4 comments/ 88781 views/ 15 favorites Across The Road By: jack_straw I knew the moment Leah Finley and her daughter Samantha moved into the small house across the road from me that my life was going to take a very interesting turn. I'm Ken Yates, and I live in a semi-rural area outside a mid-sized Southern city in a small house located on three acres of land. It's not too far from where I work the second shift as a foreman at a nice-sized manufacturing plant, and that's part of the reason why I was living alone at the time. At the time that Leah and Sam moved in across the road, I had been divorced about three years, largely because my ex-wife got tired of me being gone almost every night. When our daughter turned 14 and was old enough to baby-sit her younger brothers, my wife started going out with friends from work, and that led to her having an affair. I suspected something was wrong right from the get-go, and after the third time of her coming home after 1 o'clock in the morning, I confronted her. Claire's the worst liar in the world, and she confessed. Once I got over my initial anger, we sat down and talked, you know, like adults. It was pretty simple, really. The spark had gone out of our marriage. Claire needed someone who could be with her on a regular basis, and I wasn't able -- or willing -- to change my work schedule to accommodate her needs. It wasn't working, and after she stepped out on me I also had trust issues. So we hammered out a divorce settlement we could both live with and went our separate ways. I adamantly refused to pay alimony, but I was agreeable to letting her have primary custody of the children and paying a generous amount in child support. The flip side of that was that she had to buy out my share of the equity in our home, for which she had to refinance the mortgage. Everything else -- court costs, attorney's fees, savings and checking accounts, etc. -- we split 50-50. Although she got custody of the kids and the house, I got unlimited visitation and we arranged it where they spent every other weekend with me. I tried as much as possible to be a part of their lives, and for that reason, Claire and I have always been cordial toward each other, but she's not my best friend, the way she was when we were dating and earlier in our marriage. That saddens me some, but that's the way life is, and you just have to make the best of it. One thing that helped was that I made damn sure her married boyfriend didn't get off scott-free. I fucked up his marriage the way he'd helped fuck up mine. I even fucked his ex-wife once or twice, after our divorces, but once we got past our need for revenge, we realized that we didn't have anything in common, so we moved on. Once I agreed to let Claire keep the house, I needed a place to live, and found this little place that an elderly couple had had for years. It was small -- about 1,200 square feet -- and fairly old, but they'd kept it in tip-top shape, so I took my share of the equity, put a hefty down payment on it and moved in. It's perfect for me. It's easy to maintain, there's a modest barn where I keep all my tools and stuff, I have room for a nice vegetable garden and there's a large stand of woods at the back of the property that I have permission to camp, hunt or fish on. When the kids were a little younger, I used to take them back there camping, and the boys and I still go out and look for deer. We've seen some, including a nice eight-point buck that comes through periodically, but never during hunting season. The little house directly across the road from mine was the only neighbor within sight, and it had seen two occupants before Leah and Sam moved in. The people who were there when I moved into my house were a young couple who were only there a couple of months. The wife was pregnant and they were staying there until they could buy something a little bigger. After they moved, another young couple moved in and they were trouble. For one thing, they liked to party, and they often had loud gatherings that went on well into the night. Now, I have become a creature of some habit. My shift at work runs from 3 o'clock to 11, I get home at 11:30 and I'm in bed by 12:30. I'm usually up and out of bed by 8 a.m., I take an hour of so to have coffee and a light breakfast, then I take a few hours to do whatever personal business I have to attend to, then start getting ready for work around 2 o'clock. I do not function well without at least seven hours sleep, so after several nights of being kept awake by loud revelry from across the road, I called the sheriff. Of course, that got me on the bad side of the husband, who was a little psycho. And as time went on, I heard him and his wife fighting, to the point where he beat the crap out of her one night. The wife came barging on my porch, begging for help, and I let her in. Psycho soon followed, but he suddenly got real understanding when he saw me in the doorway with my deer rifle in hand. After that, I started keeping a loaded pistol on the bedside table, but fortunately, they split up and moved before I had to use it. After that, the place stood empty for almost two years. I made a deal with the guy who owned the property to occasionally go by and do some light maintenance -- things like keeping the grass mowed, making sure it wasn't vandalized, that sort of thing. It was a little extra cash that I could use for walking-around money. It was a Saturday in the summer and I was off work when I saw a loaded van pull in to the driveway in front of the house. Two women got out and started unloading, soon to be joined by a pickup truck with another load of their stuff. This vehicle was driven by a fellow that I soon learned was Leah's older brother, who'd come from out of state to help them move. I'd already talked to the owner, who said he'd finally sold the place, and he asked me, strictly as a favor, to look after the place and the new owner. Once I got a look at Leah and Sam Finley, I was all for it. Wanting to be a good neighbor, I walked over and offered to help, and was soon helping haul their stuff into the house. At first, Leah Finley looked at me with some suspicion, but Samantha Finley always looked at me with the most brazen look of lust I've ever seen on a woman. It was pretty obvious to me that she was a true hottie; the only problem was the fact that she was only 16. As for Leah, I really had no interest in her, and she certainly had no interest in me -- or any other man -- at least at that point in her life. Oh, she was good-looking enough, but she just appeared to be ... how do I say it? She just looked washed out. They were both quite tall, about 5-foot-10, and slim. Leah, in fact, was too thin for my taste, plus she had a kind of pinched look and she rarely smiled. I would soon learn that she'd just been divorced, and it hadn't been pleasant. She was very religious and her husband had been a bit of a rounder. Apparently, she'd gotten religion after they married, and he wasn't willing to stop carousing to follow her into the faith. He'd started running around on her, and she'd finally gotten fed up with it. Sam was their only child, and when they split up, she went with her mother, since the dad apparently worked off-shore and wasn't in a position to take care of a teenage daughter. Leah, meanwhile, found a job at Wal-Mart and had moved here from the next state over. I could tell right from the first that Leah had her hands full with Sam. I should stress that it didn't seem like anything major, like drugs or violence. In fact, Sam was quite intelligent and a pretty good athlete. She made good grades and quickly earned a starting spot on the high school basketball team. But she was quite different from her mom. For one thing, she smiled, and she smiled a lot. And when she did, it was one of those sultry, come-fuck-me smiles. She also wasn't quite as thin as Leah and her tits were a little bigger. I knew this because Sam immediately started making it point of lying out in the front yard to get a tan, and she always seemed to do it on the days when I was off work, where she knew I could see her. I'll admit it; she made me hard, all the time. Sam Finley had a certain feline