Mature Man & Maiden Maureen Ch. 02

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Overwhelmed with sexual lust for her, 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, not wanting to frighten her, too much too soon, I controlled myself from making a fool of myself by trying to kiss her.

Tonight, I'll kiss her in my dreams. When she comes to me in my sleep, I'll part her lips with my tongue and French kiss her. I'll make out with her while feeling her everywhere through her clothes. I'll slowly undress her. I'll strip her naked.

Tonight, I'll mount her and make love to her. Then, humping her faster and humping her harder, I'll fuck her fast enough and hard enough to give her a sexual orgasm with my cock. Finally, while fingering her pussy, I'll masturbate her before licking her pussy and eating her. I'll gladly give her multiple, sexual orgasms with my fingers, my tongue, and my prick.

Then, something that I imagined in my masturbation fantasies, I imagined her stroking me. I imagined her masturbating me. Holding back my desire to cum, I imagined her taking me in her mouth. I imagined her blowing me. I imagined putting a gentle hand to the back of her beautiful, red head, humping her mouth, and fucking her face.

I imagined her staring up at me with her big, green, beautiful eyes. I imagined cumming in her mouth and watching her swallowing my cum. Then, when she removed my erect cock from her lips, I imagined ejaculating another load of cum all over her beautiful face, in her lush, red hair, and across her huge, naked breasts. I imagined giving Maureen, the woman of my sexual dreams and masturbation fantasies, a cum bath.

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"No, it won't be alright," she said suddenly through her tears and pulling away from me. "Now, I have no place to live. Where am I to go?"

She looked up at me with sorrowful sadness.

"I have no money. I'm a poor special needs teacher. I don't earn enough to afford my own place," she said through her tears. "I teach Autistic children."

She wiped at her tears with her hand. I took her in my arms again and hugged her again. I loved hugging this beautiful woman. I loved squishing her giant breasts against my muscular chest. I only wished that I could reach down and feel and squeeze her shapely ass through her dress and her panties.

"Don't worry, Maureen, we'll think of something, temporary," I said without having any plan in mind, other than to soothe her.

Something that she didn't do with her boyfriend, as if I was her boyfriend, she looked up at me and smiled.

"My Dad wanted me to go to school for business, for accounting, but I wanted something nobler and something more meaningful. I wanted to work with children." She nodded her head. "Had I listened to my Dad, I'd have had a better job, a job that could have afforded me my own apartment, instead of living with a psycho artist, who verbally and physically abused me and treated me like shit."

Someone who lived such an altruistic life should not 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, as a desirable woman, can she get any better than this? She was my Sister Theresa with movie star looks and a porn star body.

# # #

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, this serendipitous moment would work out for the both of us.

"Listen, Maureen," I said trying not to show my hopeful excitement, "You can stay with me for however long you need," I said.

I hoped that she would say yes. I hoped that she'd never leave. I feared she'd say no, but what the Hell. I just blurted out what I was thinking.

"I have a spare bedroom with an en suite bathroom. My house has a separate entrance. You could come and go as you pleased," I said.

She smirked out a laugh.

"Oh, great, just what I need being dependent on yet another man, who can throw me out at his whim," she said with sadness.

I laughed.

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

She laughed, too.

# # #

"You live alone?'

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, gay, a reclusive pervert, or a serial killer.

"I recently broke up with my girlfriend,' I said looking at her to see how she received that bit of information. Some women are ugly criers, but even when Maureen was crying she was beautiful, especially when she was crying, so softly vulnerable, she was stunning. 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 shrugged.

"It's okay. It's been a year since my girlfriend left," I said mindlessly trying to replace baseball with the thoughts of Maureen naked and in bed having sex 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 since she left. I've been alone for a year. No wonder why I'm lusting over this child of a woman. I'm lonely. I'm horny. I'm pathetic. Nevertheless, I was hopeful that she'd say yes.

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.

"Thank you for your kind offer," she said.

I gave her a big smile.

"I'd love the company. Sometimes, it gets lonely with just the dog, and by our interesting conversations these past few months, we get along quite well." I smiled. "We've become friends, good friends."

# # #

She looked up at me and melted my heart with her big, beautiful, green eyes.

"Are you're sure that I can stay with you until...?" Her voice drifted off when she looked down at her dog. "What about my Missy?" She looked up at me as if she was going to cry again. "What about my dog?" She started softly crying, again. "I can't leave my dog." She squatted down and threw her arms around Missy sobbing.

I comforted her by quelling her worries over Missy.

"Don't worry about your dog, Maureen. I love dogs, especially Missy," I said giving her dog's head a quick rub. "Besides, Missy and Polo have become best friends. She's welcome to stay, too," I said. "I have 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 making out, having sex, making love, and fucking.

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, again. I could clearly see her panty clad crotch. As much as I tried to avert my gaze, as much as I tried not to look, and to look away, I stared. I had a clear view down her torn dress and at her abundant cleavage and at the top of her breasts, too. Even better than I imagined it was, her body was magnificent. I couldn't imagine her topless. I couldn't imagine her naked. Hopefully, with her living with me, maybe after a bottle of wine, I'd get lucky.

My cock stirred again with the thought of seeing her topless and/or 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 better than that and what we have is 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. So, what if she's half my age? 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 we left. As he said they would be, her belongings were outside the front door. After packing them in our cars, she followed me to my house.

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I haven't been as excited about Maureen, 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. She was so young, the same age as my daughters, probably, 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,' I imagined them saying.

Yeah, sure, don't talk to them again, that is, until they need money.

I've never been attracted to younger women, until meeting Maureen. 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 much older brother.

That sounded better, a much older brother, than being her father. Yet, both rang too much like an incestuous relationship and a forbidden union. 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, people would be talking about us.

"Is that his daughter?"

They'd whisper their decadent answer.

"No, that's his girlfriend," they'd say.

Shocked by the looks of women, they'd freely voice their condemnation. Yet, making up for their negative looks and responses of women, men would give me a big smile. They'd be jealous and would freely voice their approval.

"Shame on him," would say the women.

The men would give me the thumbs up while sexually lusting over her.

"Good for him,' men would say. "He's a lucky bastard to have a young woman who looks like her."

# # #

Then, 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 Al Pacino fathering a child at the ripe, old age of 83-years-old. 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 would happen naturally with time.

After all, if it was meant to be, it would happen. Maybe, now that her boyfriend is out of the picture and she's coming to my house to live with me, I have a chance to romance her. Maybe, now, at the very least, she'd give me rebound sex. I laughed at her fucking me day and night with rebound sex. Boy, I only wish, what a way to die? Only, I wanted more than that. I wanted her to be with me forever.

Chances are she'll stay overnight and will be 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? I didn't know. I had no idea. Nonetheless, I had to take this opportunity that was presented before me and make the best of it.

# # #

It was a short drive to my house. I live at the end of a cul-de-sac where the trees that surrounded my property afforded 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 wanted 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. With her a lowly special needs teacher, 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, anytime.

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, happy, and make her stay. Hell, I'd give her the master bedroom, my bedroom if that persuaded her to stay longer.

Almost giddy with delight, 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 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, one day, maybe sooner than later. Knowing that it would come eventually and hit me hard, when it did. In the meantime, I decided to live in the moment and not to think about tomorrow and her leaving.

To be continued...