An adult stories – Guilty Pleasures Ch. 10 by Publius68,Publius68 Welcome to my latest series, mashing up a few more tropes. This little four chapter story went its own way on me as I wrote it, and I had fun copying it all down. We are now at chapter ten out of four and there are three more left after this one.
As always, I am not going for deep truths or gritty realism in this tale. The aim for me is a plausibly ridiculous course of events.
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Guilty Pleasures – Ten
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Monica and I had moved to my bedroom a while ago, and I now had her lying face down over a pile of pillows and cushions on my bed, my face between her thighs, my hands massaging the cheeks of her ass as I stroked her clit with my tongue. Her exhausted body writhed against my face and I heard her yelling into the mattress, “I can’t believe that you arrrrrreeeee… Fuck!” She spasmed joyfully, but exhaustedly, and for once, I let her off swiftly.
Her body lay there limply, and I dragged myself to the side to collapse beside her. She turned her face slightly to the side, so one eye could glare at me. “Uncle,” she moaned. “I’m sorry, but I am done, Clark.”
“Well thank God,” I heaved a sigh. “I ran out of energy an hour ago, and have been running on fumes. You are insatiable, woman!”
“I’m insatiable?” She demanded. A hand groped for yet another pillow, but she lacked the energy or strength to hit me with it.
“Wine?” I asked, suddenly desperately thirsty. Booze isn’t the best for severe thirst, but I also needed fortification.
“God, yes!”
We dragged ourselves out of bed and sat down back in the kitchen, at my now desperately in need of cleaning kitchen table. I had pulled on some boxers, and Monica was looking fetching but exhausted in my bathrobe. We clinked glasses.
“Thank you, Clark. And I’m sorry,” Monica said, taking a sip.
“Sorry?”
“You called it. I called it. To be clear, this was the best night of sex In. My. Life. But it is going to be a helluva long time before I can imagine being in the same room with you alone without hearing Stan’s voice whining, ‘You bitch’.”
“You needed closure more than you need me,” I shrugged. “And for what it is worth, I’m going to have the same hallucination every time I check you out for a long time to come. Expect me to try to keep my eyes mostly to myself.”
“You can keep them off me. I hardly expect that you will be keeping them off of others!” Monica scoffed.
I smiled sheepishly. “Yeah? Well, you let your eyes wander too, little lady. You need some fun, non-angry, non-complex sex in your life for a while.”
“Oh, I should slut it up for a bit, huh?”
“Who deserves it more?” I said. “But I wouldn’t call it slutting. Just enjoy yourself. And Wanda and Yancey will be happy to get you out of the house more!” I added wickedly.
“They got their alone time in tonight for sure, didn’t they?” Monica snorted, checking her watch. We had been going at it, with or without Stan’s watching, for almost four hours. “I’m going to get dressed.”
“I am going to watch,” I declared.
“I thought that was going to be too traumatizing?”
“Stan’s in my head tonight, regardless. I might as well get some more staring in at your gorgeous bod while I still can.”
“It’s not like we won’t still see each other all the time, Clark. Just maybe not movie nights together for a while? I still plan on being here this weekend with your daughter’s crowd. In my bikini, unless I buy a new one. I’m sure that you can think of some other young women to stare at instead of me!” She winked as she slid into her bra.
“A new bikini? You want to torture me?”
“I enjoyed doing that before, why not still? And I need to keep Stephanie on her toes. But who says you are the only one among all the guys who will be there whose interest I might be wanting to attract?”
I stared at her. She smirked back.
*
The next night was Bridge Night at the Franklin’s again. Stan was not invited…
For the first time, Wanda tried to pair me up with Monica. We both separately begged off.
Monica had not shared our escapades of the night before with Wanda! Interesting. Nice to see someone had some discretion. Ahhh, what could have been.
Peter and I teamed up as usual, and I played worse than he did, as usual.
“So, are you going to make a move on that cheerleader this weekend, or not?” Yancey demanded later.
Peter, who was standing with us, perked up at this. “Cheerleader?”
I rolled my eyes at Yancey. “Please.”
“Like a real cheerleader? For the Panthers or Hornets or something?” Peter pushed.
I could not help but give him the tiniest of smug smiles. “Something like that. But no, Yancey, I’m not. What the hell am I supposed to do? ‘Hey Stephanie, let’s go inside, I have some circuit boards I’d like to show you’, and leave everyone else out there staring at our departure?”
“If she’d go in with you… YES,” Yancey snorted. Peter just continued to look eagerly puzzled.
“Those kids would have my beer fridge picked clean in two minutes if I left them alone,” I said loftily.
“Oh, well, as long as you have a serious reason,” Yancey said.
Monica got paired with the repressed Hanna, whose husband had missed his flight home from Denver. She had Hannah laughing more hysterically than Peter had that earlier get-together, and way more often. I smiled that they both were happy. Especially Hannah. I twas totally cool to hear her break down her own walls. I still didn’t flirt with either of them. I saved that for Wanda. And Ursula and Janet, just for the Hell of it. Even Ursula was kind of into it this time. Had they incorporated my horseplay into their own enjoyment?
My ego needed no more inflation…
*
Saturday morning, I got a call from Becca. “I’m bringing the crew over Sunday this week, Daddy-O.”
“An actual heads-up? To what do I owe this honor?”
“Not too many weekends left this summer. I don’t want to screw any up. Sorry, I should always have been doing this.”
“Eh. Would have killed the spontaneity back in the beginning,” I shrugged uselessly, given this was a phone call. “But now that things are fairly institutionalized, I hope you keep letting me know in advance. And why Sunday, not Saturday? Does it really matter?”
“Stephanie is busy Saturday.”
“Becca…”
“Oh relax, Dad, and roll with it. This is one floor show I am totally enjoying.”
I hung up the phone and beat my forehead on my kitchen counter.
*
Damn me if I didn’t buy brats that afternoon, to go along with my already stocked hamburgers and hot dogs. I wanted to ensure these last few pool hangs of the summer were good ones.
And Stephanie had just happened to have been very happy with them back in June when I’d bought them the last time…
Becca and the hellions arrived first, as per usual, with another girl and three boys, one of which I knew currently had Carol’s interest big time. Let her dad, back in Asheville, worry about this boy. Not my circus, not my monkey. I mean, I had an interest in the monkey, but…
Speaking of monkeys, the next ring of the door brought John back to my house. That was… a surprise. Most engineers who came for an audience with me never showed at my house again. Ah yes, he was here because of My monkey… “Come in, John! Did you get in touch with Jane Scanlon?”
“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir,” John said happily. “She’s asked me to come in and meet Mr., um, Quincy? But he was on vacation this week, so I have an appointment for next Wednesday. Thank you so much for the introduction.”
Good. Jane had liked this kid too. And Quince had gotten the Take Your Goddamned Vacation memo as well.
“Well, come on in. Grab a beer if you like,” I instructed. I was just heading back to my seat and some work in the sun when Monica came around the side of the house, waved at me from across the yard, and beelined for my daughter’s core group.
She had, in fact, bought a new bikini. It was hardly that revealing, but it was… attention grabbing. The colors and the cut set off her hair, her skin… and her body beautifully.
Then I realized, as she sat down with Carol, Mary, and Anne, that all three of them had new bikinis as well.
Yep, there was going to be a floor show.
I got to work as quickly as I could. I did not anticipate a productive afternoon.
Sure enough, Stephanie arrived and confirmed that there would be damn all work done that day. She also had gone shopping. She had on a new, bright green suit that practically screamed, ‘Yeah, bikinis are all that, but try looking this hot in a fucking one-piece, ye hapless mortals.’ The backside was halfway to a thong, the crotch was practically demure, but above that it was nothing but two long straps that went up over her breasts and up to wrap around the back of her neck. A spaghetti strap connected them, front and back, just below her breasts, keeping the straps where they needed to be and effectively producing some small, largely unnecessary in Stephanie’s case, support. The effect was cleavage down to below her navel and just a hint of some enchanting sideboob. All with the bottom half of her ass hanging out.
She bided her time and didn’t immediately come over to torture me… which was kind of torture too.
What do you know, I actually had time to figure out some of the power loss problem.
Shocked to find that I had managed to accomplish something, I looked up for Becca, to see if I needed to glower at John. I liked the kid, but he had some stones sniffing around my daughter if he wanted to work for me.
