Best Man

All characters in this story are consenting adults over the age of 18 years.

This is a submission for “Summer Lovin Contest.” Please enjoy this story and all of the other submissions. Please remember to vote!

I never thought that I’d be at a bachelorette party a week before my forty second birthday.

My college roommate, who I consider my sister, called me three months ago and told me she was getting married. Now, we were in a bar off Broadway in downtown Nashville tossing back shots while similar groups of women around us did the same. Emily tossed her head back and gave a hard belly laugh at the punchline of a joke. I tossed back another shot.

The wedding was in two days, so everything was compressed. To make things a little worse, we were in the hottest Nashville summer in years, and stepping out of an airconditioned building was a challenge to comfort. It made planning the weekend difficult. The bachelorette party Thursday, rehearsal dinner Friday, and wedding on Saturday. That’s what happens when you’re an adult, life intrudes into private moments. The women at the table, we were all about the same age, had jobs, some had families and kids, and could not afford a lot of time away from life.

I’m lucky. I teach third graders and was in the last weeks of summer break. The days were long and hot, but I was still off for a two more weeks before back to the classroom and trying to reign in two dozen eight-year-olds for seven hours a day.

Four hours later I stumbled into a king size bed with Emily. For the night all of us were at a suite hotel with two bedrooms, and Emily and I were sharing a bed. I had stopped drinking hours earlier, but still was certain I’d be hungover in the morning. We had talked all of the time, and with the wedding plans, we were on the phone almost nightly. Since I live in Nashville, I was the person in charge for most of the small arrangements. I had the summer off, and I had the time to do it.

We had not talked about me much lately in the run up to the wedding. In the dark, lying next to my best friend, I rattled off the demise of the last three relationships.

“I thought Kyle was going to work out.”

“So, did I. And I know I shouldn’t have done it, but one day when he was out for a run, he had left his phone at the apartment, and got a text. And I opened it. Some chick showing her boobs. And I looked at the stream of texts and there were pictures they had sent back and forth. His dick. Her boobs. Her legs spread.”

“That prick. I am so sorry.”

“Well, I found out early, that’s all that matters.” Even if I did violate his privacy.

We turned the conversation to good thoughts, of her wedding in two days, their planned, brief honeymoon, and living happily ever after until we fell asleep.

Friday the bridal party continued with a few more activities. We went to a winery tour and lunch. It was a sunny day, a great day for sun dresses and big floppy hats and we enjoyed being outside before it got hot. We spent some time in the afternoon at a lingerie shop. Emily chose a cute, sheer heart-print baby doll with a blue thong. At the wedding rehearsal I met the best man, the groom’s father. Jake was tall, thin, with a narrow face and blue grey eyes just like his son.

“You’re Emily’s best friend, aren’t you,” he said. “She talks more about you than she does Will. Feels like I’ve known you for years.”

“Well, I hope she only told the good parts.”

“There were bad parts? Do tell.” He laughed and threw his head back. “Emily’s an incredible young woman and I’m certain you are too.”

It had been a while since I had been called a young woman, but I took it in stride.

I tucked my arm in his, I grasped his muscular biceps, and we made our entrance toward Emily’s uncle.

The good thing about weddings and rehearsals is that the performance is short, simple, and repetitive. Emily’s Uncle had become an ordained officiant and the total party was limited to three bridesmaids and groom’s men, the couple and Will’s mother, in addition to his father as the best man. His parents were divorced, but they seemed to get along, and I saw them talking to each other during the time at the event center.

We ran through the entire ceremony twice in thirty minutes, and were ready to go dinner. We went to an Italian Bistro with a private room. The wait staff was attentive and kept the food and drinks coming. I sat next Jake for the evening. Emily and Will made the rounds a couple of times, making sure everyone was happy and fed.

“Look at you two, getting along,” Emily said. “I’ve heard of weddings with fights within the wedding party so I’m glad things are working out.”

