tagErotic CouplingsMy Son's Girlfriend

My Son's Girlfriend

byMargin Walker©

I take a drink from my bourbon and Coke as that night's host of Saturday Night Live says the obligatory goodbyes with the cast standing around doing their little love fest. I set the drink back down and look over at Janice lying curled up asleep on the couch beside me.

"Janice. Wake up," I say to her and she doesn't move. I reach down and shake her leg.

"Jake home yet?" she mumbles, her eyes still closed and hands tucked under her head.

"No, but you go to bed. I'll sit up and wait for him."

"No, I'll stay up too," she mumbles and seems to fall back asleep.

I sigh and take another drink. The whiskey feels good going down my throat and into my belly. By this time of the night the drinks don't have much Coke in them anymore. I look down at Janice asleep on the couch in her long, fluffy robe with her legs sticking out, covered in her pajama bottoms. I remember a time when she would have just worn that robe and nothing underneath. It would drive me wild. I used to love to look at her legs. Now I'm almost glad she covers her body. She has let herself go. Her once incredibly, sexy legs are now chubby and her tight ass is now lumpy and soft. She gave up several years ago.

I stand up and bend down over her. I shake her again.

"Come on, Janice. You go to bed. You need to. I'll stay up," I say to her.

She stretches and flops over with her eyes barely open to look at me. "Help me up," she says and extends her arm.

I grab her hand and help her to sit up. She moans and drops her legs off of the couch.

"All right. I'll go on up to bed," she says and then yawns. "But you give that boy hell when he gets home. I'll give him more in the morning."

She stands up and walks past me to the stairs. I watch her ascend the stairs, looking for something to remind me of that beautiful woman I fell in love with over twenty years ago, but see nothing. Not only does she not look the same she doesn't act the same. She doesn't care about anything. Life is passing her by and she doesn't care.

"Good night," she mumbles from the top of the stairs followed with the obligatory, "I love you."

"Love you too," I say back automatically. They are just words now and don't mean anything.

I drop back onto the couch and start flipping through channels with the remote. There is nothing on. I didn't think there would be. Just a bunch of infomercials with people that are going to change your life, make everything better with their get rich quick schemes or motivational tapes. It all becomes a blur as I pass through the channels and my mind wanders.

I wonder where Jake could be. That boy has been staying out too late. Just because he is eighteen now he thinks he can go out anytime he wants and stay out as late as he wants. That's not acceptable as long as he lives in my home and he'll have to learn that. He graduated from high school last month and has no plans for his life. It looks like he is going to let his life pass by without realizing the chances he has, the things he could do, his whole life waiting there and he doesn't want it. It looks like he is going to be just like his mother.

I sigh and take another drink finishing off what is left. I get up to fix another.

Janice was a wonderful woman when we met. She was beautiful, vibrant, intelligent, but she has allowed herself to become mediocre as she spends her time trying to impress our neighbors and live a certain way. Now she doesn't know what she wants unless everybody else wants it too.

I make my drink and trek back to the couch. I take a sip and it feels like there isn't even any Coke in it. That's fine.

I stretch out and start to think how I could get out of it, out of my marriage, away from this life. It isn't what I wanted. I don't want to be stuck in suburban hell, mowing the lawn, going to block parties, watching over the neighbor's kids, yet that's what I do. I had never wanted that. We had never wanted that.

Then, Jake had come along, not that he was an accident. We had been trying for years, but nothing had happened and so we had given up. But just as we gave up she got pregnant and nine months later out came Jake. We were so proud and happy. But it wasn't what we had expected. Jake was a handful. He didn't do well in school, didn't listen to us, and has no ambition. We were happy he graduated from high school, and on time at that, but he isn't going to go to college, and doesn't know what he wants to do.

Now, he's out too late and I'm worried about him again. It seems to be a habit. Especially since he has started dating this new girl, Valerie. She is a year older than him, and dropped out of school a year ago. She's a wild one. They stay out late partying, doing God knows what. Valerie is extremely sexy and she knows it. She does what she can to show it off.

Janice doesn't approve of him dating her and I try to stand by her, but I can understand why he is with Valerie. I would never tell Janice, but I want Jake to be with Valerie as long as he can. I want him to enjoy being with a woman like that before he has to settle down with a woman who wouldn't know a good time if it crawled up her ass and laid eggs.

