Gingerbread
- 2 years ago
- 27
- 0
Roger Tells It:
Raising a kid alone has got to be one of the toughest, most demanding situations any responsible human could ever face. And I was pretty well-off, financially; I can't begin to imagine how someone making less than I do could manage it. I, at least, could always afford to have someone stay with Bill during the day until he started school. And I could afford to have someone be there for him when he came home or when business took me out of town.
For the first six years after Monica left me - Bill was just a year old when she decided to head for the Coast - we were very, very lucky. Annie, a solid West Indian woman with a gently firm manner about her and an honest and obvious love of children, took on the task of "mothering" my son. They got on famously, and I came to think so highly of her that when the INS caught up with her, I fought for her as if she was family. I lost, and it broke all of our hearts to say our farewells.
After Annie, our standards were very demanding. I must have interviewed 40 candidates before settling on Moira, a tall red-headed Irish lady of about 25. I explained to her about Annie, and Moira understood immediately. When Bill asked her if she was going to be the new "Annie," Moira told him that there could only be one Annie, and I knew it was going to be fine. And it was, for six good years. I was very happy to be one of Moira's sponsors at her naturalization, and I was happy for her when she announced her engagement a year later.
Neither Bill nor I were happy when she added that she and her soon-to-be-husband intended to move to South Carolina.
We - Bill and I - sat down and talked about our next step.
Bill's a bright kid. I'm not talking about a prodigy here. not by any stretch of the imagination, but he's smart, and he thinks things through. I'd always made a real effort to make it clear that when we're alone, he can ask or say anything without fear of retribution of any kind. In fact, in striving to insure open communication, I was overdoing it at the start. It had been Annie who'd warned me to remember that I was Bill's father and not one of his friends from school. A tough balancing act, but it paid dividends. We could talk.
"Dad, I'm 12. I don't need a nanny or a babysitter. I can take care of myself."
"Bill, you're 12. You can't drive a car, sign a check, buy booze or butts, or skip school. I'm not turning you into a latchkey kid. You're my son, I love you, and I'm not leaving you alone."
He sighed heavily, something he'd learned to do when he knew I wasn't going to budge on a matter of policy. I don't think he had realized it yet, but he was also a very good-looking youngster, combining his mother's big blue eyes and glowing complexion (marred at the moment by the inevitable acne) with my size and facial structure and brown hair.
"But I'll agree with you: You don't need a nanny or babysitter. Let's look into alternatives."
At that, he brightened. Bill loved a challenge. For most of the weekend and over breakfast on Monday morning, we kept coming back to the subject. Bill carried his "project notebook" around with him everywhere, and whenever one of us had an idea or thought on the matter, he painstakingly wrote it in the book.
Just before he left for school, he asked if this was a private subject, i.e., only between him and me. I wanted to know what he thought.
"I think the more input we can get on it, the better."
"Sounds good. Stay awake in school. And no drooling in English."
He did a moderately acceptable Groucho and headed out. The English reference was to his teacher, whom he'd described as a "babe-and-a-half." I was looking forward to the parent-teacher conference.
Moira came up with the winning suggestion, which Bill relayed to me that night.
"How about a part-time housekeeper."
"We considered that, remember?"
"Sure, but - " He flipped through his notebook pages. " - but Moira said maybe we should look for a college student who's got a light schedule. Especially someone who might be able to tutor me for an hour or so each day."
The more we talked about it, the better it sounded. One of the biggest problems with a part-timer was school holidays. On those days, Bill would be left alone until three or so. But a college student would have about the same schedule and would, therefore, be available on most school holidays.
We moved fast after that. Because of our location - a co-op in the Village - we concentrated our efforts on New York University, Parsons and Baruch, all within walking distance (more or less).
The folks at NYU were helpful and after checking me out passed along my name and number. We started getting calls. Most of them were washouts on the first call, but I interviewed a few. In the meantime, we were on a countdown to Moira's marriage and departure.
The first candidate showed up in fashionably torn jeans and tended to end every sentence with "Y'know?" The second had a nose ring - honest. The third enriched my life by telling me everything that was wrong with her teachers, her roommate, her life, the city and the Universe in general. The fourth began interrogating me about whether I had inculcated the "traditional sexist, racist white male views" in my son. The fifth seemed like a real possibility until she began dropping unsubtle hints that she'd be more than glad to take care of me, as well.
Two days before Moira's wedding - and after 18 failed interviews - I found one that seemed like a winner. She had good references, a good class schedule and seemed to have the right background. When she was 14, her mother died, and it had fallen to her to oversee her four siblings. No, she had no problem with taking a urine test, and she was taking a minor sequence in statistics, so she'd be able - and willing - to tutor Bill in the demon whose name is "Algebra."
Her name was Inger. Our first interview was right there at NYU, in a conference room a few doors from the student aid office. She was between classes, and I took note of her appearance. She was about five-seven (good, because it gave her a couple of inches on Bill), with hair the color of fresh-cut wheat and pulled back in a ponytail. She had a good, strong face - attractive but not quite pretty - and used her light dusting of makeup to emphasize her best features: great lips and big, soft brown eyes. She was wearing a baggy sweater and a pleated plaid skirt that came to her knees. If anything, she seemed to be on the plump side. Her fingernails were clipped and buffed, and her only jewelry was a digital watch, one of those cheap ones.
Inger spoke well, in complete sentences. From time to time, she would hesitate, becoming silent as she thought. That really impressed me, because it meant she had the self-confidence to prefer silence to inane utterances; most people feel they have to fill conversational space with noise.
Things went fairly well until I got to the tough part (for me, anyhow).
"I don't want to pry, but I want to ask you a somewhat personal question."
"I don't promise to answer."
"Fair enough. Inger, do you have a... a significant other in your life?"
A moment of silence. "I think I understand your concern. I don't really have a boyfriend. There was a guy I was getting interested in but he turned out to be... inappropriate. And as busy as I am with class and - I hope - working for you, I really don't have much time for socializing."
She was bright, Inger was, and she recognized that I wanted to ask another question but was holding back because it would have been prying.
"Look, Mr. Millman, he was inappropriate because I found out he was bisexual and not being safe about it. I am a big fan of living."
I felt myself blush. "Thanks," I mumbled.
Her wristwatch beeped. "I have to get over to Courant for a class. I'll be glad to meet you again, but right now - "
"No, I quite understand." I stood and held out my hand. "Let me talk with Bill, and let's see if you can come by and meet the subject under discussion."
She smiled, and I was somewhat taken aback by the transformation. When this young woman smiled, her whole face got into the act, lighting up the entire room.
"I'd like that," she said.
Bill Speaks:
I don't know what I was expecting when I met Inger. The only Inger I'd ever heard of was in the Swedish Bikini Team poster Ian has in his room, so I'd had this image of Inger-Goddess. Instead, she's this kind of big, squat college girl who dresses to hide her weight (I guess.) But she was really nice, and most important, she didn't treat me like a little kid. She asked me what I liked to do - Dad gave me a look that reminded me not to tell her everything I like to do - what I liked best about my best friend (Ian), and she was really interested when I told her about my synthesizer keyboard. She asked if she could see my room, and Dad said it was up to me. So I said, "Sure, if you can stand it," and showed her. She took a look at my books and computer and keyboard and magazines. She wanted to know which magazine was my favorite, probably expecting it to be the Playboy. I told her I really didn't have a favorite; I just picked up the one that looked most interesting. She asked me why I'd picked the Playboy, and I told her the interview with Zhirinovsky, because he's really nuts. Was that the only reason? Well, sure, I told her, the pictures were OK, but it seemed every model in the magazine was blonde and busty, like there weren't any pretty, slim brunettes out there. She laughed and said, "It does kind of look like an ad for the Aryan Nations, doesn't it?" So I figure if she's cool with that, she's okay. Even if she isn't with the Swedish Bikini Team.
Roger Again:
It was pretty clear to me that Bill felt alright about Inger, maybe even liked her. And she was happy when I told her we thought she'd be fine. We worked out the schedule and the payment, and that, I figured, was that.
Moira's wedding came and went. We'd been invited, of course, but I figured it would be an awkward situation, with too many of the trappings of the feudal lord giving away a serving maid in marriage. So Bill and I pleaded a prior engagement and sent a nice present (What do newlyweds need most? Right - a check) and about two weeks later we received a postcard from Barbados simultaneous with a Thank You note from Sooth Carolina. Try to figure the mail.