There was no John to glower at. Becca was happily chatting with Stephanie and another girl. I started scanning. The hellions were playing corn hole with some guys.
When I spied John… he was in the pool leaning back against the far edge, facing my way… with Monica beside him. She was talking intently to him. Holy shit, she just bushed her breast with her fingers! That… arrested his attention.
You go girl. But… um, what about Becca?
“Heya, Howie!”
Stephanie had swooped in at last. I had really wanted a good look at her new suit.
“Hello, Stephanie,” I said mildly, with a simple smile. “That is a new swimsuit, I see.”
“Yep! Got it off an Instagram ad. I’m a marketing victim,” she chirped. I was a marketing victor… “Do you like it?” She went on, accompanying her question with a slow pirouette, allowing me to appreciate every marvelous angle up close.
I pursed my lips, paused, and said, “I think it suits you quite well, Stephanie.” She actually smirked at that, and plopped down beside me.
“I’m thirsty, Howie. This heat has gotten out of control,” she said. “What flavor are you going to offer me today?”
I pretended to consider. “Lemon?” I asked, already leaning over toward the fridge, but still looking at her as my face got closer to her.
She pouted prettily. She did everything prettily, of course, but she could really pout. I knew that she hated the lemon.
“How about Mango?” I asked, already hauling one out.
“Oooh, goody!”
I rolled my eyes as I cracked the can open for her. She let her fingers trail over mine as she took the can from my offering hand. Touching me was a new thing… I may have trembled just a tad.
She took a long sip, then wiped her lips delicately with those long fingertips. “Thanks, Howie,” she said quietly, and bounced away. The receding view was exceptional in that suit.
Less than a minute later, here came Monica. “Hey Clark!”
“So you are first to provoke Stephanie today? Do you four set up some kind of rotation each week?” I asked with a smile. “Just so you know, that is one helluva bikini you bought there.”
“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “But who says I’m over here to provoke Stephanie? I’m over here to provoke John.”
My eyes widened a bit at that. “Um… John? Really?”
Monica folded herself into the chair beside me easily. “Really. He is a sweet kid. Has a sense of humor. He’s a bit of a dish, in a nerdy way. But he’s almost too respectful for my own good. So I am over here.” She placed one hand on my thigh as she bent to reach into my beer fridge, producing a Michelob Ultra from within.
She leaned toward me with a broad smile. “To provoke him a little, I am over here to flirt with you,” she said, sliding her hand softly free of my knee. “You may enjoy the experience,” she added, hunching forward to make sure I had a good view of her cleavage.
I grinned, indeed enjoying the experience. “Um, just so I make sure I do my due diligence… Becca…?”
Monica nodded. “I checked on that. Explicitly. They had a nice time talking last week, but no real sparks. Her being your daughter might have had something to do with them fizzling, once he figured that out.” She smiled almost excitedly. “But Becca told me that she caught him looking at me a couple of times even before he learned she was your daughter!”
“Please don’t damage him. You could either kill an inexperienced man… or break a kid’s heart.”
“I’ll be careful on the latter,” Monica said seriously. “As for the former, if we get there, he’s going to have to watch out for himself!”
“You are having fun with this.”
“I’m having fun with a lot of things for the first time in a while, Clark. But yes, this especially. Now I am going to go, because you can bet your ass I’ve been making sure Stephanie has seen us talking like this, too!”
I winked broadly at her.
Stephanie’s return visit minutes later was more than pleasant. Touching me, innocently of course, was now a part of her visits.
Unexpectedly, Becca plopped down to talk to me for a while, bringing the subterranean festivities to a halt for a bit. She had daddy-daughter stuff to work out regarding the upcoming school year–logistics, class selection and the like. I happily spent almost twenty minutes swerving back and forth between proud and annoyed as hell with her. My daughter is fairly awesome, thank you. Which is why she is so fucking annoying when she doesn’t listen to me… But all respites must come to an end. That’s why they are respites.
Becca of course did not trigger the Stephanie Effect, but shortly Anne, who had joined Monica and John for a bit, rose from the pool and dripped her elegant way over toward me. I noticed that Monica also got out and headed into my house.
My eyes narrowed. What was my friend up to? I looked at John, who was chilling, by himself now, looking casual. He wasn’t going to go into my house too, was he?
It became very difficult to keep track of him though, once Anne plopped down next to me for a visit. Her new bikini was… the most environmentally responsible of the bunch? As in, there really were precious few polyesters slaughters for their hides to make that ‘garment’.
“Are you enjoying all our new suits, Clark?” Anne asked, tugging fairly obviously at what little there was to her top.
“I am, Anne,” I said simply. “I can only imagine what it would be like to take that one off of you,” I added softly.
That got her. Her eyes widened, and she flushed. She looked at me hard. I was not following the script. “I could take you inside right now,” she said. “But…”
“But Becca would kill you,” I snorted.
“Nah, I think she’d be chill about it,” Anne said dismissively.
What?
“But you’d feel all guilty afterward,” she said grumpily. “And Carol and Mary probably would kill me in a jealous rage.” She looked around the back yard. “And Stephanie would definitely get curious about where we went. She might walk in on us…”
Good lord. That would be…
“Now that might be interesting,” Anne said evilly, watching my eyes. “Maybe she’d want to join in?”
Oh fuck.
“Ha! Gotcha,” Anne cackled softly, so no-one but she and I could hear. “I got that lovely cock to twitch, there under your trunks. I saw it!” She seemed so damned satisfied with herself…
“I am going to make love to you again someday, Clark,” she said casually in a low voice as she idly scanned the backyard. Her gaze was casual, but the way she was leaning toward me was hardly that. Her pose was not so much provocative as designed to provoke. “I know this isn’t the right time, but someday, maybe even years from now, we are going to get together again, right?”
I gulped. I did not think I was expected to answer that. From the beginning, Anne had always been the dangerous one.
She looked back at me with a suddenly cherubic smile. “Unless you marry Stephanie or something before I get the chance!”
Jesus.
I looked around. John was still in the pool. And Monica came back out of the house. Seems my fevered imagination had made a simple bathroom break into a whole thing…
“We all went and bought these suits together, you know. We went to the mall on Tuesday,” said a suddenly childish again Anne.
“All four of you?”
“All five. Monica came too.”
“I understood that. Five?”
“Your daughter, Becca?”
“Oh! I knew something was bothering me,” I said. I looked over at Becca. Yep. That was what was bothering me… Gonna need to make sure my Shovel, Shotgun, Alibi shirt was ready for wear.
“Monica hated every suit we tried to get her to try. It wasn’t until she started asking Becca about that John dude, the way a girl does when she’d like to poach a guy, that we realized what she wanted in the way of a suit. We’d been going more and more modest in our suggestions… she wanted that.”
“How about that,” I said. I watched Monica saunter back from inside, and Anne turned to look too.
My friend did not go back to John. Instead, she stopped to chat, and laugh, with another boy, one who I was pretty sure had gone out with Anne at least once or twice.
“Is she trying to piss off me, or John?” Anne wondered, once again far too goddamned wise for her age.
“I’m not sure,” I mused. “If that conversation is aimed at John, she is not trying to piss him off, exactly…”
“I’d have thought she might be trying to goad you, but you two are so darned chill, no matter how hard we pushed that button,” Anne said casually, as if hoping for me to answer distractedly.
Fat Chance. I’m an experienced dad, and an experienced manager.
“Grown ups can be just friends,” I said mildly.
“Huh. Who’d have thunk it,” Anne said, not quite ready to take her eyes off of the whole Monica with Anne’s ex thing going on. “Let my know when you grow up.”
“Why, I oughta…” I growled.
Anne laughed and popped to her feet with a giggle–all the unwonted maturity vanishing.
“Go mark your territory back,” I said, indicating the boy Monica had just parted ways with. And I smacked Anne on the… back of her thigh as she left me. I did not spank her ass. Really. I did not. It was close, but I absolutely did not.
All right. I missed.
Monica headed back to the pool and John was already moving toward her before she even set foot in the water.
It’s not like I blamed him.
So the girls had indeed been trying to hook me up with Monica for a while. Becca was probably not only in on it, but the ringleader. I was glad that there were still complexities to adult relationships they didn’t understand yet. And details that they hadn’t heard.
“Hiya Howie!”