Frustrated, I stand up to look through our DVDs for a movie to watch. Then, I hear a key slipping into the front door lock. I walk over to the door so I can catch him as he comes in. I hear a thud like someone's kicking the door and then it swings open to bang against the wall.

"Dammit, Jake..." I start to yell, walking through the foyer, but stop when I see Valerie stepping through the doorway with Jake's keys hanging from her hand and Jake slumped against her with his arm draped over her shoulder. "What the hell?" I say, feeling dread spread through my body like ice cold water.

I grab him as Valerie pulls him through the door.

"He's all right, Mr. Laymon," Valerie says and hands him off to me. "He's just a little drunk."

I wrap my arm around him and let him lean against me. Jake's a big guy and I have to clamp my arm around his back to hold him up.

"Hey, Val," he mumbles, lifting his head up, his eyes barely open. "Let's just go to your place and..." he slurs and then trails off as his head falls down again.

"Jake!" I yell into his ear.

"What?" he mumbles. "Leave me alone..." and he trails off again.

"Fuckin' kid," I say and carry him towards the stairs. Now that I know he's all right and that he's just drunk, I start to get angry with him.

"Yeah, he can't handle his liquor," Valerie says and kicks the door shut behind her.

"He shouldn't even be drinking," I say, turning my head to look at her to give her an angry look, but feel it fade as I notice the very short black leather skirt showing her long legs with black stockings that don't reach up to her skirt, revealing a sexy line of naked thigh between the stockings and skirt. The shirt she's wearing under her black leather coat isn't much more than just a black bra and I see her firm cleavage and her tight stomach with a ring pierced through her belly button. Her died blonde hair falls down over her shoulders with black roots brazenly visible.

"Yeah, I tried to tell him," she says and chuckles to herself. "But kids, you know how they are." She shrugs her shoulders, making the leather of her coat creak, and smirks at me.

"Yeah," I say, wanting to tell her to watch her smart ass mouth, but can't bring myself to do it when I'm looking at her face, so beautiful with full, red lips and piercing green eyes.

Jake starts to slip out of my grip and I pull him back up.

"Jake! Wake up!" I yell at him. He mumbles incoherently. I have to carry him to bed before I drop him. "I'm taking him to bed," I tell Valerie, trying to let her know she can leave now.

"Go for it," she says, standing there staring at me, her arms crossed under her breasts, leaning back against the door.

I grumble to myself and haul Jake against me as I start walking up the stairs. Jake's awake enough to move his feet up the stairs, but he's not much help. I break a sweat just getting him up the steps. I'm in good shape. I've always thought it is important to stay fit, but Jake's really big, and it's tiring carrying him up the stairs. I try to move faster because I feel him slipping out of my grip as my arm gets tired. I barely get him to his bed and drop him into it before he does fall. I'm amazed that Valerie was able to carry him to the door. She's tall, almost six feet with the high heeled boots that she's wearing, but doesn't seem that big. She must be stronger that I thought.

I take a deep breath and then bend down to take off his shoes. I push his legs up on the bed. It's a struggle to pull his jacket off and get him into the middle of the bed to cover him. Finally, he's tucked in, breathing deeply since he's passed out.

I close his bedroom door behind me as I leave his room. As I start down the stairs I hear the stereo in the living room come alive with an opening guitar lick. I stop, shocked to hear the stereo playing, and then remember that I left Valerie downstairs by the door, assuming that she'd leave. She must be playing the stereo.

I walk down the stairs and turn into the living room, recognizing the song as Hendrix's Spanish Castle Magic, as the opening guitar fades out to the steady drumbeat and the opening lyrics. I stop in the doorway when I see Valerie standing in front of the stereo cabinet, turned away from me, swaying her hips, and singing along with the lyrics. I stare at her ass moving with the skirt wrapped around it tightly, and her firm legs flexing as she sways back and forth.

Then, the guitar crashes back in as the song picks up and she starts thrashing her body around, her hips rocking, her legs splayed wide, and her head rocking from side to side with her long hair flying through the air. Her hands slide down her sides and over her hips as the song bleeds into the chorus. I'm struck by her young body writhing erotically in my living room as she is either unaware or doesn't care that I'm standing there watching her.

