Elise Ch. 26

"Elise," Chapter 26 (MF, old/teen18, oral, finger)

Sandy

I was up next to Elise, kissing her face, when she came to. She had fainted for maybe 20 seconds or so. It was nothing new to me -- Beth had done so several times after a particularly powerful bout of pleasure.

"Oh shit, did I pass out?" were the first words out of her mouth.

"Yes, dear, not for long. You're OK now. How do you feel?" I replied.

At that, emotion overtook my beautiful young woman, and she started to sob uncontrollably, one arm coming up to cover her face.

"What's wrong, babygirl?"

Between sniffles: "Nothing, Sandy. I'm just overwhelmed, and a little bit in fear of the feelings my body is capable of having. Maybe a little in awe of them is a better way to put it. Through all the times I've ever felt anything, through all my orgasms, everything, I never ever thought I could feel anything that intensely. My body was absolutely overloaded. Right now, my mind is sitting halfway between craving it every day of my life and being afraid to ever have it happen like that again."

Overcome with emotion myself, I hugged her close, my face buried in her hair. With a ragged voice, I softly said, "Baby, you are telling me I've accomplished my ultimate goal as a lover: to cause my partner to experience all the pleasure she possibly can. This doesn't happen very often, despite my best efforts, and when it does, it's a truly unforgettable experience for me to be a part of. There's no nicer thing I could possibly do for another human being, particularly one I feel for the way I do you."

"Sandy, having just felt this, how could I possibly live without this? How could I ever live without YOU?"

Ah, this was a question that needed some discussion. Right now, lying in each other's arms, having heard what she had just said, it was as good a time as any to have it. I fetched our waters from the bedside so we could refresh, then I began.

"Elise, when I had that discussion with your mother last Saturday, you know what's one of the things she wanted to know?"

"No. What, Daddy?"

"She wanted to know what my designs on you were. She asked whether I intended to seduce you into marrying me."

"She didn't!"

"Yes, she most certainly did, and I assured her that that was never going to happen."

Elise looked offended at that. "What right has she to dictate whether I marry you or not? To dictate what I do with my love life?"

"Don't be upset with your mother, dear. She only has your welfare at heart. And, now that you're 18, she has no right to dictate that to you at all, except that as long as it's her house you live in, she can set rules related to your occupancy there. That would include who you brought there, under her roof. But as far as you ever marrying me goes, I, not her, am the one who has a say in it. A big one."

"And so why did you promise her that?"

"Because we two are friends with benefits, wonderful benefits, and that's the most we'll ever be. I will not entertain a romantic relationship with you, or for that matter with anyone your age."

She looked stricken. "Why not? Couldn't you love me?"

"Oh, I easily could, and in some ways I already do. But we would never work as a permanent couple."

Pouting, she asked, "And why not?"

All this time, I'd been tracing little circles on Elise's exposed skin as we talked, trying to control the temperature of this discussion. "Because I'm 63, and you're 18. And by the way baby, you have the cutest little pout," I teased, flicking her nose.

Showing a bit of irritation, she snapped, "Oh, cut it out. Anyway, age is only a number. Didn't you have to convince yourself of that before you came after me the way you did?"

"Sure, for purposes of 'friends with benefits,' it's only a number. There's nothing inherently wrong with two consenting adults of any age being fuck buddies. But two adults marrying one another, committing to one another for life, that's quite another thing entirely."

"Why, Daddy? If you love someone, you love someone. Simple as that."

"Well, no, it's not. Let me give you an example. Let's say we got married, and you wanted to build a career before having children. A lot of women do that. Perfectly common and reasonable, right? Well, suppose it took you 15 years out of college to get where you wanted in your career, a timetable not uncommon in a lot of professions, by the way. So OK, you're around 37, established in a leadership position in your field, making a good living for us. But your biological clock is ticking, and you want to have a couple of kids. OK, fine, we decide to do it, and we have two lovely children, one born when you're 38 and the other when you're 40. Tell me, how old will I be when they're born? Go ahead, I know you're good at math. Tell me."

She did the figuring. "Uh, that would make you 83 and 85 when they were born."