“Hello, Stephanie,” I sighed. I really was having fun watching Monica’s antics, but it wasn’t like she was going to hold my attention at the moment, not with Stephanie here to… do whatever she was about to do.
“Does this taste right to you?” she demanded, thrusting the can of White Claw toward me.
I curled up an eyebrow and took a sip. Handing it back to her, I said slowly. “Hmmmm. Tastes like cheap potato distillate, chemical seltzer, and mango flavoring courtesy of International Flavors and Fragrances. Seems perfect.”
Stephanie shrugged, and took a long, deep slug. Her lips cradled the edge of the can gently, and her throat flexed as she drank. Seltzer dribbled from the corner of her mouth and dripped down onto her chest. “Oops!” she said, as the liquid struck her bare cleavage. She wiped it away… theatrically.
She shrugged. “I guess it does taste fine. It’s just not the Black Cherry.”
“I’ll try to make sure to get more of that,” I said drily.
“Thanks, Howie. You’re the bomb,” she said, patting my cheek softly as she rose. A pat that ended with a long stroke down the side of my throat. My eyes were riveted to her half-bare backside as she sauntered away. When she turned suddenly back and caught me staring, I just smiled and kept staring wordlessly. She smiled too.
This was fun.
And then it was Mary’s turn. Carol seemed uninterested in me that afternoon. I surmised she felt no need to make her young man jealous.
Mary bounced down onto the chaise next to me, which made a few other things bounce in her new bikini. It was white and vaguely sixties-esque. The bottom was cut low, but sort of had to be, since the broad waistband was so low itself. The top was a halter, with a sweeping, circular, almost keyhole neckline. Honestly, it looked pretty much like a PowerGirl cosplay bikini. I hadn’t read a comic book in a decade, but PowerGirl is… forever.
Maybe I should find a comic book store… Did PowerGirl still have her own book?
“Before you ask,” I said, “your new bikini is killer.”
“Thank you, Mister Howard,” she cooed. “I’m glad you like it. You are, after all, a core part of the audience I bought it for.”
“A part of it?” I said, pretending hurt to mask a tiny bit of real indignation.
“Well, Stephanie needs her motivation.” I barked a laugh at that. “And there are guys I can actually have that I want to show it to.”
I barked another short laugh at that. “And has Yancey seen it?”
“Yes,” Mary said, momentarily deflated. “He wasn’t supposed to, but I was showing it to Mom, and I didn’t know he was home yet.”
“On you?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Poor bastard.”
“Like you aren’t flipping out about what Becca is wearing,” Mary scoffed, pushing me lightly with her hand. Give the girl credit. She stayed on task.
I looked over at my daughter and considered. Then I picked up my phone, zoomed in and took a single picture of my daughter.
“Mister Howard!” Mary exclaimed.
I lifted an eyebrow at her, and texted the photo to my ex-wife. “I’ll let Rebecca handle Becca’s wardrobe,” I said simply. Honestly, the suit was no more or less than what any of the others were wearing, I just wanted Rebecca to have to see what I was putting up with… She needed to make herself useful. “Meanwhile, I will just sit here and appreciate you in your suit, proving the point I’m sure Yancey immediately made.”
“Nah, he’s pretty chill about you lately,” Mary waved it off. “He’s sort of decided that whatever you are, you are kind of safe in the final analysis. He’s much more worried about college boys and ‘their general lack of restraint’.”
I didn’t know whether to be pleased or insulted. I decided to choose insulted.
“Dad mostly just ranted on about this suit’s ‘Boob Window’,” Mary said, rising and leaning over right in my face, her finger pointing to what she was talking about. You know… in case I couldn’t tell. “And talking about some superhero called PowerGirl. Is she Iron Man’s girlfriend or something?”
“No. She’s not. She’d crumple up Iron Man in his suit like an empty tin can,” I said. “But she’s in the DC world, not Marvel.”
“The lame movies?” Mary said, disappointed that her super heroine look was not one of the ‘cool kids’. Yancey and I were going to have to have a talk about how he raised this girl…
“She’s not lame,” I said, suddenly passionately invested in PowerGirl again like I was back in my college days. Then I relaxed. “But regardless, that suit looks amazing on you. Go endanger yourself with uncontrollable college boys and let me do some work.”
She bounced away. The back of the suit was almost disappointingly modest, or as disappointing as it could be while cradling Mary’s ass.
If you missed my point, I really liked that suit. I was a little disturbed that Yancey didn’t mind her wearing it in front of me, though. Had he foolishly decided to trust my good behavior with his little girl? I sure as fuck did not trust my behavior around Mary. Or, yeesh, had he just decided that whatever else, I just would never hurt her?
Fuck. That just made staring at that sweet cleavage all the more guilt-inducing.
I shrugged. I definitely had learned to live with guilt, so I stared some more at Mary in that PowerGirl bikini. I loved her red hair, but I wondered if she’d consider putting on a short blonde wig…?
My distant view of Mary was suddenly blocked by a much more closeup view of Stephanie, who had returned, right on Pavlovian schedule. She had to realize what was happening, right?
She was standing over me casually, holding a plastic cup full of the pretzels I had put out for nibblements, eating one. Damn, the girl could even make eating snack food look sexy, the way her fingers trailed into her mouth as she lifted each pretzel. I was momentarily mesmerized.
Then I shook my head to clear it. “Don’t fill up on pretzels before I fire up the grille,” I said in mild reproof, like every parent ever.
“Oh, I’ll save room for a burger, Howie,” Stephanie replied easily, popping another pretzel very slowly between her wide lips.
“Well, I will have plenty, along with the hotdogs… oh, and I picked up some brats this week, too.”
“Oooh,” she perked up. “Same brand you had earlier this summer? Those were the bomb.”
“Well, lucky for you that I happened to see them in the store this week, I guess.” I considered how to make sure that Stephanie sat with me to eat her bratwurst…
John walked by us on his way to the bathroom and waved to us both. “Hey Mr. Howard. Hey Stephanie,” he said friendlily as he passed. I watched him go, but Stephanie ignored him.
“You and John not getting along?” I asked mildly. This girl was hot, and I could tell she had depths I had not initially appreciated, but she still came off a callous at times.
“John?” she asked distractedly. She looked over her shoulder as he disappeared inside the house. “No, he’s a sweetie. I mean, I don’t know him that well, but he’s nice. Why?”
I let it drop.
Stephanie slid to the seat beside me and apparently decided to stay for a bit. I found us having a fairly normal conversation, which was yet another new thing. While it was not Stephanie Touching Me Somewhere exciting, I still found I liked this new thing.
About a minute into the conversation, though, I suddenly had trouble tracking it. Monica had slid to her feet and was wandering into the house. My house. From which John had not returned. She did not look my way.
Really?
Did they want some privacy? Did they want a lot of privacy? Was Monica going to do something like suck that boy’s dick in my house?
It truly sucked that she chose that moment to put such an idea in my head, because I was otherwise actually enjoying talking to Stephanie. Then to top off the difficulties, my watch thumped. It was time to fire up the grille and get started on some real food for the assemblage.
Usually, I would draft someone among Becca and the hellions, to go in and do some prep work in the kitchen while I revved things up out back, but that seemed like a bad idea today. What if John and Monica were making noise? I would not want them, um, busted.
I would just do my own prep today. The things you do for friends…
“I’m going to get moving, Stephanie,” I said, wrapping up our surprisingly uncharged chat. “I need to ask Becca about who eats what this week and then do some prep work inside.”
“Sure! I’ll help,” she said cheerily.
Swell. Of all the people to have come inside right then…
Then she looked around the yard at all the kids for an instant. “Let’s see, there are only three vegetarians here today, but George Kalkoffen also has eaten the eggplant the last few weeks, so maybe count on four herbivores,” she said.
“You pay that much attention to how what everybody eats?” I asked, a little incredulously.
She just shrugged and followed me inside.
We made short work of the prep. Stephanie was considerate enough not to distract me while I was cutting things with the knife, but then she more than made up for all her good behavior when I asked her to grab the hamburger patties from the freezer. I have a chest freezer in the laundry room next to the kitchen. She went in and I had a direct line of sight as she leaned down excessively far into the chest, leaving me with a painfully delightful view of her barely half-covered backside pulled taut as she leaned in. And then, when she straightened up at last with the frozen burgers (they had been right on top), she had a frosty look. Her nipples had gotten quite visibly hard through the thin fabric of her suit.
