Monday Night Football at the Ryan's

At Bud Ryan's house back in the 70's it was common practice for his three or four of his friends and co-workers to come to his house on Monday nights during the football season to drink beer, play some cards and then watch the new phenomenon known as Monday Night Football on the TV.

The group gathered at Bud Ryan's place because after his wife passed he became both mother and father to his daughter Quinn, who was the last of the Ryan kids still home since her older brothers had already gone out on their own. The men didn't go to Bud's place because of the TV, which was no great shakes, or for the ambiance of the house which was decidedly lower middle class, but at least there was nobody there to complain when they would hoot, holler and occasionally puke. They kept coming to Bud Ryan's even after his daughter was old enough to be home alone.

Quinn Ryan always stayed in her room studying during these gatherings, and since her grades were good enough for her to get into the local community college the Monday night shenanigans didn't seem to hurt her. Quinn could have closed her bedroom door to kill much of the noise, but the very introverted teen liked to listen, and besides at one point every week she would get a visitor and she began to look forward to it.

Richard Oliver, Mr. Oliver to Quinn, was a friendly guy who was easily her favorite of the men that came over, and that was even before he started to pay special attention to her. Richard Oliver was divorced and drove a truck for a living, and that was all she knew about him except unlike the other guys he never swore and although he was a burly guy and had big hands he seemed to be a gentle soul.

One Monday night in late October wasn't much different from the others at first, with Quinn tidying up the place after getting home from college. After slicing up the sharp cheddar and setting the bowl of chips on the kitchen/poker table she did what she always did, made herself scarce by taking a can of soda into her room and go study.

One by one she heard her father's friends come into the house, three of them this week apparently and each with his own distinctive voice. As they played poker and began to drink the voices got louder and more profane, and Quinn left the door slightly ajar as they began to file by to use the bathroom before the football game began. Quinn enjoyed the eavesdropping, even when her name came up a couple of times, and as they got more drunk the men got more goofy.

Except Mr. Oliver. He drank but never seemed to get drunk like the others, and although he yelled at the TV on occasion, once the game began his tone was different. The guys all seemed to yell the most at the announcer with the annoying voice, Howard something, and as the time passed Quinn tipped the door open a bit more so that Mr. Oliver would e sure to see her light was on.

Mr. Oliver would always come by sometime between when that Howard guy would babble about the highlights at halftime and when that cowboy would sing, "The Party's Over". That usually meant the game was nearly done, or so Quinn thought given her lack of football knowledge, but it wasn't long after halftime that she heard her door creak more open and the familiar footsteps came behind her.

"Hello beautiful," Mr. Oliver said as he squatted next to her seat at the desk. "What's the subject tonight? Physics?"

"Hi Mr. Oliver," Quinn chirped as she turned to face her guest. "Good game?"

"Not really. I came in here for some sanity," he replied as he looked over Quinn's shoulder at her book. "I did win a buck fifty at cards, so if you want to run away with me I'm flush."

"You'll have to ask my Dad."

"I'd have to wake him up first," he explained. "The Bills are getting their butts kicked so he lost interest."

"Guess that means he won't be yelling looking for you like last week," Quinn opined.

"Nice blouse," Mr. Oliver said, changing the subject to her rather drab lavender blouse that was ancient. "Funny thing that you're breaking out the sexy clothes and now the weather's getting cold."

"Sexy?" Quinn laughed and then stifled a sigh when like the last couple weeks her father's friend put his hand on her forearm which was on the desk, and she shivered when his fingers began to move slightly up and down from her elbow to her wrist.

"I think so," Richard Oliver replied as he slid his fingers lightly over Quinn furry forearm and watched the long downy hairs flutter as he stroked. "Cold?"

"No," Quinn said in a shaky voice, the both of them aware of the goose bumps on the flesh below.

"This feels so nice. So soft," he purred in her ear. "You seem to like it when I do this."

"What if my Dad came in here now?" Quinn asked.

"You have another arm," he quipped, and she laughed at that so he added. "He has already accused me of being sweet on you."

"I know. I heard him say that a couple weeks ago," Quinn answered. "I heard the other guys laugh too."

"You hear everything in here, don't you?" Mr. Oliver said.

"Just about."

