I don't know how I got here. I remember the events but somehow they seem so disconnected from any reality that I can comprehend.
I'm forty years old. I work in an office. I support some financial software in a large firm. It's not a very technical role and the work is fairly dull. When I look back on my life before my divorce, it seems like a monotonous pattern of events. Work, come home, eat, shower up. Fuck sometimes. Go to sleep. Lather, rinse, repeat as the shampoo bottles say.
I barely remember her name most days. Her memory is like a photo in someone else's house. Blond hair, blue eyes smiling up at me. But like those photos, I don't know her. I've never met her.
The final papers came in the mail four years ago. I signed them and put them in an envelope with too many stamps. Not an absurd number. Maybe four. I stuffed the envelope in one of those big blue mailboxes so it the post office wouldn't lose it.
Three years ago, I noticed a teenager in a coffee shop. I went in that shop almost every day on the way home. The shop never seemed busy. It must have been early fall or mid spring. The sunlight had started to fade.
I don't think anyone would have noticed her at all if the store had been busy. Maybe not even me. She had light brown skin and unruly curls. She didn't look like my type, to be honest. I don't mind a bigger woman but she was bigger than I thought I cared for back then. She wore flip flops and jeans that didn't reach her ankles. Maybe they were supposed to be capris. They weren't high end enough for that. Her shirt had gone through the wash too many times.
The barista handed me my coffee concoction and I walked in the direction of the door.
Something made me turn around. I walked up to her table. />
She looked up. />
"Mind if I sit here?"
She frowned and then relented. "Ok, I guess."
I pulled out a chair at the opposite end of the table and sat down in it. "My name is Mike."
I sipped my coffee. All the milk and sugar had cooled it down already.
"Do you always sit at the only occupied table when a fat ugly seventeen year old is there?" she whispered.
Her voice didn't sound like an accusation. Maybe like confusion, fear, and anger.
I gulped. "I didn't know you were seventeen and you're not ugly. Not to me anyway. I don't really know why I sat down but it wasn't to try to hit on you."
"It's ok. I shouldn't be so angry."
"Get angry if you want to. If you think some old guy is creeping on you, then flip the fuck out. I wouldn't judge."
The rest of the conversation faded from my memory but I know after a few minutes of awkwardness, I stood up and took my leave.
That night, I spotted a neighbor sneak out of her apartment while I smoked on the porch. I nodded to her. She looked so alive. Emotions poured out of every inch of her. A symphony too complex and wonderful to behold.
It took a moment for me to realize she wasn't dressed for leaving the house. Her blond hair flicked against the fuchsia nightgown she wore.
She looked around and then walked to me.
"Kind of a weird question to ask, but do you mind if I come in?"
I pondered this for a moment. The question had the same impact on me as a request for a cup of sugar, I guess.
"I don't mind. Let me finish my cigarette and I'll be right behind you."
Shelly looked around again before walking into my apartment.
It took two more minutes for the butt to burn down to a nub. I squashed it on the concrete and stuffed it in the planter.
I walked in my apartment and felt a faint tinge of surprise when I saw her on my couch. I hadn't imagined her visit.
She cupped her breasts through the fabric of her nightie.
"You came to fuck me?" I asked.
"Yeah. I hope that's alright. Pete's drunk off his ass for the fourth time in as many days and I could use a good fuck."
"That's fine," I walked up to the couch and put my hands on her waist. I felt the slight hint of that roll a lithe woman gets not with weight gain but with age. She didn't look that much older than me. The skin on her face betrayed a few too many days out on a summer day. She felt mortal and vulnerable. Like we all are, I suppose. I kissed her. It felt awkward because of the angle so I sat down beside her and kissed her again.
Shelly reached for my belt and undid it.
I noticed a little wet spot on my pants where the tip of my cock fought against my pants and felt a little embarrassment. At least one part of me felt excitement, I thought. I put my right hand around her shoulder and grabbed her breast with my left. I remember thinking she didn't wear a bra and then mentally smacking myself because of course she didn't wear a bra in her nightie. Her breast trembled in my hand.
