Tastes Like Candy Ch. 01byTheTalkMan©
(This story is posted on the Literotica website. Do not repost anywhere else without the author's consent. Thanks to my biggest fan for the idea for this story. For fans of my stories, they know what kinds of things to expect. This story deals with similar themes as the stories by wannabeboytoy, seducedHylas, and Dark Betrayal, namely cheating, betrayal, and heartbreak. If stuff like that isn't your cup of tea, then you probably shouldn't bother reading it. I do not condone any of these actions in real life. This is just a story. Enjoy.)
My life was perfect.
Some see turning 40 as the beginning of the end, but I saw it as a new beginning. My name is Marcus and I couldn't have been happier about where I was in life. Married to my lovely wife, Linda, for almost 18 years now. And I had a good house, great friends and a good job. My cup was full.
My marriage was still going strong. We had had our rough patches in the past, but we had settled into our groove. She was an interior decorator, and the group she worked with had really grown over the years and gained a strong reputation. She started out decorating homes, but now she helped new businesses set up stuff and create a warm inviting atmosphere. We lived in a fairly rich area of the state, new businesses were always going up, so she was kept busy.
Her job complimented mine well. I was always good with my hands, so I got pretty good at woodworking. I knew my way around a shop with the best of them. After I graduated college, I got hired at a wood shop at a nearby school. Me and Linda moved around a few times, but we settled at where we're at now, and I found a job at the local school here. On top of teaching the students the finer points of the shop, I was an assistant coach on the varsity football team. Much like in the shop, I was never loud, never mean, never a dick. I was a coach to these young men, not a taskmaster. The head coach and most others I dealt with were that type of guy, kind of taskmasters, but I could tell the players gravitated towards me more than them. That old saying, you get more flies with honey than vinegar, kind of applies here. I was pretty popular with most of the players, and the students I had tended to feel the same way. But, with that relaxed attitude comes the fact that I had been working the same job for years, with no promotions or added work. Sure, I was happy where I was job-wise, but sometimes, I would have been more than happy to gain a little bit more responsibility within the school. But I wasn't too aggressive about moving up and it wasn't really a big deal that I didn't. I never wanted to be more than this. I just did my job to the best of my ability, and gave these students someone they could like and trust.
Spending all day in the shop allowed me to indulge myself. I loved custom woodworking, just creating things out of blank blocks of wood. Most of the furniture in our house was made by me. Dressers, tables, even my marital bed. All built by me. I built some things to sell as well, hoping to supplement our income at shows and stuff like that. I was moderately successful. But as the years went on, coaching ended up taking up more and more of my time, so I had fewer opportunities to create. It had reached the point where I was coach first, shop teacher second. But I loved to coach. I loved to mold these children into good, upstanding adults. Like this one guy on my team, Raymond. He was such a good kid, but he was a shy boy. He would come to me for advice. He was an average looking guy, but he was a lineman so he was a bit husky. But he was a good kid. The son I never had. And he had confided me that he had a crush on one of the cheerleaders, Becky. She was a good girl, a bit preppy, and way out of his league. He asked my advice, and I gave him the best wisdom I could. About dating and girls. And I was happy to say Raymond had worked up the courage to ask Becky out and they were going to prom together. Things like this left me fulfilled, being a father figure to these young men. And that wasn't the only time I helped mold one of my students into strong adults. I was happy.
With my wife being a decorator, and me a woodworker, you could imagine that our house was the shit. And it was. Two stories, awesome furniture (if I do say so myself), interesting decor, it was great. But there was one thing missing. One hole in our house that would never be filled.
I still remember that day when I heard the news. Me and Linda had been having trouble conceiving, as we had been pretty hot and heavy during the first year of our marriage. We went to the doctor where we found out the truth. Linda would never be able to conceive. She could never give me what we both wanted. Children. I cried, we both cried, it was the darkest point in our marriage. We fought, we screamed, we cried. I was forced to confront things, confront my marriage.
