Last Chance at Forever Love Ch. 02

Overloaded with forbidden sexual lust for her, making me weak in my knees, she touched all my senses. Her hair smelled clean and fresh. The feel of her in my arms, and the sound of her vulnerability, as she cried softly against my chest, made me want to lean down, lift up her chin, and kiss her.

Yet, instead, of kissing her, I controlled myself from making a fool of myself. Tonight, I'll kiss her in my dreams. Tonight, when she comes to me in my sleep, I'll feel her lips and her tongue against mine. Tonight, I'll feel her naked body against my naked body. I'll make sweet love to her before fucking her hard and fast.

"No, it won't be alright,' she said suddenly through her tears, bursting my sexual fantasy, and pulling away from me. "Now, I have no place to live. I'm homeless. Where will I go?" She looked up at me. "I have no money. I'm a poor, special needs teacher. I don't earn enough money to afford my own place," she said through her tears. "I teach Autistic children," she said wiping at her tears with her fingers.

# # #

Something I never considered, now that she broke up with her boyfriend, where will she live?

"Don't worry, Sophia, we'll think of something, temporary," I said.

I had no plan in mind what that would something temporary would be, other than to soothe her.

"My Dad wanted me to go to school for business, for accounting, but I wanted something nobler and something more meaningful," she said as if talking to herself. "I wanted to work with children." She nodded her head as if assuring herself that she made the right decision. "Had I listened to my Dad, I'd have a better job, a job that could have afforded me my own apartment, instead of living with a psycho artist, who emotionally abused, hit me, and treated me like shit."

Someone who lived such an altruistic life shouldn't have such misery piled upon her head. She, who could model or make movies in Hollywood, gave her life to children with Autism. As a person and as a desirable woman, she deserved better than this? She was my Sister Theresa with movie star looks and a porn star body all rolled in one beautiful woman.

Then, I had an idea that my penis suddenly liked. Suddenly, responding to the possibilities of her in my life, I had an erection. The timing of her sudden homelessness gave me a glimmer of hope that I could persuade her to expand our relationship from the dog park to my home and to the rest of my life. Perhaps, as if it was destined to happen, this serendipitous moment would work out for the both of us.

"Listen, Sophia," I said trying not to show my hopeful excitement. "You can stay with me for however long you need," I said hoping that she would say yes and hoping that she would never leave. "I have a spare bedroom with your own bathroom. I have plenty enough room that if you didn't want to see me, you didn't have to see me unless you wanted to see me," I said with a laugh.

I feared she'd say no, but what the Hell? I just blurted it out. It was worth the shot. If I didn't suggest us living together, even temporarily, I'd regret it later.

"Oh, great, that's just great. Just what I need being dependent on yet another man. Someone who can throw me out at his whim," she said tearing up again.

Even though suddenly, she was acting like an unappreciative bitch, I laughed while hoping to make her laugh too. I understood where she was coming from for her to find negative issues with my generous offer.

"Nah, I'd give you a 30-day notice...in writing...before I kicked you to the curb," I said with a laugh.

She laughed, too.

"Do you live alone?"

I affirmatively nodded my head.

"Yes," I said suddenly glad that I lived alone.

Obviously needing to ask me these questions, I complied with honest answers.

"You don't have a wife or a girlfriend, do you?"

'A wife or a girlfriend? I laughed to myself. 'You're the only woman I want in my life,' I thought.

"I'm divorced. I had a live-in girlfriend but we broke up a while ago," I said.

She looked at me as if she wasn't sure if I was and/or sure if she should ask.

"I don't care if you are but you're not gay are you?"

In the way that she asked the question and looked at me made me feel like I needed to explain that I was not married, seeing anyone, gay, a reclusive pervert, or a serial killer.

"I divorced my wife years ago and I broke up with my girlfriend last year. I live alone. It's just me and Jack," I said looking at her to see how she received that bit of information. "And I'm definitely not gay," I said with a laugh.

# # #

Some women are ugly criers, but even when Sophia was crying, she was good-looking, especially when she was crying, so softly vulnerable, she was so very beautiful. Her flushed face gave her color that I imagined she'd have, after having orgasmic sex.

"Oh, sorry," she said wiping the tears from her eyes with her hand. "I didn't mean to interrogate you nor did I mean to pass judgment on you."

I smiled while nodding my head to assure her that it was okay and that she hadn't insulted me.