Bill seemed pretty comfortable with Inger, and I couldn't complain at all. She took care of the housekeeping, and Bill usually had his homework done by the time I got home from work. Inger told me that he really was without a clue when it came to algebra, but she was working with him on it.
A couple of weeks passed. The night of the parent-teacher conferences arrived. Inger said she could cover the house for me that evening.
I met Ms. Allen, the famous "babe-and-a-half" English teacher, and had to agree with my son's assessment. She was gorgeous, and she was built. She was wearing a fairly conservative suit, but there was no way she could hide that body or those legs. I noted the absence of wedding or engagement rings and start wondering...
Anyhow, Ms. Allen was very forthright and business-like. Bill's writing skills were quite good, though he had a tendency to let his paragraphs run too long. He had a good grasp of chronological organization, but he seemed hesitant about dialogue. Did he read much fiction? No, I told her, his taste ran to non-fiction, especially stuff with political content. She suggested I leave some Heinlein collections around. Which got us talking about Heinlein, and then science fiction in general, and we got to exchanging titles and authors, and when our time was up she said:
"I've really enjoyed our conversation, Mr. Millman."
"So have I. Perhaps we could continue it over coffee or dinner sometime?"
She smiled gloriously, and we traded phone numbers, as well.
Hey, being a single parent isn't all bad after all, I thought.
When I got home, Bill was sprawled on the floor, eating popcorn and watching "Dateline: NBC." Inger was reading a political science textbook, occasionally using a yellow Hi-Liter on a passage.
"How did it go?" she asked.
"Quite well," I told her, hanging up my overcoat.
"Did you meet Ms. Allen?" Bill chimed.
Inger laughed and closed her textbook.
"So he's told you about the 'babe-and-a-half'?"
"He's hinted at it."
"She is rather attractive."
"I'm sure." Inger stood. "I'll head back then. Big test tomorrow."
I helped her on with her coat and walked her to the door. I handed her an envelope. "Cab fare," I explained. She smiled and thanked me.
"By the way," I said. "I met Bill's algebra teacher. If he teaches the way he talks, I'm amazed anyone is getting it. I suspect he's one of those guys who picked it up instinctively and simply doesn't know how to explain what he knows."
"Hmmmm... maybe if we started from scratch, Bill would do better."
"Maybe. Good luck on your test - and thanks for the extra time."
"Mr. Millman, I'm joining some friends Friday evening. Would it be alright with you if I shower and change my clothes here?"
"Of course. But thanks for asking."
Bill Observes:
Y'know, it's been three weeks now. I was starting to feel like Inger has always been her. In fact, I sort of thought of her as, well, like a guy, a buddy. I mean, she's in charge, but not bossy, and we talk about stuff sometimes, and I just always thought of her as just plain Inger.
Not any more, though. Not after tonight. Not after she changed her clothes and put on her makeup to go out with her friends.
Dad called about six, which is when he usually leaves the office, and talked to Inger, and then she put me on the phone, and he told me wasn't going to be home till 7:30, but that Inger was going to leave at seven anyhow, and I was on my own, and he was sorry to be late but he'd bring in my favorite Chinese. It was no big deal, really.
So about 15 minutes later, Inger excuses herself and goes into Dad's bedroom with her bag, and about 10 minutes later I hear the shower running. Sure, I was curious, but this was Inger. I mean, I'd never seen a real woman naked, but Dad always left Playboy and like that around, and I've always looked at them, and now I'm just kind of not interested unless it's a really pretty woman or someone unusual (like that Tiffany Towers, who's got breasts bigger than her head!), so I didn't really want to peek in on Inger, who never seemed that attractive. Besides which, it would be sort of like violating her privacy, and I respect her too much for that.
So at a quarter to seven, I didn't even look up when Inger came into the living room, because I was watching "Tek Wars." And then she asked me if she looked OK. When I looked at her, I wasn't sure it was Inger. She wasn't in her usual baggy sweater and baggy skirt or baggy jeans with her hair pulled back in a pony tail - no way. She was wearing a black leather mini cut about halfway up her thighs, and dark stockings and high heels and a gray turtleneck sweater, and she had her hair combed out, and she was wearing more makeup, and Inger was definitely a babe. I mean, Ms. Allen suddenly looked shabby in my head. I looked her up and down, I guess with my mouth hanging open, and she kind of laughed - not mocking, but just amused, I guess - and said, "I take that as a 'Yes.'" So I told her the truth, just kind of blurting that she looked gorgeous, and she smiled and puckered up and blew me a kiss and said thanks, and I got the most incredible boner. When she asked me to help her on with her coat, I think she noticed it, but she just told me to behave until Dad got home, and then she left to meet her friends, and all I could do was stand there next to the door, smelling her perfume and throbbing to beat the band. The hell with the band. Five minutes later I was beating the meat.
Roger Returns:
On the next Tuesday, I sat Bill down for one of our talks.
"Bill, I'm going to have dinner with a lady tonight." His eyebrows went up. "Someone kind of new." I'd gone out with a few women in the previous decade, and Bill had met a couple of them.
"What's that mean - 'Kind of new'?" He was genuinely - and understandably - puzzled.
"Well, it means I've had coffee with her once, but we've never really gone out. And it's someone you know."
"Inger?"
I had to smile. "No, not Inger. Good grief, no. I mean, she's attractive enough, but she's awfully young for me."
"Dad, Inger is a babe-and-a-half. You should have seen her when she changed to go out with her friends. I mean, forget Ms. Allen!"
I felt my face redden.
"Did I say something wrong, Dad?" He'd obviously mistaken my blush for something else.
"No, not a chance." I grinned. "So you're having less trouble concentrating on your English books?"
"Dad, Inger is definitely hot when she wants to be." He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "So, anyhow, who's this date of yours?"
I blushed again. "It's, uh, your English teacher."
He blinked rapidly, twice. "You're shitting me."
"I shit you not." This was our secret, ultimate-promise-of-truth code. "We sort of hit it off at the parent-teacher conference. In fact, it was her idea to leave the Heinlein around for you that got us talking."
"Wow. You and Ms. Allen."
"Bill - this has to be between us. And I'm going to ask you to do something very, very difficult. I don't think I could do it if I was in your shoes. You have to act like nothing's changed in class with her - because nothing has changed in class with her."
He thought that over for a few moments. Then: "Yeah, that is going to be tough. You know, sometimes the guys make remarks about her - "
I shook my head. "And they'll keep doing it, and it's OK. Even if you do, it's OK - but I'd prefer you didn't."
"Does Inger know?"
"Yes, she does. She's going to stay till 10 tomorrow night."
"What happens if you get lucky?"
I laughed. "Son, women - especially 'babes' - do not line up around the block for a middle-aged account executive. At least, not for this one. I do not expect to get my bones jumped. In fact, I'd be amazed. I'll be home at 10."
The next day, before he left for school, Bill wished me luck, but it didn't have an immediate effect. Oh, dinner with Bernice was quite lovely, and afterward we went to Bradley's for drinks and some music, and then I walked her to her door in a light snow and - to my astonishment - she solved that awkward moment for us by leaning up and giving me a peck on the lips... and then did it again, but it was less of a peck and turned into a clinch. Then there was another awkward moment, only this time I solved it.
"I wouldn't mind doing a lot more of that except for two things," I said. "One, it's getting damn cold out here, and, two, I have a 10 o'clock appointment."
She smiled beautifully. "We'll have to check our schedules, Roger. I really enjoyed tonight."
"Call you tomorrow?"
"I'd like that. Thank you for a lovely evening."
"The pleasure was entirely mine. Good night."
I waited till she'd closed the inner door of her brownstone apartment building, and then I strode home, feeling pretty proud of myself.
Bill Speaks:
It was about seven o'clock when we finished clearing away the dishes - Inger and I made a casserole - when she said, "I wonder how your father's date is going." I wondered, too. What I was wondering more about was Inger. How could she be such a babe and dress so plain all the time? As she bent over to put the casserole pan in the dishwasher, I saw her baggy sweater bulge with her tits and instantly got another boner. It seemed like half the time I was near her I was getting a boner. It was driving me nuts. I excused myself and went into the bathroom for the second time that evening and quickly whipped it out and started beating. In about a minute, I splattered another big load into the sink. It took me about 10 minutes to clean up and calm down enough to leave.
Inger was just sitting on the couch, looking at me funny, like she knew what I'd been doing. I went to turn on the television, thinking she was going to study like she usually did if she stayed late, but she asked me not to turn on the set and to come sit with her for a minute.