"You look like you're ready to fall asleep," he noted when he saw Quinn close her eyes.

"No, just enjoying this. It's relaxing," she admitted. "Sometimes I find myself doing that too."

"Hmm..." he mused as he slid his hand up the outside of her arm up to where the loose sleeve hung. "Do you do this too?"

"Sometimes," Quinn mumbled, her heart racing at this unexpected touching, and that heart rate doubled when her guest's fingers slid back down to her elbow and up the inside of her arm.

"And this?" he asked as his fingers crept up further, and Quinn's eyes popped open, staring at Mr. Oliver when he moved his finger up under the sleeve when suddenly a voice from the living room interrupted his progress.

"Hey Big Dick, the Eagles are going to score again!" a voice Quinn recognized as Mr. Willard's yelled, and while Mr. Oliver was annoyed he was startled enough to pull his hand away.

"Just as well," he said as he rose from his kneeling position.

"Big Dick?" Quinn said with a giggle. "Should I call you that?"

"That's the stupidity I came in here to avoid. Remember that I asked you to call me Richard before but you didn't pay any attention to that," he said as he started to leave but stopped and leaned down to whisper in Quinn's ear. "I want to see you. Not like this."

"Are you drunk?" Quinn giggled nervously.

"No. I've been nursing one beer for over an hour," Richard said.

"I don't understand," Quinn admitted as her guest moved towards the door.

"Then I guess you aren't as smart as I think you are," he declared. "Think about it. I'm not being anything but honest when I tell you how attracted I am to you."

Then he was gone and a half hour later the teen realized she had been staring at the open book in front of her as if in a trance. From the sounds coming from the living room it seemed like the football game was over so after thinking long and hard she wrote a little note. Quinn folded it up and after turning off her bedroom light went to the door, leaving it only open enough to see who went by to use the bathroom before leaving.

Just before she was about to give up she saw Mr. Oliver go past her room on his way to the bathroom, and after what seemed like forever the bathroom door opened. Quinn moved her hand through the open door, hoping he could see it in the darkened hall, and when she felt him take the note her heart raced.

The minutes that passed before Dad made his way to bed seemed like hours to Quinn, but after he finally turned out the lights and staggered to his bedroom Quinn raced to her window and like she had done a few times before to meet her only real boyfriend, climbed out and landed clumsily on the damp grass below before jogging out to the road.

The teen saw the pick-up truck down the road a bit, lights on and the exhaust billowing in the crisp air. Quinn was tempted to run but instead just walked quickly, not believing that Mr. Oliver was really interested in her or that she was so excited about all of this.

***

"I didn't see you come out the door," Richard Oliver said as Quinn Ryan climbed into the truck, and he reached over and put his hand on her leg, giving the denim a squeeze as the girl pulled the door closed.

"Went out the window," Quinn admitted as he saw her note saying she would meet him after Dad went to sleep, resting on the dashboard.

"Crafty lady," the middle-aged man chuckled as he put the truck in gear and slowly went down the gravelly road with the high beams on.

"Where are we going?" Quinn asked with a hint of apprehension in her voice.

"Not far. I know you have school tomorrow and unfortunately I have work," he explained as he looked for the little turn off he had spotted earlier when it was light, and after spotting the tiny parking lot in the pitch blackness he pulled in and killed the engine. "This looked like a secluded place."

"Drive around those rocks and you'll be in the pond," Quinn said. "Kids drink beer and go skinny dipping when it's warm."

"You do?"

"No," Quinn said. "Definitely not."

"Modest huh? Good for you," Richard said as he slid closer to the girl on the bench seat. "I got it nice and warm in here."

"I know."

"If it's too hot crack a window," Mr. Oliver said as he leaned closer. "I've been dying to do this for years.

The man pressed his lips against Quinn's, and while she was a little shocked she didn't fight it and was a little sad when his lips moved away.

"I thought your lips always looked so full and soft looking," Mr. Oliver said, his minty breath in the air. "I was right."

"I don't kiss good, or so I've been told," Quinn related as her heart raced, refraining from telling him anymore of Tommy Provost's review of her kissing skills.