We had a good time. Sort of like a date after a Bumble meet. But way more fun, because there were no pressures or expectations. Jake had taught economics at a community college and retired the year before; he taught an online class now for a couple of different schools. We discussed teaching third graders and college freshmen and sophomores and concluded there was not a lot of difference. During dinner, we made toasts, laughed at bad jokes and puns, and posed for a wedding party picture.

Before we were getting ready to leave, as everyone was finishing desert, Jake stood and made a toast to the couple. Wishing them endless happiness and surprises in their life together.

Everyone was headed off to their hotel, I was going to head home and sleep in my own bed. I gave Will a hug, hugged and kissed Emily on the lips. I whispered in her ear “You know as the maid of honor I have to remind you if you want to call the whole thing off, this is your last chance.” I did an exaggerated look in both directions. “There’s a cab waiting, we’ll be out of here before they know we’re missing.” We both laughed and kissed again. I was saying good bye to the two other women in the wedding party, one of them Will’s younger sister. Outside the restaurant and Jake gave me a platonic kiss on the cheek. I hugged him back.

“I enjoyed talking with you tonight,” I said.

“Same here. I haven’t enjoyed myself this much in quite a while. I was dreading the evening, and you are a delight.”

I felt a blush. And a tingle.

He turned to leave and then returned.

“Do you want to go dancing?”

I wasn’t expecting that question.

“I’m not a good dancer,” he said. “But this is Nashville and I’ve got a list of a couple off the path bars with good dancing.”

It was late. My hangover from the night before was finally starting to wane, although it would probably flare again with the drinking that night. A smarter person might have said see you tomorrow. But in that moment, I wasn’t her.

A couple of minutes later we were in a Lyft and headed toward an out the way place. The cover was a couple of bucks and we found a seat close to the dance floor. The place was busy, but not crowded, it was for locals and not the tourists like the places on Broadway. The band, a cross between folk and country was lighting it up, and the dance floor was mostly empty.

Jake stood and held out his hand, took mine, and lead me to the dance floor. The lights danced on his beautiful eyes and highlighted the crinkles beneath them.

“I have a confession to make,” he said. He leaned in and whispered in my ear. His breath was hot and the stubble from his beard brushed my cheek. I felt a shiver run down my back. “I’m not a great dancer.”

It had been hot in Nashville that week. With the outdoor activities, the ceremony rehearsal, and the dinner I tried to dress comfortable. I had a sheer blouse and a short skirt. I’m glad I wore flats and not heels, otherwise the whole dancing thing would have been a no-go. Jake led me onto the floor, holding my hand, and put my left arm up, his right arm on my back. He closed his eyes for a moment, got the beat, and started to move me around the floor. Living in Nashville, you sort of have to know a Texas twostep if you want to go out dancing. Jake knew his, and he knew how to lead. The band played, and we managed to move around the dance floor; there were few other couples. Nothing gets me going like a man who knows how to dance, and Jake did not disappoint. His hands and direction were firm when needed, guiding me on the floor. I felt his firm upper back and he smelled great. We finished one song, before we were able to get to our table, the band started another song, and we kept going. After five songs I had to beg for a break and gulped two glasses of water in a very unladylike fashion after sitting down. I personally had enough alcohol at dinner, and was just happy to get some liquids. Jake got a beer, but left most of it. We danced until 1 AM when the band finished their last set.

I was exhausted. We had gotten up early, had done a couple of bachelorette activities, including lunch at a winery, and pictures, rehearsal and dinner. After three hours of almost non-stop dancing, my muscles were sore, but I had such great fun with Jake it was worth it.

We got a Lyft back to the restaurant, sitting close to each other, our hips touching. He held my hand in the car. Jake walked me to my car.

“Chelsea, I don’t know when I’ve had a better time. If I were twenty years younger, you’d be in trouble.”” I felt my face scrunch as I cocked my head. “Every young guy after you would have to contend with me.”

