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Henry: This chapter goes so well with the previous one that it makes sense to post them on the same day.
That being said, I haven’t even started on Chap. 24, so it will be a while before you get more.
I sat there for several more minutes, thinking it all over. My first reaction was panic, realizing that my daughter was a lot more savvy than I’d given her credit for. She seemed to know every nuance except the sex part, and she might even be suspicious of that.
Once I got past the anxiety, it was easy to say that Paige is just a kid herself, so she is no more qualified to speak about this topic than Randi. They are both young, naive and idealistic in a world that isn’t always forgiving of such dreamers.
But, I was pretty impressed. My kid is smart, and surprisingly wise. Maybe she’s got a point about waiting five weeks until graduation, then seeing if there is still something there.
What about the other part, though? Randi did as I asked and went to the prom with a boy. Do I owe it to her to do what she asked, too? Or would refusing to follow through still be the right move? Maybe somewhere down the road she would realize that she couldn’t have handled the thought of me banging someone else.
Perhaps I let Randi’s arguments sway me, or maybe it was a hard-up libido at work, but the next afternoon I called Gina to see if she would like to go out for dinner.
It’s just dinner, I reasoned. Doesn’t mean I’m actually going to sleep with her. We kissed in my kitchen and I didn’t rip her clothes off. Granted it was touch and go for a minute …
After some initial surprise at my call, Gina sounded pleased on the phone.
“That’s a generous offer, Henry, but as a bachelor I bet you eat out a lot. How about you come over and see what it’s like to have a home-cooked meal for a change?”
“Hey, it’s still home-cooked if I throw a frozen pizza in the oven.”
“You see, that’s exactly why you need this. Now, since basketball is over with, we don’t have to hold off all the way ’til next weekend. Why don’t you come around on Tuesday, say 6 or 6:30?”
“I can do six o’clock. What can I bring?”
“Just yourself. I’m taking care of the rest.”
I guess that takes care of that. Of course, I had no idea what THAT was.
When Tuesday came around, I kept checking the clock every few minutes all afternoon. A dozen times I thought about picking up the phone and canceling, but I didn’t know how much preparation Gina already had put into the evening, so it didn’t seem fair to ditch at the last minute.
Eventually I showered, dressed and showed up at the address – a ranch-style brick home so common in this area in the 1970s.
I knocked at the front door, trying out some different opening lines in my head. It was too warm for a jacket, but I had brought one just in case it turned cooler or it rained. And so I stood there shifting the jacket from one hand to the other as I was thinking.
When the door opened, it wasn’t Gina standing there, but Autumn, and none of my lines fit anymore.
“Oh, uh, hi!” I said, a little too enthusiastically while trying to figure out what to say next.
“Hey, coach,” said Autumn with a warm smile. “About time I got you to my place.” She gave me a grin, enjoying my stammering. She slid to the side and waved me in.
“Have a seat. Mom’s busy in the kitchen.” She motioned toward the couch, so that’s where I sat.
The easy chair across from me was deep, but rather than sink back in that spot, Autumn perched on right arm and swung her left foot up into the seat. That’s when I took notice of her clothing. She was wearing a blue tank top with white bra straps peeking out around the edges. She was wearing white shorts, and the dad in me thought, “I’d never buy Paige shorts that color. They’d be ruined on the first day.”
That thought floated away, however, as Autumn made small talk while fidgeting. Maybe she was a little nervous, too, but I didn’t notice because her squirming on the arm of the chair was causing her shorts to billow outward and collapse inward, back and forth. I was afforded glimpses of her inner thigh right up to her torso.
I didn’t see the edge of any panties. Was she wearing panties? Was she sitting here “commando” and giving me quick flashes? Is that why she’s doing the nervous babbling?
Gina called out from the other room, “Autumn, does our guest need a drink?”
Autumn turned toward the doorway as her mom spoke, and I caught sight of a bit of blue. Ah, she was wearing underwear, and the panties appear to match her top. I simultaneously thought that it was too bad she wasn’t naked under the shorts, but also thought that the matching colors might be because she was hoping to show me her panties at some point.
Damn, I had to stop thinking about this, or I would embarrass myself when it came time to stand up and enter the dining area. Then they could say, “Here’s coach. And here’s coach’s erection!”
