The Magic Bean

"It's fine, Ethan. I was just contemplating whether or not I'd waste this spectacular day by cleaning the bathroom. You may have arrived just in time to rescue me from an unwise decision." He smiled at my weak attempt at humour. I put my hand on his forearm to reassure him. "Is everything okay?"

"Oh, um, yeah, everything's fine." He fidgeted a bit and seemed uncertain what to say next. I stepped aside and held the screen door open for him. "C'mon in. Bring your bike with you and have a cuppa while you tell me what's going on inside that brainpan of yours."

Per his instructions, I spooned a dollop of honey into his milk and tea and placed the steaming mug in front of him on my dining room table. The same table where we'd dined only last night. As he took his first sip, I picked up my phone and opened it to the dial pad. "What's your number, Ethan?" An instant after he recited it, his phone began to ring. "Now, you have my number. You might want to attach my name to it straightaway, so you'll know to whom it belongs."

He did that, had another sip of tea, then looked around the room, his gaze seeming to alight everywhere but on me. He had that faintly abashed air that seemed to shadow him so often.

"Ethan, why is it that I so often have the impression that you're afraid to do and say things for fear of putting your foot wrong?"

He looked directly in my eyes then, and took another gulp of his drink. When he spoke, he was looking downward again. "Remember what I said about my family being conservative?"

"Mmm-hmm."

His fingers traced along the inseam of his slacks as if he were looking for some flaw in the sewing. "Well, I meant really conservative. Both of my parents are extremely religious. I've heard some people call them fundamentalists; they're not wrong."

The thumb and forefinger of his right hand moved with deliberation over the bones, muscles and tendons of his left. He looked for all the world like a man preoccupied with fathoming the structure of some heretofore undiscovered appendage. "Even when I----"

"Ethan? Honey, would you mind looking at me while you're talking to me? Please?" The 'honey' wasn't a slip of the tongue this time. It was meant to ease any anxiety precipitated by my request.

He met my gaze and continued, "Even when I didn't have chores to do on the farm, my folks didn't like me hanging out with my peers after school or on weekends. They were afraid I'd be infected with their worldly ways and ideas. That meant when I did interact with other kids at school, I missed a lot of the social cues they took for granted. I was ridiculed for being awkward; for being, as they sometimes put it, 'terminally uncool'. So, yeah, I guess I do have some concern in the back of my head that I'm going to say or do something to make myself look ridiculous."

I scooted my chair closer to Ethan's and covered his hand with mine. "In the time we've spent together, have I given you any reason to think that I might mock you regarding, well... anything?"

"No, of course not... but I didn't pick up the habit all at once and as much as I'd like to, I don't reckon I can put it down so quickly either."

"A fair point." I smiled at him and was pleased to see it echoed in his face. I shifted my chair back again so I wasn't intruding so much on his personal space. I also thought my head would remain clearer with a little distance between us. "So, now that you have my number, what would you have called me to say?"

"Oh... that. It wasn't, um, anything important."

"Who said it had to be? I didn't give you my number just for emergencies, y'know. Now what did you want to talk about?"

"Well, I...", as he began to speak, he reflexively looked down again. I leaned over, put two fingers under his chin and lifted his head until he was looking into my eyes again. "What I mean is... last night, you said, y'know... you said that I should tell you if I wanted another cooking lesson. I meant to say something at the time, but I didn't want to seem greedy."

I had to make sure not to giggle with relief; he could easily misinterpret that as me laughing at him. "Is that it, Ethan? You should've spoken up. Of course I wouldn't have minded; that's why I made the offer. When did you have in mind?"

His face was truly transformed when he smiled----always beautiful, it looked incandescent now. "I-I know that teachers have to grade papers and stuff and I'm sure you have tons of other things to do, so whenever is convenient for you." After a moment's pause, he added, more quietly, "Would you, um, be able to do it tonight?"

Here there indeed be dragons.

I had no reason to think Ethan's motives were anything other than spending time with someone who treated him kindly and taught him all sorts of useful things in a non-threatening way. It wouldn't be smart though, to ignore the effect he had on me. I wondered if it were a matter of time before I'd say or do something we'd probably both regret. Besides, it was probably in his best interests to step outside his comfort zone and develop his social skills.

