Chapter 2: Post dinner
The warmth of the kitchen felt like a distant dream against the chill of the descending night. Lori stepped out onto the broad wooden deck, the planks still holding the day’s residual heat against her bare feet. The sky was a vast, deepening canvas of violet and fiery orange, the sun a bleeding wound on the horizon. Below, the ranch sprawled in silent, shadowed contours, the distant barn a dark cutout against the dying light. The air smelled of cold earth, pine, and the sweet, dry scent of hay.
Colt leaned against the wrought iron railing, his broad shoulders silhouetted. He turned as she approached, his smile a flash of white in the twilight. “Marty banished you, too?”
“She said I was ‘underfoot and oversexed’,” Lori replied, a soft laugh escaping her lips. She came to stand beside him, their arms brushing. “I think she just wants to listen to her soap operas in peace while she finishes the pies.”
“Can’t blame her.” He slid an arm around her waist, pulling her against his side. His body was a solid, warm comfort against the evening’s cool breath. “It’s beautiful out here.”
“It is,” she agreed, but she was looking at him, at the strong line of his jaw, the way the fading light caught in his dark eyes. She let her hand rest on his chest, feeling the steady, strong beat of his heart through his flannel shirt. “Quiet.”
They stood in comfortable silence for a long while, watching the stars begin to prick the velvet sky. The only sounds were the sigh of the wind through the long grass and the far-off, lonely low of a cow.
“You get everything done in the barn?” she asked, her voice soft.
“Yeah. Fed and watered. Everyone’s settled for the night.” He shifted, turning to face her fully. “You excited for tomorrow?”
“I am. It’s different, just the three of us. But it’s nice.” She smiled up at him. “I think you’ll like your gifts.”
“I already got my gift,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to cup the curve of her ass, his fingers pressing possessively into the flesh he’d marked just hours before. “Had it all afternoon. Best gift a man could ask for.”
A warm flush spread through her. “There’s more than one kind of present, son.”
“I know.” He leaned down, his lips finding hers in a slow, deep kiss that tasted of coffee and the cold night air. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark with a familiar heat. “But that’s the one I wanna unwrap again right now.”
He guided her to her knees there on the worn, cool wood of the balcony. The position was submissive, natural, a well-practiced ritual between them. Her hands went to his belt buckle, the metal cold under her fingers. She worked it open, then the button of his jeans, the rasp of the zipper loud in the quiet.
“Look at you,” he breathed, looking down at her, his expression one of raw ownership and adoration. “My beautiful mama on her knees for me under all these stars.”
She freed his cock, already thick and heavy in her hands. The scent of him, musky and uniquely his, filled her senses. She leaned forward, her blonde hair falling around her face, and let her tongue swipe slowly from the base to the tip, tasting the faint, salty pre-cum that had already beaded there.
“Fuck, Lori,” he groaned, his hand tangling in her hair.
She took him into her mouth, slowly, savoring the weight and the feel of him on her tongue. She worked him with a practiced rhythm, one hand stroking the base while her mouth concentrated on the head, her tongue swirling around the crown. She looked up at him, her blue eyes glinting in the starlight, and saw his head was tilted back, his gaze fixed on the emerging constellations.
“The Big Dipper is right over the barn,” he said, his voice strained as she deep-throated him, taking him all the way to the back of her throat until her nose pressed against his skin. She held it there for a count of three, then pulled back with a wet, gasping breath.
“Is it?” she managed, before diving down again, her movements becoming more urgent, more greedy.
“Mmm-hmm.” His hips began a subtle, involuntary thrust, meeting her bobbing head. “You get Marty something good?”
She released him with a pop. “A new coat. That old one of hers is practically threadbare.” She licked a long, slow stripe along his rigid length. “And a gift certificate to that spa in town. She needs someone to take care of her for a change.”
“That’s… ah, God, right there… that’s real sweet of you.” His fingers tightened in her hair, guiding her pace. “She’ll love that.”
She redoubled her efforts, sucking him hard, her cheeks hollowing. The filthy, wet sounds of her mouth on him mixed with the crickets’ song. She could feel the tension coiling in his balls, the way his stomach muscles clenched. He was close.
“You’re gonna make me come, Mama,” he warned, his voice a low, ragged growl.
She didn’t pull away. She just looked up at him, her eyes wide and willing, and took him deeper, humming around his shaft in a vibration that made his legs tremble.
That was all it took. With a guttural cry that echoed softly into the night, he came. Thick, hot pulses of cum shot down her throat, and she swallowed eagerly, diligently, her throat working around him. It was salty, bitter, and tasted like him, a flavor she had come to crave. When the flow began to slow, she milked him with her lips and tongue, ensuring she got every last drop.
She finally released him, panting softly, and sat back on her heels. A single, pearly strand escaped the corner of her mouth and dripped onto the front of her blouse. Colt, breathing heavily, looked down at her with a look of awe-struck lust.
“You are a fucking miracle,” he whispered, tucking himself back into his jeans. He reached down, wiping the stray drop from her lip with his thumb, then brought it to his own mouth. “Every damn time.”