“So how about it, coach?” Autumn atakent escort asked, looking at me expectantly.
“What?” I didn’t know exactly what she was proposing to me. The mind boggled at the possibilities.
“To drink. What would you like? We have iced tea and some diet drinks and other stuff.”
“Oh, right. Um, water is fine for now.”
She popped up from the chair and stepped over to me. She bent forward, showing cleavage and reminding me of what it was like to see her topless in the hotel room.
“Here, let me get that while I’m up,” she said, reaching for my crotch. My eyes widened until I saw that she was grabbing the jacket out of my lap.
I hoped my sudden blush would die down before she came back.
She returned with a tall glass, and I chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“At my house, glasses never lasted very long, so we stopped using them years ago. We drink out of aluminum soda cans, plastic cups with logos of sports teams and the occasional red Solo cup. It already feels like a fancy dinner.”
“I never thought about it, but you’re right. All the times I’ve been at your house, I’ve never seen anyone drinking from a real glass. Was it Paige breaking them all?”
I nodded my head. “You know, I’d like to blame it on her hitting that growth spurt and getting so tall, but she was dangerous from way back. She would reach for one thing and knock something else over. I called it ‘The Attack of the Flying Elbow’ like some old monster movie.”
This was much safer ground, and I felt the pressure dissipate in my underwear. Crisis averted.
When the host entered the room, it was obvious Gina had spent a lot of time on her hair. Some of it was held up, while other strands had been curled and framed her face.
She was wearing an apron, an honest-to-goodness apron. The last time I saw someone wearing one of those was probably a decade or more ago when my grandmother was still alive.
“Okay, dinner will be ready in about five minutes. I’m just toasting some garlic bread.”
That’s the first time I bothered to turn to my sense of smell, wondering how I missed the aroma of lasagna permeating the house. Which was a good distraction, because I’d just been wondering what Gina might look like if she were wearing nothing underneath that apron.
She saw where my eyes were pointing, looked down and noticed what she was wearing.
“Oh my, forgot to take this off,” she said, reaching behind her to untie the string. The apron drew aside, showing off a yellow sundress with some sort of flower and vine design along the skirt portion.
Normally I would have said that a yellow dress looked like a child in a kindergarten play-dancing around in a sun suit while other kids sang about the joys of sunlight. However, this one fit nicely, showing off her figure. Gina was only slightly more voluptuous than her 18-year-old daughter, despite the two decades of age difference. A little bigger in the chest, more of an hourglass shape with those curvy hips. And I knew from recent experience that her buns were quite firm.
She led me through a doorway into a small dining area next to the kitchen. The table was one of those that expanded in the middle with an added leaf or two, but those weren’t in the table at the time. The furniture writer in me wondered if she ever put the leaves in or if it was always just the two of them. God, I needed to turn off the stupid thoughts – and the sex-related ones, too.
I noticed there were only two place settings. Before my brain could process that info, I heard Autumn call out, “I’m headed over to Kim’s. We’re going to a biker bar to pick up guys.”
“Okay, dear,” Gina deadpanned. “Be sure to check out their rides. Wouldn’t want to find yourself with some loser on a Sportster.”
I just stared.
“Don’t mind us. We always joke around.”
“All right,” I said. “What’s a Sportster?”
“That’s the smaller Harley with the 883, on the lower side of the price range,” she answered matter of factly. “Now you see a guy riding a Road King or a Street Glide, he’s probably a doctor or a contractor. Those things are too expensive for your average biker.”
“Wow,” was all I could think to say.
“What? I was young once. And maybe I had a phase where I was into bad boys. You pick up a few things.”
“Gina, the biker chick. Were you some guy’s old lady?”
“Old lady?” she asked with one eyebrow raising.
“Hey, I’ve seen ‘Sons of Anarchy’ before. That’s what they call their girlfriends.”
“Well I don’t know about that ‘old’ part, mister.”
“My apologies, ma’am,” I said, raising my hands in surrender.
“Ma’am? First I’m an old lady and now I’m a ma’am? That’s even worse.”
As I blundered out some attempt at an apology, she laughed and put a hand on my forearm.
“I’m just picking. I’m not one of those stick-in-the-mud types who gets offended at everything. Saying ma’am means you had good upbringing ataköy escort – I like it.”