"Bill, I want to talk something over with you - just between us."
Uh-oh, I thought, sitting at the far end of the couch.
"You were just masturbating."
I felt my face get hot, but one thing I don't do - ever - is lie. On the other hand, I didn't have to confess, either.
"There's nothing wrong or unnatural about it. And I don't think it's dirty or some kind of shit like that."
I was a little surprised to hear Inger talk like that, but I got her point.
"But I want to talk with you about..." She took a deep breath. "Bill, were you jerking off thinking about your father's date?"
My face got hotter.
"I mean, if she's half the babe you say she is, I can understand that, but it's going to be tough enough treating her just as a teacher; making her your fantasy object will just make it more difficult."
I had a tough time talking. "Well, uh, what makes you think it was her?"
"As soon as I mentioned your father's date, you got a hard-on and went to jerk off."
"That wasn't it."
She shrugged. "Well, suit yourself."
"Really, it wasn't!"
She didn't say anything, but I could tell she was far from convinced.
"That was just coincidence. It was - " I shut my mouth.
She looked really puzzled.
"It was what?"
"It was you!"
She blinked, like she was surprised.
"Oh, Bill, I'm just plain ol' Inger and - "
"No, you're not. I saw you when you were dressed to meet your friends. You were so hot I - "
I stopped my mouth before I went any farther.
Her face changed, like... softened.
"You mean I turned you on like that? This long after? That's kind of hard to swallow and - "
"Don't believe me?" I stood and stepped in front of her. "Look!"
She looked, right at my crotch where Boner Number Three was making itself obvious.
"Oh, my goodness! Did I do that?"
She looked up at me.
"Oh, dear." Her breathing quickened. "Little old dowdy me made you get all stiff like that..." She put her hand on it, and I groaned. "Well, I can't have you studying algebra in a state like that. What shall we do about it?"
"Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom - "
"Not at all."
"Wha - "
She was unzipping my pants and pushing them and my Jockeys down.
"There does seem to be quite a bit to it for a young man your age."
I moaned when she took my dick in her hand.
"Maybe I can help."
She started stroking me. Her face was all red, and she was panting.
"It's so nice and hard and - are you going to cum soon?"
I grunted.
"Well, we can't make a mess in here..." Still stroking, she reached for the Kleenex. "Come on, and let it go."
"Oh, shit..." I gasped and started shooting. Even though I'd whacked off twice, my knees started to bend, I came so hard - and a lot. Inger's Kleenex got soaked pretty fast, and then there was stuff running over her hand and wrist. I came some more before I stopped, and she squeezed the last few drops out, then used another Kleenex to clean off my cock. She looked up at me and smiled.
"That was nice," she said. She put her hand to her mouth and licked up some of my jizz, then gave a little shiver. "And it tastes nice, too. Straighten out your clothes and flush this." She waited for me to pull my pants back up, then handed me the tissue. I kind of stumbled to the bathroom, wondering if I'd just had a dream. I flushed the tank and tossed some cold water on my face before returning to the living room. Inger waved me to her side, then patted the cushion next to her.
"No secrets, OK?"
I nodded.
"No - you have to say it."
"OK - no secrets."
"Have you ever done that with anyone before?"
I blushed. "Well, a couple of times my friends and I kind of... well, we have a contest to see who can shoot the farthest or the most."
"But that's it?"
"Yeah."
"But you get horny a lot, and beat off a lot?"
"Well, I guess so."
She took a deep breath. "Well, I can understand that. I get horny, too. A lot. And I masturbate a lot. Sometimes it seems almost anything can get me hot. So I try to be careful. You know about AIDS and that, right?"
"And how." Did I ever! Between Dad and school - I felt like a walking brochure from the Centers for Disease Control. Or GMHC.
She thought for a few seconds. "I'll make a deal with you. I'll take care of you if you'll take care of me."
"Take care of you -?"
"I'll teach you how. But two rules: No one else can ever find out, and we tell each other everything - including about anyone else we play with. How does that sound?"
It took me a minute to realize what she was offering. But once I did, I told her how it sounded:
"That sounds completely excellent."
"Good. Now, have you ever seen a naked woman in the flesh?"
I shook my head. She smiled, stood and led me to my room.
Roger Speaks:
I got home at 10 o'clock, on the dot. To my surprise, Inger was alone in the living room, reading her poly sci text. Bill wasn't in sight.
"He's sacked out," she said quietly. "Said he was really tired."
"I hope he's not coming down with anything. Usually I have to drive him to bed."
She shrugged. "He ate enough. Maybe he's just worn out. How was your date?"
My smile told her plenty. She grinned at me, her face blossoming. She stood and stretched languidly. "Well, I'm a bit tired myself. I think I'll head home. Are you going to see her again?"
"Almost certainly. I think we're really hitting it off."
"Good on you." She took her coat, and I helped her into it. Something about the way she moved and talked seemed more relaxed than I'd ever seen her before. "Good night." I handed her an envelope. "Thanks, Inger. I really appreciate it."
"Hey, any time I can, I'm glad to do it. He's a good kid."
"The best." I beamed. She beamed right back.
The next morning, Bill seemed pretty cheerful and filled with energy. "I'm glad to see you feeling OK."
He gave me an odd look.
"Inger said you were pretty beat last night and turned in early."
His expression relaxed, and he grinned. "I was definitely beat. I was going to stay up and grill you about your date, but - " He shrugged. "How did it go?"
"It really went well, Bill. I like her, and I think she likes me. We're going to see each other again."
"That's swell, Dad." Oddly, that seemed to be the end of it for him. I'd spent my time in the shower rehearsing how I'd deal with detailed questions and felt a bit let down that he wasn't more curious. On the other hand, Bill was bright and advanced for his years. He might well have concluded for himself that there were some things we would not be discussing in detail. I was proud of my little guy; he was growing up!
That afternoon, at just after four, Bernice called me. (We'd agreed that it would be best for her to call me at work, since it might be putting too much pressure on Bill to have him answer the phone and find his "babe-and-a-half" English teacher asking to talk to his father.) How did my schedule look? I told her that it depended on whether Inger was available, and I'd have to get back to her. She was agreeable. I called home. After the ninth ring, Bill answered the phone, a bit out of breath.
"Oh, uh, Inger bet me I couldn't do 20 pushups."
"Really. Who won the bet?"
"Me."
"Oh, good." I was surprised. Bill had never had much athletic inclination beyond some interest in basketball. "Let me talk to her for a moment, please?"
"Sure."
"Hi, Mr. Millman."
She was out of breath, too.
"Well, that's what he won. I had to do as many as he did."
"What's with this pushups business?"
"Well, I figure that exercise is important, helps the circulation and alertness. Since this algebra has an association with sleepville, I figured the stimulation might help."
It sounded logical, in an odd way. What the hell. I asked about her availability on Friday or Saturday night.
"Oh, no problem! Which will it be? Or both?"
I had to laugh. "You're more optimistic than I am. Friday would be best." I paused. "It might be a little later."
"Are we talking changing the date on the clock?"
"With any luck. I have a very good feeling about the way it's going."
"I'm really glad for you to hear that."
"Don't say anything yet. I'll tell him myself."
"Bye!"
Then I called Bernice. She was very pleased that it was Friday. I explained that Bill and I tended to reserve Saturdays as our day together. We had a whole little routine that ended with going out late Saturday night to bring in the Sunday Times and News and some snack food for watching late night movies together. She thought that was wonderful. Then she told me she was glad it was Friday because it was a day closer, and she really wanted to see me.
Roger Tells It:
Raising a kid alone has got to be one of the toughest, most demanding situations any responsible human could ever face. And I was pretty well-off, financially; I can't begin to imagine how someone making less than I do could manage it. I, at least, could always afford to have someone stay with Bill during the day until he started school. And I could afford to have someone be there for him when he came home or when business took me out of town.
For the first six years after Monica left me - Bill was just a year old when she decided to head for the Coast - we were very, very lucky. Annie, a solid West Indian woman with a gently firm manner about her and an honest and obvious love of children, took on the task of "mothering" my son. They got on famously, and I came to think so highly of her that when the INS caught up with her, I fought for her as if she was family. I lost, and it broke all of our hearts to say our farewells.
After Annie, our standards were very demanding. I must have interviewed 40 candidates before settling on Moira, a tall red-headed Irish lady of about 25. I explained to her about Annie, and Moira understood immediately. When Bill asked her if she was going to be the new "Annie," Moira told him that there could only be one Annie, and I knew it was going to be fine. And it was, for six good years. I was very happy to be one of Moira's sponsors at her naturalization, and I was happy for her when she announced her engagement a year later.