grace about her that was incredibly erotic, and she knew the effect she had on me -- and every other man she came into contact with. I should say here that Sam wasn't what you'd call a knockout, as far as her looks went. Her face was kind of long and her mouth was a little big, but her eyes made up for a lot of whatever deficiencies she had about her looks. Added to her devilish smile, it gave her a very seductive look, and she always had the high school studs sniffing around. Of course, since I'd been doing routine maintenance on their house before they moved in, it was only natural that I'd continue to help with odd jobs that needed doing. I had a small tractor with a mower attachment that I used to cut my grass, and I volunteered to cut their yard as well, an offer that was accepted. When their water heater blew up, I was the one they called to help fix it. A cabinet door needed replacing, and I was there. And every time I was there, especially on the rare occasions when Leah was gone, Sam flirted with me openly. As long as I was getting laid on a semi-regular basis, I could fend off her flirtations, but not long after New Year's one year, I broke up with a woman I'd been going with on a casual basis, and for some reason I just couldn't seem to connect with another one. At this time, Leah and Sam had been living across the road about 18 months, and Leah had gotten comfortable with me being right there. She even asked me to keep an eye on Sam when she was working, so apparently she trusted me. If she'd known that I often jacked off to the image of her daughter doing wicked things to my dick, I doubt if she'd have been so trusting. After Claire and I divorced, I dated some women casually, and had some pretty intimate relationships with a couple of others, but it wasn't always easy for me to catch a single woman. For one thing, I'm not a big drinker, never have been, and I'm just not much into bar scenes. And even if I was, I'm kind of leery of women who frequent bars, because in this day and age, you can't be too careful. Plus, I'm usually a relationship-oriented person, not someone who goes for a lot of one-night stands, although I have had a few. And, finally, I'm just not a bullshitter. I don't have a naturally-flowing gift of gab that makes women fall down at my feet. So when I broke up with this particular woman, I hit a dry spell, and went into a bit of a funk. I was pushing age 45, and while I was in good shape, I wasn't sure if I still had what it took to make a woman happy. I'd been living alone for 4½ years and I was starting to get settled into that bachelor's nether land, where you're too set in your ways to change, but too young to just give up on having a decent relationship with a female. By this time, Samantha was a senior in high school and my youngest son was a junior, and like Sam he was on the basketball team. He didn't start, but he played just about every game. He was good for about three or four points, several rebounds and four or five hard fouls a night. I had arranged it with the plant to move my days off to Fridays and Tuesdays, because that's when most of the school's games were played. Cole also played football, so it worked out to where I could attend most of his games. Since the girls always played before the boys, I got to where I'd also go watch Sam play, and as always I was fascinated -- and more than a little aroused -- by the way she moved. She was a good player, good enough to get some attention from small colleges and junior colleges, and she always seemed to pick me out of the crowd. When she did she always smiled that dick-stiffening smile. It didn't take Sam long to start confiding in me, and I became a sounding board for all of her frustrations with her mother. Leah made Sam go to church with her and tried to restrict her dating, issues that Sam complained about bitterly. I had to walk a fine line between my carnal desires and my adult responsibilities. On the matter of church, I sided with Sam, but on the dating issue, I leaned toward Leah. I tried to impress upon Sam the pitfalls of having sex before she was ready, the threat of disease and possibility of pregnancy that could derail a young life that I believed had some potential. I don't know whether she heard what I was saying or not, but I don't think she had a serious boyfriend, although I know she dated a lot. Sam turned 18 not long before the end of basketball season, and she had a couple of her girlfriends over for a sleepover. I could only imagine what went on after Leah went to bed that night. Late in the spring, Sam got the news that she'd earned a scholarship offer from a junior college in another part of the state, and she invited me to join her and her mom in a celebratory dinner at a local steak house. Leah sat across from me and Sam sat on my right. About halfway through dinner, I suddenly felt a soft hand slowly snaking up my right leg under the table. Of course, my cock immediately sprang to life. I tried not to give the game away, but it seemed Leah was off in her own world, and was oblivious to the little seduction dance her daughter was performing. At first, she just teased me, running her fingers up my leg, to my thigh then pulling away. I looked over at her several times, but she just looked away as if nothing was happening. But right before the waitress brought the check, as Leah went off to the ladies room, Sam slid her hand all the way up to my crotch and squeezed my throbbing-hard cock. I looked over again, and this time she met my gaze, giving me such a lascivious grin that I almost came right then. "That kind of stuff can get you in trouble, young lady," I said. "Maybe, but this tells me you like it," she answered, giving my hard cock a soft squeeze. "Sam, I'm more than twice your age," I said, just a hint of desperation entering my voice. "And you're the sexiest man I know," Sam said. "Mr, Ken, you might as well give it up. You're going to fuck me, later if not sooner. I've wanted you since the first time I met you, and I usually get what I want. Think about me tonight when you get in bed and stroke this nice fat cock." "Oh, I do, all the time," I said in a choked voice, just as Leah returned to the table. After that, I tried to avoid situations where I was alone with Sam, and succeeded mostly. Still, Leah called a couple of times asking for help with something or another, and Sam would be there giving me the most unnerving looks. Then it came time for Sam's graduation. I was invited and decided to go. As it happened, I met Sam's dad for the first time, and we got along all right. He seemed like a nice enough guy, although you could tell that he liked to party a bit. It was the first Tuesday in June when things were finally kicked up a notch. I was off work that night, so I had the day pretty much to do whatever I wanted. Leah was at work, and she'd asked if I'd bring my mower over and cut their grass, and I said I would. Sam had gotten a part-time job at a sandwich shop, and I figured she'd be at work also. I slipped on a pair of baggy gym shorts, a loose-fitting tank top and my sneakers, and drove the tractor over I was wrong about Sam being gone to work, however. I'd finished the front and was starting on the back when I saw something that made me pause. Sam was laying face-down on a lounge chair on their back deck with a very skimpy bikini on. The ties to her top were undone and I could see her tanned, naked back covered with oil. But what threw me for a loop was what she was doing. I noticed that her position was a little odd, that her hips were slightly raised. Then, as I got closer, I saw that she had one arm under her body and her hand was in the bikini bottoms doing a brisk number on her pussy. My cock went from zero to 60 in a split-second, and even as I watched, I saw her body sort of shake, then she looked up at me with that evil grin and slowly, deliberately pulled her hand out of her bottoms and licked her fingers clean. Then she got up and walked back inside like nothing had happened. She just held the top over her breasts, but managed to look back at me right before she went in the back door. That broke me, as far as continuing to resist Sam Finley. I