Step Dad Seeds his Fertile Step Daughter and lived as Husband and Wife

Part I

This is the story of a marriage which was supposed to be a dream come true, but it turned out to be a nightmare. The only good that came from this “dream” marriage to Gretchen was my relationship with her daughter, Miss Sarah.

Gretchen and I dated many years ago here in Georgia and then we broke up. Oh, how I wish it had remained that way. How very much better off I would be, but that is not what happened, and I have only myself to blame. When someone dies, we tend to forget their flaws and frailties and too often the dearly departed is soon canonized under the authority of their survivors’ faulty memories. So, too, do we remember our failed relationships. We usually forget the good and remember only the bad, helping ourselves to detach and not mourn the loss of love. But sometimes, particularly for melancholics, we forget the bad and remember only the good, and we are haunted by the memory of love lost, dogged by the unanswered question of what might have been.

No, many years later, I went looking for the girl from my past who had haunted me, the girl who I could not get out of my thoughts, the girl against whom every other girl in my life had been measured. I found her in Ohio, in the midst of a divorce and raising her daughter.

When Gretchen and I had dated many years earlier, she had been a cute, sweet, slender, petite young girl who also happened to have big breasts. She was the kind of girl that would make a father proud if his son was dating her. That, however, was almost 30 years ago and time, unfortunately, had not been kind to Gretchen. Cute had become slightly wrinkled, petite had become a little dumpy, and big-breasted had become saggy-titted.

Perhaps I’m being a bit tough on her. Actually, she wasn’t unattractive for her age and I really didn’t expect that, at age 48, she would look like she had at age 24. However, Gretchen was no longer a beauty queen and she definitely had no potential to be called a “trophy wife.” She was the kind of woman who would prompt guys to say, ‘well, I wouldn’t kick her out of bed,’ but, of course, there are not too many guys who will kick any woman out of bed when they need to get laid, so this isn’t exactly glowing praise for Gretchen.

To everyone else, Gretchen’s daughter was Sarah. When it became obvious that Gretchen would move back to Georgia to live with me, I jokingly told her daughter that I would address her as I would any Southern young lady and I hoped that she would aspire to adopt some Southern mannerisms and gentility. With that explanation, I began to call her Miss Sarah and, from that day forward, I always called her Miss Sarah.

When I first met Miss Sarah, she was 18 years old but only a junior in high school. Thanks to her mother’s lack of caring about education, Miss Sarah had failed a grade in elementary school and they had never pursued any opportunity for Miss Sarah to try to catch up with the other children her own age. This was quite shameful, because Miss Sarah was actually an intelligent young lady. She was not Einstein’s cousin but she was definitely above average intelligence.

However, if was Miss Sarah’s beauty, and not her brains, which was most captivating. She had the face of an angel. If she had been painted by daVinci, people today would be saying “Mona who?” She had big brown eyes which could melt any man’s heart at any time and under any circumstances. She had big pouty lips which begged to be kissed. Like her mother, she had big breasts which were certainly too large to be called “pert” or “perky” but which were definitely young and firm and not saggy like Gretchen’s hooters. Miss Sarah’s little behind was so cute that I always just wanted to grab it and squeeze. She had a few — a very few — extra pounds which needed to disappear, the kind of pounds which usually were referred to as “baby fat,” but she really wasn’t fat. She was a nubile goddess, an undefiled example of sensual innocence and budding sexuality. She was a goddess, she was my goddess.

* * *

After I had located Gretchen in Ohio and re-established our communications, I eventually went there to visit. I won’t bore you with too many details of me regularly fucking a 48 year-old, overweight, saggy-titted, used-up, has-been housewife in every room of her house, including her daughter’s bedroom. I won’t bore you because it was just fucking. Now, it wasn’t bad sex because, quite honestly, I’ve never had bad sex. But, as they say, I’ve never had bad sex, but some of that sex is better than the rest. This sex wasn’t the better kind. Of course, I told Gretchen that it was great sex, but, really, it was just fucking.

One morning, Gretchen and I awoke early, long before her daughter was capable of opening her eyes and putting both feet on the floor. I was horny, as usual, so we fucked on the sofa in the living room. The possibility that her daughter might wake up and catch us made it a little more exciting, and that at least partially compensated for the fact that Gretchen’s pussy was a sloppy fit for any normal-sized guy. I don’t know if it was loose from childbirth, excessive fucking in her youth, or years of her ex-husband stuffing an extra large dildo in her pussy three times a week (by her description, he was truly a twisted, sick son of a bitch,) but it was not a tight fit.

After Gretchen and I had sex, we got dressed and fixed a cup of coffee. I stood in the family room behind Gretchen, who sat at her computer desk and began reviewing her e-mails. We spoke quietly for a minute as she scanned the long list of unopened items and then she became absorbed in a rather lengthy missive from a friend.

I heard a noise in Miss Sarah’s bedroom. Her bedroom adjoined the family room. She had slept with her door only partially closed, as was her habit. As you stood in her doorway facing into her room, her majority of her room was to the right, but her bedroom door was also hinged on the right side; very little of the room was visible from this vantage. In a more modern house, the door would have been hinged on the left side, but Gretchen’s house was old and had several bizarre features.