The song slows down again and she shakes her jacket off her shoulders and lets it slide down her arms to the floor. I see a tattoo across her lower back of an eagle with its wings stretched across her back to her sides. Her back undulates with the music, her ass rocking back and forth. Then, the song picks up again and she raises her arms up into the air as she shakes her head back and forth in time with her hips and her hair splashes back down on her shoulders.

I imagine walking up behind her, placing my hands on her hips and pressing myself against her to feel that young body moving against me. I fidget nervously and clear my throat to try to get her attention. Either she doesn't hear me or ignores me and continues shaking with the music. She turns to the side a bit and I can see her flat stomach rippling as her hips move and her breasts bounce inside of the tight shirt.

I suddenly realize I'm just wearing boxer shorts and a t-shirt as my dick starts to get hard and tries to force its way out through my boxers. I pull my shirt down to cover it and twist to the side to hide it behind the doorway. She slides her hands down over her chest and stomach and then bends over to pump her ass in a motion that could only be sexual. I force myself to look away before my dick gets too hard that I can't hide it.

Luckily, the song ends right then and she stops dancing. She throws her hair back so it rolls down over her upper back and steps up to the stereo.

"I love that song. Don't you?" she says, her back still to me.

"Um," I stutter, embarrassed. "Yeah, it's good."

"I love this CD. I love everything he did. His music is so sexy. Don't you think?"

I had never thought about that before, but now I'm sure I always will. I fiddle nervously, trying to will my hard-on away. She turns her head to look at me, her hair partly covering her face, one foot resting on the toes with her knee bent slightly. I don't think my hard-on will ever go away.

"Yeah," I stutter, suddenly feeling like a high school kid again.

"I wish I could have met him." She turns her head away to look at the CD case. "I'd have fucked him. A man who could play like that, you know he could fuck." I don't what to say to her about that. I'm too shocked to say anything. "Is this your CD?" she asks, turning back to me.

"Yeah," I say. "I use to have the record and bought that a bit ago." I risk stepping into the living room, feeling that my dick has softened and isn't sticking out of my boxers.

"What's your favorite song on here?"

"Um, I don't know."

She turns around and tilts her head to the side. "Come on. You have to have a favorite?"

I shrug, trying to act cool while telling myself I don't need to act cool in front of this girl; she's my son's girlfriend. "I guess it would be 'If 6 Was 9'," I say, walking over to my drink still sitting on the end table.

She turns around and presses some buttons on the CD player until 'If 6 Was 9' starts.

"Oh, this song," she says. "Yeah, it's good. I like the lyrics, but it's a bit slow and trippy." She bends over to pick up her jacket and I watch the skirt lift up high on her butt and can see far up the backs of her bare thighs. I take a sip from my drink just to distract myself. "You need a joint to really enjoy it," she says as she stands back up.

Now, I really am stunned. This girl has just thrown me completely off, dancing in my living room, dressing really sexy, talking about fucking, and now talking about drugs.

She walks over to me and then sits down on the couch. She sticks her hands in an inner pocket of her jacket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She pulls something out of the pack.

"Is that..." I say, thinking she's pulling out a joint.

"Grass?" she says, looking up at me. "No. Just a cig." She holds it out for me to see and then puts it between her lips. "Do you have any grass?" She lights the cigarette, still looking up at me.

"Me? No?" I say, startled that she would even ask me.

"Too bad," she says and blows out some smoke. "I could go for some." She leans back on the couch and crosses one leg over the other, pushing the skirt up high on her thigh, the skin between the stocking and skirt tanned to a nice golden brown.

"You, um, smoke grass?" I say, trying to recover and act like a parent instead of some horny kid.

"Sure," she says. "It's a free country." She takes another puff from the cigarette and blows the smoke up at me.

"But that's illegal."

She smiles at me and says nothing for several seconds and then says a verse in unison with the song playing on the stereo, "I'm the one who's going to have to die when it's time for me to die. So I'll live my life the way I want to." The smile stays on her lips as she inhales from the cigarette again. "Pretty neat that happened right then, huh?" She laughs and it sounds so girlish coming from a girl who tries to act so grown up, probably is very grown up.

"Yeah. I guess so." I pick up my drink and take another drink.