Neither Bill nor I were happy when she added that she and her soon-to-be-husband intended to move to South Carolina.
We - Bill and I - sat down and talked about our next step.
Bill's a bright kid. I'm not talking about a prodigy here. not by any stretch of the imagination, but he's smart, and he thinks things through. I'd always made a real effort to make it clear that when we're alone, he can ask or say anything without fear of retribution of any kind. In fact, in striving to insure open communication, I was overdoing it at the start. It had been Annie who'd warned me to remember that I was Bill's father and not one of his friends from school. A tough balancing act, but it paid dividends. We could talk.
"Dad, I'm 12. I don't need a nanny or a babysitter. I can take care of myself."
"Bill, you're 12. You can't drive a car, sign a check, buy booze or butts, or skip school. I'm not turning you into a latchkey kid. You're my son, I love you, and I'm not leaving you alone."
He sighed heavily, something he'd learned to do when he knew I wasn't going to budge on a matter of policy. I don't think he had realized it yet, but he was also a very good-looking youngster, combining his mother's big blue eyes and glowing complexion (marred at the moment by the inevitable acne) with my size and facial structure and brown hair.
"But I'll agree with you: You don't need a nanny or babysitter. Let's look into alternatives."
At that, he brightened. Bill loved a challenge. For most of the weekend and over breakfast on Monday morning, we kept coming back to the subject. Bill carried his "project notebook" around with him everywhere, and whenever one of us had an idea or thought on the matter, he painstakingly wrote it in the book.
Just before he left for school, he asked if this was a private subject, i.e., only between him and me. I wanted to know what he thought.
"I think the more input we can get on it, the better."
"Sounds good. Stay awake in school. And no drooling in English."
He did a moderately acceptable Groucho and headed out. The English reference was to his teacher, whom he'd described as a "babe-and-a-half." I was looking forward to the parent-teacher conference.
Moira came up with the winning suggestion, which Bill relayed to me that night.
"How about a part-time housekeeper."
"We considered that, remember?"
"Sure, but - " He flipped through his notebook pages. " - but Moira said maybe we should look for a college student who's got a light schedule. Especially someone who might be able to tutor me for an hour or so each day."
The more we talked about it, the better it sounded. One of the biggest problems with a part-timer was school holidays. On those days, Bill would be left alone until three or so. But a college student would have about the same schedule and would, therefore, be available on most school holidays.
We moved fast after that. Because of our location - a co-op in the Village - we concentrated our efforts on New York University, Parsons and Baruch, all within walking distance (more or less).
The folks at NYU were helpful and after checking me out passed along my name and number. We started getting calls. Most of them were washouts on the first call, but I interviewed a few. In the meantime, we were on a countdown to Moira's marriage and departure.
The first candidate showed up in fashionably torn jeans and tended to end every sentence with "Y'know?" The second had a nose ring - honest. The third enriched my life by telling me everything that was wrong with her teachers, her roommate, her life, the city and the Universe in general. The fourth began interrogating me about whether I had inculcated the "traditional sexist, racist white male views" in my son. The fifth seemed like a real possibility until she began dropping unsubtle hints that she'd be more than glad to take care of me, as well.
Two days before Moira's wedding - and after 18 failed interviews - I found one that seemed like a winner. She had good references, a good class schedule and seemed to have the right background. When she was 14, her mother died, and it had fallen to her to oversee her four siblings. No, she had no problem with taking a urine test, and she was taking a minor sequence in statistics, so she'd be able - and willing - to tutor Bill in the demon whose name is "Algebra."
Her name was Inger. Our first interview was right there at NYU, in a conference room a few doors from the student aid office. She was between classes, and I took note of her appearance. She was about five-seven (good, because it gave her a couple of inches on Bill), with hair the color of fresh-cut wheat and pulled back in a ponytail. She had a good, strong face - attractive but not quite pretty - and used her light dusting of makeup to emphasize her best features: great lips and big, soft brown eyes. She was wearing a baggy sweater and a pleated plaid skirt that came to her knees. If anything, she seemed to be on the plump side. Her fingernails were clipped and buffed, and her only jewelry was a digital watch, one of those cheap ones.
Inger spoke well, in complete sentences. From time to time, she would hesitate, becoming silent as she thought. That really impressed me, because it meant she had the self-confidence to prefer silence to inane utterances; most people feel they have to fill conversational space with noise.
Things went fairly well until I got to the tough part (for me, anyhow).
"I don't want to pry, but I want to ask you a somewhat personal question."
"I don't promise to answer."
"Fair enough. Inger, do you have a... a significant other in your life?"
A moment of silence. "I think I understand your concern. I don't really have a boyfriend. There was a guy I was getting interested in but he turned out to be... inappropriate. And as busy as I am with class and - I hope - working for you, I really don't have much time for socializing."
She was bright, Inger was, and she recognized that I wanted to ask another question but was holding back because it would have been prying.
"Look, Mr. Millman, he was inappropriate because I found out he was bisexual and not being safe about it. I am a big fan of living."
I felt myself blush. "Thanks," I mumbled.
Her wristwatch beeped. "I have to get over to Courant for a class. I'll be glad to meet you again, but right now - "
"No, I quite understand." I stood and held out my hand. "Let me talk with Bill, and let's see if you can come by and meet the subject under discussion."
She smiled, and I was somewhat taken aback by the transformation. When this young woman smiled, her whole face got into the act, lighting up the entire room.
"I'd like that," she said.
Bill Speaks:
I don't know what I was expecting when I met Inger. The only Inger I'd ever heard of was in the Swedish Bikini Team poster Ian has in his room, so I'd had this image of Inger-Goddess. Instead, she's this kind of big, squat college girl who dresses to hide her weight (I guess.) But she was really nice, and most important, she didn't treat me like a little kid. She asked me what I liked to do - Dad gave me a look that reminded me not to tell her everything I like to do - what I liked best about my best friend (Ian), and she was really interested when I told her about my synthesizer keyboard. She asked if she could see my room, and Dad said it was up to me. So I said, "Sure, if you can stand it," and showed her. She took a look at my books and computer and keyboard and magazines. She wanted to know which magazine was my favorite, probably expecting it to be the Playboy. I told her I really didn't have a favorite; I just picked up the one that looked most interesting. She asked me why I'd picked the Playboy, and I told her the interview with Zhirinovsky, because he's really nuts. Was that the only reason? Well, sure, I told her, the pictures were OK, but it seemed every model in the magazine was blonde and busty, like there weren't any pretty, slim brunettes out there. She laughed and said, "It does kind of look like an ad for the Aryan Nations, doesn't it?" So I figure if she's cool with that, she's okay. Even if she isn't with the Swedish Bikini Team.
Roger Again:
It was pretty clear to me that Bill felt alright about Inger, maybe even liked her. And she was happy when I told her we thought she'd be fine. We worked out the schedule and the payment, and that, I figured, was that.
Moira's wedding came and went. We'd been invited, of course, but I figured it would be an awkward situation, with too many of the trappings of the feudal lord giving away a serving maid in marriage. So Bill and I pleaded a prior engagement and sent a nice present (What do newlyweds need most? Right - a check) and about two weeks later we received a postcard from Barbados simultaneous with a Thank You note from Sooth Carolina. Try to figure the mail.
Bill seemed pretty comfortable with Inger, and I couldn't complain at all. She took care of the housekeeping, and Bill usually had his homework done by the time I got home from work. Inger told me that he really was without a clue when it came to algebra, but she was working with him on it.
A couple of weeks passed. The night of the parent-teacher conferences arrived. Inger said she could cover the house for me that evening.
I met Ms. Allen, the famous "babe-and-a-half" English teacher, and had to agree with my son's assessment. She was gorgeous, and she was built. She was wearing a fairly conservative suit, but there was no way she could hide that body or those legs. I noted the absence of wedding or engagement rings and start wondering...
Anyhow, Ms. Allen was very forthright and business-like. Bill's writing skills were quite good, though he had a tendency to let his paragraphs run too long. He had a good grasp of chronological organization, but he seemed hesitant about dialogue. Did he read much fiction? No, I told her, his taste ran to non-fiction, especially stuff with political content. She suggested I leave some Heinlein collections around. Which got us talking about Heinlein, and then science fiction in general, and we got to exchanging titles and authors, and when our time was up she said:
"I've really enjoyed our conversation, Mr. Millman."
