daughter’s best-friend

Author’s Note: Thanks to estragon for editing suggestions. I appreciate his help very much and I hope you all enjoy this naughty little fantasy. ~ Red

I knew it was wrong from the start, but I did it anyway – at least I waited till the kid was twenty-one, though legally I could have pursued him when he was eighteen. Hell, I even waited until I was one hundred percent positive my eldest daughter truly had no interest in the kid. She and Austin had been friends since he was a Freshman in High School and she was a Junior. She had told me for years that she’d never date him and never marry him, because he was too much like her little brother. Perhaps so, both boys were goofy and had similar features, but in my eyes Austin was nothing like my son – thank god!

Austin was and still is a flirt. Several years ago he was visiting at the house and playing a video game with my daughter and talking randomly to me as I washed some dishes. I don’t know how the conversation came about and really it doesn’t matter – but before long we were talking about porn and magazines.

My younger daughter told us that she made her last boyfriend throw his entire collection out when she found them. I just smirked. My other daughter was surprised to find out he’d had them. I was curious why my younger daughter had been in the boy’s room in the first place, but that was water under the bridge and not the reason for this particular story. Austin grinned and told everyone he only picked up the magazines for the articles. Of course none of us fell for that and he knew it. My eldest daughter said, “My mom’s porn is the best.”

Now, my kids know my hobby, but very few and I mean probably less than four (if even that many) of their friends know about it. I said nothing for a while until I heard Austin say, “Hey you’re making me wonder.”

The girls continued to tell him how good my work was and I knew the poor kid was thinking I had a spread in some old 1990s Playboy and he was going to search it out. I rolled my eyes and told the girls they needed to explain themselves. So they told him I wrote porn. Immediately he asked, “Is it any good?” I chuckled out loud and still said nothing.

My children told him I’d made money from it and shared a few accolades I’d received for my work. He called out to me from across the room, “Maybe you’ll have to teach me a few things and take me to some clubs too.”

I licked my lips, turned to face him and winked. “When you’re eighteen,” I said with a laugh.

“Mom,” one daughter said, “some of those places he can’t visit until he’s twenty-one.”

“Twenty-one then,” I replied, and went back to washing dishes. We never spoke about it again, but through the years there were times when I caught Austin staring at me. I would look back with a raised brow and wonder if he was thinking back to the offer I had made.

It all came to a head one summer when Austin was back in town, on break from college. My two daughters were well on their way to creating their own paths in this world. My eldest child, now 23, was out of college and gaining real world experience via a company that was well known in the architectural field. My other daughter was 22 and had just finished school, but she had done so with a wedding ring on her finger – having married her high school sweetheart her sophomore year of college. My son, now 19, had been offered an opportunity to study music over the summer in Europe. So there I was, a forty-five year old divorcee, greeting a young man who told me he was there to collect on my promise.

I didn’t play dumb. I knew what he’d said. It had been years, but the conversation had lingered at the back of my mind and I had played the fantasy of taking Austin as a lover so many times in my head I could soak my panties in seconds if I so chose to. I opened the door; he walked in and turned to stare down at me.

I had seen him off and on over the past few years as my girls grew and their lives took shape. Eventually though, as days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years, his appearances, much like theirs, became less frequent. He had matured since that day when video games and friendly banter ruled the house. In front of me was a man, one who I suspected was no longer a virgin. His gaze was strong and steady, almost challenging and yet there was that spark of indecision that I knew had been like a weight on his chest. He wasn’t sure how I would respond and honestly I wasn’t sure how to begin to respond.

I looked up at his brown hair. He still wore it the same; the bangs fell over his eyes. I always wanted to touch his hair. It looked soft and inviting, and yet as the adult in the room, I never did. I never once crossed that boundary. I blinked several times, felt my pulse race and lifted my fingers. I brushed the strands away from his forehead, allowing the texture to slide across my skin as he remained still. My brows furrowed in worry over what was to happen next. I knew what I wanted. I felt it in my bones, the ache had been there for years and the discipline was hard to release – after all, I am an old woman compared to him. What is it about me that made him take the steps that led him to my door?