"Very good. Now, keep in mind that my parents were both in their early 80s when they passed away. And for a few years before they did, they had some bad issues with arthritis and osteoporosis. For all I know, I might have inherited those conditions from them, and they might well show up in me somewhere down the line. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

I could see that she did. I continued, "And further, how old would I be when they graduated from high school at 18?"

"101 and 103," she said glumly.

"So, chances are, in that scenario I wouldn't live to see my children graduate high school, and probably wouldn't see much of their childhood at all. And even if I did, odds are I wouldn't be in any physical shape to keep up with them, to participate fully in their lives as their father. And I can assure you, I want no part of that for myself -- or for you, or for them." I smiled then at another thought. "Anyway, how would we ever explain to our kids that their half-sister Rachel is some 60 years older than they are?"

Elise pressed on, undaunted. "Well, we could have kids earlier. Then you could live long enough to watch them grow up."

"And what would that do to YOUR options, babygirl? It would be much harder for you to make a good living, already having had children. Plus, even if I'm in my 60s or 70s rather than my 80s, you'd have to assume I wouldn't have the physical stamina to take care of them full-time. Much like a single working mother would, you might well have to pay for daycare or a nanny. Would you really want someone else to raise your kids because neither of us could do it?"

"No, of course not. But I think you're just looking at worst-case scenarios to try and frighten me."

"Maybe I am. But all that aside, here's the real reason a 63-year-old and an 18-year-old shouldn't marry. It's not the natural order of things. I believe human nature is set up so that people who are at a similar stage of life ought to pair up for the purpose of forming a family unit. This is the way two people in love can enjoy their longest and happiest life together, and I believe that's exactly what should happen, and, by the way, that it is also the best for the welfare of humankind as a whole. Beth and I met in college and married shortly thereafter, and that's what allowed us to be together for 40 years and raise a wonderful daughter, even though cancer took my wife before her time.

"Here's another scenario for you: Say we marry, and I live until around the age my parents did, which means about 20 years of marriage. If that comes to pass, you'll be a 38-year-old widow, perhaps with young kids to raise as well. If you're then interested in re-marrying, do you think it's going to be easier to find the husband of your dreams at 38, or into your 40s, and with all your adult responsibilities always getting in the way, than it will be for you in the next few years? For one thing, in 20 years, many of the best prospects you have for a husband will already themselves be married. So your pool from which to choose will be a lot smaller. Get all that?"

Frowning, Elise admitted, "Yes, I do. But I don't have to like it."

Smiling, I tousled her hair and gave her a peck on the lips, which in turn drew a small smile from her. "Of course not, sweetie. I didn't expect you to like it. But trust me on this, OK?"

"OK, Sandy, if I must. But now that you've explained to me what I won't be able to do, do you have any idea of what I SHOULD do? That is, if I don't want to be alone my entire life."

Wrapping my arms around her, I said, "Aw, baby, as wonderful a person as you are, I don't think there's a chance in the world you'll be alone for very long. You are definitely going to be the grand prize for some lucky guy." Leaning away, I saw the skeptical expression on her face. "And if you haven't yet gotten tired of my lecturing yet, I have an idea of how you go about helping make sure that all I just said will come to pass."

"Well, Daddy, I'm known to be really stubborn, but I do always consider advice from my elders. So yours is always welcome." She smiled -- the little imp.

I chuckled in response. "I appreciate that, dear one. It's not complicated, really. But it's going to require you to change the way you look at men your age."

"What do you mean?"

"So you go to a pretty good-sized high school, don't you?"

She nodded. "So?"

"So how many in your class, maybe 300, 400?"

"Probably about that."

"So just assume 300. So there are around 150 boys. How do you know that every one of the 150 young men in your senior class are foolish and immature, as you have characterized them in the past?"

"Well, the ones I see act that way certainly are."

"And why do you suppose that, out of all the boys in your class, those 'foolish' ones are the ones you notice?"

"I suppose because they're the ones who are attracting my attention with all their antics."

"Correct. And do you suppose there might be some boys in your class who don't attract attention? Who might be sort of like you are, keeping under the radar because they're just more comfortable doing so? Or who maybe are just shy?"

