tagRomanceSecond Time Around

Second Time Around

byFrederick Carol©

The sudden cloudburst caught us all by surprise, coming as it did from what moments before had been a clear sky. I was lucky, because I was only a few feet from my car, but some of the other parents weren't so lucky. One, a woman I recognised as mother of one of Judy's classmates, was looking around frantically for shelter. I tapped the horn button and she looked over at me. I beckoned and after a momentary hesitation she came hurrying across and scrambled into the car beside me.

"Thank you," she said with obvious relief, palming the rain from her face. She looked across at me with a wry look. "I don't make a habit of getting into cars with strange men, but I think I know you. Aren't you Judy's father?"

I nodded. "Ben Miles." I held out my hand and she shook it courteously.

"Catherine Johnson. My Annie is Judy's classmate."

"I saw you with her before. That's why I hooted. Look, the kids are safe and dry in school. Can I give you a lift? I work from home, so I don't have to rush off anywhere."

She paused for a moment, bottom lip caught between her teeth, then nodded. "Thank you. That would be very kind of you. Central Library? I work there, mornings. If you would drop me at the corner of Cedar and Main, it's only a twenty-yard dash."

So I did. We made parental small talk as I drove. You know the kind of thing, boasting about our offspring. Catherine Johnson was as much the proud parent as I was. I stopped where she indicated and watched her as she hurried into the library, shapeless in a loose sweater and calf-length heavy skirt, her dark brown hair scraped back, no makeup. Definitely not dressed to attract, so why was I becoming interested?

When I picked Judy up that afternoon, there was no sign of Catherine Johnson, but nor was there any sign of her daughter.

"Isn't Annie Johnson in your class, sweetheart?"

"Yeah, Daddy, but she stays behind on a Monday for violin practice." Which answered my unspoken question.

That evening, Judy brought out the papers for summer camp. I'd agreed to let her go, thinking that it would be good for her to get away from me for a while. I had an idea.

"Who else in your class is going? Anyone I know?"

Judy considered for a moment. "Tommy Bell," - the Bells lived two houses away - "Billy Jens, Carly Waite, Rosita Sanchez," - all neighbour kids - "I don't think you'd know the rest, except Annie Johnson."

"Annie's going?"

"Yes. I'm glad, because she's my best friend now."

"Best friend, eh? Would you like her to stay over one night? I'll ask her Mom if you do."

"Could I, Daddy?" I'd obviously pleased my daughter with that. Almost thirteen now, she was beginning to remind me painfully of my dead wife.

"Friday?"

"Friday would be great, Daddy."

"Sailing Saturday?"

"Oh, yes!" Judy said, then paused. "Could Annie come, too?"

"Of course. Tell you what, pumpkin, if I see Mrs Johnson in the morning, I'll ask her about Friday and about the sailing, too. Okay?"

"Great!" Judy leaned across and hugged me. "Love you, Daddy."

"Love you, too, kiddo."

It was fair next day, no sudden showers, and Catherine Johnson acknowledged me with a little wave as she was about to make her own way to work. I got out of the car and waited until she was close. She smiled. A cool, polite smile.

"Can I bother you for a moment?" I said.

"Of course. What is it?"

"My daughter informs me that Annie is her best friend, and asked if she could have her to stay with us, Friday night. It's fine by me and I told Judy I'd ask you."

Catherine Johnson's smile was warmer and more genuine now. "That's very kind of you. I'm sure she'll love it. The two of them seem to be on the same wavelength."

"I usually take Judy sailing on a Saturday. I have a little dayboat berthed on the inlet. I told her Annie could come, too, if she wants, and if it's okay with you."

"I don't mind; Annie's a good swimmer if anything went wrong."

"Good, I'll let the two of them sort out the details, then they can tell me what I'm doing."

Catherine Johnson laughed and I had an idea.

"Do you work on a Saturday?"

"One in three. I'm off this week. Why?"

"Would you like to come sailing, too?"

If she paused I didn't notice it. "I'd love to! I haven't been in a boat since High School." She made a face. "Annie's Dad hates the water."

Idiot! She's married! I think Catherine Johnson correctly interpreted the sudden look of consternation on my face, because she reached out and touched my arm.

"We've been divorced for three years now."

"I never thought. I'm sorry."

Catherine shook her head. "It's all right."

"Can I give you a lift again? I don't have the excuse of the rain, but it's almost on my way home."

"Thank you."