My fingers continued to trail through his hair. I saw his hand reach out and for a moment the air around us seemed to thicken. My lower lip trembled as his thumb ran across my lower lip. I whimpered softly, the sound so young and carefree that I still can’t believe I made it. He lowered his head to mine and I stood up on my tiptoes, helping to close the distance that separated us.

The kiss was heart wrenching, at least for me it was. It was the oxygen needed to fan the flame that had been burning between us for years. Both of his hands moved to grasp the sides of my head and he kept me anchored to him. There was no need to fear my running from the delicious taste of his mouth – I was far from fleeing. I was sinking into him at an alarming rate. Our heads tilted, or maybe he forced the action from me, I don’t know. Don’t really care either. The fact of the matter is, the kiss seemed to last forever. Our tongues danced and dueled for the right to simply gain life from the other person and when we pulled apart, he pressed his forehead to mine and we shared the same air.

“Welcome home,” I whispered. He smiled, stepped back and let me go. I licked my lips, tasted him on them and licked them again, just so I could recapture the flavor.

It seemed natural for my hand to slip down to his and our fingers became entwined in a clasp that is normally reserved for longtime lovers. We walked into the kitchen, and I let him go, though it was with a great reluctance. I asked him if he wanted anything to drink and I tried to pretend he was not the young man I’d fantasized about for years. I poured him a soda and then took the time to make myself a glass too. When I finally sat down at the table, his hand reached out for mine.

We talked about the girls and my son. He shared with me how his classes had been going and how he was looking forward to graduation next year. Austin seemed to have found his niche in life, as far as what career he hoped to pursue. He loved acting and had been able to get a lot of experience when traveling with his acting club and doing various plays for the colleges and community programs that were available to him. I told him again how I would have loved to have been invited and chastised him for not doing so. His face took on a look of seriousness when he asked, “If I had invited you – would you have come?”

I told him the truth. “I wouldn’t have,” I said. “I would have wanted to, but you didn’t need me there. You didn’t need an old woman mucking up your life and,” I chuckled, “how would you explain me hanging on your every word and looking up at you like some love struck hag?”

He frowned and I knew I had upset him. My hand rolled over and I squeezed his fingers. “It doesn’t matter now, does it? You’re here now and I owe you a date,” I told him. I stood up, noted the time and looked back at him. He tossed his head, moving the bangs from his eyes and smiled back at me. “So have you avoided nudie bars and porn?” I asked.

Austin laughed. “Um, no,” he said with an honesty that had him blushing the same color as my hair. “But,” he quickly added, “I still want to go with you!”

I giggled, rolled my eyes and blushed almost as brightly as he had. “Let me change clothes,” I told him. He rose from his seat with a look that said he was more than willing to help. I pushed him back down, leaned over and whispered in his ear, “We’ve got all summer.”

I left him in the kitchen. He knew he was more than welcome to invade my home. He had come and gone almost as often as my kids had. He knew where the snacks were kept, what fruit he could eat without fearing my wrath for eating my favorite. I heard the cabinets opening and closing, as well as the sound of a bag of chips being opened. I smiled, walked down the hall and went into my bedroom. I shut the door, but didn’t lock it. I trusted Austin to allow me my privacy. Only once had he ever barged into my room without permission and much to my chagrin and probably his I had been wearing clothes.

Being single and playing the field, you’d think I’d have a lot of clothes worthy of catching a man’s eye. I didn’t. I had a few nice clothes, but I had pretty much become lazy in my appearance. I had given all to my kids after the divorce, making sure that their needs were met. Even now, with only one in the household, it seemed selfish to give in to my desires. I had lived with a selfish man; never did I want to be a selfish woman.

Just as I was about to settle on a pair of jeans and a button up blouse, I recalled a dress that I had bought two years ago. It was from the Salvation Army and had only cost me four dollars. Money was no longer that tight and hadn’t been when I had purchased the dress, but prior to that I had learned that for some things used was just as good as new. After pinching pennies for so long, going back to paying full price for something in my opinion was pointless. I reached into the closet and pulled out the spaghetti strapped dress that was blue with shimmering waves of thread woven in a various leaf patterns. I shuffled through the closet and found a pair of shoes that would work, though they would only give me two more inches – not even coming close to Austin’s six foot two.