As you stood in the doorway with the door halfway open, you could not see much of her bedroom, except her antique dresser which was against the opposite wall straight ahead. The dresser had three mirrored sections. The middle section was fixed to the back of the dresser and the two side sections were hinged to the middle section and were angled slightly inwards. Miss Sarah probably assumed that she had some privacy when her bedroom door was halfway closed, because she couldn’t see out of her room; however, from my vantage point in the dining room, the angled mirror on the left side of the dresser afforded a rather good view of what lay behind her partially closed door.

I looked up and glanced towards her room. In the mirror, I saw that she had risen and was standing at the foot of her bed. She was wearing only bikini panties: tiny, white bikini panties. Just awakening, with tousled hair, she stood there, the sexiest vision of loveliness that I have ever seen. She had well-developed breasts, at least a 36C, and her areolae were a pinkish-brown color, each about the size of a silver dollar. As my gaze dropped to her panties, I could see a very prominent pubic mound. I immediately assumed that she had very firm and protruding labia.

From that moment forward, I felt that I was living a life scripted by Vladimir Nabokov. Miss Sarah was my enticing young Lolita and it was at that very moment that I truly fell in love with her. Yes, I know that this sounds absurd and I hesitate to commit this recollection to writing. If the wrong person reads this, I will be publicly condemned and humiliated. But, just as I fell in love with her without any conscious exercise of free will, I similarly feel compelled to express these thoughts in prose. Perhaps the writing of this story will help to free me from the demon which possesses me, my obsession with Miss Sarah.

Miss Sarah was totally unaware that I was watching her. Her mother was seated directly in front of me but fortunately still absorbed in her e-mail. My gaze continued unabated, my attention transfixed, my eyes feasting upon the delectable and innocent nakedness of Miss Sarah.

The young goddess then placed her hands on her hips and slowly pulled her panties down just low enough so that her pussy was exposed. A man with a heart condition might not have survived that moment, but my heart continued to beat ever so strong with the same virile pulse that energized my burgeoning erection.

I know that I would be flattering myself too much to think that she sensed my watchful eyes and simply wanted to lure me with a show of her most private treasures. No, the real explanation was probably much more mundane. She was likely waiting for her monthly flow to begin and was checking to see if it had started during the night. I can think of no other realistic reason why she would have pulled her panties down but, whatever the reason, I was glad for it.

Miss Sarah’s dark pubic hair was so bushy that I could not see her pussy lips at all. As I attempted to perceive her young hidden slit, she placed her right hand between her legs and cupped it so that it conformed to her body as she brought it in contact with her hairy young mound. She then removed her hand, looked at it briefly, and pulled her panties up. She reached for a bathrobe. I turned to face Gretchen, drew close to the back of her chair and began reading over her shoulder.

When Miss Sarah emerged from her bedroom, she had no idea that I had just enjoyed my first look at her forbidden nakedness. Fortunately, she also could not see the tent pole in my pants. This stirring of my manhood was taking much longer than usual to subside.

“What would it be like to have my dick inside that enticing young pussy?” I wondered as I placed my hands on her mother’s shoulders.

* * *

Months later, Gretchen and her daughter moved to Georgia because it was obvious that Gretchen and I would eventually be married. It was surrealistic, much worse that “Waiting For Godot.” It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion. The simplest application of logic suggested that such a thing should not happen. It was absurd to think that I would marry this woman. But I made no effort to extricate myself from the situation. I was a prisoner of complacency, a steady customer for Gretchen’s offering – available and regular sex – even if it wasn’t great sex. Fucking Gretchen was definitely better than taking matters into my own hands and, occasionally, Gretchen gave me really good oral sex. So time continued and the entire universe stood by silently as the train wreck unfolded.

Gretchen, Miss Sarah, and I went camping just a few weeks after they had moved to Georgia. We had only one tent, so a certain amount of privacy would be compromised. We had one double sleeping bag which would be shared by Gretchen and Miss Sarah and another that would be occupied by only myself.

When we got in the tent that night, Gretchen was the first to get into her sleeping bag. We had a lantern which provided just enough light so that we could see everything inside the tent. Gretchen had changed into pajamas in the Ladies Room but Miss Sarah was still wearing the jeans and tee shirt she had been wearing during the day.

When Miss Sarah got to the point where she was ready to get in the sleeping bag, her mother was already sleeping soundly. In fact, Gretchen was making tiny little lady snores. They were just loud enough that Miss Sarah and I could hear them and we both knew exactly where the noise was coming from. The idea of her mother snoring made Miss Sarah giggle and it was a cute little laugh, in fact a seductive little laugh, a laugh that had me wanting to put my arms around her waist and hold her tightly.

Miss Sarah said something about needing to change out of her clothes and then added that she didn’t feel like walking the distance back to the Ladies Room to change. “Well, you’re gonna be part of the family soon enough,” she said. She didn’t ask me to turn and look away while she changed. She simply removed her t-shirt and jeans and stood facing me, wearing only her panties and bra.

I was glad that I was already in my sleeping bag, because as soon as I saw her panty covered mons, I had an erection. I also had an overwhelming urge to pull her panties down and bury my tongue in her pussy but, at the very same time, I wanted to bury my dick in her pussy and pound her virgin cunt until she begged me to stop.

“Don’t look,” she said coyly, but she didn’t wait for me to turn or close my eyes. She reached behind herself to release her tits from the confines of her lacy bra. As soon as the fastener was undone, she let the bra slip from her arms and she stood before me in only her panties. I had previously seen her breasts but welcomed the opportunity to become reacquainted once again with those twin pinnacles of inviting flesh, even if only from a distance.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered to her as she pulled a sleep shirt over her head, removing her lovely twin peaks from my field of vision.