"Are you cold?"
"A little. I'll warm up, though," the words sounded like a poorly written soap opera seduction scene. I had become something of an expert at soap operas after the divorce.
I kissed her again, more deeply. She tilted her head back and I let my tongue probe her mouth.
She unbuttoned my pants and reached in.
"I was starting to think you weren't really that interested," she said.
"No, I'm very />
She grasped my dick and rubbed the precum down my shaft until she had slathered it completely. The muscles in the small of my back grew tense.
Shelly rubbed my cock up and down until I could barely contain it.
"Not quite yet," she said. She pulled her hand out and the band of my underwear snapped against my dick.
She slid out of my arms and pulled me along to the bedroom.
I remember feeling a brief moment of disgust at the messy state of my bed but she pushed the blankets onto the floor without comment and pulled her nightie off.
She stood in front of me wearing just a satiny fuchsia bottom. Her brown nipples drew my attention. I wanted her slightly sagging breasts in my hands.
I pulled my pants and shirt off. I didn't feel quite ready to have my underwear off but the band irritated me so I slid them off and tossed them to my hamper.
Shelly climbed on the bed, legs apart just slightly. I climbed on top of her and looked into her eyes. They looked wild and restrained. I grasped her breasts and massaged them.
she whispered. "You can do better than that."
I gripped them and my cock robbed slightly against her loose fitting bottom. My damp cock pulled her bottom with it as it went along. I leaned down and sucked on her nipple. Both her nipples grew and her legs ached along my back. I bit gently and she moaned. Her back arched and she pressed her breast up against my face. She reached down and pressed my cock against her crotch. I rubbed it against her and felt wet seeping through her bottom. Her heat felt animal and dangerous. I kissed between her breasts once and moved to her other breast.
I nibbled slightly at Shelly's nipple and she squirmed against me. She pushed me off and nudged her bottom to the floor. I sat up beside her and reached between her legs. A few days of stubble brushed my hand and I wondered how long she had planned this. Her lips looked so different from my ex wife's. Darker, firmer. Maybe a little longer or maybe I imagined it. I rubbed alongside them. Her juice felt so slick. I pushed her hood and a little pink bit of wonder stared up at me. I knelt down and licked it.
Shelly tasted musky and just a little bitter. I put a finger in her pussy and ran over her lips and nub with my tongue.
"Fuck me," she said.
I climbed between her legs and she grabbed my cock and pushed it in. I adjusted my knees and thrust into her depths. The heat of her felt scalding. Sweat welled up around her mound and when I reached for her breasts, sweat covered the palms of my hands. I set my hands over her shoulders and rocked my hips.
She squeaked with every hit of the beat we made. Her chest felt slick against mine. Simultaneously hot and chilly. Every inch of her torso gleamed with tension and faint sunspots.
I noticed an aching sensation in my cock and my balls had become wet with sweat and the wetness sliding off my cock. I fucked her harder and faster until her squeaks became shrieks and profanities.
My dick trembled and spat cum into her. I kept thrusting and the bed shook. She let out one final scream and exhaled deeply.
"That was so good, Mike."
"I enjoyed it too," I said. I pulled out of her and rolled over.
"This isn't an affair, by the way. I'm just going to fuck you sometimes, alright?"
When my cock grew cold and soft, she reached her foot up, placed them under my sticky sack and wiggled my cock against my abdomen. After awhile, she sat up and pulled her bottom and nightie back on. I walked out of the bedroom with her. She walked to the door.
"You're not going to take a shower?" I saw a sticky mess slithering down her crotch.
She looked back at me. "No. If he asks, I'll just tell him he and I fucked. Or maybe I'll tell him you and I fucked," she shrugged.
Shelly walked out the door and shut it behind her. I waited five or ten minutes and then put on a robe and smoked another cigarette on the porch.
story by: MirrorDream
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