It became a pattern. I'd drive Judy to school, then give Catherine a lift to the library. She drove, but didn't have a car, so came into town with Annie on the bus, and then walked to work. Annie came home on the school bus, usually, but sometimes if I was picking Judy up I'd give Annie a lift, too.

The weekend sailing became a summer ritual. Two weeks out of three Catherine would come too, when she wasn't working. She was a natural sailor and one Saturday I borrowed a couple of dinghies and we had a race, me and Judy against Catherine and Annie. We won, but it was close.

It was almost time for summer camp, now. Camp was half a state away, almost a day's travelling. I'd had what I thought was a good idea.

"Why don't we all go together? We can see the girls settled in at camp, then stop somewhere and have a meal, then either get a couple of rooms for the night or take turns to drive back." I made the suggestion as I was driving Catherine to the library.

"That would be wonderful, Ben. I'll chip in for gas, of course." She looked as if she was going to say something else, but paused, and when she did speak she surprised me.

"Ben, do you think I'm attractive?"

"Yes, I do." And I did, although I had no idea what her figure was really like because of her habit of wearing shapeless clothes. I had caught a couple of tantalising glimpses when the dinghy had capsized, but the lifejacket concealed too much. I had no idea what she looked like in a swimsuit without a lifejacket, although I knew she had good legs.

"Honest?"

We'd reached the spot where I dropped Catherine off and I pulled over to the kerb and set the parking brake. I turned to her. "Yes, honest!"

She smiled faintly. "If we didn't have the kids, might you have asked me out?"

"Yes, I wanted to," I said slowly. "I think I was scared."

"Idiot, why didn't you? Those kids of ours aren't millstones, Ben, they're almost teenagers."

I grinned at her, my decision made, pleased that she seemed to like the idea of dating me. "Mrs Johnson, I have no idea where, because I don't know what's available between here and the camp, but I'm sure we'll find somewhere, so will you have dinner with me on Saturday?"

Catherine smiled. "Mr Miles, I would be delighted."

"That's settled then. See you tomorrow, no doubt." She surprised me again, because she reached across and kissed me lightly on the cheek, before getting out of the car and moving lithely across to the library.

Saturday morning Judy and I were at the Johnson house just after eight. Annie came bouncing out with her bag, followed more sedately by Catherine with an overnight bag, and by eight-twenty we were heading for the highway.

Traffic wasn't bad, for a change, and after a couple of comfort breaks and a stop for lunch, we arrived at the camp shortly after two. We got the girls booked in and had a quick word with the camp counsellors, making sure they had both home numbers and both mobile numbers. By four Catherine and I were heading towards home again.

"Ben, I noticed a place as we were coming up. About an hour from here. Trout River Lodge, I think it was called. It looked decent. Shall we try there?"

"Why not?"

It was set well back from the road, a main building, with bedrooms, lounge area and a restaurant, and a dozen or so cabins scattered through the pines. Reception was busy and I began to have second thoughts. At my enquiry about two single rooms, the girl on reception made a face.

"I am sorry, but we have no single rooms available. Head office decided some of them needed refurbishing. Why they wanted to do it in the middle of our busy season beats me. All I can offer you is a double or a cabin. Or two doubles."

"One double will do nicely. We'll take it." Catherine's voice was cool and calm. Not for the first time since I'd known her, she surprised me. But not the receptionist, whose face was a professional mask.

"Yes, madam. Room seventeen. Sign here, please. Do you require dinner?"

"We do," I said. "About - when?" I asked Catherine.

"About nine," she said.

"Table for two, at nine. Fine. Early morning call? Newspaper?"

"No, thank you," said Catherine.

In room seventeen there was only a double bed, no couch or anything else to sleep on. I turned to Catherine, but she put her fingers over my lips.

"Ben, when was the last time you got laid?" There was a flush on her face and her eyes were bright.

I looked at her, hardly daring to breathe and feeling my prick stiffening in my shorts.

"More than a year ago." I grimaced. "A one night stand with a fellow conventioneer. Pleasurable but lacking something."

Catherine smiled faintly. "Over four years for me, not since before the divorce. Ben, please don't get me wrong, but I like you, I like you a lot, I've been horny for what feels like forever and I want - I need - to be fucked!"

Surprised, but trying to hide it, delighted, and showing it, I took her hand and raised it to my lips. "I'm honoured."

Catherine giggled. "What time is it now?"

"Five-fifteen."