"Yeah, there are quiet ones of both sexes in all my classes."

"So, if they're quiet, if they don't attract attention, if you hardly notice them, how would you know what they're like? Is it possible that one or more of them could be really nice, mature young men? Could it be that, with their raging teen hormones at full tilt, they are wondering, the same as you are, how in the hell they're going to find a nice partner? Heck, do you think it's possible one of them might be someone you could have a great conversation with, if only you could get past the quiet? Someone who thinks like you do, someone you could be friends with, even go out with, have a lot of fun with?"

"Sure, there could be," she allowed.

"Look sweetie, it's been almost half a century since I was where you are now. But I'm willing to wager that the basic types of kids in high school haven't changed all that much. In my day, we had boys who cut up, said and did foolish things, and attracted all the attention, and girls who did, too. And then there were the quiet types, the ones who just kept to themselves. And I know this for sure, because I was one of them. And I knew a lot of others besides."

"You, quiet?" She chuckled at that.

I smiled at her in response. "Yes. I didn't say I was shy, just quiet. I was taught, by example, to engage people when I needed to, and I did it quite well. But when I didn't need to, I kept to myself. Guess you could say that, like you, I was comfortable in my own skin -- and didn't suffer fools gladly."

Another giggle. "Well, you should be comfortable. Your skin's nice. I LIKE it," she said as she rubbed me up and down.

"And I yours," I countered, smiling at her as I softly did the same across her impossibly smooth frame. After kissing her lightly on the lips, I continued. "I know you're smart enough to get what I'm trying to say, but I'll spell it out anyway. You'll never know how many nice boys you attend school with every day, until you engage them. I'm not talking flirting, or asking them out, or anything like that, just find a reason to engage them in a conversation, and then see if it goes anywhere."

"I find that difficult. I have a certain reputation around school, and I'm not sure I want that to change."

I nodded. "I understand. I'm not asking you to, not this year if you don't want to. But next year you go to college, which is a whole different ballgame, and it's fine if you wait until then. You'll be in a completely different environment, where you'll be treated a lot more like an adult -- take it from me on that -- and one where hardly anyone there will know you going in. If you want to work on changing your persona a little bit, you can, and no one will be the wiser."

Elise had a thoughtful expression. "So how would I go about that?"

"Well, to start with, just do what you do already. Observe. Just glance around and notice the guys in any class you take. If there's one who appears to be alone, one who seems diligent about the class, one whose appearance and demeanor just appeals to you, just strike up a conversation with him after class. Use something from class as a pretense. I guarantee you that if he's straight and unattached, he won't mind a pretty girl talking to him. I'm betting you can get a good reading on him, just from a small exchange like that."

Sarcastically, she countered, "Sort of what you did to rope ME in, huh, Daddy?"

Laughing, I responded, "Can't get anything by my little girl, can I? Actually, that's JUST what I did to befriend you. But -- none of my conniving would have worked if you hadn't been open to my overtures. Also, if when I watched you playing that first match, you had NOT hustled, not shown such great determination, just stood around, argued with every call against your team, or otherwise displayed a bad disposition, I would NOT even have approached you afterwards. I didn't only want a FWB, I wanted her to be a good person, one with whom I'd have fun spending time. I had a valuable chance to observe the kind of person you appeared to be, before even saying a word to you, and I liked what I saw and took advantage of it.

"And when I did come down after the match and I talked to you, you were so personable, intelligent, and perceptive, I knew right then I wanted you as a friend, even if we never got to the rest. And just look what happened, babygirl. It worked out, didn't it?"

Elise snuggled in closer. Her body was so warm and alive against mine. "Yes, Daddy, I'll have to admit that it did, devious and underhanded as it was. And thank you for the compliments. I can always count on those from you."

"You're welcome. Just remember -- every single one of them is 100% true."

She gave a little shiver. "Awww thanks. And speaking of devious and underhanded, I had a question from before."

"Sure, anything. What is it, dear?"

"Well, you know we were just talking about scenarios about us getting married and having kids and all. You hear stories all the time about girls trying to trap men by letting themselves get pregnant. How do you know I'm not just one of those, and I'm not just giving you a line about taking birth control?"