So Stephanie had tiny but incredibly pointy nipples… Good to know.
And right when Stephanie was rooting around in the freezer, I had heard a noise. It was quiet and isolated, but I recognized it. I recognized it because I’d made Monica make that same noise a few days previously, multiple times.
Damn, girl.
I had to lean against the kitchen table and send Stephanie out back ahead of me while I ‘grabbed a few things,’ or I’d have walked out in front of everybody pitching a helluva tent. Things calmed down and I was about to finally go out, but then I heard That Noise again! At last, I decided to just wear the joke apron that Becca had gotten me for Christmas that read ‘Dad Knows Best! (but no one listens…)’. It took any tenting worries off the board.
I owned another apron that read, ‘Guns don’t kill people. Dads with pretty daughters kill people.’ But if Becca had seen me wearing that in front of boys her age, I’d be the one in the body bag
I went out and got to cooking. Stephanie helped me get going, then she flitted off for some other conversation.
Monica came out of the house a little later, followed some minutes after that by John. John looked wobbly. Monica looked cool as a cucumber as she dove into the pool.
When I saw her appear, my eyes scanned over to my daughter and The Trinity, expecting some scandalized looks toward Monica and then John. But they were just looking back and forth between me and Stephanie. How clueless could they be?
Oh.
Stephanie and I had also gone into the house together, and been in there a while. I had unwittingly given Monica a smoke screen. When my friend pulled herself out of the pool after her (coincidentally cleansing) dip, she did so rather spectacularly. But I noted that while I was enjoying it, she was aiming most of her projection outward, toward the rest of the people, the rest of the young men, in and around the pool.
She sauntered over to my daughter’s clique and they all started talking conspiratorially. From the looks on their faces, it was about me. I could so easily imagine the conversation, I practically heard them…
‘Stephanie and Mister H were in the house alone for quite a while there, did you notice?’
‘They were in there together? Wow. I did not notice. That’s a major escalation, maybe?’
I started handing out the first round of hot dogs and burgers. Uncharacteristically, Anne and Carol came over for the initial round. They usually let the ‘lesser beings’ help themselves first. But they wanted to probe.
“So we have been replaced as sous chef by the new model, Mister H?” Carol asked archly as they grabbed burgers.
“I think we’ve been cast off as old news,” Anne added to Carol.
“She was hanging around, keeping me from working,” I said heavily, as if annoyed with Stephanie. “So I put her to work so she’ll learn not to do that again.”
My excuse was greeted by rolling eyes and skeptical stares.
“Seriously, you two,” I said, relaxing a little. “Nothing happened. Who is going to go into the house to get jiggy with it in the middle of one of these things?” I knew who had, but I wanted to see if they actually had noticed.
Instead, the two of them looked uncomfortably at each other with eyes that wanted to shield me from knowledge. Knowledge from the past.
“Who has been fucking in my house?” I growled.
“Language!” they both giggled.
“There have been kids horsing around in my house?” I corrected myself, partly because I needed to, and partly because I was unwilling to let this question go.
“Neither of us,” Anne said firmly. Then she looked at Carol for confirmation. “Right?”
“Definitely not me either,” said Carol swiftly. “And before you ask, not Mary or Becca either,” she added hastily.
That these two knew about at least…
“Great,” I grumbled. “Now I have to watch both the beer fridge and the back door of my house.”
“Relax, Clark,” Anne said firmly. Now I was being counseled by a twenty year-old. “It’s not like anyone has gone and gotten laid in there or anything.” Oh yeah? “Just some heavy breathing in the downstairs bathroom or yo…”
“Or my what?”
“Your office?” Carol said sheepishly.
I started envisioning the cleaning job I had ahead of myself after work the next day.
“Beat it, before you tell me anything else hideous,” I growled.
The next round brought Monica and John over, not quite ‘together’, but more ‘at the same time’. I was completely bland as I served up two hotdogs for Monica and a burger for John.
“Hey Monica,” I said as I tonged her dogs into buns, “Braves v Nationals Tuesday at 7:05. Wanna meet at BW3?”
“Braves lost today, did you see? That makes them two games back. That’s a big game,” Monica observed. “You got it. I owe you a couple of beers, anyway.”
“Cheers,” I said.
The two turned to go eat, and I called out, “Oh, hey! Monica? Hang on a second.”
She smoothly turned to John and said simply, “Save me a seat over there, would you?”
John looked like he would gladly construct her a new seat, a new house, and a private yacht if she so asked, but went off to procure two of my chairs in lieu thereof.
“Sup?” Monica asked me.
“Which sheets do I need to change?” I asked, with a smile in my voice but none on my face for anyone else to see.
“Guest bedroom,” Monica said only a hair sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“I distinctly remember thinking, ‘Go girl,’ earlier this afternoon,” I said, actually smiling outwardly now.
“Okay, I owe you several beers,” she said. We winked at each other and she started to piff off after John. She paused. “Don’t worry, I’ll move on before his heart gets too brittle.”
Honestly, I was pretty impressed a kid John’s age was still able to walk upright. I had memories of Monica that made me tired just reviewing them…
I remained happy that she was having a good time, but I did worry a little. I had waited six years after my divorce before I started fucking every college kid in sight. And, I thought chauvinistically, I was a guy.
But maybe I should have taken a page from her book and gone nuts much earlier.
Stephanie was among the last kids to come over, looking to be fed. “You aren’t out of the brats, are you Howie?” she asked.
“I have defended the last two with my life, M’lady,” I said, indicating the back of the grill where the tube steaks were being kept warm. The brats had been popular.
“Thank you! But I only need one,” Stephanie said, subtly gesturing to her slender form.
“Of course,” I said. “But I had to save one to eat with you.”
She indeed ate her brat with me. I found myself feeling sorry for the vast majority of human beings who would never get the chance to watch Stephanie Wilkes devour a bratwurst, especially once she caught me quite openly watching her do so.
*
“What kind of shit base-running was that?” Monica demanded. It was the bottom of the third and already we were about finished with this fucking game.
“The kind that happens when they change to rules to encourage taking the extra base, and everyone has been spending years learning to grow roots on their cleats,” I bitched in harmony.
We drank our beers petulantly as a first and second, one out situation changed almost instantly to a commercial break between innings.
The bartender was at the other end of the bar.
“And for the record, those sheets were barely foul,” I said, bringing up the elephant in the room. “You better have enjoyed it.”
Monica refused to look squarely at me, though I caught her pupils turning my way in the corners of her eyes. “As a matter of fact, I did.”
“Twice,” I said with a smirk.
Now she did look at me. “You heard?”
“I was in the kitchen with Stephanie, prepping the cookout while you two were defiling my guest room.”
“Oh shit! She heard?”
“I don’t think so,” I said, grabbing a chicken wing with sauce number two of the evening. “She was too busy sticking her whole upper body in my freezer to wake up her pokies to hear anything.”
“Nice?”
“Stellar.”
“That girl had it bad for you, Clark,” she observed.
I sighed. “She is enthralled with teasing me. I let my hopes get up for more for a while there, but I just don’t see it happening.”
“Horndog.”
“You fucked a college undergraduate in my tastefully appointed guest bedroom two days ago. You don’t get to throw around that moniker,” I said a little more nastily than was necessary, to be honest. “Going to do it again?”
“No. Not that it wouldn’t be fun,” Monica said. “I have a date with someone else Thursday.”
“A grown-up this time?” I asked hopefully.
Monica just looked at me with a grin.
“It’s really not the best idea,” I said warningly, as I took another deep slug of beer.
“First off, you are not one to talk, Co-ed Whisperer,” Monica said with a significant amount of grounds for complaint. “Second, I just escaped a ten year marriage to the world’s most boring sex maniac. I am going to sow some oats.”
“What? The worlds most boring sex maniac?”
“Look, I was brutal to Stan when we were punishing him. After long and careful consideration, I almost but not quite regret how nasty I was. In fairness, he was always very attentive. And he was always extremely good at what little he did. He just did the same thing over and over, and would hear no suggestion for anything else.”
“Very attentive and extremely good are characteristics seldom found in divorce complaints,” I said, feeling rotten. I had in no way been the former, but had barely been the latter toward the end of my marriage.
“They are when the bastard made me feel like disgusting shit for every fantasy I had, whether I told him about them or not, which I almost never did.”
“Ouch. What a tool,” I mused.
