They moved in a few years ago, a mildly attractive couple with a daughter away at college. I find him to be a pretensious bag, yeah I don’t care you went to Yale. Nightly, the mom, would change in front of an open window, facing my study. Sure, I felt like a creeper staring out to see tits but yeah they were awesome tits. She knows, she smiles and we pretend like nothing happens. This part of the story doesn’t have a climax. It simmers, without a big finish, leaving me content like a Sonny Rollins solo.
This story isn’t about mom it is about the daughter. I met her at a street party, I hate most of the fuckers in my neighborhood and feel some odd societal pull to attempt to be social. Really what I’m telling you, my wife drags my ass to these fucking things as if I’m an unruly toddler who is redassed about having to go shopping with mom. It could have been the fourth Gin and Tonic, while whistling an Oasis song to myself she bumped into me, literally.
“I know that song, it’s Stone Temple Pilots.”
“Close, GWAR,” I said.
“Huh,” she replied.
And then…
She giggled, you know that coy fucking mirth the young carry themselves with. We started to chat and I kept thinking, “wholly fuck she is flirting with me,” and it felt good. The story could have ended there, it would have been more than enough. Mom’s rack at night, jerking off dreaming of some young thing while rubbing one out or going balls deep into my wife. Fuck y’all it’s a life.
I noticed wherever I was, she would appear. Simmer down Lolita, I’m a married man and you already know where I live. In that small house where the owner never treats his crabgrass.
At the end of the night she decided we should talk on kik. Perfect that is where I like to keep all my side pieces. And for a year, nothing happened. We would text, I actually took her and her roommate out to dinner when I was closing a small deal in the college town. Oh did I feel like a baller taking two college hotties out to dinner and billing it back on a company credit card? Fuck yeah I did. Hello? What is the point of money if it can’t get you pretty things.
She messaged me this morning, it appears Mom and Dad are in Aspen or wherever the fuck people with more money than sense vacation, she was feeling alone. I invited her to the family Thanksgiving, “don’t dress like a ho, class that shit up.”
“Funny asshole, I meant I want you to come over and fuck me. Jesus old man, read the room.”
I went through the basement wall as if I was the God Damn Kook-Aid Man, oh yeah.
I don’t go down on my wife, she doesn’t like it, fucking weird-o, right? But oh sweet young thang had no issues. I liked taking her labia in my mouth and pulling back, watching it stretch, hearing her moans as my fingers worked inside and out, rubbing her asshole, knowing I could have whatever I wanted.
And that’s the story my friends. Dinner went well, except for her making me nervous by putting a hand on my thigh and squeezing. Listen hussie, I like that attitude but the Mrs. will end you.
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