"So have I. Perhaps we could continue it over coffee or dinner sometime?"
She smiled gloriously, and we traded phone numbers, as well.
Hey, being a single parent isn't all bad after all, I thought.
When I got home, Bill was sprawled on the floor, eating popcorn and watching "Dateline: NBC." Inger was reading a political science textbook, occasionally using a yellow Hi-Liter on a passage.
"How did it go?" she asked.
"Quite well," I told her, hanging up my overcoat.
"Did you meet Ms. Allen?" Bill chimed.
Inger laughed and closed her textbook.
"So he's told you about the 'babe-and-a-half'?"
"He's hinted at it."
"She is rather attractive."
"I'm sure." Inger stood. "I'll head back then. Big test tomorrow."
I helped her on with her coat and walked her to the door. I handed her an envelope. "Cab fare," I explained. She smiled and thanked me.
"By the way," I said. "I met Bill's algebra teacher. If he teaches the way he talks, I'm amazed anyone is getting it. I suspect he's one of those guys who picked it up instinctively and simply doesn't know how to explain what he knows."
"Hmmmm... maybe if we started from scratch, Bill would do better."
"Maybe. Good luck on your test - and thanks for the extra time."
"Mr. Millman, I'm joining some friends Friday evening. Would it be alright with you if I shower and change my clothes here?"
"Of course. But thanks for asking."
Bill Observes:
Y'know, it's been three weeks now. I was starting to feel like Inger has always been her. In fact, I sort of thought of her as, well, like a guy, a buddy. I mean, she's in charge, but not bossy, and we talk about stuff sometimes, and I just always thought of her as just plain Inger.
Not any more, though. Not after tonight. Not after she changed her clothes and put on her makeup to go out with her friends.
Dad called about six, which is when he usually leaves the office, and talked to Inger, and then she put me on the phone, and he told me wasn't going to be home till 7:30, but that Inger was going to leave at seven anyhow, and I was on my own, and he was sorry to be late but he'd bring in my favorite Chinese. It was no big deal, really.
So about 15 minutes later, Inger excuses herself and goes into Dad's bedroom with her bag, and about 10 minutes later I hear the shower running. Sure, I was curious, but this was Inger. I mean, I'd never seen a real woman naked, but Dad always left Playboy and like that around, and I've always looked at them, and now I'm just kind of not interested unless it's a really pretty woman or someone unusual (like that Tiffany Towers, who's got breasts bigger than her head!), so I didn't really want to peek in on Inger, who never seemed that attractive. Besides which, it would be sort of like violating her privacy, and I respect her too much for that.
So at a quarter to seven, I didn't even look up when Inger came into the living room, because I was watching "Tek Wars." And then she asked me if she looked OK. When I looked at her, I wasn't sure it was Inger. She wasn't in her usual baggy sweater and baggy skirt or baggy jeans with her hair pulled back in a pony tail - no way. She was wearing a black leather mini cut about halfway up her thighs, and dark stockings and high heels and a gray turtleneck sweater, and she had her hair combed out, and she was wearing more makeup, and Inger was definitely a babe. I mean, Ms. Allen suddenly looked shabby in my head. I looked her up and down, I guess with my mouth hanging open, and she kind of laughed - not mocking, but just amused, I guess - and said, "I take that as a 'Yes.'" So I told her the truth, just kind of blurting that she looked gorgeous, and she smiled and puckered up and blew me a kiss and said thanks, and I got the most incredible boner. When she asked me to help her on with her coat, I think she noticed it, but she just told me to behave until Dad got home, and then she left to meet her friends, and all I could do was stand there next to the door, smelling her perfume and throbbing to beat the band. The hell with the band. Five minutes later I was beating the meat.
Roger Returns:
On the next Tuesday, I sat Bill down for one of our talks.
"Bill, I'm going to have dinner with a lady tonight." His eyebrows went up. "Someone kind of new." I'd gone out with a few women in the previous decade, and Bill had met a couple of them.
"What's that mean - 'Kind of new'?" He was genuinely - and understandably - puzzled.
"Well, it means I've had coffee with her once, but we've never really gone out. And it's someone you know."
"Inger?"
I had to smile. "No, not Inger. Good grief, no. I mean, she's attractive enough, but she's awfully young for me."
"Dad, Inger is a babe-and-a-half. You should have seen her when she changed to go out with her friends. I mean, forget Ms. Allen!"
I felt my face redden.
"Did I say something wrong, Dad?" He'd obviously mistaken my blush for something else.
"No, not a chance." I grinned. "So you're having less trouble concentrating on your English books?"
"Dad, Inger is definitely hot when she wants to be." He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "So, anyhow, who's this date of yours?"
I blushed again. "It's, uh, your English teacher."
He blinked rapidly, twice. "You're shitting me."
"I shit you not." This was our secret, ultimate-promise-of-truth code. "We sort of hit it off at the parent-teacher conference. In fact, it was her idea to leave the Heinlein around for you that got us talking."
"Wow. You and Ms. Allen."
"Bill - this has to be between us. And I'm going to ask you to do something very, very difficult. I don't think I could do it if I was in your shoes. You have to act like nothing's changed in class with her - because nothing has changed in class with her."
He thought that over for a few moments. Then: "Yeah, that is going to be tough. You know, sometimes the guys make remarks about her - "
I shook my head. "And they'll keep doing it, and it's OK. Even if you do, it's OK - but I'd prefer you didn't."
"Does Inger know?"
"Yes, she does. She's going to stay till 10 tomorrow night."
"What happens if you get lucky?"
I laughed. "Son, women - especially 'babes' - do not line up around the block for a middle-aged account executive. At least, not for this one. I do not expect to get my bones jumped. In fact, I'd be amazed. I'll be home at 10."
The next day, before he left for school, Bill wished me luck, but it didn't have an immediate effect. Oh, dinner with Bernice was quite lovely, and afterward we went to Bradley's for drinks and some music, and then I walked her to her door in a light snow and - to my astonishment - she solved that awkward moment for us by leaning up and giving me a peck on the lips... and then did it again, but it was less of a peck and turned into a clinch. Then there was another awkward moment, only this time I solved it.
"I wouldn't mind doing a lot more of that except for two things," I said. "One, it's getting damn cold out here, and, two, I have a 10 o'clock appointment."
She smiled beautifully. "We'll have to check our schedules, Roger. I really enjoyed tonight."
"Call you tomorrow?"
"I'd like that. Thank you for a lovely evening."
"The pleasure was entirely mine. Good night."
I waited till she'd closed the inner door of her brownstone apartment building, and then I strode home, feeling pretty proud of myself.
Bill Speaks:
It was about seven o'clock when we finished clearing away the dishes - Inger and I made a casserole - when she said, "I wonder how your father's date is going." I wondered, too. What I was wondering more about was Inger. How could she be such a babe and dress so plain all the time? As she bent over to put the casserole pan in the dishwasher, I saw her baggy sweater bulge with her tits and instantly got another boner. It seemed like half the time I was near her I was getting a boner. It was driving me nuts. I excused myself and went into the bathroom for the second time that evening and quickly whipped it out and started beating. In about a minute, I splattered another big load into the sink. It took me about 10 minutes to clean up and calm down enough to leave.
Inger was just sitting on the couch, looking at me funny, like she knew what I'd been doing. I went to turn on the television, thinking she was going to study like she usually did if she stayed late, but she asked me not to turn on the set and to come sit with her for a minute.
"Bill, I want to talk something over with you - just between us."
Uh-oh, I thought, sitting at the far end of the couch.
"You were just masturbating."
I felt my face get hot, but one thing I don't do - ever - is lie. On the other hand, I didn't have to confess, either.
"There's nothing wrong or unnatural about it. And I don't think it's dirty or some kind of shit like that."
I was a little surprised to hear Inger talk like that, but I got her point.
"But I want to talk with you about..." She took a deep breath. "Bill, were you jerking off thinking about your father's date?"
My face got hotter.
"I mean, if she's half the babe you say she is, I can understand that, but it's going to be tough enough treating her just as a teacher; making her your fantasy object will just make it more difficult."
I had a tough time talking. "Well, uh, what makes you think it was her?"
"As soon as I mentioned your father's date, you got a hard-on and went to jerk off."
"That wasn't it."
She shrugged. "Well, suit yourself."
"Really, it wasn't!"
She didn't say anything, but I could tell she was far from convinced.
"That was just coincidence. It was - " I shut my mouth.
She looked really puzzled.
"It was what?"