I loved Linda obviously. She was beautiful, clearly. Not overly striking, but the type of beauty that sticks in you, that keeps making you think about her. My first thought was that she was a bit of a hippie, with her dressing in weird clothing, and also that she was kinda of a bit kooky. But she was far from a hippie. Hippies are laid back, you know, calm. Linda was not. She was tough. She was demanding. Her very unique sort of fashion was misleading, a facade, hiding her hard as nails interior. The only thing I could think of was what she was like if you got past her hard exterior. It had to be a smokescreen. There had to be a soft side to her. I became obsessed with her, obsessed with that soft side that she must have. I had never met a girl like her.
And I was the jock, the all-American guy. But Linda just grabbed my attention. I was fascinated by her, by her uniqueness, and this grew into love. Our early relationship had been a bit volatile, as she was very passionate, and there was some friction that developed. I tried to get her to grow up a bit, stop being such a wild child, and she wanted me to loosen up. We had had some fights, horrible fights, about our different lifestyles. But we eventually pushed through it, and married soon after graduating.
She had grown into a great, professional woman, but she still had her uniqueness. She was silly, she had funky tastes in things and she was so fun. And I had loosened up a bit. We both got what we wanted.
That made the news we got devastating. I always wanted kids. I loved kids. But she could not provide them for me. I had thoughts, dark thoughts, wondering if I should stay with her if she could not provide me with children. I was an only child, and my name would die with me if I did not have children. I wanted to live on. I wanted someone to carry my genes and my family's history once I was gone.
Me and Linda talked for a long time confronting this fact. A lot of fights, a lot of tears, but we had pushed through it. I finally came to a realization: if I had to choose between having kids, or having her, I would choose her. I would rather share my life with Linda than with anyone else. I had made my choice. I accepted I would never have children. It still gnawed at me, I would admit. It came up in my head every so often and when it did it felt like there was a pit in my stomach. I would bury those thoughts, accepting the choice I made. We never adopted or anything like that. I had nothing against it but I felt like I wouldn't be able to look past the point that they were not mine. Maybe that makes me a jerk, but it was the truth.
However there were some blessings to not having children. We didn't have to put money away for them. All our earnings could be used for ourselves. We lived humbly for a few years, saving money. Our dream was for us to retire early, travel the world, and live our lives totally together. We worked hard and saved up and we were getting close to our goal.
One other pro to not having to worry about kids was to not worry about birth control. No pills for her. No condoms for me. I hadn't used a condom since college. So our sex life was good. She always kept me satisfied, and she was willing to try new things.
I had stayed in good shape. Being a football coach allowed me access to the weight room, so I stayed pretty fit. And I didn't look like too much of an old man yet. Sure, I had a little gray, but Linda assured me I looked distinguished. I had a few wrinkles, but I would say I was still a good looking guy.
So life was good. Our marriage was good. Our home was good. Our jobs were good. We had money. My life was perfect.
Then the doorbell rang.
It had been a normal day, like any other. Me and Linda had gotten home from work and we were discussing our day as we were starting dinner. Linda usually had more excitement than I did, as she traveled around town to different places and establishments. She had even met a few celebrities. So, I usually let her talk about her day and usually didn't give many stories in return. Hey my days are usually pretty boring anyway, and her stories were usually more interesting than mine, and I enjoyed living vicariously through her.
"So, this place is huge. Just totally open floor space. Just a big canvas for me. I can't wait to get to work in it." Linda said with a smile.
"It sounds great." I said. I marveled at how far my wife had come. When she was in College she was so cynical, such a downer. But I had seen that spark in her. The spark that said there was more to her tough exterior. Through our marriage, our trials and tribulations, she had grown so much. The Linda I knew in College would never have gotten this excited over anything. She would never smile this wide. I took some pride that I was able to bring this side out of her.
That was when we heard the doorbell. We glanced at each other in confusion. We didn't get many visitors so I had no idea who it could be. Probably a solicitor or someone from the church. I put down the wooden spoon, brushed off my hands and made my way to the front door, opening it up.
I was surprised to see a girl at my doorstep. As soon as I opened the door she looked straight up at me, taking me in. She didn't say a word for a bit, she just stared. I took her in for a moment. At first, I thought she was one of the students from the high school, but I didn't recognize her. And she was the type you would not forget.