made up my mind then and there that if she wanted me to fuck her, I was going to do just that. I managed to concentrate on finishing the job at hand, then parked the tractor in front of the house and walked up to the door. I knocked, and Sam answered the door dressed in a hot pink bra-and-panty set. She smelled freshly-showered, she'd put on some make-up, including a lot of eye shadow, and her brown hair was piled at the back of her head in a loose ponytail. She looked good enough to eat. "I was wondering what was taking you so long," she purred as she let me in. "I had to finish the yard," I said. "I just came in for a glass of ice water." "Um, yeah, I can get that," she said, glancing down to where my cock was hanging low in my shorts. After she brought me my water, and I'd chugged about half the glass, she looked at me with those seductive eyes. "Did you enjoy the show?" she said. "Would you like to see me do it again, just for you?" I just nodded dumbly as she led the way into her bedroom. I sat down on the rocking chair in her room while she crawled onto her bed. She sort of knee-walked her way over to the side of the bed closest to me, staring at me in abject lust. "You don't know how many times I've come imagining you stroking that hard cock for me," she said softly. "How much I want to see it and watch you shoot your cum everywhere. I've creamed over the thought of you filling my hot little box with it, fucking me hard and filling me with cum." "You're a nasty little girl, you know that?" I said in a low voice. My cock was throbbing hard as I watched Sam play with her breasts through the satiny material of her bra. "Oh, I know," she whispered. "But only for you. I've been waiting for you, waiting for a real man to fuck me, not some pimply-faced jock. But first, I want to watch you, and I want you to watch me. I'm gonna show you just how nasty I really am." With that, she reached back and unhooked her bra and tossed it aside. She hefted both of her tits in each hand, showing me her round globes. They weren't real big, but they hung real nice on her chest. They were capped by a pair of dollar-sized areolas that were a rich brown color, with fat nipples that were stiff as nails. She squeezed them, then rolled the nipples between the thumb and forefinger of each hand, and I could tell she was getting real turned on. She looked me up and down, and her gaze lingered on my rampant cock, which was already leaking profusely at the tip. "Go on, Ken, take it out," she whispered. "I want to see it. I want to see you." I still wasn't quite sure what I was getting into, but by this time the little head was doing most of thinking for me, so I slowly peeled off my tank top and slid my shorts to the floor. My cock bounced up and down, apparently overjoyed to be free of its loose confines. I squeezed it at the base and slowly jacked my hand up the shaft, up to the crown, where I swirled a big dollop of pre-cum all over the head. I used that to get my cock nice and lubricated as I stared at Sam's increasingly wanton display. She was still using one hand to knead one of her tits, but she had the other hand in her panties doing something I couldn't see. "No fair," I said. "I thought you wanted to show me something." "I did," she panted. "This..." Across The Road And she rolled onto her back, pulled the gusset of her panties aside to reveal an angry-looking gash between her legs, with a clean-shaven pubic mound and her right hand working briskly over what looked to be a very swollen clit. The sight of Sam working herself into an orgasmic frenzy had me stroking my cock with purpose. She was giving out little gasps of pleasure and I could see the slick dew of her mounting arousal. I groaned as I felt the cum heating up to a boil in my scrotum, so I slowed down, trying to make it last. No words were necessary now; we were communicating everything we needed from the looks that were passing between us. But if I thought I seen everything this hot little minx had to show me, I was quite mistaken. Abruptly, Sam raised her legs and pulled her panties off, revealing her complete nakedness. With the middle finger of her right hand she began to finger-fuck her pussy hard and fast, then she licked the middle finger of her left hand, slid her hand under her butt and pushed her finger into her ass from below. My eyes got wide and my fist picked up speed around my cock as she used her fingers on both holes, all the time staring at me with that fuck-me smile on her face. Her breathing was shallow and she was panting hard as she worked herself into a climax. "C-c-come on!" she cried out at last. "Shoot it for me! I wanna see your c-c-cum! I'mmmmmm cummmmmmin'! Doooooooo iiiiiiiiiiit!" And as she arched her back and shuddered from head to toe, I couldn't hold back. I felt something like the fires of hell roar through my shaft and explode out the end of my cock in a cascade of hot, thick, white semen. The first shot splattered on my cheek, the second laced the side of my neck and the rest of it was scattered all over my chest and stomach, until I finished with the final oozing spurts over my hand. It was one of the most intense sexual experiences I'd ever had, and I hadn't even touched the object of my desire. Yet. I slumped back in Sam's rocker dazed and amazed at what I'd just done. I looked over at the bed and saw Sam leaning back on her elbows, an awed look on her face. "Wow!" she exclaimed slowly. "I've never seen a guy come like that. That was fucking awesome!" "So, how many guys have you seen come?" I said, as she rolled over onto her stomach, fished around on the floor then tossed me a towel to clean off the evidence of my orgasm. "I thought you were saving yourself for a 'real man?'" "Oh, I am," she said. "I'm actually still a virgin ... sort of." "Sort of?" I said, cocking an eyebrow in amusement. "I mean, I've still got my cherry and all, but, well, I've gotten pretty good at blowjobs and handjobs," she said, giving me that silly smile that had me getting hard again. "And I've let a couple of guys fuck my ass. But I've never had a cock in my pussy. You're going to be the first." "Why?" I asked. "I told you; you're the sexiest man I know," she said. "I know you'll do it right." "No, I mean, why bother staying a 'virgin' if you're going to suck guys off and let them fuck you in the ass?" I asked, genuinely puzzled. "It's my mom," she said quietly, and now the smile vanished from her face. "She'd die if I got pregnant. I mean, we argue like cats and dogs, but she's done an awful lot for me and I don't want to disappoint her. And, besides, you can't play hoops when you're fat with a baby. I knew she'd never let me get on the pill, I don't trust condoms. and it's awfully damned difficult to get an abortion in this part of the country. But I have needs and I like the attention of the boys. So I take care of them in other ways." "Well, then, what's changed?" I said. "I'm 18 now, and I don't need her permission to get on the pill," she said. "I've been on it about six weeks, so I should be good to go." "Well, then," I said, standing up and walking over to the bed. "I guess we should get to it so we can be done before you mother gets home. Somehow, I don't think she'd take too kindly to catching me fucking her daughter." "Aw, she'd just get jealous," Sam said, just before I slid onto the bed next to her, gathered her in my arms, planted my lips onto hers and kissed her deeply. My hands roamed all over Sam's succulent body as I let my passion run wild. It had been too long, over six months, since I felt the touch of a woman and I was in need. Sam's hands found my cock and gently started stroking it, getting it hard again. But I wasn't quite ready to claim my prize. I slid my tongue down Sam's long, regal neck, squeezed one of her breasts softly, just before I sucked the nipple into my mouth. I licked, sucked and chewed on her rock-hard tip and was gratified to hear a lustful moan escape her lips. As I munched on her tits, I slipped my hand between her legs and gently stroked her dripping-wet pussy. I have to admit, I loved her baby-smooth pubes and caressed her tender flesh while she jacked my cock lightly with her hand. I