"Our dinner reservation's for nine. We have things to do in the meantime." She arched her brows suggestively. I laughed and reached for her. She came willingly, eagerly, and raised her lips for my kiss, our first, I suddenly realised. Her lips were warm, soft, clinging, parting easily to my probing tongue, her own coming to duel with mine, the kiss building in intensity until suddenly Catherine broke it, gazing into my face with something like wonder in her eyes. Her hand came up and she traced the line of my cheek.

"I want you." She spun away from me, laughing. Her hands went to the hem of her sweater. "Watch me, Ben."

"Like I'm going somewhere?"

She giggled, like a girl, tantalizingly raising the hem of her sweater up, past her bra-covered breasts and off, over her head. Her bra was pink, pretty, nicely filled. Her fingers went to the button at her waistband, then to the zip, sliding it down slowly over her bottom, her eyes holding mine, smoky fire in their depths. She wriggled her hips and the skirt slid down, crashing soundlessly to the floor. The panties matched the bra. She wore no hose and stepped clear of her skirt, her hands coming up to the front fastening of her bra. She paused, her hands holding the bra closed, colour in her cheeks, then slowly opened herself to my gaze, dropping the bra behind her.

Her breasts were full, round, topped with puffy areolae and stiff nipples. I reached out slowly, seeing no rejection in her look, and cupped one, feeling it soft and heavy in my hand. Catherine's eyes closed and her inhaled breath was almost a gasp. She took my hand, raised it to her lips and kissed my fingers, moving back slightly, thumbs in the waistband of her panties, pushing them down and stepping out of them. Her pubic bush was the same dark brown as her head, mostly hiding her secrets from my admiring gaze. I wasn't sure, but it seemed to me that her lower lips were bare of fleece. I smiled to myself. I would soon know.

Naked, fire in her cheeks and in her eyes, she stood proudly. "Do you like what you see, Ben?"

My first attempt to speak was a croak. I cleared my throat and tried again. "You’re beautiful, Catherine. It's almost a crime to dress the way you usually do, covering up such beauty."

She laughed, a little wry. "I didn't want to draw attention, not until now." She stepped forward and kissed me lightly. "Now, I do. I want all your attention, so get naked, Ben!"

She pirouetted away and lay back on the bed, propped on her elbow, watching me. My prick was stiffening fast and I badly needed to ease the restriction, so I undressed quickly, throwing my clothes anywhere, then moving to the bed. My prick was hard by now and Catherine's fascinated gaze never left it until I lay down beside her and gathered her into my arms for a burning, aeons-long kiss.

I reached down between us, cupping her sex, letting my middle finger slip into the heated slither of her slit, bringing my finger to my mouth and tasting her. She grabbed my hand and put my finger in her mouth, sucking it clean, her eyes on mine, my prick getting even harder. She eased herself onto her back.

"Fuck me, Ben, fuck me now, because I am so ready."

I moved to my knees and we went through that 'if I move this leg and you move that leg' ballet of sex until I was kneeling between her spread legs, the cleft of her sex gleaming pinkly through her juice-drenched curls. I pressed the end of my prick against her opening and she gasped as I slid in easily an inch or two.

"Stop!" she cried, and I did, concerned. She grinned up at me. "I want to savour this, Ben, it's been so long it feels as new to me as my first time." She squeezed down on me with her internal muscles and I laughed, withdrawing slightly, spreading her juices, moving in a little further, eliciting another gasp, then repeating the process again and again until suddenly I was as deep as I could go, my balls against her ass. I paused and Catherine chuckled.

"I think you're bigger than Chuck was - is - but I know one thing."

"What?"

"You're gentler." She smiled up at me again. "Enough talk, Mr. Miles. Shall we fuck?"

"Your servant, Mrs. Johnson." I began to move, pulling back until I almost left her, pushing in deep until I bottomed, my prick moving easily - audibly - in Catherine's free-flowing juices. Her hands were warm on my back, stroking lightly as I moved, her heels resting lightly on my ass as I moved. Her eyes were fixed on mine, warm, alive with her obvious enjoyment in our actions, laughter not far from the surface, caring - sharing - laughter.

I thrilled to the pleasure of the moment, feeling my prick moving easily in her wetness, the sliding friction of her, tight and warm around my hardness. I concentrated on trying to maximise our mutual pleasure, using the full hard length of me, enjoying the stimulation of being wanted in return. Catherine giggled suddenly.

"What?" I managed to say, smiling down at her, never ceasing my rhythmic thrusts.

"I was just - wondering - what Annie and Judy would think, if they knew what we were doing," she said, her voice uneven, breathing in time with my thrusts.

"I think Judy - would be pleased. She's been - dropping hints."

Catherine laughed. "What? About you - oh! - fucking me?"