"It's okay. It's been more than a year since my girlfriend left and a dozen years since I divorced my wife," I said mindlessly trying to replace baseball with the thoughts of Sophia naked and in bed with me.

As soon as I said that I broke up with my girlfriend out loud, I couldn't believe that it's been a year. I've been alone for a year. Well, that explains why I'm always so frigging horny.

'Wow, I can't believe it's been a year,' I thought.

No wonder why I'm sexually lusting over this child of a woman. I'm lonely. I'm horny. I'm pathetic. Hoping beyond hope, I'm hoping a woman who's half my age will say yes to live with me.

I gave her my handkerchief to dry her eyes and blow her nose. Suddenly, feeling my age that I carried a handkerchief, yet, happy that I had one to offer her, still I wished that I didn't have one in my back pocket, along with my comb and the band aids that I carried with me, just in case. At least I didn't wear white socks in the way that my father always did.

"Thank you," she said.

She smiled at me through her tears. She was so beautiful. She was so sexy. She was all that I'd ever want in a woman.

"I'd love the company," I said while trying not to be too pushy but hoping to convince to live with me if only for a night, a week, or a month. "Sometimes, it gets lonely with just the dog. By our interesting conversations these past few months, we get along quite well," with a smile. "We've become friends."

'Friends with sexual benefits,' I thought and hoped.

She looked down at the ground before looking up at me.

"Are you're sure that I can stay with you until...?" Her voice drifted off when she looked down at her dog. She suddenly had a face full of panic. "What about Blondie?" She looked up at me. "What about my dog?" She started crying, again. "I can't leave my dog, Jimmy. I can't put her in a shelter," she said squatting down to throw her arms around Blondie's neck while sobbing. "I can't give up my dog. I love my dog."

I touched her head to move a strand of her blonde hair from her eyes while imagining putting a gentle hand to the back of her head while she sucked my cock. I'd love for her to blow me. I'd love to cum in her mouth as much as I'd love to kiss her while making love to her and before fucking her hard and fast.

"Don't worry about your dog, Sophia. I love dogs, especially Blondie. She's a good dog," I said giving her dog's head a quick rub. "Besides, Blondie and Jack have become best friends. She's welcome to stay with us, too. There's plenty of room for all of us. I have a big fenced-in backyard where they can play..." all day, I wanted to say, while we remain in bed naked and making love, licking, sucking, and fucking.

When she released her torn dress to hug her dog, she unintentionally flashed me her naked breasts again. Quick to cover up, she pulled her broken bra and torn dress back in place. Yet, from where I stood and how she squatted with her dress hiked up and her knees separated, I had a clear view up her dress and at her white panties.

As much as I tried to avert my gaze, as much as I tried not to look and to look away, unable to help myself, I stared. I had a clear view down her torn dress and at her abundant cleavage and at the top of her breasts. I had a clear view up her dress as her panties. I could clearly see her panty clad crotch, her pussy mound, her pussy slit, and the darker impression of her blonde pubic hair. Her body was magnificent.

'Later tonight, I'll be masturbating over seeing her bra and her naked breasts. Later tonight I'll be masturbating over seeing her panties. I'll be masturbating over imagining her naked and having sex with me,' I thought.

My cock stirred again with the thought of seeing her naked and with the thought of her sucking my cock. Then, I thought about what her boyfriend had said.

'She's a baby boomer magnet. You're just like all the rest of them who flock to her, a pathetic, old man hoping to get his cock sucked.'

Then, I thought of what I imagined her father would say about me.

'He's only after one thing.'

Sure, I'd love for her to suck my cock, but I'd like to think that I'm much better than that and what we have is much more than that. I'd like to think that this is the start of something unbelievable, beautiful, and what I have longed to have in my life, since I divorced my wife a dozen years ago. Who cares if she's half my age? Age doesn't matter when it comes to love. It wasn't as if I was looking for someone so young, it just happened.

# # #

I followed her in her car to his house helping her to pick up and pack her possessions. She said that he was upstairs in his art studio hiding out, probably until after we left. Then, she followed me to my house.

I haven't been as sexually excited about Sophia, my dream woman, coming to stay with me, since the first time that I knew I was about to get lucky, so many years ago, and the first time getting laid. I mean, I had no pretensions or intentions of having a sexual relationship with her. Whatever happened naturally would happen. I just hoped, with her now living with me, even just temporarily, I'd have a better chance of getting lucky.

Yet, as if forbidden fruit, an apple from a tree in the Garden of Edan, she was so young. The same age as my daughters, but she was so beautiful and we connected so easily. I could hear my daughters, now, in stereo, identical twins, both talking at the same time and saying the same things.

