Best Man

"What the hell?"

"Listen, I meant it when I said I have never met anyone like you. If I didn't give this a shot, I was going to regret it the rest of my life. If you say no, then at least I tried."

I closed my eyes and tried to clear my brain. I took a couple of deep breaths.

"I don't know. Your daughter is a shit, and I know that's not smart to say to someone who just apologized, and you're trying to decide to go out for a coffee with him, and he's someone you really had a good time with. But I don't know."

"Well, maybe I can just call you and check in time to time."

We talked for a few more minutes, and then I told him I'd meet him for a coffee.

I gave him the name and address of another place between us and asked for an hour to get ready and to get there.

I got there in less than thirty minutes. I decided to go as I was -- no makeup, a rumpled shirt, jeans, my hair pulled up -- and was nervous as I pulled open the door. It was a small place, I had stopped there before, mostly for a coffee on the go. At a side table Jake waited for me. I felt my chest get heavy for a second. He wore a knit shirt and tailored jeans and had on rimless glasses.

He stood when I approached, but did not step close or reach out to touch me.

"I shouldn't say anything about my daughter in law, but she's a hell of a shield for you," he said.

"That's my girl. We've always got each other's back."

The conversation before was always loose and comfortable, now it was stiff. I wondered for a moment if I had made a mistake to meet. Jake was rigid in the seat, looked uncomfortable for a bit, and then looked up from his hands. His face was tired, eyes flat.

"I got divorced about 25 years ago. My wife left me, the kids, she had a mid-life crisis, and it was just me and the kids. She was out of their lives for a bit, and the kids were teens, and it was ugly for a couple years," he said. He rubbed his hands against each other. "When you are a single dad with two teens, one of them a girl, well we're close. And that closeness gets twisted at times."

I wrapped my hands around my ice coffee and listened to, and let him work his way through the story. They all struggled with the wife and mother gone, but through counseling and work, they made it He said they had a solid, close relationship. And both kids were over protective, despite his constant assurances he could manage things.

"So, Nicole is my shield, whether I want it or not. And sometimes, she goes off the rails. And you got sucked into it. I am sorry she said and acted the way she did that morning."

"Well, thank you for telling me this."

There was a pause, it lasted a couple beats longer than comfortable.

"Well?"

"I don't know."

"I know I'm an old fart, and if nothing else ever developed between us, I'd be disappointed, yet delighted to know that our paths crossed." I waited for him to go on. "I'd like to see where we go. My daughter lives in Oregon. I can keep her ten states away at all times, and I assure you nothing will ever be directed your way. Again."

I weighed what Carol had told me. I could have walked away then. Instead, I told him he could join me for my Saturday morning errands.

It was still early and it hadn't gotten hot yet. I was a little out my routine but figured I'd test the waters. I had had a great weekend with Jake and felt a connection, but the interaction with Nicole had shaken me. I have a couple of outdoor markets that I hit on Saturdays. I like the produce at one, flowers from another, and a quick survey of household things at a third. I usually see the same shoppers and vendors each week. I know the vendors names, they know mine, and frequently chat with the other shoppers. I hate shopping, but the local process makes it tolerable. Jake stayed close, close enough for people to know we were together. We got some prolonged stares, several smiles, a couple winks from the older vendors. I was buying some eggs from a favorite stall when I realized Jake was not with me. I didn't panic, he's an adult, but I started looking for him. There he was, about thirty feet away juggling three onions and entertaining a child with his skills. The child clapped and spun in a circle and Jake joined in the happy dance. He found me again, didn't tell me of the impromptu show, and I didn't mention it. The more we walked and shopped, things started to get back to where they had been. I felt my defenses start to melt ad soon we were laughing and joking as we compared melons and okra and big purple eggplant.

By the time we got to my place, I was exhausted. I had gotten up early, the meeting was emotional and draining, and then we spent nearly four hours in the early morning heat going to the various markets in the neighborhoods.

"Relax, I'm going to make lunch," Jake said

I was too tired to resist.

"Just give me twenty minutes and I'll be in to help you," I said.

I woke, with a startle, to Jake standing over me, gently rubbing his hand on my forearm.

"Good nap?"

I stretched like an old barn cat and sat up.

"Yeah. What do I need to help with?"

