It is amazing how having no problems can become a problem. I'm Dan. And, I'm a jerk. But it is also a fact that not one man out of a thousand would have behaved any differently. Well, not a straight man out of a thousand at least.
Joanne and I have been married twenty-eight years. I'm 54, she's a stunningly well-preserved 52, even after bearing and raising three rambunctious boys. Our youngest son recently finished college and actually found a job that allows him to afford to live on his own, making us truly empty nesters. We've always had a solid sex live, and it picked up nicely when Josh first went off to school. In some ways, that's where our problem started. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
I'm in commercial real estate, and luckily enough my old firm got bought out shortly before the crash, leaving me with both a little nest egg and also a fair amount of time on my hands. I've done a few deals since, but have also had the chance to work on my golf game and spend some quality time with my guitar for the first time since before our kids were born. I like to joke that it allowed me to have a soft landing instead of a midlife crisis. Little did I know.
I've been dancing around the facts for a while, which I guess is simple embarrassment as much as anything else. So here goes.
Her name is Ashley. She's 18 and blond. She's a little wisp of a girl, 5'2" and maybe 100 pounds soaking wet. But she's got that skinny-curvy combo going on that only seems possible in women from their late teens to early twenties, an impossibly narrow waist combined with a shapely bubble butt, and perfect, full breasts that women spend a fortune trying to acquire if not blessed by nature.
She's my best friend Trent's daughter. Joanne and I have known her since she was born. She'd just finished high school, and had gotten an unpaid summer internship in our area, and of course when Trent asked if we'd put her up for a month we agreed.
Ashley is not only beautiful, but also a really sweet girl. She helped with the dishes without being asked, was never moody or withdrawn, and just generally behaved like the dream daughter Joanne had always wanted, but never had. They even looked a little alike, both blondes with pale skin, although Joanne is taller and had always kept her hair shorter, shoulder length at most.
I mentioned that Joanne and I have a good sex life. She's a really sensuous woman. Very responsive in bed, though for years we could only really let go on those rare occasions when we managed to ditch the kids with someone else. But once Josh was gone, we definitely took advantage of our privacy.
I don't want to make it seem like there was anything crazy going on. But Joanne sometimes gets quite vocal when she gets excited, which is exactly what happened one Friday evening as she rode me happily while I tweaked her firm, sensitive nipples.
"Oh God, oh God, oh my Gawd!" she gasped, impaling herself roughly on me.
I was close, but then I glanced toward the bedroom door which was, as usual, cracked open to let the cats come and go. There was a flash of gold, and it took me a second to realize what it was: Ashley peering into the bedroom, spying on us.
Ashley didn't realize I saw her. At the very least, she didn't act as if she realized. She wasn't looking at my face, but instead was excitedly watching Joanne as she loudly and enthusiastically finished before collapsing panting across my chest. That seemed to break the spell, and Ashley then quickly withdrew, lightly padding back down the hall.
As was our custom, we rolled over so I could finish, but knowing Ashley had been watching us was a weird distraction. I thrust a few times, but I could feel my erection fading, and rather than deal with the embarrassment, I faked it.
Joanne and I snuggled for a little while, but one of the nice things about being married forever is that sex does not require an hour of post-coital cuddling and conversation. So with a kiss, we each retreated to our own side of the bed and went to sleep. Well, at least Joanne did. I was too weirded out.
After a few minutes, when Joanne's breathing let me know she was asleep, I crept out of bed. I wasn't quite sure what I was going to do, but I slowly made my way toward the guest bedroom. I was planning, I guess, to confront Ashley and let her know I knew she'd spied on us.
Or something. Truth be told, I wasn't sure what I'd say to her. Part of it was that I couldn't even quite understand what she'd been doing. Why would an 18 year old want to watch a couple of old folks having sex?
The guest bedroom is actually a loft, an addition built over the garage and accessed from the family room. I was still working out what I'd say to her, so I was sort of lost in thought as I climbed up the stairs to her room. I didn't announce myself, but nor was I deliberately sneaking up on her. At least not consciously.
Her curtains were open bathing the room in dim, soft moonlight. As I crested the top of the stairs, I saw and heard her at the same time.
She was lying on her back, covered to the waist in a bed sheet, moaning softly. I could see one hand rustling under the sheets between her legs. Her other hand was pulling at an erect nipple, one lovely breast exposed in the vee neck of her thin top.