He helped her to her feet, his hands strong on her arms. He turned her around to face the railing, the vast, dark expanse of their land stretching out before them. He pressed against her from behind, his renewed hardness evident even through his jeans. His hands roamed over her breasts, squeezing through the fabric of her blouse.
“You feel that?” he murmured into her ear, his voice husky. “You get me hard again so fast. Just the sight of you swallowing my load.”
“I feel it,” she breathed, arching her back against him.
His hands moved down, unbuttoning her jeans and pushing them, along with her panties, down over her hips. The cold night air kissed the bare skin of her ass and thighs. He spat into his palm, a crude, practical sound, and she felt his wet fingers slide between her cheeks, pressing against her back entrance.
“This is mine, too,” he stated, his voice leaving no room for argument. He worked a finger inside, the stretch a familiar, burning pleasure. “This tight little ass. You ready for me, Lori? You ready to take me in here while we look at our land?”
“Yes,” she gasped, pushing back against his probing finger. “Please, Colt.”
He used more spit, slicking himself thoroughly before positioning the broad head of his cock at her tight ring. He placed his hands on her hips, holding her steady.
“Easy now,” he coaxed, as he began to push. “Just relax for me, baby. Let me in.”
The initial pressure was intense, a stunning, full feeling of being stretched open. Lori gripped the cold iron railing, her knuckles turning white, and let out a slow, shuddering breath as he pressed inward, millimeter by agonizing millimeter. The burn was sharp, then deep, then it melted into a feeling of incredible, forbidden fullness.
“That’s it,” he groaned, his voice tight with strain as he finally sheathed himself completely inside her. “Jesus Christ, Lori. Your ass is so fucking tight. It’s like a hot fist squeezing my dick.”
He held himself there, buried to the hilt, letting her body adjust to his invasion. They both looked out at the night, at the countless stars now dusting the black sky. The silence was profound, broken only by their ragged breathing.
“You okay?” he asked, his lips against her temple.
“More than okay,” she whispered, the words filled with a sense of profound rightness. “You feel… you feel so big in here.”
He began to move, a slow, deliberate withdrawal followed by an even slower, deeper thrust. It was a different kind of intimacy than being in her pussy—tighter, more intense, a raw claiming of a different part of her.
“You like that?” he asked, his thrusts gaining a subtle rhythm. “You like your son’s cock in your ass?”
“I love it,” she moaned, pushing back to meet him. “I love it, Colt. It’s so deep.”
“It’s where you belong.” His pace remained languid, each movement a conscious, worshipful act. “All of you. Every perfect part. Mine.”
They fell into a rhythm as old and steady as the land around them. The rocking of their bodies against the railing was a silent counterpoint to the stillness of the night. He talked to her, his voice a low, intimate rumble against her back.
“Think we’ll get snow for Christmas?” he asked, his hips rolling into her with a deep, grinding push.
“The… the almanac said maybe,” she managed, her mind hazy with pleasure. “Just a dusting.”
“A white Christmas would be nice.” He slid a hand around her hip, his fingers finding her clit, already swollen and needy. He rubbed slow, perfect circles as he continued his deep, anal invasion. “Everything looks clean under the snow. Pure.”
“Nothing… ah… nothing about this is pure,” she gasped, a hysterical laugh bubbling up as his thumb pressed down hard.
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through her. “No. It’s not. It’s better. It’s real.” He nipped at her shoulder. “This is real. You, me, this. This is what matters.”
His thrusts became slightly more urgent, his breathing more ragged in her ear. The dual sensations—the deep, stretching fullness in her ass and the expert pressure on her clit—were driving her swiftly toward the edge. Her orgasm built, a coiling spring of pleasure deep in her core.
“I’m gonna come, baby,” she cried out, her voice echoing faintly across the empty land.
“Come on, then,” he urged, his own control fraying. “Come all over my hand. Let me feel you shake while I’m buried in this perfect ass.”
It was the permission she needed. Her body shattered, convulsing around his penetrating length in a series of violent, breathtaking spasms. A raw, guttural scream was torn from her throat, a sound of pure, unvarnished ecstasy that was swallowed by the vastness of the night.
Feeling her climax triggered his own. With a final, deep, driving thrust, he emptied himself inside her, his hot release flooding her depths. He held her tightly, his body rigid against hers as he pulsed, his own groan a long, satisfied sound of completion.
They stayed like that for a long time, leaning against the railing, spent and joined. The stars wheeled overhead, indifferent and beautiful. Finally, he softened and slipped out of her, his hands gently rubbing her hips.
He turned her around to face him, his expression soft in the starlight. He kissed her forehead, then her lips, a tender, lingering kiss. “Merry Christmas, Mama,” he whispered.
She leaned into him, her body humming, her heart full. “Merry Christmas, my boy.”
Inside, through the window, they could see Marty moving around the kitchen, the warm light a beacon of normalcy. Lori’s gaze drifted to the small, perfectly wrapped box sitting on the side table next to the rocking chair.
“Your main gift is in there,” she said, nodding toward it. “You can open it now if you want.”
He looked from the box back to her, his eyes shining with a love so deep it was terrifying. He shook his head slowly, a small smile playing on his lips.
“It can wait till morning,” he said, pulling her close again. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”