“And you’re sweet. Goodnight, Ron,” she said angelically as she entered her sleeping bag.

“Goodnight, sweetie,” I replied. After 15 minutes of thinking about nothing but Miss Sarah, her panties, her tits, and all the fun I would like to have with her, it was obvious that I was not going to sleep anytime soon.

I unzipped my sleeping bag, stood up and pulled on my shorts.

“Ron, where are you going?” Miss Sarah whispered from across the tent.

“I’ve got to go pee,” I said, but that was only half of the truth. I had to go jerk off so that I could get some sleep. My mind was filled with the image of this beautiful 18 year-old girl standing just a few feet away from me, clad only in her panties, my right hand inside those panties and my middle finger alternating between the depths of her wet pussy and the thrill of rubbing her clit. I could hear her moaning as clearly as if it was real and I spurted an unusually large load of cum as my fantasy Miss Sarah had her orgasm.

* * *

I began living in the house with Gretchen and her daughter after some severe weather came through our part of the state. From that time forward, Gretchen and I had frequent and mediocre sex. She had finally gotten over her hang-up about Miss Sarah hearing us, which I had accepted as a rather common hindrance to sex for most couples with kids. We were having sex at least 3 or 4 times per week, but even with the occasional oral sex, it quickly became very monotonous.

I loved undressing Gretchen and enjoyed performing a slow seduction of her body and soul. She knew that, but she always simply undressed and got into bed naked. It was like she was saying to me, “well, here I am naked, so you might as well come fuck me and get it over with before I go to sleep.” That didn’t exactly create the mood for passionate lovemaking.

I would start sucking on one nipple and rubbing on Gretchen’s clit, mainly in broad circles, with very light pressure. Gretchen would start fondling my balls and stroking my dick. I would tell her to slow down. She would tell me to not rub her clit so hard. She would then reach for the lubricant and apply an ample amount to my shaft. Sometimes, she would also uses her fingers to apply some lube to her labia. When Gretchen started to become aroused, I would suck her nipple into my mouth and very lightly caress it with my teeth. This always took her to the next level. She would then get up “on all fours” and motion for me to get behind her. With her right hand between her legs, she would guide my dick to her ready and prepared pussy. I then would pump away to the rhythmic strains of Hot Dick And The Crotch Bumping Boogie. About 20-30 beats of that tune was usually all it took for me to release a supply of my seed into her hungry hole.

Quite often, Gretchen would orgasm at the same time as me, but her orgasm lasted much longer. I would have 6 or 7 spurts, probably 2-3 seconds apart, and then my orgasm was done. I never timed it, but it probably lasted between 12 and 20 seconds. My dick would be extremely sensitive for the next minute or so, but the orgasm was over.

She, on the other hand, would have an initial orgasm that lasted about 30 seconds. Then, the least movement or the slightest “dirty talk” from me would set her off again. If I pulled my dick back just the slightest or said something like “you’re pussy feels good,” she would begin her next orgasm and it would be every bit as long, and as strong, as the initial orgasm. Sometimes, it apparently took absolutely nothing to set her off again. She could go on with successive waves of ecstatic moans and total body orgasms for 5 minutes.

Occasionally I would slide my index finger down her spine, ever so lightly, and the feather touch would cause her to orgasm again. When this happened, I would sometimes let my finger continue to slide further, down her ass crack and it would come to rest on her asshole. If she was in the midst of an orgasm when I did this, the intensity of her muscular contractions would at least double and I would feel her pussy grabbing my dick as if it didn’t want to let go.

When she had multiple orgasms like this, her pussy would contract and squeeze my dick and I would either pull out of her pussy or get hard again. I have never done this with any other partner, but I would occasionally be able to stay hard after I came and keep thrusting into her pussy, giving her several orgasms. Eventually, she would ask me to stop because she was exhausted. I would get a big grin on my face, like I was the king stud in this town. Maybe that’s part of why I kept hanging around for more with Gretchen.

At times, I was distracted and I knew that I would need stronger stimulation to bring me to the point of orgasm. On these occasions, I often thought about my Miss Sarah. I thought about kissing her lips. I thought about sucking on her nipples. I thought about playing with her cute ass. But most of all, I thought about having my dick in her pussy and thrusting until we both collapsed in a musky heap of orgasmic sweat and virgin pussy juice. These fantasies would always bring me to an orgasm.

* * *

With the schedules that we all had for work and school, I was often the last one to leave the house in the mornings. One morning, I passed by Miss Sarah’s bedroom and the door was open. Despite my tremendous adoration for her, I certainly knew that the girl was not perfect. One of her faults was that she was very much a slob in the housekeeping of her bedroom. This day was no exception. She had dirty clothes strewn about her floor.

I noticed a pair of her panties on the floor, crumpled up, obviously already worn, and waiting to be taken to the laundry. I looked out in the driveway to make sure that no one had returned home and then I entered the bedroom.

I picked up the panties and held them in my hands. They were like gold coins to an explorer. I felt the fabric. I looked in the crotch of the panties and there was a slight damp stain in the panties. These must be the panties she was wearing last night, I thought. I held them to my nose and inhaled. What a deep, rich, earthy aroma was exuded from this skimpy cotton garment. I fantasized that she had been wearing these panties while she masturbated and the dampness was her female juice captured by the fabric. I licked the crotch of her panties and it tasted salty. I buried my nose in the panties again, savoring the aroma. This smelled nothing like Gretchen. This was truly an elixir, a smell that would set any man’s loins on fire. I returned the panties to the floor, careful to approximate the position of the panties so that my intrusion would go unnoticed.