"Not quite - so explicit. About me - finding somebody. I think she'd - like a woman to turn to - for advice. It's not everything - a girl can ask her Dad."

"I think you can - relax on that count, Ben. She's asked - me a few things, those nights she's stayed over with Annie."

"I'm glad she can talk to you."

"Me, too. I like - talking to her Dad, too, talking with - my body, with my pussy and my tits." Catherine grinned up at me. "I like to feel his - lovely hard prick in my pussy - fucking me, making me feel good, I like to feel that - tingle in my tits when he touches me."

"Mmm, yes," I murmured, feeling her squeeze down on me as I moved in her, feeling the tickle of her bush on my prick as we fucked, loving it, loving her, loving the natural way she was showing her enjoyment. No coyness, no false modesty, just good honest lusty enjoyment. I could feel the excitement building in me, for it had been too long for me and I didn't know if I could hold off for much longer.

Catherine's hands suddenly tightened on me, then slackened. "Are you close?" she murmured, "because I am. Very - soon now, Ben, you're going to find out what sort of animal you're fucking."

"I know that already," I murmured, kissing her lightly.

She kissed me back fiercely, then said, "okay, what kind?"

"The best kind," I said, "the very best. The female human animal."

She laughed softly, squeezing me, her breath coming quickly now, almost panting as I responded to her rhythms. Her nails were digging into my back, and there was a tenseness about her that suddenly eased as I felt the reflexive clench of her around me. She screamed tightly in my ear, her belly rippling, her heels hooking me hard into her, a trembling, surging climax passing through her. My body responded automatically and my carefully hoarded self-control disappeared as my very being contracted, my prick jerked and that incredible moment of climax surged through me, my body shaking, my prick trying to bury itself ever deeper in Catherine's hot, wet, surging depths as my seed filled her.

She clung to me as I thrust reflexively into her, the muscles of my ass contracting violently as I moved, the strain slowly easing until all that was left were reflexive little jerks as her own climax lessened, the nerve endings in my prick sensitised almost to the point of pain responding to her with twitches, twitches which moved me bodily as we came down from our shared high.

Gradually, we stilled, sweat wet between us in the warm summer night. I eased myself gently from her and moved to my back beside her, our hands lightly clasped, our breathing still heavy, but no longer synchronised. Catherine came up onto her elbow and leaned across to kiss me, a light kiss that turned into a long, shared moment that stopped time. She broke the kiss eventually and stared into my eyes, her breathing fast, light. She lowered her head and rested it on my chest, her arm loosely across me, her leg insinuating itself between mine as we lay.

"Ben?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

Silence for a moment, then her head turned and she kissed lightly at my chest. "Don't get a swollen head, or anything, but that was absolutely the best sex I ever had."

I squeezed her lightly. "Thank you, my love," I said, my voice gentle. "It was pretty damn good for me, too."

"I want more," she murmured. "As soon as possible."

"I need a little recovery time, Catherine, love, but so do I want more. After we make love again, it will probably be time for dinner."

"After dinner, more sex?"

"Yes, please," I laughed.

Catherine pushed herself up and looked at me, a half-smile on her face. "Chuck was usually finished on once a night, very rarely two, and you're promising me three?"

"More, if you don't kill me first," I said, laughing. I sobered. "If I can, as often as I can. I promise."

She grinned and lay her head on my chest again. "I'll hold you to that. Whose bed are we sleeping in tomorrow? Yours or mine?"

I smiled to myself as I realised the implication and promise behind her question. I chuckled. "Whose is bigger?"

Catherine giggled. "We'll have to try them both to find out. Yours first."

"Okay."

She was quiet for a while, then - "Ben?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not too forward, am I?"

I laughed. "It might be me who's been backward, love. If I'd asked you out before we might have been doing this sooner."

She punched me lightly. "True, it's all your fault. So I'm forgiven?"

"Of course, although there's nothing to forgive."

"Good, because I want you again, and I'm going to try to get you started."

"Huh?"

Catherine giggled and pushed herself up, wriggling round until she was on her knees beside me. She took a light grasp of my limp prick, which twitched, whether from early excitement or late sensitivity I wasn’t sure. Catherine bent forward and kissed me lightly on the lips and I took the oportunity to cup her breast, her nipple hard against my palm. She sighed contentedly and just held her position for a moment, then slowly, reluctant, eased herself back, her head dropping to my groin and her tongue coming out to lick lightly the length of my prick.

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byFrederick Carol© 14 comments/ 37936 views/ 6 favorites

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