I was transfixed. God, what a sight. She was radiant, a few strands of silky hair draped across her face, catching in her mouth as she moaned sultrily. I could her a soft wet squishing as her fingers worked her snatch. She started bucking her hips, now gasping in passion.
I was rock hard, tenting my PJ bottoms. I reached down and firmly stroked my cock. I was close, so close. One more tug and I'd come all over myself. I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. I took one last peek at Ashley, and then quickly retreated down the stairs, my body protesting by giving me a twinge of blue balls for the first time in decades.
I slept fitfully, at best. I was more confused than ever.
I came back into the house the following morning after mowing the lawn to find Ashley, newly woken, eating a bowl of cereal at the breakfast table. Joanne was out running errands. It was just the two of us.
I stopped short and took a step backwards. But she'd seen me. She gave me a quizzical look.
"Everything okay?" she asked.
I hesitated. Swallowed hard.
"I mean.... It's not a big deal.... But well, it's just, I saw you last night."
She covered her mouth and gasped.
"I mean, I saw you watching us. Outside our bedroom," I added quickly, then wondering if I'd said too much. What else might I have seen after all?
She looked down into her bowl. For a moment, it was silent. And then I heard her let out a muffled sob.
"No, no," I exclaimed. "It's okay. It's just, I'm a little disappointed."
She looked up, eyes red-rimmed. "I'm so sorry, I don't know why I did it. You're not gonna tell...," she stopped mid-sentence.
"No," I replied. "Not Joanne either. This is just our little secret, okay? But it can't happen again."
She nodded and then quickly stood. She rushed me and gave me a quick awkward hug. Then she retreated to her room.
I kept my end of the bargain. Ashley was unmistakably embarrassed and kept to herself for the rest of the weekend, so much so that Joanne noticed.
"You think she's homesick?" she asked in bed Sunday evening.
"Maybe. Or just boyfriend troubles. You know how kids get."
She laughed. "God, you couldn't pay me to be 18 again. Or dating."
I forced a laugh. "Me either."
"Should we take advantage of being middle aged and married?" Joanne asked, snaking her hand into my PJs.
"Mmmm, sounds like a plan."
We kissed, our hand slowly exploring each other's body in a well-practiced dance. We stripped out of our PJs, and Joanne ducked under the covers and took my cock into her mouth. After a few minutes I returned the favor.
She pulled me on top of her, and I entered her slowly. She loves it when I just thrust the tip of my cock in and out, and sure enough after a few minutes of that she grabbed my ass and pulled me deep inside. She shuddered as she came, moaning loudly.
So, we have an exciting albeit age-appropriate sex life. I really have no complaints. But as Joanne has gotten older, her tolerance for extended lovemaking has waned. Even using some lube, it gets uncomfortable for her after a while. And unfortunately, as I've gotten older, I've sometimes had trouble finishing. It's better than not being able to get it up, but after a couple of minutes I was starting to feel the clock was ticking.
Like a lot of men, I sometimes fantasize to help things along. Girlfriends from long ago. Women from work. Images from porn. I ran through my regular go-tos, but it wasn't working. Joanne was leaning up, kissing my nipples, her hands pumping my ass faster and faster. I pumped harder, and her groans now let me know I was running out of time. I sighed inwardly. Time to fake it and move on.
And then, like a lightning bolt, I imagined myself over Ashley, her lithe, naked body, folded beneath me. I imagined her moaning, her full breasts rising upward in time with my thrusts. My whole body seemed to clench up. I let out a feral growl, and then I came what felt like a gallon, my cock pulsing hard at least a half dozen times.
I collapsed, panting, sprawled across Joanne.
She giggled. "Well, that worked."
I could only groan in response as I rolled off her. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.
When the phone rang at 5:43am, I knew it couldn't be good news. Joanne's little sister's husband had had a stroke. It was serious, but not life threatening, but they still had school age kids, and Joanne immediately put in for extended leave to go to Michigan to help them out.
Ashley and I settled into a routine. I'd drop her off at the subway in the morning, pick her up in the evening. We split the cooking duties. Watch a little TV in the evening. Rinse and repeat.
Wednesday at dinner, Ashley seemed particularly pensive.
"Can I ask you a question?" She said suddenly.