Over the next year, I probably entered Miss Sarah’s bedroom a hundred times for the sole purpose of sniffing her panties. Yes, I know that the last sentence sums it up rather well: what a pathetic and extremely perverted thing to do. Well, and if that’s what you think, you’re right. I knew how sad and pathetic it was at the time I was doing it, but I couldn’t stop. I was obsessed. I was possessed.

About a year after Gretchen and Sarah moved to Georgia, Gretchen and I got married. Even after we were married, I continued to crave the smell of Miss Sarah’s panties and I continued to peruse her dirty laundry regularly for fragrant undies.

It was like an addiction. I needed to smell her panties, I needed to know how it would smell to have my face near her heavenly slit. I did what was necessary to satisfy that need. Was this what a Southern gentleman would do? Absolutely not! Was I ashamed of myself every time I did it? Absolutely! Did the shame ever deter me from my obsession? Not once!

I don’t know if my frequent intrusions went unnoticed but nothing was ever said on the subject.

* * *

After living in the house for about a year, I noticed that the bathroom door had a sizeable crack at the bottom. It occurred to me that perhaps if I laid on the floor, I could look under the door and see into the bathroom. As soon as I was left alone in the house, I tried it but all I could see was the bathroom floor. Maybe a mirror would help me to see under the door and into the bathroom.

I found a small mirror, closed the bathroom door, and rested the mirror at an angle on the floor at the bottom of the door. Voile! I could see the bottom 5 feet of the door at the opposite end of the bathroom. I was concerned that perhaps the mirror would be visible to anyone, like Miss Sarah, who was in the bathroom so I left the mirror propped up in place and entered the bathroom via the other door. When I looked at where I knew the mirror to be, it was not visible. I immediately knew what would happen next.

Gretchen was frequently gone in the afternoons and early evenings and this was when Miss Sarah would usually take a shower. The next time we were alone, Miss Sarah announced that she was going to take a shower and I very nonchalantly said, “Okay, honey.”

If I tried to use the mirror to watch her as she undressed in the bathroom, I faced the possibility that she might realize she had forgotten something in her bedroom and would then open the bathroom door to find me kneeling there with a mirror in hand. Obviously, that would be disastrous and I had to be more careful than that. I grabbed the mirror but waited for her to begin and then finish her shower. I would take my look as she was exiting the bathtub.

I am sure that she stayed in the shower at least 30 minutes that night, as if she knew I was waiting and wanted to torture me with the agony of waiting almost forever for what I hoped would be a wonderful sight. Finally, I heard her turn off the water and I knelt at the door with mirror positioned. I was soon rewarded.

She exited the bathtub and stood facing the door, drying her hair. I could very clearly see her pussy and boobs. I had already seen her boobs but the view of her pussy was a new sight. She had shaved her pubic hair and her pussy looked like it belonged on a little girl. It was so very cute! Contrary to my assumptions, she did not have protruding labia like her mother. No, she had a very simple slit between two very full outer lips.

I certainly wanted to fling that door open and run to her so that I could bury my tongue in her pussy but, of course, I did not do that. She stopped drying her hair and started walking towards the door. I moved as quickly as I have ever moved in my life, returning to the kitchen within 2 seconds and putting the mirror back where I had found it.

Miss Sarah stayed in the bathroom for another 5 minutes. When she walked out, she had the towel wrapped around her body so that it covered her boobs and it hung just low enough to cover her pussy and ass as she walked the few steps to her bedroom. Maybe she didn’t realize how her behavior was teasing me but my balls ached for release. I probably used the mirror-at-the-bathroom-door trick another 15 to 20 times over the next year and masturbated afterwards at least 15 of those times.

* * *

Gretchen went to Ohio to visit friends for several weeks during the particularly hot summer after Miss Sarah had finally graduated from high school, leaving her and me together without adequate adult supervision. The first Saturday that Gretchen was gone, I told Miss Sarah that I was going out to the pool. I asked if she would join me to give me some pointers on swimming, since she is an excellent swimmer and I am, at best, an excellent sinker. She agreed and went to her room to change into her bikini.

I always thought that the girl looked particularly hot in a bikini and my dick certainly agreed. I was already in the water when she came out to the pool. I had an instant erection, of course. She got in the water and said, “Okay. Let’s work on you floating.”

With that, she got in the water and she looked even sexier when she was wet. Mr. Boing went from 9.9 steel to 10.0 case-hardened steel. Miss Sarah walked over to me, placed one hand behind my back and the other behind my knees, sweeping me up so that I had no choice but to float. It was quite obvious that I had a tent pole in my swim suit and I saw her carefully checking it out but she didn’t say a word and, eventually, it subsided.

When we were finished, I went inside to change. Gretchen and I almost never closed our bedroom door when we were changing. Miss Sarah was the only other person in the house and she never came into our bedroom without knocking or announcing that she needed to enter the room. So, by habit, I didn’t close the bedroom door. I removed all of my clothes, dried myself, and pulled on my whitey-tighties.

“Ron, can we . . .,” said a familiar female voice that was much closer than I expected it to be.