"Dad, what's wrong with you? Are you crazy? We're the same age. You're such a pig. I hate her. I hate you. Don't ever talk to us, again."

Yeah, sure, they won't talk to me, that is, until they need money. In spite of what my daughters may think, I've never been sexually attracted to younger women, until meeting Sophia. She was different, more mature and certainly, with me being a bit immature, we met in age somewhere in the middle.

Perhaps, I thought, this could work. Stop! She's a child. You're old enough to be her father or her much older brother. That sounded better, a much older brother, than being her father. Yet, both still rang too much like an incestuous relationship and a forbidden union to me. It was so taboo, after all, an older man with a younger woman. I could hear the whispering now every time I walked around my small town.

"Is that his daughter?"

"No, that's his girlfriend."

"His girlfriend? Shame on him," the women in town would say.

"His girlfriend? Shame on him? Good for him," the men in town would. "He's a lucky bastard to be having sex with her."

Then, twenty-five-years her senior, I thought about Michael Douglas with Katherine Zeta Jones. What was the attraction there? Surely, it wasn't the money. She could have had nearly any man.

I thought about Tony Randall fathering a child at 77-years-old and a second child at 78-years-old. I thought of 92-year-old Dick Van Dyke married to 46-year-old Arlene Silver. What a role model he is for us older gentlemen in helping to keep the possibilities of love and sex with someone much younger alive.

Suddenly, the image of the late Anna Nicole Smith with her now deceased, 90-year-old husband J. Howard Marshall did not bode well with my confidence of winning her affection. Suddenly, I felt like Arte Johnson, the incorrigible dirty, old man of 'Rowan & Martin's Laugh-in', making a pass at Ruth Buzzi. I felt a bit ridiculous, deciding instead to take it slow, hoping that it will happen naturally with time. After all, if it is meant to be, it will happen.

Maybe, now that her boyfriend was out of the picture and she's coming to my house to live with me, I have more of a chance. Maybe, now, she'll give me rebound sex. I laughed at her fucking me day and night with rebound sex. Boy, I only wish I could have a sexual relationship with her. What a way to die? Only, I wanted more than just sex. I wanted everything. I wanted love.

Chances are she'll stay overnight and will be on her way and back together with her abusive boyfriend tomorrow. Chances are I'm going through something, a delayed middle-aged crisis, perhaps, with the one-year anniversary of my girlfriend leaving me. Chances are she'll break my heart. Realistically, what are my chances that anything will happen other than me offering her temporary shelter until she can find a place of her own?

# # #

It was a short drive to my house. I live at the end of a cul-de-sac where trees surround my property affording me a level of privacy to walk out on my front porch naked, if I so wanted, without anyone seeing me. Not that I would walk out on my front porch naked, who wants to see a 50-year-old man naked? Maybe, a 50-year-old woman would want to see me naked, but surely, not a 25-year-old, beautiful woman.

Most of what she had were clothes, old clothes, nothing new or special. She didn't have very much. She moved in with her boyfriend from her parents' home after college and he had everything that she needed: furniture, appliances, and dishware. Even the television set was his. At least, she had a car, an old Honda Civic, and could get around herself without being dependent upon me for transportation, although, if it meant her staying with me, I'd chauffeur her anywhere and at any time day or night.

I made her comfortable in the guest bedroom, which was at the end of the hall. Not having to share a bathroom, having her own, it was as if she had her own suite, which by her reaction to the accommodations was a favorable one. The arrangement afforded her a level of privacy, if she wanted it. At this point, I'd accommodate her in any way that would make her comfortable, and happy, and make her stay. Hell, I'd give her the master bedroom, my bedroom if that persuaded her to stay longer.

Almost giddy, I was off the floor with happiness that she was here with me in my house and in my little world, which now suddenly expanded to include her and her dog. I never knew how alone I was, until her presence filled my life with conversation, laughter, and joy. Now, I looked forward to the little things that became big things, when living alone.

Now, I had someone to watch television with, play board games with, and to go places with, suddenly, I wanted to go everywhere and do everything with her. I wanted to show her off to my friends. Yet, I dreaded the inevitable fall from this temporary high, when she left me one day for someone else, a younger man. Knowing that it would come eventually and hit me hard, when it did, I tried not to get too excited. In the meantime, I decided to live in the moment and not to think about tomorrow and her leaving.

To be continued...