"It was you!"
She blinked, like she was surprised.
"Oh, Bill, I'm just plain ol' Inger and - "
"No, you're not. I saw you when you were dressed to meet your friends. You were so hot I - "
I stopped my mouth before I went any farther.
Her face changed, like... softened.
"You mean I turned you on like that? This long after? That's kind of hard to swallow and - "
"Don't believe me?" I stood and stepped in front of her. "Look!"
She looked, right at my crotch where Boner Number Three was making itself obvious.
"Oh, my goodness! Did I do that?"
She looked up at me.
"Oh, dear." Her breathing quickened. "Little old dowdy me made you get all stiff like that..." She put her hand on it, and I groaned. "Well, I can't have you studying algebra in a state like that. What shall we do about it?"
"Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom - "
"Not at all."
"Wha - "
She was unzipping my pants and pushing them and my Jockeys down.
"There does seem to be quite a bit to it for a young man your age."
I moaned when she took my dick in her hand.
"Maybe I can help."
She started stroking me. Her face was all red, and she was panting.
"It's so nice and hard and - are you going to cum soon?"
I grunted.
"Well, we can't make a mess in here..." Still stroking, she reached for the Kleenex. "Come on, and let it go."
"Oh, shit..." I gasped and started shooting. Even though I'd whacked off twice, my knees started to bend, I came so hard - and a lot. Inger's Kleenex got soaked pretty fast, and then there was stuff running over her hand and wrist. I came some more before I stopped, and she squeezed the last few drops out, then used another Kleenex to clean off my cock. She looked up at me and smiled.
"That was nice," she said. She put her hand to her mouth and licked up some of my jizz, then gave a little shiver. "And it tastes nice, too. Straighten out your clothes and flush this." She waited for me to pull my pants back up, then handed me the tissue. I kind of stumbled to the bathroom, wondering if I'd just had a dream. I flushed the tank and tossed some cold water on my face before returning to the living room. Inger waved me to her side, then patted the cushion next to her.
"No secrets, OK?"
I nodded.
"No - you have to say it."
"OK - no secrets."
"Have you ever done that with anyone before?"
I blushed. "Well, a couple of times my friends and I kind of... well, we have a contest to see who can shoot the farthest or the most."
"But that's it?"
"Yeah."
"But you get horny a lot, and beat off a lot?"
"Well, I guess so."
She took a deep breath. "Well, I can understand that. I get horny, too. A lot. And I masturbate a lot. Sometimes it seems almost anything can get me hot. So I try to be careful. You know about AIDS and that, right?"
"And how." Did I ever! Between Dad and school - I felt like a walking brochure from the Centers for Disease Control. Or GMHC.
She thought for a few seconds. "I'll make a deal with you. I'll take care of you if you'll take care of me."
"Take care of you -?"
"I'll teach you how. But two rules: No one else can ever find out, and we tell each other everything - including about anyone else we play with. How does that sound?"
It took me a minute to realize what she was offering. But once I did, I told her how it sounded:
"That sounds completely excellent."
"Good. Now, have you ever seen a naked woman in the flesh?"
I shook my head. She smiled, stood and led me to my room.
Roger Speaks:
I got home at 10 o'clock, on the dot. To my surprise, Inger was alone in the living room, reading her poly sci text. Bill wasn't in sight.
"He's sacked out," she said quietly. "Said he was really tired."
"I hope he's not coming down with anything. Usually I have to drive him to bed."
She shrugged. "He ate enough. Maybe he's just worn out. How was your date?"
My smile told her plenty. She grinned at me, her face blossoming. She stood and stretched languidly. "Well, I'm a bit tired myself. I think I'll head home. Are you going to see her again?"
"Almost certainly. I think we're really hitting it off."
"Good on you." She took her coat, and I helped her into it. Something about the way she moved and talked seemed more relaxed than I'd ever seen her before. "Good night." I handed her an envelope. "Thanks, Inger. I really appreciate it."
"Hey, any time I can, I'm glad to do it. He's a good kid."
"The best." I beamed. She beamed right back.
The next morning, Bill seemed pretty cheerful and filled with energy. "I'm glad to see you feeling OK."
He gave me an odd look.
"Inger said you were pretty beat last night and turned in early."
His expression relaxed, and he grinned. "I was definitely beat. I was going to stay up and grill you about your date, but - " He shrugged. "How did it go?"
"It really went well, Bill. I like her, and I think she likes me. We're going to see each other again."
"That's swell, Dad." Oddly, that seemed to be the end of it for him. I'd spent my time in the shower rehearsing how I'd deal with detailed questions and felt a bit let down that he wasn't more curious. On the other hand, Bill was bright and advanced for his years. He might well have concluded for himself that there were some things we would not be discussing in detail. I was proud of my little guy; he was growing up!
That afternoon, at just after four, Bernice called me. (We'd agreed that it would be best for her to call me at work, since it might be putting too much pressure on Bill to have him answer the phone and find his "babe-and-a-half" English teacher asking to talk to his father.) How did my schedule look? I told her that it depended on whether Inger was available, and I'd have to get back to her. She was agreeable. I called home. After the ninth ring, Bill answered the phone, a bit out of breath.
"Oh, uh, Inger bet me I couldn't do 20 pushups."
"Really. Who won the bet?"
"Me."
"Oh, good." I was surprised. Bill had never had much athletic inclination beyond some interest in basketball. "Let me talk to her for a moment, please?"
"Sure."
"Hi, Mr. Millman."
She was out of breath, too.
"Well, that's what he won. I had to do as many as he did."
"What's with this pushups business?"
"Well, I figure that exercise is important, helps the circulation and alertness. Since this algebra has an association with sleepville, I figured the stimulation might help."
It sounded logical, in an odd way. What the hell. I asked about her availability on Friday or Saturday night.
"Oh, no problem! Which will it be? Or both?"
I had to laugh. "You're more optimistic than I am. Friday would be best." I paused. "It might be a little later."
"Are we talking changing the date on the clock?"
"With any luck. I have a very good feeling about the way it's going."
"I'm really glad for you to hear that."
"Don't say anything yet. I'll tell him myself."
"Bye!"
Then I called Bernice. She was very pleased that it was Friday. I explained that Bill and I tended to reserve Saturdays as our day together. We had a whole little routine that ended with going out late Saturday night to bring in the Sunday Times and News and some snack food for watching late night movies together. She thought that was wonderful. Then she told me she was glad it was Friday because it was a day closer, and she really wanted to see me.
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Hookup SitesReddit Swingers, aka r/Swingers! Swinging is not for everyone, and you fucking know it. But the fact that you are here reading this tells me you wouldn't mind getting down with any kind of swinger, cuckold, or hotwife situation. I don't know how you freaks pull it off. I mean, it takes an extremely fucked up individual to swap partners, don't you think? Well, that is if you have a partner that is down for that shit to start with. Some of you motherfuckers don't realize how fucking lucky you...
Reddit NSFW ListReddit Ginger, aka r/Ginger! Some people have a certain kind of woman in mind which they deem as the ‘perfect woman’, and will fap to this kind of woman almost instantaneously because they’re THAT attracted to her for various reasons. Sometimes it’s because she reminds them of a certain ex-girlfriend which they’re still in love with, other times it’s because she looks an awful lot like their mother, and sometimes it’s because of personal preference.I know that there’s probably plenty of dudes...
Reddit NSFW ListGingerby theduck1930This is a true story. Everything happened just as it is told. Names are changed to protect the innocent if there are any.The year was 1970. I was on a Fraternal Order of Eagles drill team. On this occasion I was not in uniform, I had stopped off from work to have a drink in the Eagles bar. The bar was nearly void of customers except for some women who were all on the Auxiliary Drill Team. I knew all of them because the men’s drill team and women’s drill team all traveled to...
Ringer By Cherysse St. Claire © As always, the characters, places and events depicted in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely the product of your overactive imagination. I ain't takin' the rap for it, Bud! ***** "Nicole Norman, you have to be out of your mind," I murmured to myself disbelievingly, as I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. I was in the pink tonight - Shocking Pink to be exact. This was a first for me. Usually, I'm...
We were not really a swingers but it happened to be as we were married for six years & Sarika my wife she is small but full of sex our sex was never dull because she is hot at her age of 28 she has lots to give me we are a social animals & we have few close couples which our good friends we often have party’s so we enjoy one couple that is Dinesh & Annu were very close actually Annu is very close to my Sarika & one night we were watching a blue film in it there were two couples who were have...