I looked up and Miss Sarah was standing just a few feet away, watching, her mouth left slightly open as she paused mid-sentence. She was still in her wet bikini, looking like the ultimate queen of all desirable teenage virgins. I don’t know how long she had been standing there but the thought of her seeing me naked got me instantly hard again and, this time, she was not discreet in observing my state of arousal.

“. . . go out for dinner tonight?” She got a smile on her face. “That is, if you can get your pants on.” With that comment, she turned and walked out of the room.

As soon as I got dressed, I went to find her so I could ask about how long she had been looking at me. I didn’t know if she would mention this to her mother and thought that it would be better if I addressed this with her first rather than simply waiting to see what, if anything, might happen.

Her bedroom door was open and the light was on so I assumed she was in her bedroom. I stopped in the doorway and saw her standing at her closet, looking through her wardrobe. She had removed her bikini top but was still wearing her bikini bottoms. “Dear . . .,” I began.

She turned and faced me, making no effort to cover her tits. The sight of those nipples had me hard again and I didn’t need to look to know that my pants were tenting once again. Damn this was frustrating!

She waited a moment for me to finish my sentence but I didn’t. I couldn’t. She said “I’m not sure but I think I’m going to wear my green shorts today. Do you think I should wear my dark green panties or my light green thong?”

That question just made matters worse for me. “I’m color-blind, so I don’t care if you wear any panties at all,” I said, realizing as soon as the words left my lips that this sentence made no sense whatsoever. I turned and left her room, finding my way back to my bathroom so I could relieve my problem. As soon as I got to my bedroom, I removed my pants and undies. Again, I didn’t bother to close the bedroom door or the door into the master bathroom. At this point, I didn’t care whether she came in and watched. I just started stroking my rod and it didn’t take long before I was shooting out jets of cum, my eyes closed, lost in fantasies about my mouth and her tits.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, while her mother was still in Ohio, Miss Sarah began walking around the house in just her panties and bra. Sometimes, she would wear just her panties and a short silk robe that she left untied. It hung over her boobs so that her nipples weren’t exposed unless she bent over, turned around quickly, or sat down so that the robe gaped open. Her panties were usually very form fitting and, now that she apparently shaved her pubic hair, the crotch of her panties followed the contours of that delightful pussy so that she had an obvious camel toe.

I figured that what was good for the goose would be good for the gander. I began to change out of all my clothes except my undies fairly early in the evening and put on a robe that I, too, left untied. I walked into the family room and sat down to watch TV. I reclined on my side and positioned my legs so that they were in a “frog” position, feet touching, knees apart with legs at an angle to each other. My crotch would be very clearly exposed if Miss Sarah sat down next to me.

Within a few minutes, she walked into the family room and asked what I was watching. I have no idea what I was watching but she pretended to be interested and sat down at the opposite end of the couch. By taking this position, it almost looked innocent and natural that she would sit down facing me rather than the TV. Initially, she turned her head so that she was, indeed, watching what was on the TV. I was watching her through my peripheral vision and I soon noticed her checking me out yet again.

My awareness of her looking at my undies caused my dick to start twitching. As soon as she saw some movement in my underwear, her gaze became even more intent and her eyes widened slightly. Excellent, I thought. She’s turned on by this, too.

Less than a minute later, Miss Sarah said that she was going to bed and she got up and walked to her room. I heard the bedroom door shut and I immediately thought that was peculiar because she always slept with her door open. I could also see light coming under the door from within her bedroom so I knew she wasn’t in bed. The sound on the TV was turned down so the house was very quiet.

As I stood at her bedroom door, I listened and heard a humming noise. About 30 seconds later, I heard her beginning to moan. She was in her bedroom using a vibrator to masturbate!

I was immediately filled with such an intense sexual rush. My little Miss Sarah was in her bedroom masturbating. She was using a vibrator and I didn’t even know that she owned one. She was masturbating immediately after watching my dick twitch. While masturbating, she was probably fantasizing about my dick. She wanted my dick.

I knew then that I wanted to fuck her. I didn’t care that it was wrong. I didn’t care what would happen to me afterwards. I just wanted to shoot my cum into that shaved little pussy.

* * *

Miss Sarah did not lack intelligence but she did lack any sense of dedication to her education. Despite her constant assurances that she was doing well in school, her report cards told a different story. At the midpoint of her senior year in high school, whether she would actually get the grades to graduate on schedule was in doubt.

Having always done well in school, I could not understand why she seemed so unconcerned about her poor school performance. It was if she was living in a dream world, talking about going to college and becoming a veterinarian while, in reality, she was having difficulty with her basic high school curriculum. I was desperate to do whatever I could to motivate her for a relatively strong finish, at least strong enough to get her diploma in June.

During Christmas break, I approached her with an offer. “Listen, Sweetie, I know you don’t want to talk about this but I’m not so sure that you’re going to have the grades to graduate this spring. And I’m sure you don’t want to be celebrating your 20th birthday while you’re still in high school. So, what’s it gonna take to get you motivated?”

“Gee, do we have to talk about this now?” she asked. Obviously, she wanted to postpone this conversation and reschedule it for the 12th of Never.

“No, I guess we could wait and talk about it in August while we’re shopping for school supplies for one more year at Chatham High. Or . . .”

“Do you have to be so sarcastic?” she complained.

