Joan Kelly - Hungry for boys

"Hey, Warren," Todd said, "Lorrie and I are going to use your room. That cot in the shed isn't very wide." He glanced at me to see how I was taking it, then he held the roach out to me. I shook my head, turned to go back to my room.

"Sure you don't want to join the party?" Todd's voice had a note of antagonism in it.

"Sounds like the party is going to get private pretty soon." I snugged the blanket under my chin. Warren went to the door that led out back to the shed where Todd was supposed to be sleeping. To hell with it. I wasn't going to be warden for Lomax's kids. Let them fight it out. And yet, as Warren's blond head disappeared into the darkness outside, I felt a pang. Desire maybe? Okay, sure. I knew I wasn't a saint. Not many saints even liked to fuck, or so I've heard. I went back to my room, closed the door and flicked the light.

Sounds of conversation filtered to me down the hall, but I must have drifted off. The next thing I was conscious of was the rain. Rain and wind. Sheets of wetness tore against my small window, rocked the trees outside. Door opening. Sleepy, so damned sleepy.

I concentrated on letting the other half of the house go its merry way, thought of darkness and the warm, deep bed that cradled me. But there was more movement in the kitchen. The mountains, the newness of everything brought me to wakefulness again. I wrapped my blanket close and went down the hall.

Warren was sitting in a chair with a blanket of his own. His clothes were draped over the back of another chair, dripping puddles onto the linoleum. His hair was matted wetly to his head. He looked up as I came in.

"That damned shed. Todd was supposed to put the window in last summer and never did." He rubbed his hair, flicked drops of water onto the floor. "We'll have to dry out the cot tomorrow."

He looked pitiful there in the cold kitchen. Outside it was pitch black and the wind was streaking rain hard across the windows. I glanced at the door to Warren's room. No light underneath. Todd had pulled off a neat trick all fight, very neat. Warren saw the direction of my look and pressed his lips together, nodding in silent agreement.

"Hey, come on back to my room."

"You can dry off." My eyes glimpsed one bare, white shoulder. "You'll catch a cold sitting in here for the rest of the night."

He followed me shyly, dragging the corner of his blanket on the floor. I closed my door and, keeping my blanket snug around my neck, I found a towel, tossed it to him. He caught it, almost let go the blanket. I caught the faint blur of cock and balls, the shine of sparse blond curls.

"My dry clothes are all in my room," he said grimly. "I couldn't go in there…" I sensed the fear he felt, there were rules between his half-brother and him. Spoken or unspoken, he was bound to them… frightened of reprisal.

"Don't worry about it." I reached for the lamp. "It's a big bed. I won't kick you if you don't kick me."

He grinned, rubbed his wet hair with the towel. The blanket hung crooked enough so that I saw his upper thigh just before the light dimmed and the room went black. The springs seesawed as I got in. I felt Warren's weight, his feet digging under the sheet.

I was wide awake. Lying on my back. Thinking of the male animal only a few inches away. I imagined the lines of his thigh, and before long I could see his uncircumcised cock. Yes, it was uncircumcised, I'd noticed the soft droop of white flesh that completely covered the tip. And what did Warren's cock look like with the foreskin pulled back? Men differed quite a bit. I remembered Scott's not very big prick. Not big, but nice. His cock had felt good inside my cunt, in my hand.

I smiled in the darkness. Funny how I'd never savored the idea of taking a man's cock into my mouth if only because of what might come out of it. And, even after tasting some of Scott's jizz on my fingers, I wasn't sure I could go the whole route of a head jab. But the idea of licking Warren's cock was sending me into trembling spasms of excitement. Because he was younger than Scott? Blonder? Because his cock looked so white and… clean?

I had been so caught up in my own swirling night thoughts that I hadn't noticed Warren's shivering. His teeth were chattering and when I put my hand out and touched his shoulder, I knew he was freezing to death.

"Guess I got chilled out there." He tried to laugh.

"You're going to be sick unless you get warm, come on… just cuddle your back over." There had to be other possibilities, other ways to solve the problem, but it was dark and there was a boy in my bed. At twenty-eight I figured I could handle things okay. But I couldn't.

As soon as Warren's back nestled into the inward curve of my belly and thighs, I was dying to put my hands on him. So I did. To warm him of course.

"God, that feels better." He was still shivering. "You're really warm."

I was also slipping over the line of what some people might call decency. Another shitty word. My hands were on his stomach and chest, and when I hugged him, nuzzled my nose in his still-damp hair, he moved back against me. We fit, Warren somewhat shorter but with the right angles and curves.

"Feel good?" Why did I feel so drunk when I was really sober?

"God, yes."

He showed no special distaste at the way I kept nuzzling in the hair at the nape of his neck. It smelled boyishly funky. Funky damp. I nuzzled more and found skin. There fight before my lips, teasing me. I breathed deep, wondering if I should shut down the generators, hold back on the reins.

Warren's hard little ass was pressed against my cuntmound. I moved my hips ever so slightly. Warren was careful not to move back. He had stopped shivering, was warming to my skin now. Pretending I was checking the heat of his body, I smoothed a palm up his chest, grazed over his nipples.

"You are getting warmer."

"I'll move back over if you want."

"Only if you want to." I touched my nose to the skin at the nape of his neck. "I think I was a little chilly too. You're warming me now."

My hands took off again, brushing his sides, rib bumps, pelvis. He was suddenly very still, like something was happening to him that was a little frightening. I waited until he let out his breath before I pressed my dry lips against his neck. He froze again.

"You smell good." I tried to make it sound innocent, but it wasn't a very innocent thing to say. Smell went with sex like ducks to water. From Warren, silence.

I put my lips close again. No reaction. Warren was more boyish than Scott, his muscles less developed. I let my hand slip further down his belly, pretending again to be simply taking care that he was snug enough. A crisp curl of pubic hair sprang back against my pinky. I held my hand still, feeling the inner rhythm of his body.

I wet my lips and this time pressed them harder onto his neck. My nuzzling had turned into a kiss. I kissed for a long while, letting him realize that there had been no mistake, that Shelby was kissing him on the back of his pretty neck. Yeah, I was way over the line now. I could think only of having Warren under me, of kissing him everywhere…

Again I smiled at my own conflicting desires. Yes, I did want to hold his cock in my mouth. Not when he came, but before. I wanted to suck his prick to excitement and make him cry my name and shoot his come.

"Shelby?"

"Yes, Warren?"

"I think maybe I'd better go back in the kitchen."

Fear tread across my belly. I cinched arms tighter as if to keep him from fleeing.

"Scared?"

"Uhh. I don't…" He bit off the words, let out a pent-up breath. "Yeah. Maybe I am a little. I feel weird."

There was no turning back now. I'd either freak him out or fuck him. I laughed out loud at my sudden philosophy. I kissed him blatantly, wetly on his neck, kissed again further down and once more for good measure.