“Exactly,” Monica replied. “Oh for crying out loud, ump! That’s a strike!”
*
Wanda and I were standing in the back yard of another neighbor’s home, having a glass and some conversation. Yancey was arguing about politics with Peter, and I had escaped. The second time playing Cards Against Humanity had produced further mixed reviews. I was among the fans. Hannah, her husband, and another couple had fled between rounds.
“Our girl had a date last night,” Wanda noted idly.
“Did she now? Good,” I said, not mentioning that I had known it was going to happen.
“I sort of wondered if you and she might…” my friend probed.
“Not likely,” I snorted. At least Monica’s and my information security remained intact. “I am mentoring her through this period of awfulness that is a recent divorce. You would not understand,” I added loftily.
“You’re a saint among men,” Monica said. “I’m just saying, I’m pretty sure she thinks you are hot.”
“And I am fully aware that she is smoking,” I snorted. Honesty can conceal so, so very much. “But I know what a mess she is, and I’m not going there.” I fully knew, in principal and in specifics, what a mess she was.
“She wouldn’t give me the slightest detail about the guy, either,” Monica went on curiously. “I’m betting on a co-worker.”
“I am pretty sure it is one of Becca and Mary’s classmates,” I said into my beer.
“Fuck off!” said Wanda in shock.
“Oh yeah.”
“You are a bad influence.”
“Don’t I know it,” I sighed.
*
Again, Becca brought her gang on Sunday. Again, things went according to script. Stephanie teased me, the girls goaded her, she responded. Monica did not, to my knowledge bone any more college boys in my house. It did not mean she didn’t introduce herself to a few more. I wondered if any would make the cut. At least I didn’t have to change any more sheets.
It was a great afternoon. My daughter had a great time. I got a small amount of work done, and needed the apron that I had ready more than once. But there was nothing new or exceptional about anything.
As usual, I got minimal help with cleanup at the end of the afternoon. Fortunately, the kids were pretty good about keeping things clean as they went, so I had a fairly easy time policing things up after the last kids left about seven o’clock.
I swept soda cans up, tossed a few stray paper plates, and emptied the coolers. I only had to toss three uneaten burgers and a few more hot dogs than that. They had been hungry on the whole.
I went over by the far side of the pool to pick up a bag of trash that someone else had collected before leaving. Really? You collect a bunch of trash, then don’t put it in the cans?
Kids.
I froze.
There, sitting on the ground behind the stack of pool noodles was a big, three-foot diameter hat. The gorgeous fucking work of art that Stephanie had been rocking most of the afternoon. It was stark white, with a three inch black rim around the outside of the brim. She had looked ethereal in it, and had received compliments non-stop from everyone except me. I’d said it looked all right.
And there it was, lying there lonely in the grass.
The chances that she had unintentionally forgotten this new, expensive, extremely showy and well-received hat were slim and none, and Slim got shot last week…
As if on cue, I heard the doorbell ring. Slim was buried on Boot Hill.
I’ll admit it. My dick twitched at the mere sound of my doorbell.
Maybe? This was one of the oldest tricks in the book.
I opened the door.
There was Stephanie, standing there, new swimsuit nowhere to be seen, instead sporting a sky blue sundress with spaghetti straps and an elastic pleated bodice that hugged her wonderful bust gently.
She smiled in less than her usual brash fashion and said quietly, “Hi, Mister Howard. Sorry to be back so soon, but… Did someone find my hat? It was really big, and…”
“I know the hat, Stephanie,” I interrupted. “For the record, it really is gorgeous. I’m sure no one took it, so it is probably still here. Want to come in and help me look for it?” I stepped back invitingly. She had intentionally left the hat so she’d have this excuse to come back for it. Of course she wanted to come in and look for it.
“Thanks!” she said, perking up immediately, like someone whose plan is coming together. She swept in the door past me, letting the swirling folds of her dress brush against my legs as she entered. I was still wearing just my trunks, since I had not finished cleaning. I had ditched the apron, unfortunately. At least the trunks were baggy.
“Nobody stayed to help you clean up?” she asked casually. “I should have.”
“Not a problem. I usually send any volunteers home,” I replied walking just behind her through the house. “You guys are always very neat to begin with, and you mostly clean up after yourselves as you go.”
We stepped back out into the yard, and Stephanie looked around, as if she hadn’t spent hours each week back here. “Your back yard is the bomb, Howie,” she smiled. I was back to Howie.
“It is not so big. It shouldn’t be hard to find your hat. If I remember, astronauts should be able to pick it out from space.”
She favored me with a dazzling smile for such a lame joke.
I intentionally started looking in the wrong place, and rather than strike out on her own, Stephanie stayed close with me, looking around. I was glad to extend the process, since I was spending much more time examining Stephanie’s form than searching for a hat which I already knew the location of. The dress covered about a billion times more of her body than her bathing suit had earlier. In that suit, she was just a total sex bomb. Now, in this light, simple dress you could see that not only was she sexy, she was genuinely beautiful as well.
I was very, very nervous. I figured I knew where this was going, but wasn’t sure. And I very much wanted it to go There. But I was not sure. Nor was I sure, if it did go, how far There would be. How far should There be…?
I worked my way around the far side of the pool. The pump enclosure was low, and heavily landscaped around. I paused to ‘check the area’. Stephanie looked intently around as well, now placing her hand on my bare shoulder to brace herself to peer into the hedge. Not seeing what was obviously not there, she straightened, letting her hand slide off my shoulder by way of caressing most of the way down my back.
Yeah, good thing for the baggy trunks.
“Oh my goodness! There it is!” Stephanie exclaimed, and dashed over to where the hat lay between two of the cheaper sun loungers I had. They used to be Rebecca’s and my primary furniture, but shortly before our divorce, we had bought new stuff, and shifted these old chairs out to the far side. Purchases like that had been moving the deck chairs around on the Titanic of our marriage…
She moved around beyond the chairs and knelt to extract the hat. I’m sure the view of her torso bending forward to grab the hat was totally incidental. She favored me with a brilliant smile.
“Wow, I am so glad. Dad bought me this on a business trip to Miami. I’d have had to come up with a whopper of an excuse to have lost it.”
“Yes,” I agreed, smiling as she bounced back to me and gave my arms a squeeze. “Telling your dad that you left it behind at some old dude’s house might not be the best story.”
“You are lots of things, Howie, but old ain’t among them,” she said reassuringly. She put it on her head and damn, it looked amazing with the light dress.
“Thanks,” I snorted. “Can I offer you another White Claw while you are here? I was just going to have another beer.”
“I need to say no,” Stephanie said, “but I’m going to say yes… to celebrate!”
“Of course,” I smiled. “I think I have more flavors inside in the kitchen fridge, along with better quality beer for me,” I said, turning toward the house. She flowed into step right beside me. I could almost feel her hip swaying against mine as we walked. Almost. Not quite.
It would be easy to let my arm wrap around her waist. It would be just companionable, right?
And I did want to fuck this girl. Right?
Right. I absolutely did.
But whatever level my ethics, to the extent they still existed, had fallen to, I wasn’t going to make a move on her. I wasn’t that guy. She was still 25 years younger than me.
There were fewer White Claws in my inside fridge that I had thought. (That required some investigation…) But there was a Black Cherry. And a decent spring lager for me.
“Awww, my favorite, Howie!” Stephanie giggled. She opened the black cherry herself somehow, and tilted her head back for a long pull. Her sleek throat bent back openly before me. I wanted to lean in and just… bite it.
I smiled and took a sip of my beer.
Stephanie lowered her chin and then wiped her lips with her finger tips. And she smiled at me.
“All’s well that ends well, right?” I said mildly. I wanted to say lots of other things. But I didn’t.
Stephanie looked at me for a long moment. Then she heaved a tired sigh.
“Oh, Howie. You are going to make me do this, aren’t you?”
“What? I’m… I’m not going…” I stuttered, very confused. What did she think I was?
She crossed her arms under her chest, pressing the lovely mounds upward. It was a sight that was quite distracting at a moment when I was trying to decipher her words.
“Of course you wouldn’t make me do anything, Howie,” she snorted. “In addition to being handsome, and sweet, and funny, and so damned considerate to everybody, you are utterly, totally, annoyingly a gentleman! You think I’m hot. Hotter than a lot of people think I am. I see you watching me. You are totally, gratifyingly appreciative, but you somehow manage not to be at all creepy about it!” She looked like she was going to stamp her foot, but stopped herself. “I put myself within your reach over and over again, but you won’t so much as accidentally touch me, much less cop a damned feel.”