I acted before thinking.

I leaned forward and kissed him, a chaste kiss on the lips, one designed to leave the recipient wanting more.

“As a friend has frequently told me,” I said, standing on my toes and leaning in close, ”Age is just a number.'” I kissed him again.

I leaned in and hugged him, he was slightly taller, and I relished he firm grip around me for a moment. He walked toward his car, and I drove home.

I had been up almost eighteen hours by time I got home, but still had a buzz. I know it was my imagination, but I still smelled Jake’s skin and tasted his lips. I drank three glasses of water, took two aspirin to prevent a hangover. The honkytonk was smoke free, but must have passed people on the street who were smoking, and had the smell on my clothes. Also, I had been running around outside and then dancing, I had perspired and just wanted to get clean. I stripped off my clothes and threw them in the laundry basket; I climbed in the shower.

I imagined Jake as my age, but could never get the image. At 66, he was well built, agile, and charming. He had a confidence without being cocky. And he could dance. I rubbed my fingers across my lips trying to mimic the touch of his lips. I scrubbed my hair, rinsed, applied the conditioner. I turned away from the water and let it hit my shoulders and back, hoping to work out any soreness from all of the dancing. I soaped my hands, bent over and started at my calves and worked the lather up my body. As my fingers brushed over my nipples a spark tinged and seemed to go straight to my pussy. I did it again, slower this time, rubbing my slippery, soapy fingers and hands across my nipples, tweaking them touching and twirling them and was surprised by the exquisite sensation that went through my body and settled at my pussy. I snuck my hand lower, slipping my fingers between my pussy lips, the warm water allowing my fingers to slide over my vulva, centering over my clit. I closed my eyes and saw Jake dancing with me, his hand resting on my bare flesh, the rhythm of the music again in my ears. I used my middle finger, the water washing over my body, pushing on my clit, rubbing it in a circle, around the edge, closer to the core, increasing the pressure and the tempo until an incredible sensation like a warm wave started at my clit, engulfed my bottom and washed down my legs. I leaned against the wall in the shower, my heart beating fast, my breath a little ragged as I slipped a finger inside myself and felt the last waves of contractions in my pussy.

That night I slept the best I had in weeks.

I was back at the venue at 9 AM.

“Well, look at you, all refreshed and perky.”

It was Nicole, Jake’s daughter and Will’s younger sister. Emily had said she wasn’t particularly close to her, she lived in Oregon, but added her to the wedding party due to the small size and to build a rapport with her. She was married and had two kids. She had audibly gasped when Emily had tried on the baby doll and thong the day before at the lingerie shop. But maybe that goes with the territory with an eight- and ten-year-old running around the house all day. She was pretty with short blond hair, but had been constantly texting and face timing with her husband for her two kids at home rather than engaging with the rest of us.

“Got a good night sleep.”

“So, did I. Had the bed all to myself, no husband, dogs, kids. What about you?”

The question flew at me with a barb and some venom. It was strange, because we had only exchanged a few superficial words the day before.

“Just me and the cat, and she gets the other pillow,” I said. I have enough friends, and turned to find Emily.

“Did you go somewhere with my father last night?”

The smile was gone. There was an edge to her voice.

“We went dancing.”

“Dancing? Really, you expect me to believe that?”

“Well, it’s the truth. Your choice whether or not to believe it.”

“Why would he go out dancing with you? And what are you doing with a man old enough to be your father?”

“If you have questions for your father, ask him.”

The conversation rattled me for the rest of the morning. Nicole was nothing to me, and after the wedding I’d never see her again. But I don’t like my decisions and actions, when they only affect me, questioned by others. Emily found me a short while later.

“Everything okay?” I said I was. “You look like you want to slap someone.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, let out a signal breath, and smiled.

“I’m great. And you’re even better because in about eight hours you’ll be married.”

She gave me a hug.