"Ethan, is it possible you haven't noticed how the young women at our gym----all dressed strategically to attract attention----sneak peeks at you, strut back and forth in front of you while you're working out? Surely you've twigged to how often these show ponies manage to position their workouts----as much as possible----within your line of vision?"

Scepticism was reflected in his eyes. "Even if that were true, why bring it up?"

"I'm just wondering if you wouldn't be happier in the company of one of those girls than cooped up inside with... well, someone my age."

He rose from his chair, though I'm not sure he was conscious of doing it. "I thought... I... I had the impression you enjoyed my company. Were you just being kind?"

"Oh, Ethan, we are on the verge of a terrible misunderstanding here, and I truly don't want that to happen." I stood up too, placed my hands on his shoulders and applied light, downwards pressure. "Please sit down so we can continue this discussion calmly, alright?"

When he was seated again, I gathered our mugs from the table and returned to the kitchen. "I think we could both do with some more tea, don't you?" I wanted a chance to gather my thoughts and besides, everything's more manageable with a cup of hot tea, right?

Once I'd returned to my chair and two piping mugs were on the table beside us, I took his hands in mine and leaned in close. "No, Ethan, I wasn't just 'being kind'. And yes, I do appreciate your company. In fact, you've been competent enough in the gym for a while now to work out on your own. The only reason I haven't mentioned it is because I was enjoying the companionship. So no, rest assured, I am not trying to get rid of you. I was only... concerned... that you might be using me as a crutch to avoid interacting with your peers. That's all; nothing more."

"I've been technically an 'adult'," he drew air quotes with his fingers, "for several years, so who exactly are my peers? If I have things in common with you and not them, why would I choose their company over yours? Based on age alone? You can't mean that, can you?"

"No, I don't s'pose I can. You're absolutely right. And now that I think about it, when I was your age, I tended to seek out older companions too. I recall now how frustratingly immature the people my age seemed at the time." I was mildly embarrassed that I had put forth such slipshod reasoning. I looked at him with renewed respect for not letting me get away with it.

"I'll tell you what, Ethan... by way of apology, I'm going to make the ultimate sacrifice and abandon my highly-anticipated bathroom cleaning duties so that we can make a day of it. You game?"

His smile was answer enough.

"I often reserve baking projects for Sundays, since they're usually the least demanding day of my week. How would you feel about pound cake? More specifically, blueberry-lemon pound cake?"

He patted his stomach as if he were some beer-swilling, middle-aged tradie instead of a physical paragon with washboard abs. "I try not to indulge too often, but as a special treat, that'd be yummy." I loved that he used the word, 'yummy'. Many blokes wouldn't for fear of sounding too womanish.

"Trust me, Ethan, you can afford to indulge in a few naughty calories. Besides, as your personal trainer, I grant you special dispensation", I grinned, "and when you taste it, I'm betting you'll agree it justifies the trespass."

I pulled one of my favourite cookbooks down from the shelf, opened it to the recipe I had in mind and began to assemble the ingredients. After a couple of minutes, I voiced my displeasure: "Crap."

"What's wrong?"

"I'm usually reliable about adding stuff to the grocery list as soon as the need becomes apparent, but I must've forgotten to do that the last time I baked. I'm out of baking powder."

"Is there something you could substitute for it?"

"Well, sure, there are a few things I could do... combine cream of tartar with baking soda, or baking soda and vinegar... or," I chuckled, "we could take advantage of this glorious day and race into town on our bikes for the real deal. You think you could keep up?" His only reply was that winning smile of which I've grown so fond.

Dashing into my bedroom, I shucked my pyjamas and donned appropriate cycling kit. I strapped on my helmet as I returned to the living room, saying, "That height of yours gives you the advantage of longer levers, but I should warn you that I used to train with my ex, who was a champion cyclist."

I took my bike down from its wall mount and strode past Ethan, grinning up at him, "C'mon laddie, let's see if you can match a senior citizen's pace." He surprised me by snaring my arm and stopping me in my tracks. I turned his way to see what was the matter.

"That's the second time you've referred to yourself like that. Does the difference in our ages make you uncomfortable?"

"No, of course not. I was just..." My train of thought was derailed by the intensity of his gaze. I don't know how many seconds passed while we stood like that, neither of us saying a word. It couldn't have been as long as it felt. Something strange happened with time; or at least my perception of it. He leaned down to me, his face coming closer to mine; but the moment seemed to unfold in surreally slow motion.

