me with one of his perky little undergrads? He told you he knocked her up, and she’s having his baby, and he wants to do right by her?”

“Yeah.”

Callie took her son by the cheek and turned his face until they met eye to eye. She wasn’t angry, per se. It was more like her entire body was vibrating, a bizarre sensation.

A streak of fear raced through Dante’s eyes, but he should have known his mother posed no threat, even in this riled-up state.

“You knew he was leaving me,” she said. Her voice was calm, flat, and that surprised her. “You knew and you didn’t tell me? How could you keep that a secret? I’m your mother!”

“And he’s your husband.” Dante was so measured, so reasonable—truly his father’s son. “It was his duty to tell you. That’s not a responsibility you can shirk off on your kid. I don’t want to be at the centre of an ongoing battle. I don’t want to be your messenger boy.”

He was right, of course. Callie wrapped her arms around him and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

That made Dante chuckle. “You’re sorry? I should be the one saying sorry. Aren’t you mad that I’m throwing a party at the summerhouse? I thought you’d freak out.”

Callie glanced through the window at a bearded guy in a plaid shirt playing solitaire. When he noticed her staring, he smiled and waved.

Freak out? She might have freaked out if these kids were doing any of the crazy things she’d done back in the day, but this was a group of pussycats. “I guess I’ve got other things on my mind.”

When she glanced at Dante, he was smiling, his eyes pitifully sad. She wrapped her arms around him once again, and they rocked together, side to side.

“Oh, my son, my good and great son…”

The family was breaking up. This wasn’t just a couple’s condition. The three of them would never live together in the same house again. Never. That part of life had passed, and now…now what?

Tears welled in Callie’s eyes and she clung harder to her boy, feeling the knot of his necktie pressing into her cheek.

“What do I do?” she asked. “That big house in the city and me all alone…”

He sighed deeply, and she felt the rumble of his consideration passing between them. “Don’t live there,” he said. “Let Dad have it. He and his… French… well, they’re having a baby. Don’t you want that baby to have a nice place to grow up?”

Dante’s compassion for Winston and the French Bitch threw Callie for a loop. How could her only son side with his no-good downright rotten cheating father?

“I don’t give a good goddamn if that child grows up in a dumpster. Their business is not my business, and I’m not giving up my house so they can raise their bastard in the lap of luxury.”

The look in Dante’s eyes was soft and so giving it hurt her. She wanted his pity. She wanted him to take her side. Instead, he said, “You don’t care now, but that baby’s going to be born and it’s going to be real—a real baby, not just some hypothetical kid.”

“None of my business.” She was too angry to be reasonable. “None of yours, either.”

“Mom…” Dante forced his caring gaze upon her, and she couldn’t back away. “That kid’s going to be my little brother or sister. I won’t be an only child anymore. I’m going to have a sibling. That’s my business.”

Callie’s heart beat so slowly she thought she’d keel over. Her anger drained down her body and bled like a pool of energy onto the deck. A strange sense of appreciation overtook her, and she looked at her son in amazement.

Why hadn’t any of this occurred to her?

“You’re going to be a big brother.” She laughed, a sharp but no less amused cackle. “And your step-mother’s going to be the same age as you!”

“I think she’s a year older.” Dante’s broad smile weakened, and he turned to look out over the water. “It’s okay if you’re mad—you should be mad—but I know how much I loved growing up in our house. Dad says the girl just lives in a tiny apartment, and you know by the time everything’s split fifty-fifty he won’t have enough to buy a nice house in a good area. I think a kid should grow up with a big backyard, you know? Kick the soccer ball around?”

She stopped him before he could ask again. “I’ll think about it.”

Giving up her house to her husband’s mistress seemed totally backward, but Dante made a compelling case. It was true that she hadn’t considered this woman and her child might actually be real people, not monsters. Certainly the baby wasn’t a monster—it had no choice regarding the circumstance of its conception.

“If you moved in to the summerhouse, you’d be close enough to Kingston that we could see each other for lunch and stuff. You could drive into town.” He set a tender arm around her shoulder, and she leaned her weight against him. “You think I’m Mr. Freedom but, damn, I miss you, Mom.”

“You want me living closer?” Tears tumbled down her cheeks. Her son needed her!

And what would she do with that big house, anyway? It was full of memories that would haunt her as she slept alone, wondering if she’d stolen safety and happiness from another woman’s child.

Dante’s voice sounded different, more critical, when he said, “Some of my friends would sure like to have you around, looks like. I’m thinking Evan, Vish…”

The tears stopped, but so did Callie’s heart. It was so embarrassing, when she thought about it from her son’s perspective. Here, she’d been criticizing Winston for his mistress’s youth, and she’d only gone and done the same thing! Maybe she was the greater offender for having seduced two youths simultaneously.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was a whimper. “I’m so sorry, Dante.”

“You’re an adult.” His tone was cool now. “Do whatever you want, as long as you can live with your decisions.” After a moment’s pause, he shook his head. “Forget it. I shouldn’t be railing on you. Seriously, do what makes you happy.”

Dante’s go-ahead seemed genuine, and when he’d gone back inside Callie considered what a parental child he’d become. They’d traded places this weekend. She was the rebellious teen, the girl who chased pleasure just for the hell of it, and he was the pillar of sobriety and rationality. She’d never been so proud.

Callie walked to the dock and took a seat in the welcoming wooden chair. There was no one around, no boats on the lake, so she opened her robe and let the sun caress her skin.

When she went back up, would her boys be waiting for her? Would they have moved on to someone else? She couldn’t fathom what she was going to do about that pair. She wanted them, especially if she moved within a stone’s throw of their university town, but they wanted more than just her…didn’t they?