She put her hands on her hips and stared at me almost irritably. “I started flirting with you because, well, I flirt with most handsome guys. It’s fun. But you’ve been making it so very fun. The way you look at me, hungry but satisfied with what I’m doing…” She smiled for a second, puckishly. “It’s even been fun goading a bunch of other girls into flirting with you.”
“You were goading them?” I asked with a neutral smile.
“Sure! Don’t tell me that you haven’t noticed the way, every time I come over to chat, one of them feels like she has to come over afterward and give you some attention too?”
“I… I hadn’t thought of it that way, but maybe you are right…” I said noncommittally.
“You’re welcome,” Stephanie said, openly flirtatious again. “You’ve got some fans in your daughter’s best friends.”
I thought of how she knew everybody’s dietary choices, despite barely seeming to know half of the kids who came over. This was a very observant young woman.
Then she softly laid the palm of her hand on the center of my chest. “And you’ve got a fan in me,” she added softly. Her hand trembled as it rested on my chest.
“You have a fan in me, too, Stephanie,” I said, unable to not sound a little enthusiastic. I would not, must not, push this girl.
“Thank you. But what I want, for right now, is a fan in me,” she said, leaning in close to me. “May I kiss you, Howie?”
“Please,” was all I could say, in a throaty, husky voice.
Leaving her hand in the center of my chest, she pressed her body against mine, the soft curves of her breasts mashing against me to either side of her hand. Her other hand snaked up and around the back of my head as I leaned down toward her upturned, radiant face. My hands involuntarily came to rest gently upon her waist, feeling the light fabric of her dress moving over her slender but obviously powerful core as our lips met.
It was a gentle kiss to start, just a brushing of lips, an exploration, a feeling out. But as her body molded itself tighter against mine, I let my lips part, and she instantly found the gap with her tongue hungrily. I may have groaned a little bit at that, which only encouraged her more.
A promising situation had just morphed into a certainty. Was I really going to do this with yet another young woman my daughter’s age? The way I had worded the question in my mind was answer in and of itself.
And this gorgeous armful was different. She was not one of Becca’s close friends. I did not have a long relationship with her of a near-fatherly nature. I felt none of the panic I had with any of the hellions. But I still felt guilty… a little. A co-ed like this should be dating jocks or geniuses at her school, not making it a summer-long project to hook up with broken down old middle managers like me.
I was going to take what was being offered, though. Yes, indeed.
Our tongues were now fully enmeshed, her fingers rippled through my hair, and I felt her hand against my chest slip lower, bit by bit.
I slid my own hands on the tops of her waist down and back around to cup her ass. What a tight, petite, shivering set of cheeks. Better, through the fabric of her dress, I could easily tell that she had omitted any underwear when she ditched her bikini for the dress. Now she was the one murmuring appreciatively.
How far was this going to go? The phrase, ‘…what I want, for right now, is a fan in me,’ seemed to hold a lot of promise. What held even more promise was the way her hand between us slid even further down and hooked its fingers into the front waistband of my trunks. I never actually go into the pool on hangout afternoons, so I don’t usually bother with the drawstring. The elastic is always enough to keep them up when I’m just walking around.
Stephanie tugged the front outward, then worked my trunks down with just the one hand, jumping just the tiniest bit as it brushed against the eager hard-on she was releasing. She pushed the trunks down until they started sliding on their own, and returned her hand to my waist to lightly stroke that freed erection. It was only for a moment, before she stroked my ass lightly in turn, then raised the hand up to clasp the back of my head along with her first.
I squeezed my knees together and let the trunks drop to my ankles. As I stepped out of them, I began to bunch up the fabric of her dress under my hands on her backside. With each flex of my fingers, the back hem of the sundress rose a few inches. With my face still plastered eagerly against Stephanie’s I could not see it, but my mind gave a vivid picture of the fabric slowly retreating upward, showing more and more of those tight, richly tanned thighs until the curve of that butt came into my mental view.
My fingertips, after the latest gather, stroked smooth flesh, and the knuckles of my grasping hands rested on bare ass, meaning my vision had come true. I squeezed the bunched up fabric over into a single hand, so the freed one could stroke, squeeze, and explore that bare, perfect bum. Stephanie flexed her glutes for me and murmured a soft, “Oh, yeah…” around my probing tongue.
In a flash, her hands released my head and slid to her own shoulders. She flipped the narrow straps off her shoulders and worked the elastic bodice down. She leaned back to allowed that to happen freely. It cost me the kiss, but gave me a great view downward as those dreamy tits emerged into view. They were full, firm, and had the most arresting tanlines, with dark swathes along the outer edges of each breast, and creamy pale triangles of skin centered on fantastic nipples.
They were indeed tiny, as I had learned from the freezer incident, and were again hard as pebbles. They, and the small, oblong aureoles that extended but a little around those small nipples, were a most striking rosy pink. In that brief flash she had granted me, my mind had only enough time to register greatness. Now I could catalogue the details. The dress slumped down to her waist, and I realized that only my hands on her ass were keeping it up. I released my grip gently, allowing the garment to cascade off her body, down her legs, to puddle on the floor around her ankles.
We were both naked as the day we were born.
I felt like a homunculus, what with my desperately kept in shape dad-bod, standing there in front of this vision of feminine perfection.
She looked around the room eagerly, and her eyes fell on my kitchen table. The same one I’d fucked Monica on quite recently. Looked like that sturdy table was going to turn out to have been a great investment.
But as she took a single step toward it, I flashed back to the angry fantasies I’d entertained about Stephanie, back in the spring before the eventful cruise. How I had really not liked her at the time. I didn’t want those nasty images crossing my brain when I was actually with this special girl. Instead, I swept her up in my arms. She whooped in surprise. I turned and carried her out of the kitchen and toward my bedroom.
As she spied my large king-sized bed through the open door as we approached, she essayed one last flirt. “Why Howie! Your bedroom? What do you intend to do with me?”
I paused and smiled at her. “I apologize. I should not presume. Should I put you down?” I let my smile become challenging.
“If you don’t carry me in there right now, I’ll hit you,” she growled happily.
“Well, I wouldn’t want that…”
I carefully swept her through the doorway, remembering a time, early after we had bought this house, that I had carried Rebecca through this door on a playful evening… and banged her head on the frame. I made sure that Stephanie’s noggin was unharmed.
I stepped to the side of the bed, then dropped her playfully the foot or so down to the comforter atop the mattress. She whooped again as she bounced on the bed. She popped up instantly, spinning to sit on the side and her hands snaked out to softly grasp my cock. I bent to kiss her again, and I reached out and cupped those breasts. They filled my hands firmly and I massaged softly, reveling at the touch of her fingers as they explored my cock.
Then I bent further, taking first one insanely hard, tiny nipple between my lips, then the other. My tongue flicked over those lovely protuberances as I kept massaging the curves they rested atop.
“Stand back up, Howie, so I can…” Stephanie breathed gruffly.
“No, no, no. No, no. No,” I interrupted her. “Not yet, please.”
Instead, I started kissing my way down her flat, strong stomach, kneeling as I went lower. I lavished my tongue around and deep into her slightly off-center navel. I remembered thinking early on after meeting her that the minor imperfection of its placement slightly to the left of center made the rest of her look just more amazing.
“Oh wow…” Stephanie breathed. She spread her legs slightly in anticipation.
Good girl.
Kneeling back fully on the floor now, between those spread legs, I let my eyes run down from her already flushed face, over those killer tits, and down to a completely shaven pussy, framed by perfect, outstretched legs and already visibly glistening sex. So of course, I dove in swiftly to kiss the inside of one knee.
She trembled as I began, as slowly as I could, to kiss my way up the inside of her leg. Stephanie trembled a lot, I observed. As I worked my lips up her inner thigh, the fingers of my off hand also traced their way up the opposite beautiful side, moving just slightly further ahead. As my face neared the destination, and I began to breathe in her heady aroma, my fingertips reached her slit. I just let the back of my index finger stroke up and down along her opening, an opening that felt like the entrance to a damp furnace.