We had a good time at the spa, with manicures and pedicures. I usually get neither. No one sees my feet, and with blackboards, kids zippers and work projects manicured nails wouldn’t last a week. The afternoon flew by, and we were getting dressed for the ceremony. I avoided Nicole and stayed near Emily. We made our way from the dressing rooms and to the venue.

It was done up nice with tasteful, simple decorations. There were a couple of video cameras to livestream it. Will’s mother, who arrived late Friday night right before the rehearsal, stood in the back. Emily’s parents are both gone, as our mine, and I consider her family.

I stepped behind her and wrapped my arm around her. I leaned into her ear.

“I love you so much. You’re going to have a wonderful rest of your life.”

Music started to play and Will’s mother made her way down the aisle. Nicole walked away with a groomsman. Jake stepped up to me and I put my arm in his.

“You are just ravishing. In case anyone forgot to tell you that today.”

We made our way to the front of the room and parted. To be honest, the ceremony was a blur and the whole thing was over in about twenty minutes. We filed out and greeted attendees as they left. I saw Nicole take her father’s hand and lead him away and out of sight.

“Do you know what they’re talking about?”

Will’s mother, Barbara, was behind me. A short woman with auburn hair, she had stern eyes and was not smiling.

“I’m Chelsea; I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

“I know who you are.”

“Well, then, I’m no one’s keeper and I have no idea where they went or what they’re discussing.” She looked me up and down. “Nice meeting you. And congratulations on Will’s marriage. Let me tell you, there isn’t a better woman on the planet. And she feels the same way about your son.”

The world is a different place now. The wedding, as originally planned, was going to have a couple hundred attendants — it’s not every day that two never married forty-year-olds find each other. Instead, it was about twenty people, mostly local, and the wedding party. It was late afternoon, and after some photos in various combinations, we made our way to a small reception. Champagne, cold local beer, and hot chicken were on the menu. After about a half an hour of Emily and Will making the rounds with the guests, music started playing and they made their way to the center of the room. The music was soft and in the background and then amplified as they started dancing around the room. Emily had told me that they had taken lessons for weeks trying to get the steps down.

They then swapped off and Will danced with his mother and Emily with Jake. More people joined the floor.

“Shall we?”

Jake had his hand out, palm up. I took it and he led the way. We picked up where we had finished the night before. The music was a jumble of old rock and roll, pop songs, R and B played one after another. Whenever I thought we were going to sneak off the floor, Jake would grab my hand, find the rhythm, and we’d dance another. After eight songs, I begged off for a breather and after slugging down a couple of waters made my way to the ladies’ room to freshen up.

As I stood at the sink trying to blot perspiration without ruining what little makeup was left. The door closed and in walked Nicole.

“So, are you a bitch or a fucking bitch?”

The joy of teaching third graders is that they have a limited vocabulary. Every now and then there is a curse word, but most of the time they’re pretty good. Not so much with adults. I was a little slow on my response.

“Well?” she said.

“Nicole, I don’t know what is your problem. Or issues. I just hope I never become you.”

“Well, I don’t have daddy issues.”

The key thing I teach my kids is know when to walk away. That’s what I did.

There was a back exit to the building and I strolled out. It was the second story, an open area overlooking the street and neighborhood. My skin twitched a bit, moving from the air-conditioned hall to the late afternoon heat of a southern summer. The sun was low in the sky, but angled between the trees just right to still provide a beam of heat on me.

“Does it help if I apologize for my daughter?”

Jake’s voice startled me.

He was standing four feet away, hands in his pockets, his tie loosened. He was smiling, his eyes bright and warm. The late afternoon sun brushed across his face.

“I think we need to responsible for ourselves and not apologize for the actions of others.”

“I agree. But I’m trying to score some points with the best-looking woman in that room.” He nodded back to the building. “That way, she might say yes to dinner tonight, maybe dancing again. Maybe more.”

“More?” I stepped closer. “What’s more?”