“Yes I do. Do you have to be so damned lazy about school?” As soon as I said this, I realized that this conversation needed to change directions or it was going to be totally unproductive. “Okay, I’m gonna try something different here. I don’t think that you would resent a bribe, if it’s a good enough bribe, so how about this? If you graduate this spring, I’ll take you and your mom on a one week Caribbean cruise. Do you think that could get you motivated?”

She looked directly at me and maintained eye contact for what seemed like hours. “Do you really mean that?”

“No, I just said it to keep up my reputation as a lying pig! Of course I mean it. I’ve never lied to you, not once, not ever. Graduate and we’ll go on that cruise, but that means graduate this year, not next year. Can you do that?”

“Just you wait and see,” she replied with a gleam in her eye.

* * *

Three months later, my marriage with Gretchen had fallen apart. We were like two strangers living in the same house. I spent my nights on the sofa. Sex was something that I now did only with my hand; sex with my wife had not occurred in months. Gretchen was like a 14 year-old kid who wanted freedoms without responsibilities. She didn’t contribute any money to the household expenses, she rarely cooked, and she was an awful housekeeper. If she had fucked like a horny 18 year-old girl, I probably would have tolerated the rest of her crap for a very long time. But, when we did have sex, it was more of that formula sex with a somewhat smelly pussy and a lousy attitude. I knew it was only a matter of time before we would file for a divorce.

In the meanwhile, Miss Sarah had started to withdraw from me. I suppose that she sensed the impending breakup of the marriage and she had the good sense to know that she really had no choice about with whom she would cast her lot.

It was never a question in my mind. I knew that a divorce meant that I would also lose my precious, sweet Miss Sarah, the wonderful young girl who also happened to be the object of my unrelenting passion and lust. To avoid the trauma of a sudden loss of my time and affections, she had initiated a gradual withdrawal from my life; it was not hostile, but it was very deliberate, and it hurt. It hurt more than the failure of my marriage.

Gretchen filed for the divorce and it proceeded rather quickly. It had been a brief marriage and we had not accumulated much to divide. Gretchen was an unreasonable brat and initially thought she should get alimony just because it would make her life easier. Fortunately, her attorney explained that “wouldn’t-it-be-nice” was not a legal justification for alimony and it was very rare for alimony to be awarded after a marriage of less than two years. After that non-issue was resolved, the divorce happened very quickly.

We had separated in March and the divorce was final by the middle of April. I had not heard from Miss Sarah since the separation and was hoping that we might re-open our communication after the divorce was final. Of course, it all depended on Gretchen not acting like a venomous and vindictive snake, so I really had no confidence that it would ever occur, until . . ..

It was May 12, a Thursday, about 3:30 in the afternoon. I was in the office when my secretary put a call through to me. I yelled to remind her that I did not want to be disturbed, but she told me in her mother-knows-best voice that I needed to take this call.

“Hello, this is Ron Wilson. Can I help you?” I always answered the telephone at the office with the same introduction.

“Ron, this is Sarah. Do you have time for us to talk now?” she asked.

“Of course, sweetie. Just give me a minute to get up and close my office door. You know my secretary likes to listen in whenever I have a personal call.” I made a silly face at my secretary as I closed the door.

“I’m so glad you called, sweetie. I’ve thought about you every day since your Mom and I separated.” I dare not explain to her exactly what I had been thinking or what I had been doing to myself when I was thinking about her.

“I’ve thought about you a lot, too,” Sarah said. I don’t know if it was true but, if not, it was sweet of her to lie about it.

“Well, I’m not sure why you’re calling but I’m glad you did. I’d love to see you sometime soon.” I certainly wanted to see my little angel.

“Well, I’m free for dinner tonight,” she offered in her sweet voice that was usually reserved for times when she was trolling for favors.

“Yeah, that sounds great. I probably shouldn’t come over and pick you up so why don’t you meet me at Luigi’s around 7:00?” She loved Luigi’s and I knew it.

“Can we get the pizza special?” she asked, sounding like a kid.

“You bet, sweetie. See you there at 7:00.”

I worked until 6:30 and then headed straight for Luigi’s. I got there about ten minutes early and Miss Sarah was already there, waiting in the lobby.

When she looked up and saw me walking in, she got such a big smile on her face. Seeing that smile really warmed my soul. It was definitely the best medicine I had received in a long time.

Miss Sarah jumped up and ran to me, placing her arms around me and giving me a nice, big hug before she planted a kiss on my cheek.

“It’s been too long,” she said, now sounding much more like an adult.

“Yeah, but you’re just as beautiful as I remember you,” I said.

We quickly got seated and ordered our pizza. Our drinks arrived and I soon learned what had prompted this meeting.

“Ron, I have some great news, some bad news, and some good news,” she said. “The great news is that I had my last final two days ago and I got the results today, right before I called you. I passed all my courses and I’m graduating next week.” She was all smiles and her face could have lit up the dark side of the moon.

“Oh, baby, that’s great. I knew you could do it,” I said. I leaned over to her and gave her a hug. As we were still embraced, I whispered in her ear, “I’m so proud of you.”

“Now, what’s the bad news?” I asked.

“Well, you know that Mom’s been kind of mental the past few months . . .,” she began.

“Actually, much longer than that,” I interjected.

“. . . and it wouldn’t be such a great idea for you to actually attend the graduation. I’m sorry, you know, but she’s my Mom.”

‘Poor Sarah,’ I thought to myself, ‘thinking that she needs to explain this.’