She was stunning. Her face was gorgeous, with expressive, blue eyes, full lips, and smooth, tan skin. Her hair was black, cascading from her head, full and lustrous, falling past her shoulders. She was a petite girl, probably a head shorter than my six foot frame. And, uh, I don't want to come across like a dirty old man, but this girl had enormous breasts, straining the fabric of her pink blouse. They were just huge, and she clearly knew it, as the blouse was spread to show a hint of her cavernous cleavage. Those suckers were practically the size of watermelons it seemed like, especially in relation with her otherwise lithe frame. I looked past her boobs, to see her wearing a tight pair of jeans, leading down her legs to the pair of sneakers on her feet.
I met her eyes again, and hers looked to be tearing up. Her look almost broke my heart. Breaking the silence, I spoke up.
"Can I help you?" I asked, confused but willing to help. She smiled cutely, trying to stop herself from crying. I felt like I knew her, or at least I should know her. I felt some weird immediate bond with her.
"Are you, uh, Marcus Edwards?" she asked nervously.
"Yes. Why do you ask?" I asked. She smiled wide and wiped her eyes.
"Uh, it's just..." she stammered. I smiled, trying to ease her along. The next thing she said changed my life.
"My name is Brandy. I'm your daughter."
My mind went numb. I didn't have a daughter. How could this be? Could it be true? Did I have child after all this time? My mind burned for answers.
"How old are you?" I asked.
"I'm 18." she said, looking overcome with emotion, a big smile on her face.
"It's not possible. I was with Linda at that point." I said. Her smiled dimmed a bit, but she would not let up.
"My mom is, uh, Regina Slater." Brandy said.
Regina Slater. That name did sound familiar. I searched my memories, trying to remember. Then, like a vision, there she was. Regina Slater. I remembered her now. And I remembered our last meeting.
Regina was one of those people that you hear about but don't know. I knew of her in College. When guys compared notes of the girls they had banged, she was on most of those lists. I had never met her, but she didn't really seem my type. Besides, I had been with Linda since freshman year, so I wasn't looking for any action.
Like I said before, my relationship with Linda had been volatile. Passionate. So we fought quite a bit. When I met Regina, it was near the end of my senior year. I was engaged to Linda at the time. We had a huge fight about our plans after school. She was stubborn, as was I. And she gave me an ultimatum. Support her, or leave her. I didn't respond immediately, so she stormed out, slamming her engagement ring on the counter. At that point, in my view, we had broken up.
A week passed and I had not heard a word from Linda. I went to the bar to drown my sorrows. And that's where I met Regina for the first time. She joined me at the bar, and I was too drunk to turn her away. She was gorgeous, but clearly a skank. Her top was indecent, letting her big boobs pour out. She wore a tiny skirt, leaving no doubt what kind of girl she was. I knew what she was after, but I was sad and I needed to pour my heart out to someone. I told her my story, and she kept feeding me drinks until she insisted she take me back home. I knew what would happen, but I needed something. Some sort of comfort.
Regina dropped me onto my bed and helped slip off my clothes. I was in a daze, so I didn't fight back when Regina joined me on the bed. Her clothes were gone, and I tried to stop her, but then she pushed her tits in my face and I... got lost in the pleasure. She straddled me, and I told her I didn't have a condom. She told me not to worry, as she eased herself onto me.
The night was a blur of skin, boobs, and sweat, most of the memories erased by the alcohol. I woke up with a nasty hangover and this slut in my bed. She knew the routine and she slipped out, no phone number left behind, no illusions this was anything more than a one night stand.
Linda called later that day, apologetic. I felt so guilty, so I accepted her terms from our fight, eager for her to take me back. We moved a few states away for her job and we married soon after. Living happily ever after, that night of passion I spent with a slut stayed buried in the past. Until now.
I looked at Brandy, and she looked up hopefully, not wanting me to turn her away. Despite my better judgment, I glanced at her chest, and definitely noticed the resemblance to her mother.
"Um, I guess it might be possible." I told her. This caused her smile to brighten.
"What's going on?" Linda asked, emerging next to me.
"Uh," I said with a nervous smile, "It's a long story."
"You had sex with Regina Slater?" Linda asked in disbelief. We had gone inside. Brandy was in the living room, sipping on a can of soda.