I pulled off my shirt, followed by my bra. My jeans and socks were soon bundled up and tossed into the clothes hamper. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and saw what I knew were my flaws. There were the telling signs of age. My breasts were not as firm and tight as they had been in my youth; they were still nice boobs, but they were a lot better at eighteen than they were at forty-five. I had stretch marks, most had faded, but they were still there. I could see them. There was a Cesarean scar running across my abdomen, showing that at least one pregnancy had warranted surgery.

I stepped closer to the mirror and looked at my eyes and lips. I smiled, wanting to see what wrinkles appeared as well as the ones that disappeared. My gaze then traveled to my hair. The red color was still bright, but there were a few strands of white. I reached up and pulled four, sighed and told myself maybe it was time for a bottle of Auburn, shade 42, and I to become one with each other. I promised to do something about the white later.

The last thing I looked at was my panties. I wasn’t an idiot or a fool. I knew that young man was going to get into my panties, no matter what type I wore, but I also knew I at least wanted him to see this old woman could still carry off a sexy strip of satin and lace. I slipped my white cotton briefs off, added them to the hamper and pulled a pair of royal blue thongs out from the far back corner of the top dresser drawer. I blushed profusely as I pulled them on and the shade only grew brighter as I took a long look at my reflection in the mirror. The color was quite a contrast to my ivory-colored complexion and the roundness of my ass seemed only emphasized by the material.

I ran my palms down my ribs, then back up and cupped my breasts. I lifted the girls and wondered if the shelf bra that matched the thongs still fit. Another forage through my dresser drawer rewarded me with the flimsy support and when I put it on, it fit! I giggled like a school girl. I slipped the dress over my head, pushed my arms through the little straps and put on my shoes. When I looked at the woman in the mirror, her hair was tousled, her cheeks were flushed and her smile genuine – but her eyes were full of worry, excitement, and a hint of youth.

Quickly I moved to brush my hair, add a pair of teardrop earrings and a small silver chain around my neck. A couple of silver bangles circled my wrists and before I walked out of the room, I double checked to make sure my legs didn’t need shaving and my underarms were free of any unappealing odors or hairs. After all, I was going on a date – I did not need some bodily turn off that I could control hindering it!

Back toward Austin I headed, and stopped when he turned around, soda in one hand, a chip in the other. His gaze took a slow drive down my body and then back up again. By the time he was done drinking me in, my skin was burning, my nipples were hard and my thong soaked. I was in so much trouble and the night hadn’t even started.

He put the drink down as well as the chip, walked over and shook his head. I could tell he was appreciating what he saw and his soft whispered, “beautiful” made my heart skip a beat. I reached out and laid my hand on his chest; he covered my fingers with his, brought mine to his lips and kissed the tips. I blushed another shade of crimson. “Dinner first,” he told me. I agreed and wasn’t surprised when both our bellies rumbled. It was after all past dinner time.

He took the lead, placing his hand on my back and urging me toward the door. I stopped and picked up my purse, a small simple thing, full of the basic necessities. I had never been fond of carrying bags with half the house tucked inside – a simple purse for a simple girl.

His car was not something to brag about, but that didn’t matter to me. I had learned long ago that a car is not truly an extension of a man. Before the night was done I’d find the best extension of this man. Austin opened the door for me. I slid in and watched his eyes drift down the center of my dress. He licked his lips and I knew it was in appreciation of what he’d seen. My nipples were perky and ready to be devoured. He closed the door and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him adjust the growth in his pants. The muscles of my sex tightened in desire.

Once in the car the atmosphere became more charged. His hand rested on my thigh and mine rested on top of his fingers. He didn’t do much beyond making lazy circles with his thumb against my skin. I was nervous; my muscles were flexing and twisting. It felt as if a thousand butterflies had suddenly emerged from their cocoons and were fluttering their wings. We listened to the radio, made idle chit-chat and discussed the highlights of the upcoming Summer.