With my face nestling in the soft crook of her leg and abdomen, I licked the skin there softly. I rolled my caressing finger over and oh so gently tugged at the opposite side of her opening, parting the lips just a hair. I turned my head and rested my tongue gently along that gap. The sound I got from Stephanie was truly gratifying. I worked my tongue up and down, and brought a second finger into play to spread her further apart for my tasting pleasure. I pressed deep into her, feeling her warm surroundings envelop my tongue.
Of course she tasted marvelous. How could it have been otherwise?
I let myself linger with my tongue in her depths, writhing inside her and making her moan. But at last, I drew it loose and slid upward, questing for her clit. It was there, and an explosive hiss from Stephanie expressed her appreciation for my finally getting my mangy ass around to attending to it.
I didn’t lash at it. Instead I merely let my tongue slip slowly around its smallish contours, enjoying how firm it, like her nipples, became with arousal. Meanwhile, I let my two spreading fingers press together and delve inside her themselves, sliding with some difficulty into her tight confines. I stroked them in and out of her softly. I kept the pads of my fingers facing the front of her cavity, and when her body writhed in fresh reaction, I knew I had found exactly the right spot in her exact right spot. I pressed gently, and hummed around her bump.
It didn’t take long.
Stephanie began repeating, “Oh shit,” over and over again, in varying registers, and at varying speed and volume, but generally getting faster and louder as I kept humming. I quickened the pace of my massage inside her and after a moment, flicked her bud with my tongue rapidly. The last, profanity-laden groan from her trailed off slowly as her body tensed one last time and collapsed back onto my bed. The tension left her legs as well. I wanted to drive her over the edge once more, but she was just so erotically relaxed, I simply rose to stare down at her in appreciation of her magnificence.
Her head rolled from side to side, and she cooed softly. “That was… wowie, Howie,” she giggled. He eyes focused a bit more and she added in a less drunk voice, “Seriously. Wow. You know your shit.”
Well. That was a gratifying review.
She reached out and tugged my hand toward her. “Now get up here with me so I can suck that cock, please,” she said with a sexy little grunt as she rolled over onto her side and sat up.
“I don’t feel like I should refuse that request,” I said, letting her pull me onto the bed.
“You better not!”
She pushed me up to lie back against the pillows at the head of the bed. I did not keep the huge pile of them that my ex had always insisted on, but there were enough to prop me up and get a good view down at what Stephanie intended to do. I found I really wanted to watch this.
She circled me on all fours to the more open side of the bed and curled up like a cat by my hip. Her hand caressed my cock softly, not lifting it from where it lay along my abdomen. Then she bent over and, staring intently down at it, she slowly started to lick my dick all over, still not lifting the shaft from its repose.
It was a cute trick, and I liked it… very much. But…
“Good gravy that is hot, Stephanie,” I groaned happily. “But the shaft is a terrible tease. Please, more around the head?”
She responded by grinning at me, saying, “But I like to tease,” and licking the base of my shaft.
I just moaned. She giggled, and proceeded to take direction very well. Very well.
She lifted my cock upward and slid her lips around it. She sucked gently, then began to bob. And then she bobbed faster. And faster. It felt crazy good, but come on.
“Stephanie,” I pled. “Slow down. That feels amazing, but give me a chance to enjoy the amazing shit you are doing to me. Give yourself time to enjoy what you are doing to my mind.”
She slowed accommodatingly, and shot a quick glance at me to see if this was what I meant. It very much was. I rolled my eyes for her and groaned, “Oh wow! Now, this is fantastic.”
I was back to coaching my way through a blowjob. I needed to develop a curriculum.
Except that a set curriculum would have made no sense–each girl had some great instincts, they had just needed the right nudge at different points.
At the moment, I had no notes to give. Everything was tingling. I rolled my head back and slapped the mattress spasmodically. “That’s it, Stephanie! That’s it. I’m… you’re going to make me come. Oh heck yesssssss…”
She popped off my cock quickly, and with a lascivious grin, she chirped, “Well we can’t have that, can we?” It was is if she thought she was sounding reasonable.
“Why not?” I asked desperately.
“I’m not done with you yet, Howie. Not by a long shot,” she said, gently. “I hope you aren’t done with me. We don’t want you rolling over and going sleep.”
I laughed merrily. “I thought young men were full of stamina. Has every guy you’ve been with conked out with the first pop?”
Stephanie looked at me, nonplussed. “Only twice. But, I flirt Howie. I don’t fuck… that much,” she said defensively. I looked at her. This was a girl that could get laid all day, every day.
I pulled her up to me and kissed her as powerfully as I could. “Please know, my current standard is three minimum, before problems start to creep in. With you? I’ll go forever.” I kissed her again.
She kissed me back, seeming a little surprised I was kissing her in the middle of… “So what you are saying,” she grinned, “is, go back to sucking your cock?”
“Um, please?”
“And I suppose you want to come in my mouth too,” she challenged, still stroking my cock gently.
“Again, please?” I wheedled. “But I’m happy any way you like. In your mouth, on your face, over your tits. I’ll even be satisfied with you letting me finish on my own chest.”
She laughed at me, and took me back into her mouth. “Eye geth ool aff do thee,” she said merrily.
Did I just beg a girl to let me come in her mouth? Jesus.
I was certainly going to come somewhere, and soon. I tried mightily to control myself, but it was too much. “Just a moment more,” I groaned, wanting to make sure to give her plenty of time.
She slipped me from her mouth and leaned her chest forward, pressing my tip against the smooth firmness of her breast while still jacking my base. “So you want to paint my breasts, Howie?” Stephanie asked with coo in her voice.
I nodded fervently, feeling my insides tense up.
“Too bad,” she said merrily and instantly took my tip back into her lips. As I slid back inside her mouth, I lost it. My hips bucked and I pressed into her face. “Ungh,” I moaned as I felt myself pumping gloriously into her mouth. She took it with style and grace, but without experience, and her face looked angelic as she tried and failed to swallow all I delivered in my overwrought ecstasy.
I was actually fairly woozy for a moment after I finished, and sank back into my pile of pillows with a sigh. I let my eyes close for a moment and I faked a snore.
She hit me.
I deserved that.
I also grabbed her and pulled her hard against me, partly in self-defense, partly because I was so blissful I wanted to pull her right inside me.
I accidentally tickled her as I pulled her against me, and she squealed in response. So I then tickled her intentionally. She squirmed around in my embrace, trying to escape, but I held her. She did roll away from me, and we calmed down, with me holding her from behind as a big spoon. She snuggled back against me, pressing my still pretty hard cock between those supple, magnificent cheeks.
We snuggled like that, wordlessly for an endless moment or two, before I began to nuzzle the nape of her neck, and let a hand steal round her to grasp a resting breast. She simply murmured in my arms… until I started teasing the nipple of the breast I held. Then she perked up and giggled, wiggling her ass back against my cock.
“Dammit, Howie,” she said grumpily. “You are living up to my fantasies.”
“One, thank you,” I said, not removing my face from the crook of her neck. “And two, why does this irritate you?”
“Because now I’m going to be here a while,” she said, a smile replacing the frown in her voice. She pressed her ass even more firmly back against my cock, which was hard as hell again and finding it a cold and lonely world, even resting along the crack of her ass as it was.
“Lift your leg,” I requested, nibbling her ear.
I expected her to tilt up her knee, giving me enough room to slide my cock down and in between her legs. But no. She just lifted the whole leg straight up in the air, like half a split. It made her ass flex marvelously against me. “How’s that?” she asked, smugly.
“Breathtaking,” I said, releasing her breast and briefly stroking up along that slender gam. But I dropped my hand back down swiftly and grasped my cock. I shifted slightly lower on the bed and guided it against the heat of her delicious pussy, exposed wide by her leg, which remained effortlessly lifted.
She moaned as I let the tip rub against her slit, and so did I.
“Do you need… do you want me to grab a condom?” I asked, letting my tip wiggle against her.
“Please, no,” Stephanie gasped. She rocked her hips against me. “I’m well covered. Just put that in me, please.”
I like to fulfill requests.
I draped my top leg over her still flat one, and pressed my head against her pussy. I felt her lips part easily for me, but delving deep was a challenge, both from our erotic but difficult position, and due to how incredibly tight her depths were.
“Unnnngh,” Stephanie groaned as I sank into her slowly. “Deeper…”
I chuckled, pausing. “You need to be careful with that word, Stephanie. What if you say it to a guy who has already gone as far as he can go?” Then I pushed hard to demonstrate that I could certainly delve deeper, myself. She chuckled and gasped simultaneously.