rolled her swollen clit around and she gasped in response. I wanted to taste her, and I wanted to test her oral skills, so I skillfully maneuvered her so that she was on her side, with one leg in the air. I clamped my mouth on her juicy slot while I felt her lips and tongue on my cock and balls. We seemed to be working right on the same plane, because the moment she engulfed my cock in her mouth, I slashed my tongue up her slit, rolled it around her clit then vacuumed her cunt with my lips. As I sucked and licked on her tangy twat, I was grooving on the sensations from Sam's mouth. Like I said, she had a wide mouth and a long neck, and she slid every bit of my banana right into her throat. I have a fairly sizable cock -- no freak -- but it's longer than most and pretty fat. And Sam Finley, 18-years-old and never been fucked, was deep-throating my cock like a pro. I knew then that I was in for a treat. As much as I liked the feeling of Sam's lips and tongue massaging my dick, I had other things I wanted to do with this slut, and I was ready to do them right then. My cock was hard -- painfully hard -- and raring to go. Sam knew it too, because she pulled her mouth off my cock and rolled onto her back, her legs spread wide in open invitation. "Come on, Ken," she panted. "Fuck me now. Make me a complete woman. I'm ready for you." "Oh baby, I'm ready for you," I grunted as I climbed up on my knees. I hefted my cock in my hand and slid the head between her labia several times, getting it coated with her juices. When I heard an incoherent cry of desperation come out of Sam's mouth, I knew it was time. I pushed the head past her gates until I came up against her female barrier. "Are you ready?" I whispered, and she nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. I backed up a fraction of an inch, then thrust forward with my hips, driving my cock past her hymen, smashing my way into the hottest, tightest pussy I think I'll ever have the pleasure of fucking. Sam gave out a sharp scream when I penetrated her, a scream that morphed into a long, satisfied moan as I slowly worked my cock leisurely back and forth. "Oh my God, Ken, it feels soooooo goooood!" she cried as she began to work her hips up to meet my incoming thrusts. She wrapped her long legs around my waist as I began to set a more demanding pace. She may have technically been a virgin, but this girl knew how to fuck. I watched her tits wobble rhythmically while I churned my cock in her liquid vise, as her athletic body moved as one around me. I bent down and kissed her again, wrapping my arms around her, completing the circle of our lust. I'd anticipated this moment for almost two years, and it was better than I could have ever imagined it. Sam's pussy was hot, wet and very active, so I was glad we'd had our little preliminary session. I'd have never lasted that long if I hadn't already come once. As it was, I was having a hard time maintaining the pace. Sam's body was jerking and shaking as a powerful orgasm gathered strength in her hard core. Her head was lolling around on the pillow and a sexual gibberish was spewing from her mouth, along with little cries, yips and moans. We were on the express lane to a crashing climax and I was trying my best to hold it back, when Sam suddenly gave out a sharp shriek, her body went totally rigid for a second or two, then she shuddered from head to toe as her climax swept her along. "G-g-god-da-yum!" she bellowed as her sweat-slick body writhed in orgasm. "C-c-cummmmmin'!" Well, that finished me. I gave out a loud grunt and a strangled cry of my own, then lurched my cock forward, as deep as I could push it and exploded with one of the all-time king climaxes of my life. I'd certainly never had anything that approached it with my ex-wife, during the whole time we were married, and I could only think of a couple of times when I was a lot younger that even came close. I spewed a seemingly-endless barrage of cumshots deep in Sam's womb, as we wrapped our arms around each other again and let all of the passion flow out between us. Finally, I finished shooting little cumballs deep in her flooded pussy and my lust was spent. I collapsed onto Sam's body, and she looked up at me with that same, sexy smile. "My God," she whispered as I rolled to the side, my sated cock flopped out of her well-fucked pussy, followed by a silver stream of my hot, thick cum. "My God, Ken, you were terrific. I knew you would be. God, am I glad I waited for you." Honestly, I felt pretty good about myself right about then. I'd given this sexy young thing a fuck for the ages, one she'd never forget. I'd proven I could still please a hot woman, proven it well. And I proved it a lot through that summer. At least four times a week, until she left to go to college, Sam would walk across the road after her mother left for work, let herself in my house and spend the morning with me, fucking my brains out. We did it all, all over the place. In fact, the very next morning, she walked over and insisted that I fuck her ass. She said she wanted to show me how good she was at it, and she was, indeed, very good at it. Another time, I took her for a ride on my ATV back into the woods and I fucked her on a blanket on the ground at the camping spot I had back there. Neither one of us had any illusions about the nature of our relationship. It was sex, period, that united us. But for the duration of that summer, she was my girl, although she dated other guys her age quite a bit. I think she gave a few of those guys blowjobs, but she swore her pussy and her ass were all mine. Somehow, we managed to keep our relationship from her mother, who thought it was nice that I got along so well with her daughter. We were both a little sad when she left to go to college, I think, because we knew instinctively that once she left, our little fling was over. Once she left for college, she threw herself into her schoolwork and basketball, and dated the college guys she met up there. As for me, I met someone not long after school started, a tall brunette named Nancy Miller, who had moved to town a couple of months earlier to take a job as a sports reporter for the local newspaper. She was about 28 at the time, quite a bit younger than me, but we were soon keeping company, and after about 18 months of dating, we got married. What made it work was that our hours were pretty compatible, so we were able to spend a lot of time together. Nancy and I are even talking about having children, and wouldn't that be a kick; me having a second family at my age. Sam Finley played two years of junior college ball, then moved on to a small college in another part of the state. She did well in school and has become a teacher and a coach. Oh, and Leah... Yeah, the more comfortable Leah got with me being across the road, and the further Sam got into college, the more she relaxed that hard shell she'd build around her heart, and she met someone from her church that rang her bell. I don't know whether my summer fling with the hot teen from across the road changed anyone's life in any great way. But I have to say, it sure was fun while it lasted. Across the Room I start by seeing you across the room, admiring you, bright eyes, seductive lips, full breasts. I am locked in a conversation but my eyes drift often to you. You notice me and shift your body slightly, a better view, I see your stocking encased legs stretched languidly to the floor, ankles crossed comfortably. I feel my body stir but stay rooted. Later, as I stand alone, I feel you brush by me, turn and say "hello." I stammer out a response as you smile knowingly. Stepping forward I inhale the sweet scent that is wrapped around you. I feel a short intake of breath and stirring in my trousers, but I put it down to fantasy. Our conversation begins, little things, history, friends, work, and recreation--but always in your eyes I see a knowledge that bores into my soul. Music is in the background but there is a seductive dance being played out between us, your fingers play with your drink, with your jewelry, with the table. My eyes lock on yours, but then slowly take in the curves of your body. I am enchanted, yet nervous. We step