I had slept for an hour; he had lunch ready. I was embarrassed, apologized, but he dismissed my concerns. I sat at the table which he had already set. Then, Jake presented a three-course meal. He opened with gazpacho, went to a marinated, sauteed eggplant sandwich, and finished with a chilled fruit compote. I'm no slouch in the kitchen, but considering the amount of time he had and what he produced, it was incredible.

"I'm retired. I like to eat. The last year gave me lots of time to explore."

Like the first night we met, our conversation flowed and flittered over topics and ideas for over an hour, and he shared his interests from old cars to dead poets. I removed the dishes to the kitchen. When I got back to the table, I turned his chair, and straddled him. I wrapped my arms over his shoulders and around his neck. I leaned my forehead against his, our noses touching. I kissed him on the lips.

"You know what I want," I whispered in his ear. I caressed it with my tongue as he squirmed in the chair.

"No."

"I want you to fuck me."

"You do?" he said. He kissed me back. "Tell me again what you want."

"I want your cock in my pussy."

"I might be able to do that."

"Might?"

"Well, you know I'm an old guy, and sometimes it takes a lot of stimulation to, you know, get the equipment up and working."

I started a slow grind against him, back and forth for a moment, and then a slow circular movement. The pressure against my clit through my shorts felt good, and I leaned into him and started to slowly hump him.

"Is this what you mean?" He nodded. "Does this feel good?" I licked at his neck and he moaned. "Well, I might be able to help you out."

I'm still not sure how he did it, but he stood up, my legs swung down and I wrapped them around him, and he carried me to the bedroom. He dropped me on the bed and peeled off his shirt, and dropped his pants. His cock stood out, almost fully erect.

"So, you want me to fuck your pussy?" I started to slide my shorts down, but he play slapped my hand. "I got this."

He sat me up, lifted off my shirt, took off my bra and then pushed me back. He grabbed my shorts at the waist and pulled them and my panties off and tossed them to the floor. He touched my pussy, sliding two fingers into my wet hole, and smeared it on his cock. He climbed on the bed, I reached down, and guided him into me. I was wet and tight and he was hard and it felt grand. He was like a starving man and kissed my lips and face and down to my tits and twirled my nipple in his mouth while pumping in and out. I grabbed his ass and urged him into me, deeper, and harder with each thrust. The first time we fucked, it was slow and rhythmic. This was hard and urgent, fearful it wouldn't last, afraid that it would end before it began. He moved upward in an interesting angle and his cock rubbed against my clit in a fantastic way and his strokes pushed me closer and closer to orgasm. My hands clenched his ass.

"That feels so fucking good. Don't stop. Don't stop."

He was true to my request, and increased his speed. My feet started to tingle in the soles and like a flash of electricity flowed up my legs and exploded in my pussy. It hit me hard, I moaned, thrashing beneath him as he continued to thrust into me. My pussy tingled and got wetter as he pumped, his balls slapping against my ass as he did.

I pinched his nipples and he closed his eyes, and extended his neck backwards.

"Cum in me. Cum in me. I want you to fill my fucking pussy with your cum. Now. Now. Do it."

He slammed into me three more times and I could feel his cock get bigger with each thrust. He groaned with the last one, and when done ground against me as if trying to push the last drops in me. He fell onto me, kissed my lips, and rolled off of me. I turned on my side and we faced each other, both of us catching our breath. I don't know what made me do it, but I dipped my fingers into my pussy, smearing them with his warm cum. I brought them to his hips and he put my fingers in his mouth. I felt a flutter in my pussy when he did it.

"So, was this make up sex?" he said.

I laughed hard, rolling onto my back, trying to control the convulsive laughs that had overtaken me.

"Well, was it?"

"I guess so."

"Well, I have felt like shit for the last two weeks not being able to talk to you," he said. "And I don't want to have another big fight with you, but you know maybe, we can disagree at times and see what happens."

I pushed him onto his back and straddled him, my pussy resting on his cock.

"That's it? You think we're done? You made me miserable for two weeks and you think one fuck and we're made up?" I started grinding against him. "Well, we're not. I need more than that." I leaned forward, kissed his lips, then thrust my tongue into his mouth. "We've got a lot more making up to do."

I rolled over and pulled him onto me.

"So," I said. "Tell me what you plan to do to make it up to me."