“Maybe a kiss.”

My mouth was dry and I stepped closer. I leaned in and kissed him on his lips, brushing them across his, smelling his skin, feeling the heat off his chest as we stood in the humid Nashville afternoon.

“Like that?”

He closed his eyes and moaned.

“Or maybe this?”

I closed the distance, leaning in a bit, making sure he could feel my breasts against his chest, placing my hands above his waist. Kissing him, probing his mouth with my tongue, allowing his to slip into my mouth, leaning into him harder, gripping his flesh, pulling his hips toward me.

“Never in my wildest thoughts these past two days could I have imagined that kiss,” he said.

“Well, I do a lot of things well, and kissing is only one of them.”

“Do you want to blow this popsicle stand?”

“It’s my friend and your son getting married. I think we need to be the voice of reason.”

“I knew you were going to say that.”

He grabbed my hand and lead me back into the reception.

The party was winding down, most of the guests had left or were saying good bye. Emily and Will were at the door, sending people off. We walked up to them, holding hands. Will cocked his head at his father and smiled. Emily gave me a big grin.

Emily wrapped me in a warm embrace and whispered in my ear that she loved me. I held her close.

“You have a great time tonight,” I said.

She looked over my shoulder toward Jake. “What about you?”

“Maybe. We’ll see.” I leaned into her ear. “He’s a great kisser.”

I went to the dressing room and changed into my street clothes, another bridesmaid dress relegated to a hanger, unless it could be repurposed. I returned to see Jake and his daughter near the door in an animated conversation. He reached out to take her hand and his daughter spurned him and left the building.

“Sorry you saw that,” he said when I approached.

“Not my issue.”

“I would love it if I could take you to dinner.”

“Well, I’ll have to check my busy social calendar, and this is late notice.” I thumbed through my phone for a moment. “Nope, got nothing. I’m all yours.”

“Promises promises.”

He had an Air BnB around the corner and we stopped so he could change clothes. The times we had been together he had been dressed up: suit, pinpoint cotton shirt, tie. When he walked out of the bedroom I heard myself gasp. He had an open neck dress shirt and jeans. Tall, slim, with his gray hair combed back, and rimless glasses he made me melt. He had a couple of choices for dinner and I picked a vegetarian Indian restaurant several blocks away. The walk over was hot, the sun was still shining and the concrete sidewalks had seemed to trap the heat. The cool air of the restaurant dimpled my skin when we entered.

We ordered a sampler to share and in a bit a large platter with several bowls with daal, palak paneer, mixed vegetable karma, and pakoras filled the table. We ordered our second beers as we started to eat. Jake took the hot, fresh naan and dipped into the bowls, getting the bread soaked with the rich fragrant gravies of the different dishes.

“Here,” he said. He reached across the table and placed the korma and naan in my mouth, his fingers brushing my lips as he fed me. I have always thought that feeding a lover a meal, in bed or at a table as an erotic encounter and I felt my heart beat faster for a few moments.

As we walked after dinner, music drifted out of bars and clubs, a cacophony of sounds mingled with the heat of the summer evening. We wove between people on the streets — couples, women on bachelorette trips, guys in groups. Jake leaned over and spoke in my ear and asked me where I wanted to go.

“Your place.”

I squeezed his hand hard as he led me through the crowds. Once in his apartment, the door closed, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him hard, forcing my tongue into his mouth, pushing against his, sucking his when he slipped it into my mouth, I threw my head back and he kissed my neck, licked my ears, and twitched his tongue at the hollow under my neck. My hands slipped down and I grabbed his ass, squeezing hard as I leaned into him.

“I’ve got a confession to make,” he said as he leaned back.

My body tensed, and I stepped back. The high I was feeling was immediately squashed, as I waited for the next words.

“It’s been a while.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s been a while since I’ve, you know, been with someone.”

“You mean since you’ve had sex?”

“Well, yeah, that’s what I’m trying to say.”