Ok this story happened about 1 year ago, my names Dave, im a 23 yr old with (so my gf tells me) perfect pecks and fantastic thighs. None of this matters because I also happen to have a 9 inch cock. Anyway one day last year I got a text from my mate john, he sed he wanted me 2 come on a duble date wiv him and a new girl. So me and my girlfriend (Alice) went on the date that night.We arrived at the bar and they wernt there yet so we went and got some drinks from the bar, we sat down and we musta...
These stories was written as part of a Hopper Swap, where two writers get together and use two story ideas, one from each writer and make them into a story. The other writer on this occasion was SaraH. We had one week to write the story. I've put the story ideas at the end so they don't spoil the story. "I tell you it isn't like that!" shouted Marlene. "Once you get married, it's forever, it's not just until someone else attracts your attention!" "You have no idea what men are...
“Nicole Norman, you have to be out of your mind,” I murmured to myself disbelievingly, as I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. I was in the pink tonight – Shocking Pink to be exact. This was a first for me. Usually, I’m the ‘classy brunette professional’ type; sophisticated, a little aloof, definitely not easy pickings. My friend Cindy had been on my case for weeks, telling me I needed to loosen up a little, take chances, have more fun. “Try going blonde for a change,” she badgered. “Get a...
Reddit Lingerie, aka r/Lingerie! Lingerie makes any man's penis go from 0 to 100 in seconds - at least the men who aren't cripplingly addicted to drawn porn and video games like the Porn Geek is. There's just something so equal parts mesmerizing, enticing and appealing about a woman in a nice lace lingerie bodysuit that just oils up my gears and starts grinding them to create a perfect melody of sexual tension. Lingerie really is undeniably sexy regardless of where you see it. In essence, it...
Reddit NSFW ListIntroduction: Tender moments with my sister I had no idea my sister liked her sex kinky. She told me all about it in one of those girlie chats where all the fruity details about your sex life get revealed. She described how shes very sexually submissive to her man, how she lets him control her and use her when and where he wants. She said he called her his fuck toy and that hed spank her hard if she didnt slut herself to his satisfaction. She told me how she loved playing at being his whore,...
Reddit Fingering, aka r/fingering! Hands down, one of the best websites that could satisfy all your dirty needs is Reddit.com. This website is free and driven by its community; thus, everything you find on Reddit.com is uploaded and made by/for the community. I am not here to talk about Reddit in general, even though I love to do that. I am here to talk about one of its subreddits called r/Fingering/.Now, there is really no rocket science behind what r/Fingering/ has to offer; it is right there...
Reddit NSFW ListMy husband and I like to swing. He love watching me get fucked and suck off other guys...then for the next few days wants to fuck me like rabbit. It i so hot to fuck in front of him and have a new hard cock in me or do it with a girl after he fucked her!!!!!!!1
The other woman was a tall blonde. She was about the same height as Hank’s wife, Ana, and very pretty. She and Ana had similar builds and personality traits, which made him more attracted to her. Oddly enough, he wasn’t cheating on his wife. Ana was fully aware that he was having sex with another woman because Ana was with them. Hank thought back to their wedding day. It was the best day of his life, but he never thought he would be making love to a woman other than his wife, and he definitely...
SwingerIn the silence of midnight and street lamps I open my car door, slip onto the black leather and turn the ignition. My head leans back onto the headrest and I cannot help but smile to myself. A dark laugh seeps through my burgundy lips, because right now...I don't have to see you to know exactly what you are doing.---The party has fizzled out. You make your excuses, climb the stairs to your room and shut the door behind you. The alcohol has not worn off yet. Clothing slips from your toned body...
Straight SexDani stepped off the bus into the madness that comprised the downtown business district at lunchtime. Class was over; now it was time to keep her lunch date with Brent. She turned many a male head as she made her way across the courtyard toward the sixteen-story building in which Brent worked. Dani was quite a looker; she was a twenty-year-old college coed with a gorgeous fair complexion, long, flowing blonde hair and expressive blue eyes. Five-foot- six with a figure to die for, she had on a...
The meeting had gone on far too long, and still, they were getting no further. Gillian was, by now, fed up as she had no input into this meeting and frustrated by the indecision to move it forward. She had made plans for the evening, but they had gone out of the window. It would be too difficult to make it home, change, and meet the date. Gillian had resigned herself to the fact that she would spend the night alone, again. Gillian was not an unattractive woman. In fact, she was good-looking,...
SeductionMarina's nerves were singing so hard she jumped when the screen door slapped shut behind her. Her pulse hammered with exhilaration. Her bikini felt smaller now than when she first tried it on and debated whether to go out and let Ryan see her in it. The stretch of the bright cords against the ripe opulence of her body dug in her flesh like restraints. Every step she'd taken in her garden under the watchful gaze of her beautifully made neighbor made the tiny garment feel smaller and...
She lay there, nude, her little vibrating friend humming away at here clit. In here mind it wasn't a toy, it was her husband, doing what he enjoyed, flicking his tongue, exciting her. She imagined him splitting her crease with his tongue, occasionally dipping it deep inside her then quickly returning to it, lapping feverishly, he was always happy to do it, even when she didn't want him to. The steadily humming device quickly made her climax, it always had. She lay there now somewhat satisfied...
Blackwood, south Wales, a few days before Christmas It was just after one in the afternoon on the last Friday before Christmas and the pub was busier and noisier than it had been in a little while. People appeared happy, celebrating the rapidly approaching Christmas, but there was a brittle atmosphere, as if no one could quite work out whether they were allowed to be happy, allowed to be here. There were two parties in, obviously a couple of works Christmas do’s. Twenty-one women from the...
October 2003. London, England. It is hard to concentrate when you are being eaten out skillfully by a beautiful redhead. This Erika Christensen was learning firsthand. She lay naked in a pile of cushions, her equally undressed friend Alicia Witt's head buried between her legs. One of Alicia's hands was squeezing and caressing at each of Erika's thighs while her tongue licked the space between. Up and down, side to side, lingering for a moment on the clitoris and then stabbing past it and...
SURPRISE! Ellen was a late bloomer…until she was 18 years old she was a blushing small town virgin. Her 18 th birthday party down at Panama City Beach changed all that. She discovered that the sight of an erect penis ejaculating over her hands excited her, gave her a funny, tingly feeling between her legs. That same night she found that the hot squirts of cum against her pussy walls would make her cum as well. Shortly thereafter, she found that if she rubbed her pussy with her hand while she...
Silvia Saige walks into her living room to ask her stepdaughter Joseline Kelly what she’s up to. Silvia’s had a long day at work and wants to know how her day at school went. Joseline looks at her and responds in a bitter tone ‘What do you care?’ as she plays with her cellphone. Silvia walks towards her and sits down on the couch next to Joseline. With a sympathetic voice, she tells her that of course she cares about her. Joseline responds that if she cared so much she...
xmoviesforyouBetty watched her nude best friend fly off to go rescue more of their squad from the island of madness. Her windows rattled as Olivia broke the sound barrier. She lived with her parents in a good neighborhood and they usually left the back door unlocked. It was cold and drizzling, Washington state being a world away from the Caribbean. She went to check the door, the ugly black penis slapping on her thighs as she walked. The hideous tip almost reaching her knee. The door was unlocked,...
I drove home on Wednesday afternoon; cut my history class. The weather was cold, gray, but no snow yet. It was good to come home. Mom was making supper in a t-shirt when I came in the door. I hugged her and hugged her and rubbed her ass. Frank and Ralph were there, too. And Dad. It felt so good to hug him again. We all talked thirteen to the dozen through supper and a long time after. Frank told us about his work at school, his engineering drawings and such. Ralph showed me his latest...
The vet would examine me occasionally usually while I was strapped in my milking rack. He would shove a thermometer up my ass and then put a vinyl glove on that went up past his elbow. He would lube it up then insert his whole arm into my vagina. He would feel around in there and then withdraw and squeeze my breasts some. He seemed satisfied with my progress and would leave without saying a word. As the months went by and I got bigger and bigger it was more difficult to make the journey over to...
I threw on some shorts and a t-shirt. Fiona put her slacks on to retain her modesty, along with my dress shirt that you could see her black lace bra through. I must admit, she looked hot, without any pretence of trying. Once in the car, she looked nervous, like she wanted to say something. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “I’m not sure whether there is anything wrong. I don’t know!” She sighed. “Twelve hours ago my life was simple. I knew what was happening around me. Genja and I went about our...