"I disagree, but I'll let you know after a while," he replied as he leaned closer again, this time putting his hand around her back as his lips pressed into hers, but this time the kiss didn't break off. When Mr. Oliver's tongue slipped in between her lips she didn't fight it even though she didn't know what to do besides letting it caress hers.

"You drive me crazy," Mr. Oliver said as he rubbed her back under the jacket and over the blouse. "And whoever said you couldn't kiss is full of it."

"You sure you aren't drunk? Quinn asked as she leaned back toward the door.

"I usually just have 2 or 3 - 2 tonight," he explained.

"Oh, I just go by all the empties I have pick up afterwards so I figured you guys all drink a lot."

"No, not me, and I'm not that crazy about football either."

"I don't get it."

"After I got divorced I would come over with the guys just for the company, but then I really noticed that Bud Ryan had a daughter. A pretty one too," he related. "I thought you were older than you actually were because you seemed so mature, but I couldn't help being attracted to you, so I waited. I figured that some guy would snap you up by now, but you still stay in your room studying all the time."

"Books like me more than boys do," Quinn admitted.

"Not more than I do," he claimed, and as he looked at the fogged up windshield he asked, "Getting cool in here for you?"

"No, actually I'm sweating," Quinn replied, grinning as she blushed.

"Your glasses - not only did I make them crooked on you they've fogged up too," Richard said as he carefully pulled them off, and as he folded them and set them on the dash he pulled her short brown hair from her face and declared, "With the glasses on I never really saw your eyebrows before. I love them."

"Boy Mr. Oliver, you seem to like all of my defects," Quinn declared. "The last time I tried to thin them out I screwed up."

"I used to do that all the time with my sideburns, trying to make them even and going from side to side until they were up near the tops of my ears," he told her, and after she laughed he announced, "And that's another thing I love about you. Your laugh. And didn't we discuss something about you calling me Mr. Oliver?"

"Sorry - Richard," Quinn answered just before the older man kissed her again, and this time the kissing got even more intense as his hands slid under her blouse and roamed all over her back.

Quinn felt herself giving in to Richard as her heart raced faster and faster but when his hands went up to slide her bra cups up she stopped him. Unfazed but not pushy, he kept smothering her with kisses while his hands went up the girl's sides. Quinn gasped and tensed up when she felt his thumbs slide under her arms but he whispered in her ear how sexy she was as he stroked the moist hair that filled the unshaven hollows.

"Warned you I was sweaty," Quinn managed to say in between kisses, but Mr. Oliver didn't seem to care about much of anything by then, and she was almost on her back on the bench seat when she finally called a halt to the affection assault.

"Hope I didn't freak you out," Richard said as they sat upright and Quinn got herself together.

"No - just embarrassed because - well - I obviously wasn't expecting any of this," Quinn admitted but he shook his head.

"You're just as I always fantasized you to be," he said. "You're perfect just as you are, and I really want to see you again. Someplace more comfortable than this."

"My Dad would be curious about where I was going. He keeps a short leash on me."

"You are 18 though, right?"

"Nineteen, but like he says all the time, it's his way or the highway," Quinn explained.

Mr. Oliver started to say something about Bud Ryan liking the idea of having a cook and cleaning woman around the house but thought better of it. Instead he asked for Quinn's school schedule, and when he noticed there was a four hour break in the afternoon on Thursdays he suggested picking her up near the campus.

"Okay."

"Only if you want to," he said when he sensed hesitation in her voice but she shook her head.

"I want to, it's just I can't believe someone like you would be interested in someone like me," Quinn said.

"If I wasn't trying to be a gentleman I'd take your hand and show you how interesting you are to me," Richard said, and although she only glanced briefly at his trousers she shivered at that. "Let me take you up near home."

"Stop before you get to the mailbox, okay?" Quinn asked.

"Going in the front door or the window?" Richard asked, and after she said it would be the window for her entrance he said, "Can't believe you went through that to meet me, but I'm so glad you did."

"Me too," Quinn said as she leaned over and gave him a kiss before climbing out of the cab and moving through the edge of the yard.

Climbing in through the window was tougher than going out, and even though Quinn always locked her bedroom door before she would sneak out the window, she always feared seeing Daddy sitting in her room waiting for her, but as usual all was as it was when she left. The teen went to the bathroom to pee and then retreated to her room.