outside for air, the sky is clear and there is a cool breeze that is welcome given the inner heat that has taken hold of my body. Standing close to me, I hear you whisper, "nice." I don't know if you are referring to the evening or to me, or to both. I feel bold, I respond, "extraordinarily." There is silence between us as we gaze at one another. Your hand reaches for mine and pulls me ever so gently towards you; our faces are inches from one another, our eyes still held to each other. Our heads tilt slightly and we move together. I feel your breasts pushing against me, your lips, deliciously grazing mine. There is no frantic pushing or pulling, our lips touch softly. They vie with one another for contact. My hands are around your back; one of yours firmly grasps the back of my head. I kiss your upper lip, then the lower, my lips swaying back and forth in gentle contact with yours. My body is heating--yours is tensing. My lips shift to your cheek, again slowly brushing against you. I murmur in your ear, words of joy and indecipherable syllables of passion. Moving back to your lips, we both open our mouths together. Tongues snake out and softly press against each other. Your taste sends me further into a dizzy spin. Coupled with the texture of your skin and the smell of your body, I am in sensory overload. Looking into your eyes, I see them heavily hooded and know that you are as intoxicated as me. Breaking our kiss and taking my hand you whisper, "Time to go someplace more private..." We leave the party, tempted to find a dark corner, we both know a long night is ahead and our intensity will only build as we travel to my home. As you drive, I watch your skirt ride up your thighs, I am hard and fidget, you smile. Somewhere along the way you have unbuttoned two buttons on your blouse. I see the curve of your breast, full and tempting encased in a sexy white bra, my mouth waters. You are fully teasing me, and I play my role, watching, waiting, anticipating. I direct you through the streets of town till we finally pull into my driveway. We sit and stare at one another, I reach and you come into my arms, your hands gripping my biceps, our lips meet in a rougher and more impassioned kiss. Little sighs escape your lips as our tongues do battle, the windshield quickly fogs and I manage to gain a small semblance of control and gasp that we should go inside. You nod, unable to speak, and we head for the doors. Once inside we lose all sense of decorum. Your body crushes me against the just closed door. Your, breasts press hard into me, your pelvis fighting the pressure from mine as I push my hardness against you. Our fingers intertwine in hair, in clothes, and against each other. You grab my arms, thrust them back against the wall and pin them there. My shoulders pressed back against the wall forces my pelvis to jut forward, like a cat you begin to rub against me. Your blouse is fully open, I gaze as your breasts move back and forth, threatening to burst forth from the confinement of your bra, I see the edge of the bra biting in to your flesh and wonder what it will feel like when my tongue traces that ridge. Your mouth moves across my throat, long lapping licks that start at the top of my chest and move around my neck to the point behind my ear. Again, the animal motion makes me shudder; I am close to losing control. Your mouth and teeth work their way across my chest, biting off buttons and spitting them on the floor. Your teeth rake my nipples, causing my hips to jerk involuntarily; you’ve touched the nerve that runs from my nipples to my cock. You take my nipple fully in your mouth and begin to suck, first softly and then with more pressure. I feel your tongue lapping as your lips intensify their pressure, my hands fight for freedom and I reach forward, putting both hands behind your head I pull you in to my chest and hiss, “harder!” You fear the pain you will cause, but you comply. The pain is exquisite and damning, I long for it yet must pull away. Your lips finally give way, you look into my eyes with pure lust written all over your face. You utter the three words that always make me crazy, “I want you.” Falling to the floor my hands are all over you, I want to be in you and taking you now, but I know how much better it will be if we wait. My fingers quickly shed your blouse and I begin to toy with your breasts. My fingers trace the shape of them, along the ridgeline of your bra. My palms work on the exposed flesh, my tongue licks across the top of your chest and down to the top of your large, full breasts. Your hands try to push my head down to the nipple, but I resist, this will last. My fingers squeeze and play with the underside of your breasts. I reach up and pull the bra straps from your shoulders, the front clasp is all that stands between your lovely breasts and my desire, I ask you to unclasp it and slowly you reach to the front, teasing but hot with anticipation, you unclasp and pull aside the bra cups. Your breasts tumble out, full and round with small brown nipples as hard as pebbles. My eyes are hooded as I reach out and caress them, around the sides underneath, tracing my fingers around, but never touching, the nipples. I begin to alter my caresses with licks around the full flesh of your breasts. Your back arches as your try to guide me, but still I resist. I hear weak cries of “please” escaping your lips, but still I play, my tongue runs across the base of your breasts, where they meet your lower chest, you gasp. Finally I move above you, hovering over your nipples. My fingers begin slow play, circling and then rubbing. Your eyes closed, I imagine your pleasure. My lips dryly caress your jutting tips, teasing and playing. Finally, my mouth opens and I begin to suck on the round nub. Taking it into my mouth I feed, my tongue lashing, your cries becoming audible. My mouth gets more aggressive, I begin to suck more of your breast into my mouth and the pressure of my lips begins to intensify. My left hand is playing with your right nipple, your legs are fully splayed beneath me, I can feel your heat against my naked abdomen. My fingers work the flesh of your breast while my tongue and lips work the nipple. Loud sucking sounds occasionally escape my lips, loud groaning sounds often escape yours. My fingers work on your skirt. Pushing and pulling, I get it up around your waist. Beneath it I find silken black panties and thigh high stockings, my mouth, reluctantly, leaves your breast and begins to travel down your abdomen, slowly working its way with long, broad strokes painting your stomach. I pause at your belly button to dip my tongue into you, a shallow tease of the pleasure to come. Your hands are spread wide, above your head, you breathe in short gasps, looking up your body, I see your breasts heaving, marked by my mouth, little red spots dot your expansive tit-flesh. As my weight shifts and I gaze across your stomach, I can smell your sex. It is rich and pungent, it calls to me in urgent scents, I see the wet spot in your panties and know you will taste sweet. My fingers play with the edges of your panties, running across your belly, down the inside of your thighs. Wisps of pubic hair escape the top edge, my lips press firmly onto your pubic mound and I blow hot breath through the silk and onto your flesh. Back and forth I swing my lips across you, occasionally lashing out with my tongue, the saliva from my tongue mixing with the wetness of your panties. My fingers work the edges of your panties, running themselves across your smooth skin, occasionally tugging gently at your pubic hair, always circling closer to your core, but never quite touching you. You are impatient, you breathe a “please” that is both insistent and forced. Reaching under you, I lift your ass off the pillows and in one smooth motion remove your panties. You spread your legs wide and I stare at the little tuft of hair that covers your pubis, at the big puffy lips that frame your pussy, at the glistening center I long to taste. I can no longer speak, only murmur as I am drawn to you. Your knees high and your legs spread wide I settle in. First I simply breathe in your scent. It is strong and spicy, much to