Forty minutes later we arrived at the restaurant and when asked if we preferred a booth or a table, Austin piped up that a booth would be great. I felt the eyes of the other patrons glide over Austin and I. There were some that thought I was his mother, others shot me looks of disgust and a few showed signs of envy. Both genders had formed their own opinions of who or what Austin and I were to each other, and for a moment I worried for his reputation – not once did I worry about mine. This town has a lot of little canaries who love to sing about everybody else.

When we reached the booth, he stepped back, and waited for me to slide in. I did so and he slipped right in next to me. He never batted an eye at the looks that were tossed toward him from the young and more age appropriate server. It seemed he was entirely focused on me, and so I promised him and myself to focus only on us and our night. I slipped my hand under the table and leaned against him. He rested his arm behind my back, opened the menu and we perused it together. Every so often I would run my fingers up and down his thigh, only pausing to tease the swollen member that lay under the fabric of his jeans.

I’d grin when he’d groan softly and shift in his seat. He’d rub my shoulders, and caress my arm while we waited for the server to return for our orders. Once those were placed, we kept ourselves entertained with friendly conversation and whispered words of adoration. He confessed his fear that I would reject him and I confessed mine that he would never take me up on the offer. We both laughed as we conceded that this fantasy we were living had been a part of us for so long to deny it would have made us guilty of cruel and unusual punishment.

When dinner arrived we separated long enough to enjoy the meal. Our appetites were ready for the succulent steak as well as the moist grilled shrimp and sauteed vegetables. We both waved off dessert and when we left the establishment, any confusion of us being anything but lovers had been banished from the patrons’ and the staff’s prying eyes.

Back in the car we kissed. My tongue danced with his and he pulled me into his lap. His hands roamed up and down my back, along my hip, down my thigh and under my dress. I opened my legs for him and Austin’s fingers trailed possessively along the panel of my thong. I hissed, pushed my pelvis forward and ground my body into his palm. I rubbed his crotch with my hip and moaned how much I wanted him. He kissed me hard and pushed the panty away; his fingers pushed into my slick opening and he fucked me several times until I was coming all over his hand. The release had been quick, but in reality had been building for years. My fingers held fistfuls of his shirt as I shuddered around him. When he felt me finish with my climax, he pulled his hand out and sucked my juice from his fingers. I looked at his mouth and captured the last tastes of myself from his lips.

“We better go,” he whispered.

I nodded my head yes, and slipped from his lap. I felt my pussy aching for something thicker, deeper, and harder than the fingers that had toyed with it. The nectar pooled against my lips and slid along my thighs. My dress was wet, but I didn’t care. I turned to Austin and saw the swollen arousal that I would soon have buried deep within my pussy and my throat. My lower lip trembled in excitement at the prospect.

He pulled out of the parking lot and I watched him make the necessary turns to head us back to the house. I eyed him suspiciously. “Hey, I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to go to the club,” I said.

His brows rose. “Seriously? After that you want to go to a strip club?”

I laughed. “That was the promise, wasn’t it?”

He shook his head. “Yeah, but I thought….”

Again I chuckled. “Well, you thought wrong — for now.” I winked and nodded for him to make a turn at the next light. Ten minutes later we were in the parking lot of one of the local gentleman’s clubs and giving each other one more kiss and copping one more feel of each other.

Inside the club, we ordered drinks and were given a table off to the left of the stage. We weren’t out in the open, but we weren’t necessarily hidden either. The music was loud, the smoke thick in the air and the laughter was muffled, mixed with various patrons talking amongst themselves. I leaned into Austin as the first dancer took to the center stage.

She was a tall woman; her legs seemed to go on for miles. Her skin was dark, her hair long and straight. She had breasts that bounced and jiggled when she moved and the pole seemed to love her. Her body swayed, gyrated and kept a steady rhythm to the music that had been chosen just for her. Austin watched, as did I and when she slowly began to touch her slick oiled skin, I heard him groan in appreciation for her ministrations.

September 2018
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