“So, there’s no hot babe in Georgia? No MILF on the side. Not banging the hottie next door?’

He cringed. “No.”

“I was waiting for you to tell me there was a girlfriend or a wife or mistress waiting for you to get your incredibly sexy bones back home.”

“Sorry, none of that.”

“Well, as someone who has had dry patches at times, it’s like riding a bike. Once you’re back in the saddle, you’ll know what to do. If you forget, I promise to give you great directions.”

“Oh yeah?” He stepped into me, his strong hands slid down my back to my ass, and pulled me into him. “Like what? What do you like Chelsea?”

“I love to be undressed and I like touching my lover’s body with my fingers and tongue.”

He turned me and placed his arms on my bare shoulders and slid his hands down my arms, barely touching my skin, just a hint of friction between us as they touched me up and down my arms. I arched back, my head touching his chest as he caressed me. He unzipped the dress, and moved the straps off my shoulders. The dress fell into a puddle around my feet. I turned, standing in my lace bra, panties, and thigh high hose.

“Your turn.”

I unbuttoned his shirt, looking directly into his eyes, my mouth slightly open, my tongue sliding over my lower lip in anticipation. I slid the shirt off, it dropped to the floor. He started to undo his belt, but I stopped him, opening the belt, then his pants. He kicked off his shoes, and stepped out of the pants. He slid off his socks.

“The socks were a nice touch, a lot like those vintage porn films with the guys in their black socks.,” I said.

Jake placed his hands on my sides, his hands were warm and strong, against the flesh, and I shivered at his touch. He took my hand and led me to the bedroom and the king size bed. In a second he had scooped me up and carried me the last few steps to the bed. Standing over me he slid his boxers off and I saw his cock for the first time. My mouth watered knowing for the evening it was mine. I lifted my legs and he slid my panties off and then took off my bra. He climbed onto the bed next to me and we starting kissing, exploring each other with our lips and tongues as our bodies touched and slid against one another. He kissed me, and licked at the hollow beneath my neck. He kissed me on the lips, our tongues probing each other, and his fingers found my nipple. He rolled it between his fingers, and it send an ache to my pussy. He took my other nipple in his mouth, twirling around it with his tongue and I reached for his cock and felt it get hard in my hand.

I threw my head back and moaned. “That feels so good,” I hissed through clenched teeth, reveling in the pleasure in my nipples and pussy.

“Touch yourself,” he said.

I obliged him.

I slid may hand down to my pussy and rubbed my lips, starting from the outside, honing in toward my clit. I slipped my fingers into my pussy, getting them slick with my wetness, and back to my clit. Slowly, I rubbed a circle around my clit. I squeezed his cock, feeling the hardness in my hand and started to stroke him as I rubbed my clit.

“If you keep stroking me, I’m going to cum, and I want you to cum first,” he said. He took his mouth off my nipple and kissed me, as I continued to rub myself.

I started to hyper ventilate and arched my back.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.”

I dipped my fingers into my pussy again, smearing my thick liquid fluids, and backed to my clit. I started rubbing back and forth over it, so fast I knew my hand would be a blur if Jake looked down at it. He pinched my nipple and rolled it harder and sucked the other.

It started deep in my pussy, an ache that was both dull and hard and then like a blast of liquid heat and it shot up into my back and an electric shock tingled down into my feet. I thrashed in the bed, throwing my head back and forth, and melted into the bed as the final wave passed. Jake stopped sucking and kissed me softly on the lips.

“That sounded like it was a lot of fun.”

“It was,” I said. My voice was weak. “It was really great.”

“Glad to help. Ready for the next one?”

Before I could answer, he climbed on top of me, kissed my lips and then traced his tongue from my neck to pussy. He knelt on the floor, and positioned me on the edge of the bed. He spread my legs, exposing me to his face.