crave. My nose pokes into your mound, my hands resting on your stomach. Moving slightly, I bring my lips to bear on you. Pushing firmly I kiss your pubis, tugging slightly on the hair as I pull away. My tongue moves to the crease where your legs and torso come together, long slow licks, your body jumps, I smile. My mouth works its away completely around your pussy, teasing, grazing, but never really contacting you. Finally, laying my head against one thigh, my fingers begin to draw the shape of your outer lips. Gently tracing the folds, your body squirms. My fingers get more insistent, one, two, then three fingers working together work their way across pressure points. Taking my forefinger and middle finger, I gently squeeze the little hood that protects your hard little clitoris, your body shakes. My patience is wearing thin. My tongue begins to follow the route of my fingers; working on your labia I suck the fat lips into my mouth. My tongue works on them, sensing your wetness my tongue dips down to catch the drops of she-cum that leak from you. My fingers begin to probe you. First one then two enter slowly, firmly, deeply. You are grunting from above as my fingers begin a slow fuck. I watch you, listen to the squishing noises coming from you and anticipate your orgasm. I tell you how amazing you look, your eyes are glazed. Removing my fingers, you begin to protest until I replace them with my mouth. My tongue probes you, sliding and turning through your insides. Your hips come off the pillow, a loud gasp/moan rumbles from deep in your throat. My tongue begins to punish, slowly pushing in and out of you. My cock, like a rock, rubs against the floor, it craves freedom but will have to wait. My tongue works its way to your clit. It probes with the tip, pushing against and up and across the little bud. Syllables, but no words, fly from your mouth; I hear pleas and know that it is time. Without warning my lips wrap around your clit and I begin to gently suck. Your body goes over the edge. You begin to cum, your thighs shake violently against my head, your hands grasp my head and lock it firmly against your pussy. Your mouth spews: “fuck” “yes” “eat” “damn” “good” “more” “cumming” “fuck” “fuck” Your body convulses for what seems ages, however, as you begin to come down my fingers thrust deeply inside you and my tongue goes back to work, you again cross the precipice and begin a long orgasm that is marked by a long howl of passion. The orgasm continues until your body needs release from its tension. Slowly, I let you down, my fingers withdraw, and my mouth works its way to your thighs where I lay my head to rest and watch your body slow from the incredible high it had just endured. We both drift a bit, in and out of sleep for a while. My cock, raging hard just a few moments ago, begins to soften but I know not to worry. I slide up the bed and lie beside you, you spoon into me, your ass pushed against me, my arms around you cupping and gently rubbing your breasts. You begin to push back against me and my cock quickly rouses and begins to rise. A whispered “mmmmmm” escapes you and your thrusting becomes more insistent. My cock fully engorges and slides comfortably up and down the wet crack of your ass. We stay in this position, teasing one another, for quite some time. My lips occasionally work on the back of your neck and your fingers drift to your pussy and rub in anticipation. My cock, and I, want you and we turn over. Laying you back, I hover above you and pin your arms to the bed beside your head. Your legs open invitingly and wide and I move forward. My cock slaps at your thighs and your eyes close. I push the blood engorged red head against your inner labia, your legs come off the bed. The head of my cock pushes slowly past the folds of your labia and into your pussy. We give a collective gasp. I let the tip linger just inside you before, with excruciating patience, I push my cock fully into you. Your eyes plead for me to speed up, but this is for me. Finally, my cock is fully imbedded in your pussy. Instead of pulling it out I leave you impaled on it. Your tight muscles squeeze me. Above you, I begin to sway, rubbing my chest against yours. The soft tit-flesh makes my nipples ache as they stretch fully out, my cock begins to very slowly draw out from you, I pull it fully free, the cold air a shock after it had been encased in your warm wet hole. I push in again, again I slowly penetrate you fully and again I linger in your depths. I begin to set a slow rhythm of pulling out and pushing fully into you. I shift the pace. Pushing quickly and deeply into you for two strokes, I follow those with very short and slow strokes. No regular rhythm develops and at first you struggle against me, but suddenly you realize you are cresting into an orgasm. You begin to cum and again your murmurings are almost unintelligible. The orgasm builds from a slow spike to a fully engaged screaming cum. Your voice gets deeper and you beg for me to fuck you hard. I oblige, pumping into you quickly and deeply, your legs come off my ass and around my back as you seek to pull me ever further into you. Letting you down, I know that I want to come. My cock still inside you, we roll across the huge bed and you are sitting astraddle me. With a wicked look you begin to ride. Talking to me as you fuck me you tell me how much you want my cum. Your orgasms begin anew and you are riding me at a breakneck pace. My hands are around your hips, pulling and pushing, making sure my cock stays inside you. Your big gorgeous breasts swing wildly and while I want to feel and taste them, I know that I can’t because we need to maintain this crazy fuck-speed. My orgasm starts in my gut, moves down to the base of my balls and then pushes up the length of my cock. I know it is close and that now is the time to either stop it or to keep pushing, I decide to push. I look up at you and gasp, “I’m going to cum!” You hiss out a “yesssss” and begin to move ever faster. Our hands are intertwined as you use me for leverage. I feel myself begin to explode, throw my head back and begin to fuck up into you as hard as I can. I want to speak but can’t, syllables escape me as my orgasm fully engages me. It is huge, I am grunting, screaming, pleading, demanding all in one voice. You are calling out “give it to me, baby, cum for me.” And I do. Beginning to spurt I feel almost pain as I release. You are taking me all in and squeezing me with your tight puss. As my body begins to slow in the wake of my orgasm, you too slow. Looking up at you I smile and giggle, the night is young and there is so much to know. Comments, suggestions, and conversations are welcome. Please, feel free to email me. Across The Room I saw him across the room being greeted by the host. I felt the blood drain from my face. I thought for a moment I was going to faint. I was attending the exhibition of a third rate painter's work, for which, as a freelance journalist, I was to write a review for a minor local paper. I had got sick of the sugary pink and white creations, and was standing around with a cocktail called, I believe, "A Landmine." It tasted of dishwater and kerosene. I had been watching the silly posturing and stupid conversations that these pretentious occasions give rise to, laced as they are with "Dears" and "Darlings," when I saw him. My mind swirled back nearly seven years to a beautiful summer day. At the time, I was the wife of a Housemaster at a middle ranking private school. One of the duties was to entertain to tea once a week, two of the students. They were appallingly boring and formal occasions and I am sure the students, or should I call them victims, liked them no more than I did. The day in question was during the last but one week before the school broke up for the summer recess. We were to entertain two senior boys, both of whom were leaving to go on to university. One of them was Hartley George, the other boy's name I cannot now recall. There was an influenza virus going round the school, and the day before the "Tea," my husband, Arthur Greenwith, took to bed, laid low by the dread disease. He suggested that we cancel the tea, but I objected. Hartley had become