As she unbuttoned her blouse in front of her dresser she noticed that even with only the dim night light on she could see her fingers were still shaking from the encounter with her father's friend in his truck. Quinn cursed herself for being so inexperienced at such things at her age, and the fact was that besides Tommy Provost she had never even made out with a boy so passionately.

Quinn set the blouse aside and looked at herself in the mirror with the same critical eye she always had, only even more so because she felt so inadequate. Mr. Oliver had been married to a lady who worked at the post office and she was an attractive woman with a full figure, nothing like what looked back at her in the mirror.

Quinn eased her aged padded bra off, wincing at the tiny breasts that Mr. Oliver was trying to get at for some reason. They looked lost on her rather wide chest and her thick waist made them look even sadder. Quinn brought her hands up to cup them, reverting to the kneading exercise she saw in a magazine years ago, but then as now it didn't make them grow but only made her nipples hard.

Quinn lowered her jeans and panties and then stepped back, While she didn't have a belly her stomach was not tight, and the way her hips flared out so widely gave her a pear shaped figure that didn't arouse a desperate guy like Tommy Provost even after she threw herself at him. Quinn did everything he asked, even trimming and trying to thin out the wild jungle of dark brown hair between her legs after he complained.

"Here I am Mr. Oliver," Quinn sighed weakly to the reflection, knowing that when they met in a couple of days he would not be content with necking in the truck like a couple of kids.

Quinn wasn't content with that either, because she liked Mr. Oliver. He was a pretty good looking man who had always been sweet to her, and hearing that she excited him was unbelievable and an entirely new experience. Better yet Mr. Oliver seemed to like her despite all her shortcomings, or maybe even because of them.

Quinn raised her right arm, putting her hand behind her head and letting her other hand toy with the thick tuft of hair that filled the hollow, something that she hadn't bothered to deal with since Tommy dumped her. If she had known Mr. Oliver would have had his hands under her blouse and explored like he had, she would have shaved, but not only didn't he mind how hairy see was he seemed to like it, and the proof of that was the bulge in the front of his trousers. She had caused that. Quinn Ryan, just the way she was.

"Oh, Mr. Oliver," Quinn sighed as she went down to her bedding, with one hand squeezing her little boob and the other probing the dense thicket that guarded her sex.

The hair around the opening was soaking wet and inside was wetter still as she pretended her hand was Mr. Oliver's. Richard's, she reminded herself, and as she brought herself to orgasm she was imagining it was Richard making her cum as the room spun around her.

Sleep came easier to Quinn after that, and she dropped off reliving what had happened in Mr. Oliver's truck. While it might not have been all that crazy a night to most people, for Quinn it was something she might never forget.

***

"Right on time," Richard said as Quinn climbed in the truck at the agreed upon spot, and he smiled when she leaned over to kiss him before he pulled out of the parking spot.

"Should I have done that?" Quinn asked when she saw his reaction.

"Absolutely. I was pleasantly surprised," Richard Oliver assured the teen as he headed north on route 8.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Uh - I was thinking we could go to my place," Richard said tentatively. "If that's okay with you."

"Sure," Quinn replied and then looked out the window. "It's a warm day for October."

"Not many of them left until the snow flies," Mr. Oliver opined, and as he drove he didn't really notice that Quinn undid the seat belt and had taken off her jacket until the click of Quinn securing the belt again got his attention. "They say it's supposed to get near 60..."

The middle-aged man did a double-take when he glanced over at the girl, and the truck tires briefly went over the rumble strips on the shoulder before he righted the vehicle. When he glanced back at Quinn she had a devilish grin in the corners of her mouth as she turned a bit to face him.

"You okay?"

"Fine and dandy," Richard declared as he looked over at Quinn who was wearing a light pink blouse that was sleeveless. "Are you teasing me?"

"Just having fun trying to figure out what you see in me," she told him.

"That was brave of you, I realize that."

"I told you Monday night, remember?" he asked. "I told you I love that you're so smart, and that you have full lips that I suspected were soft - and I was right about that. Correct?"

"I guess so."

"Plus, I told you how much I love your eyebrows when you take your glasses off, and I'm crazy about your arms and how soft the hair is on them. Actually, I think we agreed that we both like that, didn't we?"