A timer dinged, and I might have jolted a bit, wound up too tightly this evening.
As she pulled the garlic bread from the oven, I asked, “So Autumn isn’t eating with us? Did you run her off on account of me? You didn’t have to do that.”
“Oh, she spends half her time at Kim’s house anyway. It was no big favor, I assure you. And Brooke is at her best friend’s house, too.”
I had completely forgotten she had a younger daughter, too. While I had coached Autumn years ago, I had stopped coaching to spend more time with Beth before Brooke was old enough.
I would like to say that the dinner conversation was stellar, and I was blown away by how well it all went. That would be an exaggeration.
You see, as single parents with jobs and lots of responsibilities, Gina and I shared the same issue. We didn’t really have lives of our own anymore. We asked each other questions about work. We told stories about our daughters – some cute, some aggravating.
The chat was like many of my talks with Charles or the other parents from the team. The evening was pleasant enough, but nothing ever really stood out.
Perhaps I’d spent too many evenings talking to my daughter over dinner. And perhaps my time with Randi had made the issue more pronounced, but regular parent talk doesn’t didn’t hold my interest anymore. It wasn’t as bad as making small talk about the weather, but it wasn’t in the same class as arguing books and music with Randi, the passion showing in her green eyes.
But Gina’s behavior didn’t make a lot of sense to me, either. I’d heard Gina carrying on with Autumn one-on-one, but in talking with me the banter was gone. Maybe Gina was nervous, and that was affecting our conversation.
Whatever the reason, I found myself sitting at the table, nodding at the appropriate times, but with my mind wandering. What was Gina like when she was 18? Was she in her bad-boy phase yet, or did that come later? Would I be more attracted to the Gina before me or her younger self?
When the evening was winding down, I wondered how would I end things when I left? Would I leave open the chance of another date, or should I be noncommittal? Hell, I hadn’t been out on a first date with someone my own age since Beth in high school. How do grownups end the evening? Do they kiss on the first date or give a hug? Hand job on the front steps?
We had moved back to the living room, and Gina was sipping on a glass of wine. I’m not a wine drinker myself, so I was sticking with the iced tea.
After some idle chit-chat, Gina was moving things in a more personal direction – and I wasn’t sure I was comfortable talking to her about my life. Which is funny because I started telling stories about Beth on the first night I met Randi.
“No, I haven’t re-entered the dating pool,” I answered a question. “Part of it has been that I still miss my wife, and part of it is that I haven’t wanted to introduce anyone new into Paige’s life.
“My friend Charles – Lori’s dad – he went out with this woman who was ready to latch right onto him, but she didn’t really fit with Lori. I mean, she didn’t fight or argue with her or anything like that. But Charles just had the feeling that this woman wasn’t looking to be a step-mom. She wanted Charles, but not the whole package. Charles said no way, and I don’t blame him a bit.”
“You think it’s bad for a guy, you should walk a mile in these shoes,” Gina said. “Guys will flirt right up until they find out you have a teenager at home. Then suddenly it’s all ‘Hey, maybe I’ll call you sometime,’ and then you never see them again.”
I started to say something else as Gina put her wine glass on an end table. The rest of my sentence was cut short as she pressed her lips firmly to mine.
As she pulled back, I stupidly whispered, “What was that about?”
“Sorry,” she said, looking as if she wasn’t the least bit sorry. “You’ve just been such a gentleman all evening. Sometimes a gal misses a little old-fashioned politeness. Makes you kind of irresistible.”
The flattery was nice, but I wasn’t sure whether I wanted things to progress physically with Gina. Maybe I needed to be more into her or more emotionally invested before we started making out.
A voice in my head said, “Maybe that is exactly what Randi was talking about. You can’t just have sex – you attach emotions to it. She’s worried you only care because you have sex instead of you have sex because you care. Loosen up. Have sex, and then see if you feel anything for Gina afterward. If you do, then maybe Randi is right and sex is messing up your relationship with her. If you don’t feel anything for Gina, then Randi’s theory is wrong. And you can go to her and explain that she’s wrong.”
If I don’t feel anything for Gina, then it would mean that I really do love Randi, and even she couldn’t deny it, I thought. Then maybe someway, somehow atalar escort we’d have to give dating an honest try.