My head popped up sharply at that. "ARE you one of those, babygirl?"

A saw a little blush and a crease of concern above her nose. "Heavens, no, Daddy. But weren't you putting all your trust in me, not using protection? For all you really knew, I could have been."

I relaxed a little, saying, "First of all, I think I know you well enough to be pretty sure you're NOT that kind of girl. You're much too honest and authentic, too much of a decent person, to ever pull something like that. And I was pretty sure you wouldn't want to be a mother right now, either.

"Let me tell you a little story. After Beth and I had Rachel, for years we discussed having another child. But honestly, Beth was enjoying being Rachel's mom so much that she always wanted to wait, never wanted to have to worry about caring for another baby. So finally, when we were in our mid-30s and Rachel was about to get out of middle school, we decided we weren't having any more kids -- that we wanted to focus on each other and on completing our daughter's upbringing, enjoying life as just the three of us.

"So I went down to my friendly urologist's office and got snipped. Had a vasectomy. So we never had to worry about something happening accidentally.

"So you see, I shoot blanks, and have for a while. And sweetie, as much as I trust you, if I hadn't gotten fixed, no way would I have put my Daddy dick inside you without a condom. There was just too much at stake, and there was no way I was letting myself become a real daddy again at my age. And now you know that we couldn't ever have had kids together."

I concluded, "Anyway, it's so much more fun doing you bare, feeling ourselves together with no barriers, not having to interrupt our fun to sheathe myself, don't you think?"

Elise replied, "Oh yes, Daddy, absolutely. But you should have told me you were fixed before we had sex."

I acknowledged that she had a point there. "Yes, I should have, dear. You should always have information like that before having sex the first time with someone. I apologize for that. Daddies aren't perfect, either. I hope you forgive me."

She nodded vigorously. "Of course I do. But," she added, snickering, "I might have to punish you later for being so bad."

Smiling, I rejoined, "And it might be fun to let you do just that. But now are you ready for more bedroom fun, babygirl?"

"Yes, Daddy. Always. I think that, in just a few short weeks, you've turned me into a little slut."

"That works out just fine then. I like all my fuck buddies a little slutty." I got a playful little shove in response. "And now, time for another treat. Get on your hands and knees, dear, then lay your head down on the pillow. I'm going to give your two wonderful holes some love, babygirl."

***************

For the next few minutes, I ran my tongue the entire length of those two holes, teasing her hard little clit on each pass of my tongue, wetting a couple of fingers and using them to tease her puckered little asshole. My cock, fully recovered, was hard the entire time, and after Elise had shuddered through another nice orgasm and was on the way back up toward another, I said, "Now I'm going to fuck you doggy-style with my big old man-cock. And you're going to cum again on this cock."

She practically shrieked, "Yes, Daddy, PLEASE fuck my little pussy from behind. Give it to me, Daddy, good and hard. Make your babygirl cum on your hard Daddy dick."

Inflamed by her filthy talk, I did, as hard as I could. I pushed her head into the soft pillow on each downstroke, released it on the upstroke. I pounded my entire 7 inches into her young pussy unmercifully, balls deep, every time. I could always hold off a long time the second time around, and I continued to pour her my hot cock until I could feel the now-familiar tightening of her walls around me, and I knew she was working through another nice orgasm.

"Oh God, yeeessss, shit, oh I love it. Love how you f--, fuck me, Daddy. Oh fuck, I'm cumming so hard. So good. Ahhhhh FUCK!" My girl was certainly learning how to talk dirty when she climaxed, and her words continued to excite me. I kept pumping through her orgasm, withdrawing only after the contractions in her pussy ceased. Elise's head and chest were lying limp, her arms splayed out, a small thin moan coming from her every now and then.

***************

For the rest of the afternoon, we alternated between pillow talk and trying different positions, one after another. After seeing them demonstrated online in porn clips throughout her teens, Elise now received first-hand knowledge of how each felt, getting a feel for the advantages of each. I guessed that she'd had maybe five more orgasms along the way, and I'd had another myself, again depositing my load deep inside her, cementing my status as her first lover.