"You mean besides that one?" I replied.
She gave me a smirk and stuck out her tongue at me.
"Real mature," I laughed. "Sure, go ahead."
She hesitated and then took a deep breath.
"It's about that night. The night I was outside your bedroom."
I sighed. "I told you, it's not a big deal. It's just between us."
"I know." She paused and blushed. "It's just, well, Joanne really seemed to enjoy herself."
I laughed. "I should hope so. I mean, it's supposed to be fun, unless you're one of those 'just for procreation' people."
"Well, yeah, but I mean, does she... you know... enjoy it every time?"
I was a little taken aback. This was a very personal line of questioning. But I decided to answer. She obviously needed to talk something out. "I dunno. I think so. I hope so. She's never complained, and she's not shy about saying what she wants. But I imagine she sometimes has an off day, or maybe I do."
We were both silent for a moment.
"Why?" I asked, curious.
She blushed again. "Well, it's just, I've never...."
"Oh. Well, look, you're still young. You don't need to rush it. There is nothing wrong with waiting until you find the right guy."
She looked at me quizzically, then a glimmer of understanding crossed her face. She shook her head. "No, no, I'm not a virgin. I mean, I'm not, like, a slut or anything, but I've had a couple of boyfriends."
"Oh...." I hesitated. "Well, I don't really know. I mean, I hear some women having difficulty, you know, achieving climax. I guess it takes time, you know, learning about your own body."
"No, that's not what I mean either. I mean, I can get myself off."
It was my turn to blush as the memory of her writhing in passion flashed in my head.
She continued, "No, I mean, I've never been able to with my boyfriends. I dunno I just never quite get there."
"Well, that takes time too. Joanne and I have been together a long time. We know each other pretty well. You'll find the right guy. If you have a strong emotional connection, it's easier, I guess."
She regarded me pensively, but I could tell I hadn't quite satisfied her curiosity.
"Have you talked to your mom about this? Your friends?"
She laughed. "God, I could never talk to Mom about this. She'd pack me off to a convent." It was my turn to laugh. Trent was an old friend, but he'd somehow managed to end up marrying a born again. "And my friends. Well, half of them are virgins, and the other half are always bragging about their boyfriend and their crazy sex lives. I'm pretty sure it's bullshit, but it's just not something I wanna talk to them about, you know?"
I nodded. "I wish I had more answers. All I can say, I guess, is be patient. It'll happen."
She smiled. "I guess.... Well, thanks for listening."
We sat in silence for a few minutes. "So what do ya think? American Idol tonight?"
Friday morning when I dropped her off at the subway, she mentioned that she might be a little late. Her office was having an afternoon cocktail reception.
She called at 6:30 and said she'd been invited out with some of the other interns. She sounded as if she'd had a few. I groaned. I was responsible for her, but I also didn't want to be overbearing. I said okay, but told her not to be too late.
She called again at 9:15. This time she was definitely drunk, slurring and giggly.
"Can you come get me?" She asked. "I'm at this, um, party thing, and I'm not sure how to get back." I agreed and she texted me the address.
The place was a little off the beaten path, in a residential neighborhood. It took me almost 30 minutes to get there. She was waiting out front by herself when I arrived.
"How'd you get all the way out here?"
She rolled her eyes. "Some guy. Said it would be a fun house party, but turns out it was just his roommates drinking." Her voice was throaty, slurred. She obviously had more than a few.
"He's getting drunk inside, and didn't seem eager to stay sober enough to drive me home after I told him I wasn't interested in seeing his room." She seemed disappointed it had come to that.
"Sorry about that," I replied without thinking.
I chuckled. "I guess I'm just apologizing for all men, or something."
She laughed and put her hand on my shoulder. "Thank you for picking me up."
Our eyes met. One second, two seconds, three. For a moment, I was tempted to lean over and kiss her. Instead I cleared my throat and looked away.
"I guess I better get you home," I said, putting the car in gear.
I could feel her looking at me. The sexual tension was almost palpable. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn't. The truth is, I wanted her. Wanted her badly. I'd been thinking about her from the moment she'd arrived in our house, walking around in her short shorts, clingy tees. She wasn't even trying to be provocative. She was just dressing like a normal teen. Even in her work clothes, she just exuded sexuality. And then I'd seen her masturbating, and I just couldn't stop thinking about her. And now, we were alone together. She was drunk and eyeing me frankly, provocatively.