Then his lips were on mine, moving with a tender insistence. I blindly leaned my bike against the wall as I returned the kiss and pressed myself against him. The kiss deepened----tongues swirling, teeth grazing----until he pulled away, looking wide-eyed as if surprised by his own audacity. Before his insecurities had the chance to bedevil him, I eased my hand behind his neck and pulled him back to me. When our mouths came together again, I prised his lips open with my tongue, and shoved into him like a cock into a wet cunt. One of us growled and the other groaned, but I'm not sure who did which.

While our lips danced and our tongues played, one of his hands gently cradled my face. Shivers sped down my spine as he brushed my hair away from my face again and again. With each stroke, his thumb grazed my temple. Could he feel the jackhammer velocity of my pulse there?

The way he wielded his size and strength with such tenderness was deeply arousing. I was emboldened to slip my fingers under his shirt. The warmth of his skin, the undulation of his muscles under my palm gave me another thrill. S'funny, but I could've sworn that not ten minutes ago my panties were dry.

My hands grabbed the hem of his top and started to pull it over his head, but he was too tall for me to quite reach all the way. As he dragged the garment the rest of the way off, I grabbed him by the belt buckle and pulled him toward my bedroom. His shirt drifted to the floor behind us. "Sorry, Ethan, but I don't think you're gonna get that poundcake after all. At least, not today."

Shoving him onto my bed, I pulled my own top off. "No worries though," I grinned down at him, "I'll find a way to make it up to you."

My bra hit the floor next and I saw the bulge in his jeans throb even through the sturdy denim. God, I needed to get my hands on that immediately. Hands trembling with lust, I hastily undid his belt buckle and pants. Slacks and undies were yanked down with matching urgency, causing his suddenly unrestrained cock to slap upward against his belly.

There it was.

The object of so many recent fantasies.

Upright, angry red, veined, pulsing and already smeared with precum.

Did I do that to him?

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

Like a man hypnotised, he watched me pull my cycling tights and sticky panties down my legs. I leaned over him and wrapped the fingers of one hand around the base of his erection. Something like a whine escaped his throat. A trickle of warmth slid down my thigh and the scent of my arousal blossomed into the room. "Ethan?" My voice was so thick with passion, I didn't recognise it. "If I make you cum, how long before you're ready to play again?"

"N-n-not long."

"That's what I like to hear. And sweetie?...", my fist sleeked up the length of him, inciting a fat bead of excitement to form on his opening and a mewling sound to issue from his mouth, "...none of my neighbours are close by, so feel free to make all the noise you want."

I bent my head to breathe gently on his cockhead, savouring the way it made him judder. My tongue made merry in the moisture, slathering it all around, lashing those hypersensitive nerve endings. Every time I swept away the latest outpouring, a new globule bloomed almost immediately. Ethan's head lolled back, his eyes squeezed shut and his ass surged from the bed. Best of all was the tattered wail torn from somewhere deep inside him. My pussy spasmed at the sound and my thighs were awash.

The rising, musky smell of our need, the sight of Ethan's muscles clenching, the sound of the raspy, quickened rhythm of his breath, the feel of his slippery hardness pulsing in my hand... my senses were almost overwhelmed. All of it provoked me to go to town on Ethan.

I fell upon him like a ravenous creature. My fist corkscrewed up and down his slickened shaft while I bathed, licked and slurped his glans. I fucked my mouth and hand with his lunging prick, slamming him in and out deeply. My other hand grasped his flexing buttock, fingers digging into his asscrack. His panting cries were electrifying.

He glanced down and I put on a show for him, adding a visual thrill to the physical impressions. His eyes widened as I swallowed him to the root. With a flourish, I slithered up again to purse my lips around his reddened knob. He was spellbound by the sight of it disappearing into the warm, sucking tightness of my mouth and then reappearing. Again and again. My tongue lapping at him, trying to snare every drop like a child with an icy pole on a hot summer day.

When I felt his balls tighten, I nudged his pucker with the tip of my finger and sucked his cockhead furiously. That sent him hurtling over the precipice. Fists clutching the sheets, face contorted with tension, the cords stark in his throat, he roared into orgasm. Hot spunk jetted into my mouth and throat. I nursed and swallowed, milking him as he jack-knifed, moaned and emptied himself into me. Some of the overflow dribbled from my lips and down my chin as I continued to suck him.