Slowly, I started to pump. Spooning was an incredibly intimate and comfortable position to fuck this girl, but going still deeper would need another position. I still kept going for a bit, never fast, just a slow, comfortable screw, letting us both revel in the bonding. Slowly, she let her raised leg sink back down, wrapping slightly around the leg I had between hers. I pumped softly on.
“Shall we shift around?” I asked in her ear, giving the lobe a lick. She seemed… not restless, but eager.
“Mmmmhmm…” Stephanie agreed languidly.
I tried rolling back onto my back, pulling her impaled form over to lie on her back atop me. I really couldn’t thrust at all like this, and she realized it. She pushed her arms back behind her to either side of me and pressed her torso upward. She bent her legs for some purchase, and began to effortlessly rock her hips in long strokes. Her tight insides clung fantastically to my cock, neither wanting to let it slide outward, nor return inside. I groaned and flopped my head backward. And she kept up the rocking. It shouldn’t have looked easy, but again–core strength for days on this girl.
I lifted my hands around her and grabbed both breasts, squeezing them gently but hungrily. Stephanie just grunted encouragement as she rocked.
Utterly fantastic as this was, she paused suddenly, then slid completely free. “Wha?” I asked in confusion.
“That feels fucking amazing,” Stephanie said, flipping herself over and straddling me once again, “but I need to see your face, Howie.” She looked down at me, grabbed my cock gently, and pressed it home inside her again.
Now I was looking up at her gorgeous face, wide mouth grinning almost feverishly as she started to fuck me again. Her breasts wobbled as she rose and fell, and I once again started to play with them. Then I just put my hands on her hips instead, guiding her pace. Those tits just looked so incredible as they swayed, dangling beneath her, I wanted to do nothing to hide their fascinating movement.
After a lovely bit, I lifted my hips firmly up off the mattress, arching my back. Then I gripped her hips harder to hold her in place, and started thrusting upward into her, hard. Now, instead of swaying, those boobs bounced with each impact of my cock slamming home.
The sensation of driving into her was amazing, but it was nothing compared to the visual feast of her sweating, undulating body above me, mewling like a breathless, hungry kitten.
It was a great way to fuck, but it was not going to last long. Not because I was about to come, but because I got breathless pretty fast myself. Unlike Stephanie, I am not, nor ever was, a finely tuned college athlete.
Fortunately, she was ready to come, I saw, and that gave me a second wind. “Christ… you look… amazing, Stephanie,” I gasped, pumping upward as swift and strong as I could maintain. I was highly motivated.
“Fuck. Meeeeee,” was all she could squeal in reply. In a moment, she slammed her hips downward, pinning mine to the bed and screamed happily. She just kept moaning as she corkscrewed her hips around my cock, which was being treated to an amazing series of muscular spasms around it.
I held her there as she came, but as soon as she started to weaken, I grabbed her ribs, pulled her down against me, and rolled her over with me now on top. She cooed and relaxed utterly beneath me, then yelped a surprised, happy yelp as I resumed thrusting. I was tired, but this was a lot easier to manage, especially since I was taking my own pleasure now, and not working so feverishly to make her body bounce so amazingly as before.
Her tits still bounced around intoxicatingly beneath me anyway.
Stephanie grabbed my ass lightly and tried to lift her legs to wrap around me, but she seemed just too relaxed to summon the strength, and let them flow back to the bed. “Oh, fuck Howie! You are better than my fantasies,” she sighed.
That was so good for my ego that for the second time, I refrained from cautioning her about her language.
I had not felt too close before myself, but the sensation of her titanic orgasm around me, my new, more relaxed position, her fevered compliment, and the way she was now begging me, “Harder, please! Harder!” all had me suddenly rushing toward fulfillment suddenly.
“Oh, Stephanie,” I sighed deeply. “I’m going to…”
“Do it,” she growled needfully and squeezed my ass.
I slammed into her as fast as I could and essentially screeched as I felt myself pumping spurt after spurt deep inside her. No one burst was that incredible, but I just kept spurting, and each built on the one before until the fourth or fifth and final flow about melted my mind. My cock was so overstimulated, I tried to throw myself to the side, off and out of her, but Stephanie’s grasp on my ass held me within her.
“No!” she cried, pulling me back into her. And she came again.
The feeling of her renewed orgasm sending shockwaves through her flesh surrounding my wildly over-sensitive member just about killed me. It would have been understandable if it had.
My moment of delicious distress passed, and I found I could comfortably remain embedded inside her as my cock at last began to sag a little. Of course, now that I could, I chose to so remain. I propped myself up over her on my elbows and looked down at her with a smile.
She giggled back up at me. “Holy cow, Howie! That was not falling asleep!”
“I am committed,” I replied breathlessly.
Her hands slid softly from my ass and up the length of my back as she stared at me affectionately. Then she shook her head and a trace of sadness entered her expression. “I am going to bank this feeling to remember for a long time,” she said softly, as much to herself as to me.
She thought this was a one-off? That I’d want to move on? That my usual guilt would make me push her away?
Would it?
I didn’t feel the same in this aftermath as I had with any of the Trinity. This was not a daughter-in-buddy. Stephanie was my daughter’s friend, and my daughter’s age, but she hadn’t had the same relationship with me. If I were seen with Stephanie, some people might talk, or disapprove, but it would be no major scandal. Some people would die of jealousy…
I could not let this creature feel for a moment that I thought of her as a transitory, momentary amusement.
“Can I take you to dinner this week some time?” I asked her with a breathless, but not overly eager smile.
Her answering smile quickly faded though. She shifted uncomfortably beneath me, but when she realized that was making my softening cock slide a little free, so she froze, to keep it in place within her.
“I can’t Howie,” she said softly, regretfully.
“Why-ever not?” I asked, curious and reassuring. “Don’t want to be seen in public with an old geezer?” I made my tone light, but the possible truth of that suddenly stabbed at me.
“Howie,” she said, with pain in her voice. “I am a pre-med student. And I’m a varsity cheerleader. I want to go to a premier med school when I graduate. I don’t have time for… anything. Even this summer, which is almost over, I’m taking only one class, and I have still used up almost every minute of free time to come over to your house for Becca’s pool parties.”
She reached up and clasped my cheeks in her soft hands. “If I let myself start spending time with you, Clark, I’ll never make it. You’d suck away my life.” She caressed my cheek again, visibly thinking. “Remember, I said I flirt, I don’t fuck much? Unless I’m just…” she cut herself off. “Well I don’t date ever anymore. I dated a lot my freshman year. I did love me some basketball players,” she mused for a moment. “But it almost cost me my medical career. I especially can’t date. I can’t be with a guy. What’s the point, if I can’t give the guy my time?”
“I’d hardly try to make demands on your time,” I started to say.
“I’d make the demands,” she said, calling me Clark again. “You are so sweet, and so fun, and so sexy, I’d want to just hang out with you constantly.” She grinned naughtily. “And holy shit, I’d keep you between my legs all the goddamned time. I’ve never come that hard in my life, and I did it twice, just now. I cannot let you be a part of my life, Clark.”
“Well, that is the nicest blow-off that I’ve ever heard,” I sighed, crushed, yet somehow relieved. And flattered as fuck.
“I’m not blowing you off,” Stephanie insisted, kissing me softly, then hard. “I’m just… swearing you off.”
So. I was the transitory, momentary amusement. And I couldn’t even be upset about it.
I kissed her gently.
“That said…” she said with a giggle. “There is no way my brain is going to be able to study the rest of this evening.” She bit her lip. “Think you can follow through on your boasts about stamina and do that with me one more time?
I laughed, and rolled off of her to flop exhaustedly on the bed. “With pleasure,” I said happily. “But I am a little… expended at the moment. It may take a minute or three before I can manage the gallant reaction again!”
Stephanie laughed along with me. Then she traced her fingertips down my chest as she snuggled firmly against me. “Take you time. In the meanwhile, I’ll see what I can do about refreshing your interest…”
With that, she twisted down and started licking my spent cock, paying especial attention to the tip.
—————-
Thanks for coming along so far on this odd little ride! I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks in advance for your kind votes and favorites, and please take a moment to comment. As always, that’s how I get rewarded and encouraged.