But it couldn't be. It had to stay just a fantasy.
I swallowed hard. "Ashley, we just can't do this," I began. I turned to glance over at her and.... She was asleep.
I drove home the rest of the way in silence, unsure whether I should be relieved or disappointed or maybe both.
I pulled into the driveway and she woke up groggily. "We're home," I announced.
She grunted. I think she'd have been just as happy to sleep out in the car at that moment.
I walked over to her side and opened the door, helping her to her feet.
"You gonna be okay?"
"Yeah, just tired," she groaned.
She took a step and immediately stumbled. I reached out to catch her before she fell, and swept her into my arms. I lifted her off the ground. She was light as a feather, just a dainty little thing. She wrapped her arms around my neck, her head resting on my shoulder.
"Thank you, Uncle Danny," she said softly, sleepily.
I chuckled. She hadn't called me that in years. Not since she was a little kid.
I carried her up to her room, and laid her on her side on the bed. I slipped off her shoes, and draped a thin blanket over her. Then turning out the lights, I snuck away downstairs.
I started to replay the evening over in my head, but it was just too painfully awkward. Thank God I hadn't tried to kiss her. And thank God she'd been asleep when I'd started to explain why we couldn't be together. I could almost imagine her reaction, appalled, disgusted when she realized what I'd been thinking.
I poured myself a scotch, a double... well, maybe a triple, and downed it quickly while watching Sports Center. Then still in the grip of self-loathing, I went to bed.
I lay there for a while, the booze seeping into my bloodstream, clouding my head. Ashley, Ashley, Ashley, Ashley.... She was all I could think of. I slowly stroked myself eyes-closed, thinking of her, until finally the Scotch carried me off to sleep.
I awoke in the dark to the sensation of movement in the bed. Fucking cats, I thought, immediately realizing it wasn't them. I jerked back startled.
"It's only me," she cooed softly, her face nuzzling into my neck.
I glanced at the clock. 2:36am. "Are you okay?" I asked.
"Mmmm, hmmm," she moaned, kissing my check, her hand snaking down under the covers to rub my crotch.
"What are you doing?" I asked groggily.
"I want you," she said simply, now leaning over me to kiss my chest.
That jolted me awake.
"Ashley, you're drunk," I suggested as gently as I could.
"A little," she admitted. "But I know what I want. I've been thinking about it for days." She slid her hand under the waistband of my PJs and firmly stroked my cock.
"No, we can't do this," I said, reaching out to push her away.
It was then I realized she was naked. Trying to separate us put my hands on her breasts. I recoiled and she sprang back toward me. I tried to take her by her shoulders, but she wrapped her legs arounds mine, and sucked my thumb into her mouth.
"No, stop!" I ordered, trying again to escape her clutches, but she just giggled.
I know it seems crazy, but between not wanting to hurt her and not wanting to touch anything inappropriate, I was having a devil of a time separating the two of us. And, of course, my body couldn't help but respond to this nubile creature writhing against me.
I stopped struggling and tried to calm myself.
"Ashley, stop it, we can't do this."
She nuzzled in close again, kissing my neck, her erect nipples pressing against my arm.
"You're right, we can't," she breathed as she sucked on my ear lobe.
"This is wrong!"
"Yes, so very, very wrong," she moaned as she ground her pelvis against my leg.
"Shhh." She took my hand and pressed it down between her legs. "See what you do to me," she cooed.
Her muff was drenched. She rubbed my hand up and down her slit, until I could feel the heat and wetness within. She'd worked her other hand back into my bottoms and was again stroking my cock, which was now rock hard, almost painfully so.
She kissed me on the lips. Lightly at first, but after a few moments it had turned into a rough, wet, embrace, her tongue jamming deep into my mouth. She'd let go on my hand, but I was still rubbing her snatch.
Then suddenly she rolled onto her back and pulled me on top of her. This time, I didn't resist. She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me hard. Mostly by instinct I fumbled with my PJs and wrenched them down about mid-thigh.
I stabbed my erection blindly toward her. Once, twice, on the third time, it found its mark, the tip splitting her wet cunt. She gasped softly. Without a pause, I entered her slowly, not stopping until I was buried completely inside her.