Finally, he crumpled back onto the bed. Sweat sheening his heaving anatomy, he gulped for air. His semi-erect manhood was glazed with my spit and his cum, with a trail of trickling semen on his tummy. Aftershocks rippled through his frame.

The room was hushed, but for our laboured respiration.

"Oh, sweetie", I crooned, breaking the silence. "There's no rest for the wicked, I'm afraid. After that exhibition, I need to cum... make that desperately need to cum." I climbed up until I was astride him, my wetness oozing from me and spreading over his belly. Leaning over, I cradled and lifted his head with one hand while the other cupped my breast. "Open your mouth, beautiful." I fed him my tit, like some round and ripened fruit. Murmuring instructions to taste, lick, lave and bite, all peppered with little words of encouragement. I didn't know how much experience he had, but I knew he'd never made love to me. It was up to me to show him what I needed.

My skin erupted in an outbreak of goosebumps as he nuzzled into me. He suckled, enclosing first one breast then the other in his hot mouth. Drawing the pouting nipples out, he caressed and twirled them with his tongue. A thin strand of his drool dripped down onto our bodies. His unconscious purring/moaning sounds sent exquisite vibrations thrumming through me and girljuice spilling from me.

I continued to clasp him to my breast as I directed his hand between my legs. "My pussy's aching to play with you, sweet." His hand delved into my wetness, parting my sopping cleft and sliding through the engorged folds. I shivered atop him, my thighs flexing into his sides. "That's it, baby", I whimpered, "keep it up. I'm gonna cum so hard for you." I glanced over my shoulder and was gladdened to observe he was already hard and throbbing again.

As Ethan continued to lavish care on my tits, I grabbed the wrist of his hand and guided him to my sex. "Put your two middle fingers inside me, hon, and fuck me." They slithered in with a wanton, squelching sound. I began to buck and roll against the invading digits, panting a stream of profanity and guttural sounds.

"N-n-next time you thrust in, curl your fingers, okay?" He did so and was rewarded with an involuntary cry of sheer pleasure from me. When I could form words again, I coached him, "Yeah, uh-huh. Keep doing that, baby. That's my g-spot and it feels sooo good when you pump into it. Keep sucking my tits too."

Ethan plundered my cunt, shoving in and sloshing out with a relentless, accelerating pace. With every inward plunge, I squealed and splashed him. His ravishment of my breasts became more urgent too. Before long, my back arched, I stiffened above him, howled my ecstasy and soaked his hand and wrist with my ejaculate.

Collapsing onto Ethan, I revelled in the intimacy of his fingers still inside me. Little tremors rippled through me, precipitating contractions that gripped him in my warmth and wetness. Mmmmm. Heavenly, but I'm not done yet. I just needed to catch my breath.

There was a part of me--the part that had fantasised almost obsessively about Ethan for weeks--that wanted to unleash the feral beast in me and see how he reacted to that.

Then there was another voice--of the woman who had grown to care for this young man--that counselled caution lest I frighten him off for good and all.

"Ethan? What I am dying to do right now is ride that lovely face of yours... until you are drowning in my juices. The thing is, once I get going, I'm likely to become a bit... enthusiastic; maybe lose my head a little. You okay with that?"

With an irresistible enthusiasm shining from his eyes, he nodded his assent.

I crawled up until my thighs straddled his face. I imagined what he was seeing from his point of view: my swollen, slippery nether lips spread lewdly on display, just centimetres from his lips and tongue.

I don't know if I was turned on by the idea of taking charge or if I reflexively shifted into instructor mode with Ethan, but I continued to tell him what I wanted. And show him.

My fingers slid over my fleshy outer labia. "See how wet and hungry I am for you, Ethan? Kiss me." I inched my knees outward to lower myself and give him better access.

When I felt his lips press ever-so-gently to my vulva, I shivered and exhaled a single word: "More".

His lips caressed, pecked, nuzzled, drew me in. Experienced or not, it seemed like he was adoring me with his mouth. I interposed my fingers to open my inner petals. "Be a love and brush these with the flat of your tongue." I felt him rasp along the extent of my slit in long, slow, succulent licks until he eventually curled the tip and pushed it up and into my opening. My eyes closed as I released a hiss of air. A fresh outpouring of my juices coated his tongue.