One Friday early evening, my good girlfriend Helena called me.She knew I was home alone, my hubby flying out of town; so she said she had a treat for me at her home, that same night...I could not wait to see what it was. I dolled myself up in a low cut top that showed off my cleavage, a sexy collar with a ring on it, a very tight black miniskirt that barely covered my butt, sheer seamed stockings, black stilettos and my favorite white satin thong nestling sexily between my cheeks. I looked in...
Beth’s leaving plummeted me back into the depths of teenage depression, leading me down a long, dark tunnel at which end no light could be seen. Not only had I lost the girl who had become my best friend, but I’d also lost my love. Together, we had shared the most special thing; we’d shared the loss of our virginity. No joy was there for me in the dawning of the new millennium, no sparkle in those celebratory fireworks that punctuated the end of 1999. Some solace was to be found in the gentle...
ReluctanceI visited Dede about a year ago. She had a normal had for massage by asian woman. That usually means a hand job and a bad massage, but what the hell my dick needed rubbing. She was pretty but not above average. She is about 35 years old and from China. To my surprise she gave a really good massage and a great hand job. I visited Dede numerous times over the year but could never get her to give me more than a massage. I would put my hand under her skirt and she would let me rub her butt but...
RICKY'S STORY The young man sat in a deeply shaded corner of restaurants patio. He was watching two young women intently and intimately converse and exchange quick kisses. He was sure that he recognized the brunette even though seven year had passed since he had seen her last, but the taller blond he didn't know. After about forty five minutes the two women called for their check, paid it, rose and embraced tightly and engaged in a lingering passionate kiss. 'You don't see that...
Here I was at 26. Bored, broke and worst of all single. I lived alone in a one bed room apartment downtown, the one thing I did have going for me and spent my nights working a dreadful factory gig manufacturing pickled foods. Pigs feet, pig lips, pigs ears, eggs, sausages, you name it. If it could be soaked in salt and vinegar I was stuck there mass producing it. The checks were cool but the hours and the smell were a real nuisance. My time spent away from work was typically devoted to...
Note: This is my third story and although English is not my fist language, I chose it anyway to reach a broader audience. I hope it works out in the end and the grammatical and spelling errors don?t distract too much. I?m not telling this because I want to be corrected via the reviews, but warn people who get distracted by these things so much that they can?t appreciate the storyline itself. This story is based on a phantasy I once had and only is written down, because Wyrdey...
Dieter was sitting looking out over the water. He slowly sipped his beer. From somewhere behind him he became aware of an English voice speaking on a mobile phone. “Must go, sorry…..and you…..take care, you.” In an instant that voice took him back to L'Auditori in Barcelona, several years before. Vividly he saw legs, and thighs. In his mind he played that scene again, savouring the feeling he had felt in his loins as his eyes ran up those legs and over those thighs. It was as if...
ReluctanceTheir last journey together. Dear readers, although this story is offered as a tale of love and devotion, the subject matter is highly controversial. Some might find this story harrowing while others may not approve of the premise. I offer it as a different yet, hopefully, still romantic slant on the usual St Valentine’s Day stories. Story: Emma awoke and rose early on the 14th of February for she knew she had a busy day ahead of her. She smiled, inwardly, as she glanced at her sleeping...
How a normal kid with an extraordinary talent became the world’s first, and perhaps last, evil mastermind. I live in the mountains near Rico, Colorado. I found an elevated valley that hadn’t felt the foot of man since the early 1840s. I was close enough to pick up FM signals with a long wire antenna, so I could listen to the jazz programs on public radio from Gunnison. People don’t like me around because I won’t roll over and play dead. Just because I can find things that nobody else can is no...
After being dump my gf while I was in college I decide to just go online and hook up with some and didn’t care much who. I downloaded tinder and found this cute ass girl and messaged her and see if she wanted to meet up. She messaged me back and meet up with her at her place. We watched a Netflix and chill and started to making out with her and slowly feeling her out as she was grabbing my dick. She pulled my pants and started sucking it really good. And her head game was unbelievable that was...
Abella Danger is in love with James Deen. No one is really sure why, but this bitch LOVES James. She is literally begging him to fuck her all day. He finally gives in and jumps into the scene. He and Markus Dupree take turns on her ass and pussy making sure she cums over and over again while being filled with both cocks. To keep the pair’s tradition going, James accompanies Abella to the bathroom. Where, yet again, they start to have sex in a god damn bathroom. Abella comments on this...
xmoviesforyouMy husband and I recently moved to a new house in “Swingers Close”.....Yes I know; we laughed about it at the time as well, but what we didn't reckon on was the laugh ending up being on us !We had been there for about a couple of weeks, and had most of the things roughly where we wanted them, when a knock came on the front door. On opening it, a lady introduced herself as one of our neighbours. “Come in will you please” I said, only too pleased to meet and greet people from the Close.“My name...
By: Bo Broadnax Chapter 1 Rachel Loses Her Virginity Ever since Rachel met Larson, she was drawn by his male magnetism. Was it the way his brown eyes held hers or was it his hot, kinky kiss? Surely no one saw them kiss!!! It had been dark in the park that night. It had been a warm beautiful night, so Rachel had decided to walk home after the dance. Bo, the guy she had a massive crush on, hadn't come. She was thinking of Bo when suddenly an arm snaked out from behind a tree and...
Christen is a fit, limber girl. She loves to do yoga and work out. But today, she has something special in mind. She’s put on a see-thru leotard, and she’s stretching on the bed, showing Kristof her gorgeous body. Calling him to play. Egging him on. And of course, he’s ready for it. Who wouldn’t be with the gorgeous Christen so horny and eager for love? It all gets going with Christen getting her bubbly ass sucked, and then she’s down on Kristof with her mouth,...
xmoviesforyouWe went back to the table and I asked Shelby if she had reservations anywhere else since she was supposed to make all the plans. "I have two rooms reserved at the Holiday Inn if you want to go further. Of course it's totally up to you." "Well, yes, since we are both doing this, I guess it's alright. If it was just me, I'd have a problem with it. You know our pre-nuptial agreement and all. June's a lovely woman but I can get a lot of action for a half-million dollars," I...
Jake Peters and I watched the lady friends of Lynette Peters as they played cards at the kitchen table. Jake's comments about Betty, and how he wouldn't mind a roll in the hay with her, surprised me. Jake always dated girls around his own age. Betty was probably in her mid to late thirties. She was pretty, blond and sported a curvy figure. Not overweight, comfy would be the best description. I did notice that she was eyeing us up a bit more than the other women were. But first a brief...
MILFWas a totally pampered kid. By my father, mother and all the uncles that I met. My father worked in a company selling appliances. He would travel a lot, my mom worked too. I stayed alone most of the time after I got back from school. It was during the summer vacations I started getting very bored with both my parents out working. I would notice that after my father left the house my mom would get a phone call and she would just ask if there was anything for today. That’s all. I was getting...
IncestIan and Susanna are friends, and occasionally I pop around and help them do some work on their garden. In return they would spark up the barbeque and provide the beers. Ian is a white guy in his mid-fifties, bit overweight, but with a full head of hair. Susanna is quite a bit younger, in her late thirties, lovely black hair, and an Asian look to her face and skin colour. This particular day we had worked up a sweat, so both Ian and I are just in our shorts when Susanna puts on the Barbie....
Wife LoversAshe steps off the elevator and into a whirlwind of chaos. Well, not really chaos, but noise. When she didn’t immediately meet up with Or’s daughter, the girl decided to wander off. The last time she was spotted was when she got off on the factory floor. With much of the processing, bottling and packaging done with automations, the only human interaction is done when something breaks or as it is being monitored by computer in another part of the building. That leaves the girl wandering...
We grabbed a cab from the airport. Back in San Diego, again. Vacation. We both needed the getaway from work and life's daily grind. I was born and raised in San Diego and we look forward to coming back to visit family and friends every year or two. We tend to stay at the same hotel each time. The Moonset Palms, just a short three or four miles west from San Diego's airport. It was October. A good time to visit. Kids were back in school and the weather is still warm and sunny. Although...
CuckoldBlue eyed princess Megan Hughes is a straight to the point kind of stepdaughter. This girl barely even tries to hide it as she masturbates at home! So, when her unsuspecting old man walks in on her, Megan cops to her sensual self pleasure session right away. She offers to play with his massive dick if he promises to keep it a secret from all her friends. She slurps his spying salami and lets him run his fingers over her sweet little vag. Then, he penetrates her inexperienced muff from behind...
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