At some point while I was contemplating all this, Gina leaned in and kissed me again. I was robotically kissing her back until a switch was flipped in my head, and suddenly sex seemed like the perfect way to prove to Randi and myself how much I loved her.
It’s downright amazing the bullshit you’ll swallow when you’re massively horny.
I began to kiss her back with gusto, and she moaned loudly at my aggressiveness.
I dropped my head to her jawline, kissed over to her neck, then planted soft, wet touches up and down the skin. My right hand moved to her lower back and pulled her closer while my left hand reached up and pulled her head over to the side, giving me better access to her neck.
“Oh yeah, that’s it,” gasped Gina. “Don’t stop.”
Eager to get this show on the road, I kissed her firmly on the lips, using the move to push her head backward while my arm was still holding her lower back. She went with the momentum and laid back against the arm of the sofa.
With my left arm holding most of my weight off of her, my right hand came out from behind her and reached up to her left breast, giving it a squeeze. Her cry was cut off by my mouth on hers.
I wanted to reach down and tear open her buttons, but when I looked down, I realized she was wearing a dress that zipped up in the back. And I’d just laid her down on her back – a really dumb move on my part.
Too wound up to care at that point, I pulled her dress down in the middle with my left hand and scooped up a breast out of her bra with the right.
She had a wide areola and a thick nipple, which felt nice in my mouth as I dipped my head and opened wide.
“Oh god, Henry,” she called out.
After several seconds, I wanted to switch over to the other breast, but as soon as I let the nub loose from my mouth, Gina began squirming out from under me.
Shit, I was too forward. I went from a simple kiss to yanking her top down.
I was wondering how to apologize as she scrambled to her feet. Instead, she reached out to grab my right forearm.
“Let’s go to the bedroom.”
So much for being too forward.
With that she led me down the hall to the last door at the end.
With Gina still holding my right arm, I couldn’t reach the door to close it, so I hooked the edge of the door with my right foot and swung it shut.
At the foot of her bed, she stopped and pulled me close. I wasted no time in resuming our kiss while my hands roamed over her back and ass. Remembering the dress this time, I reached up and grabbed the zipper tab. As I pulled it down, Gina groaned her encouragement.
With the zipper fully down, I pulled the dress off her shoulders and helped slide it down her body. Her full breasts were bulging out of her white lacy bra as the garment lowered, then came her flat stomach and a matching pair of white lace panties.
After she stepped out of it, I picked the dress up and hung it over a chair in front of a small vanity covered with makeup supplies.
When I turned back around, Gina had the bra unfastened and slid the straps off her arms. Her breasts had a bit of sag, but that was to be expected with her size; I estimated she was at least a C cup and likely a D. It was her thick nipples that had my attention, however. As she was hooking her thumbs into the top of her panties, I tackled her backward onto the bed with my face between her tits.
Gina first let out a yelp, then giggling as she bounced on the bed. I pulled her breasts together and ran my head back and forth, licking both nipples before pulling the right one into my mouth while the left was rubbed, rolled and pinched in my hand.
Our legs were still hanging off the end of the bed, but that was fine for me. I spent at least 10 minutes making love to those peaks before I slid down off the bed and grabbed for her panties. She lifted her legs into the air so that I could get the elastic band over her knees. As soon as I got the panties past her feet, I put my hands on her calves and kept the legs propped up in the air. I placed kisses and licks on the backs of her knees until she laughing and trying to pull away.
I wasn’t letting her get away and clamped her knees together. Putting her legs up and over my left shoulder, I reached down with my right hand and lightly caressed her swollen pouch. When I ran my finger through the slit, her abundant moisture was revealed. Leaning forward to push her legs back more, I flossed my finger up and down through the folds, tickling her clit.
If I had been undressed, I think I would have entered her right then, but I was still fully dressed while she was naked.
Instead, I put my hands behind her knees and pulled them apart. I knelt down and dove right in. My tongue flicked all over the loose labia and around the outer edges without touching her hole or clit.
After a minute or two of this, I let her legs drape over my shoulders so that my hands could reach down and unfasten my pants.
I never broke contact with her drenched pussy as I unzipped and lowered my pants and underwear to mid-thigh. It took a little more work, but I managed to get the pants down to my ankles while still worshipping at her altar.
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