"I'm not proud of it. We were broken up. I was drunk. It was a mistake." I stammered. I had to come clean about everything. About Regina. "I was young. I was stupid. I knew I had made a mistake. It was meaningless, emotionless sex. It made me realize how important what I had with you had been."
Linda thought for a few agonizing moments.
"It's okay. I was a bit tough to be with at that time. I made you think we had broken up. I wanted to hurt you. I broke your heart. I can understand why you did it. But just... after a week? Seriously?" Linda asked.
"I was drunk. I am not proud of it." I said, holding her hand. "It might be the biggest mistake I ever made. If I hurt you, I apologize from the bottom of my heart." I whispered, making sure Brandy did not hear.
"Listen, Marcus. I am not going to let a mistake you made 18 years ago affect our marriage now. I made lots of mistakes back then, mistakes I regret. And you took me back. You have given me 18 amazing years. Am I happy about this? No. But let's just deal with this. This is huge news." Linda said. I teared up, happy with her understanding, happy my marriage wasn't crumbling. I hugged her and kissed her softly.
"But," she started, "I have to bring this up... Regina was the biggest whore in school. How can we know that she's yours?" I nodded in agreement. "What does she want?" she added.
"I'm guessing she's looking for a place to stay." I said, remembering her crappy red car packed with boxes on the street in front of our house.
"I'm sorry, I'm not going to just let some girl off the street stay in our house if we don't know for sure if she's yours." Linda said. It was harsh, but logical. I nodded to the living room. We worked out a plan and we walked out together, joining Brandy in the living room. We sat across from her as she looked at us, hopeful.
"I'm sorry if I, like, caused you guys' problems. That's not what I came here for." Brandy said, apologetic.
"It's okay." I said with a smile.
"What are you looking for, Brandy?" Linda asked.
"I've been looking for my father for years. Mom would never say, but I eventually found out. I don't want money or anything. I just want to get to know you." Brandy pleaded.
"Is that all?" Linda asked.
"Uh," she laughed, "It's just... my mom's a bitch. She kicked me out the door once I turned 18. I stayed with some friends for awhile but that didn't last. Mom, uh, would rather have her boyfriend around the house than me." she added, tearing up.
"I'm so sorry." I said
"Brandy, I feel bad for you, but if you look at this from our shoes you might understand what I'm about to say. We don't know for sure if you are actually Marcus's daughter. So, we can't let you stay here. We can have, like, a DNA test tomorrow morning, but until we know for sure, we can't make any decisions. And, we can't have you stay here." Linda said.
Brandy nodded, sadly, but understanding.
"We can pay for a hotel room." I added. "We are not turning you away. We just want to know for sure."
"Okay. It's okay." Brandy said, as if she were used to not being believed. My heart went out to her.
I offered to have her follow me towards the nearest hotel and she accepted. Linda rode with me, as we led Brandy in her car to a hotel. I paid for the room and I helped Brandy carry her bags to her room. I set her stuff down and then worked out the plan.
"Alright, I can pick you up early, around seven. We can get in and out of the clinic fast. Then, maybe we can get breakfast tomorrow." I offered.
"Sounds good." Brandy said. I leaned in and gave her an awkward hug. She pulled away, I started to head out.
"See you tomorrow, Brandy." I told her, walking out the door. And as the door shut, she replied.
"See you tomorrow, Dad."
I made the right call, right? I mean, I didn't want to ruin my husband's moment, and be the bitch I used to be. I couldn't help but think logically. I had always been logical. Analytical. Clinical. And the logical side of me had my alarm bells ringing. Any woman would react the same way.
When a little hottie, with her... big tits, her low cut shirt, her gorgeous face, her perfectly sculpted ass... and her enormous boobs again... so big... when a girl like that shows up at your door, you don't let her in immediately. You are skeptical of her. You question her story. Her motives. Maybe she had spied on us. Maybe she was trying to con us, charm us, get into our home, a happy couples' home, and rob us blind. Or kill us!
Okay, maybe I was jumping to conclusions. I had to calm down. Breathe. Remember my breathing exercises. Maybe she was telling the truth. She didn't look smart enough to lie so easily. Even though some girls can do it on command her tears seemed genuine. She didn't seem talented enough to act this well. So maybe it was the truth. Maybe she was Marcus's daughter.