a particular favourite of mine, and I had observed that he had a strong attachment to me. This often happens in boy's schools, where women are rare, and they are away from the feminine company of mothers and sisters. Arthur was in no condition to care one way or the other, so I went ahead with the tea. As it turned out, Hartley arrived on his own. The virus had also struck down the other boy. So we ate and drank alone. Hartley was almost fully-grown at that time, being tall, about six feet, and well built, with an almost gypsy look about him. He had somehow escaped the worst things those private schools do to their victims, and he turned out a gentle and considerate boy with a taste for the arts. His father owned a chain of clothing stores around the country, and on the occasions when he had turned up for parent's days in his Rolls-Royce, he presented as a loud mouthed, bombastic man. Hartley had also escaped that character trait. After our tea, I suggested that as it was such a beautiful day, we take a walk through the woods that abutted our back fence. Hartley agreed, so we went out through the gate in our back fence, and strolled through the trees to the stream that flowed some little distance away. Arriving at the stream, we sat down on a grassy patch and for a while continued our conversation about music. Then at one point in our talk, Hartley took my hand. "You know I love you?" he said. He followed up these words by leaning over and kissing me gently on the lips and in doing this he released my hand, and I felt his hand cup my breast. I protested, "Stop this Hartley, I'm a married woman." He didn't stop, but moved closer to me, still cupping my breast and kissing me. "I want you so badly," he said. "I've wanted you ever since I came to this school. I love you so much." I pushed him away saying, "And I'm very fond of you, Hartley, but we can't do this." He said nothing for a moment, then went on, "If you really cared about me, you'd let me do it with you." Here I must explain the nature of my situation. My mother had died when I was twelve. My father, with whom I was very close, died when I was eighteen of cancer. I had nursed him through his illness for nearly two years, and when he died I was exhausted and bereft. He had left me a few investments which, given the strictest economy, I could just about manage on. To try to recover from my exhaustion I went for a week to a seaside boarding house. Here I met Arthur Greenwith. He was some fifteen years older than I was but he seemed to have a sort of solid assurance about him. I suppose this was what drew me to him. With the loss of my father, I was seeking some new anchor in my life, and Arthur seemed to provide that. To cut a long story short, I ended up marrying him, and on our wedding night I found what a ghastly mistake I had made. I am not sure whether he is a repressed homosexual or not, but he was quite incapable of getting an erection with me, and his attempt to penetrate, half hearted as it was, was an utter failure. He could not even break through my hymen. This I did long afterwards by using a dildo. I was bitterly disappointed and quite horrified when Arthur said, "It doesn't really matter, you don't want kids, do you!" It was not a question, but a statement. I did want kids, but his tone encouraged no argument. I silently wept myself to sleep that night and many nights afterwards. In time, I discovered what Arthur really wanted. He wanted first, a housekeeper. Then he wanted the respectability of being married. As he worked in a boy's school any hint that a master was homosexual was death to that master. A married man was thought to be safe. Another thing he wanted was a decorative wife. Someone one who would outmatch the rather frumpy wives of the other masters. Even if I say so myself, I had no difficulty doing that, and this was demonstrated by the way the other masters and the older boys ogled me. I hasten to point out that Hartley had never ogled me. His gaze was a sort of ardent longing. I acknowledge that I enjoyed this devotion, and reciprocated with an affectionate concern for him. If you condemn this, then put yourself in my place. A young women with an impotent husband having the attention of a handsome, loving young man just a few years younger than she. Now here I was with this young man pleading with me, and understanding from my own experience what sexual frustration can do to one, my heart went out to him. I admit that his approach had aroused me, and I could feel the wetness growing round my vagina. I laid back and pulled back the hem of my frock, exposing my panties. "Take my panties off, darling," I whispered. He paused for a moment, and then reaching up pulled off the garment to expose my sex organ. "Come into me, sweetheart" He undid the front of his trousers, came over me, and I guided him into me. He was very gentle and loving, and, it was my first time with a man apart from Arthur's failed attempt, and I am sure it was his first time with a woman. He gave little gasps interspersed with declarations of love as he moved up and down in me. I reassured him, "Lovely darling. It's beautiful." He could not last long, and soon I felt his movements quicken, then he was pumping his seed into me. I thought it would never stop. I even had the rather humorous thought; "He's been saving all his sperm since he came to puberty just for me." When he had finished, he lay in me for a long time, stroking my face and still declaring his love. In the end I had to say, "We must go back now, darling, my husband might want something to eat or drink." He sighed, but removed his penis from me. We tried to straighten ourselves up a bit, then walked hand in hand back to the gate in the fence. The end of term being upon us, life became a whirl of activity, and that was the last time I saw or heard from him, until this moment at the art exhibition. He was walking along with a notebook in his hand making brief notes as he came in my direction. I thought I might flee - hide in the ladies room – but finally decided to face the situation. He was almost upon me before he saw me. He stopped, stared, then said, "It's Mrs.Greenwith, isn't it?" "Ex Mrs.Greenwith. I'm Tara Ashe now," I said. "Mr.Greenwith and I parted company and got divorced many years ago." "Oh! How are you?" The formality seemed ludicrous and we both knew it. Questions were tumbling through my head, and I am sure through Hartley's, but we continued down the safe track. "What are you doing here?" I asked. "I'm supposed to be reviewing this stuff for one of the Dailies," he replied. "What about you?" "Well, it seems we are in the same trade," I said, "I'm doing a review for one of the local rags." The hubbub around us had grown considerably so I half shouted at him, "Look, we can't talk here, and I don't know about you, but I've had enough of this rubbish. Let's go and sit in the park across the street." He agreed and we strolled to a park bench and sat. "It's a beautiful day," he said. "Like another beautiful day I can remember." I didn't fail to get his drift, but decided to ignore it. "What's been happening to you all these years," I asked. "I always thought you'd go into your father's business." "That's what dad thought too," he smiled. "But I had other ideas. Apart from anything else, I don't think the old man and I could have hit it off for long. He's too dictatorial for me. I went into journalism, you know, the arts side of things. How about you?" "Oh, I just do a bit of freelancing to pay the rent. It helps top up the bit my father left me." "Oh." Silence. We both wanted to open the one subject most important to us, but we didn't seem to know how. The sun seemed to go in, and looking up I saw dark clouds approaching. "It looks as if we are going to get some rain," I said, "My flat is just across the park. If you fancy a cup of coffee and we hurry, we can be there before we get soaked." We ran together and as we entered the hall doorway, down came the rain. The block was only two stories high, and my flat was one flight up. It was quite a humble abode, being in keeping with my income. I didn't have much in the way decor, but what I did have was good quality. Hartley