“Oh, no, honey,” I said, “I understand this absolutely and, yes, she is your mother and she just absolutely has to be there, so I guess I’ll miss it. I’ll hate it but it’s the only right thing to do. I wish there was something else we could do to celebrate your graduation.”

“Well, actually, there is. Do you remember back in December, you promised to take Mom and me on a cruise if I graduated?”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think your Mom and I are going anywhere.” Holy cow, what a fiasco that would be!

“No, silly! Of course you and Mom aren’t going anywhere. But you can still take me on a cruise. You do still love me, don’t you?” She batted her eyelashes and gave me the puppy dog eyes. She was a skillful little tease but we both knew that she was just messing with me; still, it was a very effective female maneuver.

“Miss Sarah, I love you more than anyone else in the whole world. But, I doubt your momma would let you go on a cruise with me.” I immediately loved the idea of Miss Sarah and me together for a week but I didn’t think her mother would ever approve of the idea. Legally, Miss Sarah was no longer a minor and she didn’t need her mother’s permission to do anything, but she still lived with her mother so she really didn’t have too much freedom.

“Oh, I’ve already got that covered. As soon as I got the news about graduating, I reminded Mom about your promise. The first thing she said was that if she got you alone in a cruise ship cabin, she’d do a Lorena Bobbitt to you. ‘I don’t ever want to see that son of a bitch again.’ She’s still kind of worked up over the divorce, you know.”

“Yeah, that much I know for sure,” I explained.

“The next thing she said is ‘that cheap son of a bitch isn’t gonna keep his promise to you. But if he’ll agree to take you, go for it. And, as soon as you get on that boat, charge at least $1,000 of merchandise to the room number. He won’t know about it until he’s checking out. Get every thing you can out of him while you can ’cause he’s no damn good.'” It obviously pained Miss Sarah to repeat the details of this conversation but I assume that she wanted to convince me that the road was clear for us to take a trip together.

“Sweetie, I’d love to take you on a cruise, but, are you sure that you want to spend a week with me on a cruise ship where you don’t know anyone else?” I know the idea sounded exciting, at least to me, but I wasn’t sure that she had really thought it through.

“Ron, this is what I thought about every day while I was working on that stupid school work so I could graduate. And even after it was obvious that you guys were gonna divorce, I was still hoping you’d keep your promise. You’d better believe I wanna go.” She was quite convincing.

“What week do you wanna go?” I asked.

With the realization that this cruise was really going to happen, she shrieked with excitement. Everyone in the restaurant was turning to look but she was oblivious as she put her arms around my neck and gave me another kiss on the cheek.

The hugs and kisses on the cheek were nice but I was hoping that it would get much better when we were finally alone.

* * *

I told Miss Sarah what weeks I could travel and what the budget was for the cruise fare. As long as she kept within those parameters, she was free to book any cruise that she wanted. Entrusting her with that much responsibility was flattering to her, as she felt like she was being treated like an adult and that was a rare experience for her.

After tormenting herself with the range of possibilities, she finally booked a week-long cruise in the eastern Caribbean on a major cruise line. It was the kind of cruise that I would have probably selected. When she called to tell me the details, I complimented her on her selection.

“Sweetie, that’s a wonderful choice,” I said. “You really are growing up, aren’t you?” It was a rhetorical question but she replied anyway.

“You know, actually, I’m growing up in many ways but I don’t think too many adults realize that, yet,” she lamented. “This cruise will give me more of a chance to show that I’m becoming an adult. You know,” she continued, “we’ll being sharing a cabin for a week. Are you okay with that?”

“What d’ya mean?” I asked. I thought I knew what she meant but I wanted to hear her say it.

“Well, you know, those cabins aren’t very big and Kelly says the bathrooms are definitely too small to get dressed in, so it’s not like there gonna be much privacy. That’s not gonna freak you out, is it?” she asked.

‘Freak me out?’ I thought to myself. ‘What an absolute dream come true!’

“Well, honey, we have seen each other without much in the way of clothes, but it’s been awhile. I really hadn’t thought about that.” I usually don’t lie but this was all I had thought about for the past several weeks. “I’m not sure how it would feel and I’d hate to get out on the boat and find out that it’s too much for us to handle. We’d be in a tough fix, then.”

“Well, how about if we have a practice at your apartment? I can come spend the weekend and we’ll act just like we’re in the cabin on the ship and you’ll see it’s fine,” she assured me.

“Yeah, but your momma ain’t gonna let you spend the weekend with me,” I said. I didn’t want to sound too eager about this plan.

“No problem. Mom’s going out of town this weekend, leaving Friday morning and not coming back ’til Sunday night. She’ll never know.” Miss Sarah thought quick on her feet, for sure.

“Well, I’m not encouraging you to lie to your Momma, but I’m not getting in the middle of it, either. So, if you show up at my apartment on Friday, I won’t turn you away.”

“Okay,” she replied. “I’ll be there about 5:30. And you’d better take me out to eat somewhere nice Friday night.” We both understand that her directive was really a request and we both knew that I would do whatever I could to make her happy, so of course we’d be going out somewhere nice to eat Friday night.

* * *

Miss Sarah appeared at my front door very promptly at 5:30 Friday afternoon. I had just gotten home from work and had only had time to peruse the day’s assortment of junk mail and bills.

I carried her suitcase into my bedroom and she followed me. “Where are we going to eat tonight?” she asked, making it very obvious that she remembered my implicit promise.