"So, is this the life you wanted?" she asks and nods her head to the side gesturing to the house and I presume my wife, my son, and everything else. She starts tapping her foot, making her thigh flex.

"That's not an appropriate question to ask your boyfriend's father," I say, trying to avoid the question all together. I set the drink back down and sit down on the chair across from the couch.

"I don't have a boyfriend," she says.

"Really. Then what's my son?"

"A guy. He's fun." She takes another puff from the cigarette and stares through the smoke at me. "He's stupid, easy to boss around."

"He's not stupid," I say defensively.

She smirks at me. "Now you're being stupid."

"He's not," I yell. "He's just a bit...lazy."

She nods her head at me and leans forward. I can almost see down her little shirt and can definitely see most of her breasts. "I'll give you that." She reaches out, grabs my drink, and takes a big drink. "Wow," she says after she swallows. "Why do you even bother with the Coke?" She looks at me and laughs. I can't help but laugh with her.

"So," she says. "You still didn't answer my question." She leans back in the couch again. She uncrosses her leg and holds her legs spread wide apart for a while before crossing the other one over it. I get a good glimpse high up on her inner thighs and am pretty sure she isn't wearing underwear. If she is, it's a very small g-string.

"What question?" I ask, trying to avoid it, wondering why I'm even sitting here discussing this with this girl.

She smirks at me. "You know what question." She takes another drag from her cigarette and blows it back out of her nose. "This. Is this the life you wanted? Are you living your life the way you want to?"

I'm amazed at her brazenness. She'll say or do anything she wants. I can't help but admire it. "No, it's not," I say.

"So what, you just sit here listening to Hendrix, talking about it and you won't do it?" She stares at me, her eyes slanted. I drop my eyes to avoid her stare and end up looking at her flat stomach with the ring glistening in her belly button.

"Nobody ever does. It's impossible," I say, looking back up at her.

"No, it's not," she says. "You just think that to make yourself feel better."

"No. It's life," I say, starting to get a little mad at her with her personal questions.

"No. It's your life," she says, her voice getting a little louder.

"You're just too young to realize."

"Maybe you're too old to realize."

We're both leaning forward looking at each like we're about to break into a fight. I pick up my drink and take another sip, seeing a print of her lips from her red lipstick.

"You don't understand," I say and set the drink back down, calming myself down.

"I understand. So do you. You just pretend you don't." She turns to the side and stabs her cigarette butt into the soil of the potted plant on the table next to her.

I wonder what the hell is going on, why I'm even having this discussion with this girl. I've had too much to drink. I need to get her out the door and go to bed.

"I need to get to bed," I say and stand up.

"Your wife waiting for you?" she says and picks up my glass.

"What?" I ask her.

She takes a quick sip and says, "I said 'Is your wife waiting for you?'" Then, she takes a bigger drink.

"That's none of your business."

"Just asking, wondering why you wanted to run off so soon." She sets the glass down and smiles at me. "Thought maybe you were hoping to get some from the old wifey."

"And I don't think that's an appropriate thing to say." I cross my arms over my chest, trying to look like the mature adult.

She shrugs her shoulders. "Appropriate or not, I doubt you're running up there for a late night roll in the hay. I doubt you're in a big hurry to bed that old sow. The home fires just aren't raging like they used to, huh?"

"Excuse me?" I say, thinking I should be protecting the honor of my wife, but since I agree with her it's hard to do.

"It's a shame, too," she says, and her eyes for the first time since we've started talking slip from my face as she starts looking down my body and back up again. "You keep yourself in good shape. Guess she just doesn't have those feelings anymore."

"I don't think it's any of your business," I say.

"Whatever. That's okay. It happens when people have been married a long time. That's why I won't get married."

"Look," I say, getting a little agitated with her. "I think it's time for you to leave."

She stands up, her eyes locked on me, and struts over to me. She stops directly in front of me and I can smell her, cigarettes and perfume.

"Are you sure?" she asks, still staring at me. I stare into her green eyes, that beautiful face, and think that I'm not so sure.

I start to nod my head, knowing I should get her to leave and go to bed, just forget this and forget her, but I end up shaking my head anyway. She smiles at me, one side of her mouth turned up into a sneer.

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byMargin Walker© 15 comments/ 211832 views/ 100 favorites

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