looked round appreciatively. "Very nice," he commented. I invited him to sit down, and left the room. I went down to my daughter's room where she was playing with the sitter. I paid the sitter and thanked her and she left. I took my little girl's hand and said, "I've got someone I'd like you to meet." "Is it a nice someone?" she asked. "You'll find out," I laughed, and took her to where I had left Hartley in the lounge. As we entered, I noticed that Hartley was sitting in a way that had always been typical of him. He had one leg crossed over the other, with his hands clasped in front of his knees. "This is Cara," I said. He looked up and said, "Hello Cara." Cara, in the open way children have, went to him, placed her hands on his, looked for a moment and said, "You're very pretty." Instead of the usual adult response of an embarrassed laugh, Hartley smiled and said, "Thank you Cara. I think you are pretty to," as indeed she is. As I watched the two of them, I suddenly saw Hartley's face drained of blood. He went parchment white. I thought he was going to faint. I said to Cara, "Darling, mummy will be getting dinner ready soon, but Mr.George and I want to have a talk, would you go and play in your room for a while?" Cara left and I sat. I knew exactly what Hartley had seen. There could be no mistake. There was nothing of Arthur's thinning blonde hair and insipid blue eyes. Nor was their any sign of my dark blonde hair and grey green eyes. The dark hair, soft brown eyes and gypsy complexion told the story. "She's mine, isn't she," he stammered. I decided to be pedantic. "No Hartley. If she is anyone's, she is ours." "Well of course, I meant...you never told me, you never let me know, why? Why didn't you tell me? I could have...I would have..." "I know you would, Hartley, but there were reasons for not telling you." "What reasons?" "First, you were very young. You were just launching out into life. I decided that I could handle the situation. Also, I was responsible. Although I am only a few years older than you, on that afternoon I was more or less in my husband's place. I was the one who should have stopped what happened, not you." "Was that why you and Mr.Greenwith..." I cut in. "It was the thing that brought to an end what would have ended anyway. Arthur could not possibly have been the father for the simple reason we did not have sex, and you are the only person I have ever had sex with." "You mean, in all these years...?" "Yes, in all these years. Now suppose we talk about Cara." "I could make you an allowance for her..." "You could, but you won't," I snapped. "My question is, would you like to get to know your daughter?" He snapped back, "Of course I damn well would." "All right, don't let's start out with a family quarrel," I laughed. He laughed with me. "Yes, I would like very much to get to know her." "How would your wife or girlfriend or whatever, think about it." "There isn't anyone. Your not the only one who can go without." "Very well. I'm about the prepare dinner. Would you like to stay and eat with us?" "I'd love to." "Then come and make yourself useful in the kitchen and I'll fetch Cara." That evening began the process of Cara getting to know her father, without her knowing he was her father. I had to be sure I could trust Hartley with her, and whether she wanted to be with him. Things progressed from Hartley joining us for an occasional meal, to letting him go out with us, then finally allowing Hartley to take her out on his own. Hartley's loving gentleness had not deserted him and Cara seemed to have inherited it. I could see almost as a visible thing, the love growing between them. Hartley spent more and more time with us, often staying on long after Cara had been put to bed. One thing that puzzled me was why Hartley never made any sexual overtures to me. Had I become undesirable? Ugly? I confess I checked up on myself In the mirror. What I saw was quite a presentable thirty year old. Breasts in very good order at 38B, despite the fact that I had breast-fed Cara. Legs looking good but a bit marked with child bearing. No signs of heavy lines on the face, and an almost unused vagina. I suppose I might have also asked myself why I didn't make any sexual overtures. Hartley certainly didn't repulse me. He was as sexually attractive to me as he had been all those years ago when I succumbed. So why? At one stage, about three months after I had met Hartley at the exhibition, he began bringing us expensive gifts. I put a stop to this. "I don't want Cara getting into the habit of expecting these gifts. I want her to look forward to seeing you for your own sake, not for the sake of a gift. And you don't need to buy me gifts. I am delighted just to see you, and to know that you and Cara are happy to be together. Hartley protested. "All these years you've been the one to pay out for Cara. Now, you won't accept money from me and you won't let me buy gifts. What can I do?" "Do what you are doing now, give us yourself. That's what we want." Hartley saw the point, and the gifts, although they didn't stop completely, were relegated to special times like birthdays. Twelve months passed. Hartley was now part of our lives. Cara was seven years old, and as we were to discover, quite a shrewd observer of the human condition. One evening Hartley was about to put Cara to bed, when she said, "When are you two going to get married so I can have a proper daddy?" We were both stunned, but Hartley carried it off with a laugh and said, "We'll see, Cara." When he returned we were both silent for a long while, then Hartley said, "When am I going to be allowed to be a proper daddy?" Taking this to be a proposal, I suddenly found that the years of aloneness, the deprivation, the need I had for love, suddenly overwhelmed me. I burst into tears, sobbing as if my heart would break. Hartley came to me and took me in his arms. "What is it, my love. Did I say something...did I upset you...tell me..." I howled even louder. In all the years I had never given way, now it all poured out in one great flood, crashing through the emotional barriers I had erected to defend myself and Cara. "Hold me, just hold me, you idiot," I jerked out through my sobs. "I love you rotten beautiful bastard. So just hold me tight and don't ever let go, or I'll kill you." The emotional storm raged on with Hartley holding me and I clinging to him and beating my fists against his chest, my tears soaking his shirt front, my nose streaming, and all the unattractive things that go with copious weeping. Finally I subsided. I pulled away from Hartley to let him see my ugly tear stained face. "And now tell me you want to be a 'proper daddy'" to Cara. "Just look at my ugly face and tell me that." "I want to be a proper daddy to Cara, and in addition, I love your ugly face." Another storm of weeping. "All right, be a proper daddy, and have my ugly face." "Agreed. When?" "What a lousy way to propose." "What a lousy way to accept." We collapsed with laughter, mine being a bit hysterical. We finally came to ourselves and began to tackle the question, "when?" It was to be as soon as possible. We had waited for many years, and that of course is what all those years had been about. Hartley confessed there had been a couple of women, but they had come to nothing. As he said, he was unfair to them, because he was always looking for me in them. And my years of abstinence were equivalent. I wanted Hartley, and not a substitute. One thing you might find quirky among all the many quirky things in our little history. That night we decided that having waited so long without having sex with each other, we would now wait until we were married. "Let's do it properly next time," Hartley said. "Do what properly?" I asked. "Get you pregnant." "If we can get more like Cara," let's do it often, I told him. "It will be my pleasure," he retorted. "Don't be greedy," I said, "I want some of the pleasure to, you know." We fell into laughter again. He left and I peeped into Cara. She was still awake. "You are going to have a proper daddy," I told her. She put her arms round my neck and said, "Good, I love him just as much as you, you know." "Out of the mouths of babes..."