“I thought we’d go to that new bistro over in Ripley Hills,” I said. “But, I need to take a shower and change clothes first.”

“Me, too,” she replied. “I’ll get in the shower first.”

With that statement, she stood up and began removing her clothes. My head tried to tell me that I shouldn’t be openly staring at her but my brain had absolutely no control over my body at that point. She pulled her shirt over her head and revealed that she was wearing a very feminine off-white bra. Without missing a beat, she unzipped her jeans and pushed the waist down past her hip, past her knees, and she then stepped out of her pants. She was wearing a matching off-white thong. Her ass was a beautiful sight; it looked so firm and toned, I wanted to grab both cheeks and squeeze.

She then reached behind her shoulders to unfasten her bra. She spent only a few seconds fumbling with it before she asked me to help.

“Ron, can you unfasten this for me?” she asked, knowing beyond doubt that I would.

I stood behind her and placed my right hand under the bra strap, grasping one side near the fastener. I used my let hand to unhook the bra and I allowed the backs of my fingers to graze and linger on the soft, seductive flesh of her back. I moaned very softly as I enjoyed the pleasure of her warm, naked flesh.

“Thanks, sweetie,” she said as she turned her head to look back at me. At the same time, she allowed her bra to fall to the floor. In one swift, fluid motion, she leaned forward and pulled her thong down. As the thong reached her ankles, it occurred to me that the position we were in would be perfect for me to enter her from the rear. The thought of having my dick in her pussy from behind while I felt the skin of her butt against my pelvis had me heard in an instant.

She momentarily ignored me as completely as if I were not present. She walked straight forward towards the shower and then turned as she reached the shower door. Her shaved pussy was now fully exposed to me, if only at a distance, and my dick was straining against my pants. What an absolute vision of heaven. This was my first authorized, non-surreptitious view of Miss Sarah’s naked body and she was beautiful beyond words. Miss Sarah stared at my erection in hiding.

“I don’t think this is gonna be a problem for me,” she said as she stared at my crotch, “but we’ll have to see if that’s gonna be a problem for you,” she continued, nodding towards my obvious boner. She then giggled and got in the shower stall. The glass was opaque so her form was obscured and I could not discern any details of the naked female in the shower. However, the mental image was stuck in my mind as if it had been burned there by a laser.

“Ron, why don’t you shave while I’m finishing my shower?” she suggested. Perhaps that would get my mind off of her nubile womanhood.

Miss Sarah turned off the water and grabbed a towel so she could dry her body before leaving the shower. When the shower door finally opened, she emerged with the towel wrapped around her body, concealing her tits and her pussy.

“Okay. Get those clothes off and get in the shower,” Miss Sarah tried to direct me. It sounded as if she was eager to finally see me naked.

I had already removed my shirt before I shaved. I quickly had my pants off and I was now covered only by my boxers. My erection was quite obvious to Miss Sarah.

“You’re kind of excited about all this, aren’t you?” she asked in a little girl teasing voice. I thought she might be entertaining the idea that she was in control, like leading a greyhound around the track with the elusive promise of a rabbit. And, I’ll admit, looking at her naked body was quite an incentive for me to do almost anything.

“Turn around,” I ordered her. She got a look on her face that suggested that she wanted to complain but, instead, she complied with my command.

I pulled down my boxers so that I was now completely naked. I walked over to Miss Sarah and stood behind her so that her back was just inches from my body. I reached down and lifted the towel that was obscuring her ass and then I pressed my body against hers. My dick pushed against her ass cleavage and I placed my hands on her hips.

The teasing was to much for me and I needed to take this game to the next level. Leaning my head forward slightly, I whispered in her ear. “It’s quite obvious I’m excited about this.” I reached down and pulled her cheeks apart so that my dick would push even farther into her butt crack. “I’ll bet that you’re excited, too, but I wouldn’t know unless I pulled that towel away to see if your nipples are hard . . . I’ll bet they are . . . or if I stuck a finger in your pussy to see how wet you are . . . and I’ll bet you’re wet, aren’t you?”

I reached around with both hands and grabbed both boobs. Even though she was wearing a towel, I could feel that both nipples were erect. “Now, you get ready while I take a shower and we’ll talk some more bout your tits and pussy later tonight.” With that statement, I release my hold on her body, turned around, and walked straight into the shower. It felt good to assume some control over the situation and it also felt good that she didn’t reject the physical contact with me.

I was so horny I wanted to immediately jack off when I got under the warm water but I thought I should reserve all my male fluids for whatever might happen later in the evening. When I got out of the shower, Miss Sarah was not in the bedroom. I wasn’t sure what to make of that but I proceeded to get dressed.

When I walked out into the living room, Miss Sarah was seated on the sofa. She was wearing a form fitting silky red sleeveless dress that was long enough to cover her panties and a few inches of skin immediately south of her panties, but it didn’t cover much else. If she had been a skanky-looking girl, it might have looked like a slutty dress but, with her youthful innocence, it just looked damned sexy and provocative.

“Wow, you look like you’re ready for a hot date tonight!” I said with some emphasis.

“I am,” she immediately replied, “. . . with you.” Her smile was more effective than any surgeon’s knife; it immediately reached my heart and began to melt me.

We went to a moderately upscale New Orleans-style restaurant. After a while, I stopped noticing, but I think every man who saw Miss Sarah turned to stare at her, followed by a jealous grin directed at me. I certainly felt like the king of the world on this particular evening in paradise.


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