He kissed my lips, gently sucking one then the other into his mouth, taking my liquids into his mouth. I felt his tongue tickle me and he slipped it into my pussy and he let out a low guttural moan.

“Delicious.”

He caressed my thighs, then slid his hand up my body until his fingers just touched my nipples. His face was buried in my pussy and his tongue unleashed a torrent of pleasure on nub, sending sparks from my clit to all directions in my pelvis like a broken wire on a wet floor. Some were tingles. Others were sparks. There was a pulsating ebb and flow, like waves crashing and receding from the beach, and my entire body was on edge.

I could feel myself edging toward another orgasm. The tingling had turned to a buzz and was on the verge of an explosion. I grabbed Jake’s head and pulled it into me, forcing his mouth on my lips and clit. He continued to lick and eat and until the sensation was overwhelming and I writhed in a spasm, from my shoulders to my feet as a jolt of pleasure sluiced through my body.

He tried to keep licking but the sensation was just too much; I needed a rest. I was limp, but managed to pull him onto me. He propped himself up and kissed me, his face and lips, and tongue covered with my juices. I kissed him back savoring the taste of the sharp juice.

“Wow,” I said.

“Yeah, wow. It’s been a while since I was able to do that for someone.”

“Well, time hasn’t dulled your skills, mister.”

My heart rate started to slow and my breath calmed a little.

“You know what I like after a good old fashioned pussy eating?”

“Please tell.”

“I like a nice hard cock in me.”

“Really?”

I felt his cock nudging against my lips, and I tried to move to get him to slide into me. I placed my hands on his ass and started pulling him into me.

“So, what do you say?”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.”

“I’m sorry, I’m an old guy. I didn’t hear you.”

I leaned up and kissed him hard, pulling his head toward me, and turned his ear toward me.

“Please fuck me!”

“Tell me exactly what you want.”

I was squirming on the bed. My pussy tingled and I wanted him in me.

All the while he was verbally teasing me he was sliding his hard cock across my clit. It was killing me. We went back and forth a couple times, me asking, him teasing. When he was shifting to one side, I lifted my legs and in a rather athletic gesture flipped on top of him. The look of shock on his face was wonderful. Surprise mixed with pleasure. I pinned his arms down with my weight.

“I said I wanted your cock in my pussy. I meant it.”

“Put it there, then.”

I was still very wet. I reached back, rubbed the head of his cock across my opening, and slid it in.

“Oh. My. God. That feels so good,” I was able to moan out.

And in an instant, he flipped us again, this time his chest on mine, his cock buried in me.

“So that’s what you want. You want my cock in your pussy. Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” I was able to hiss.

Jake slid his cock in and out of my pussy. It was incredible. He had a good size and the friction of the movement was perfect. He got into a rhythm, thrusting in and out, leaning forward so the shaft brushed my clit as he moved. His eyes were shut, his head thrown back. I spit on my fingers and started to massage his nipples.

“Shit that feels great,” he said.

Jake pounded my pussy like a man possessed. He varied the rhythm, fast for several strokes, then turning slightly, slowing and seeming to get even deeper into me. It felt great. He stopped for a moment.

“You’re wearing this old man out.”

I pushed him off of me and he feinted a flop onto his back. I climbed on and in a second his cock was buried in me. I rode him cowgirl for a few minutes, and then turned for a reverse.

“Your ass is the best thing I’ve seen in quite a while. Do you like to have your ass slapped?”

“If I’m bad I do.”

“Well,” he slapped my right cheek. “I think you’re a bad girl.”

I leaned back, putting pressure on my clit, pumping up and down faster and harder each time.

“I’m going to cum soon,” he said.

“In my pussy. Cum in my pussy. Please. Please. Please.”

I turned around. I wanted to see his face when he came. He started bucking his hips, and scrunched his eyes and let out a guttural moan as I felt his cock spurt his cum in me. I collapsed on him.

“That was fun,” I said.

“It was, wasn’t it.”

I kissed him, rolled off of him, and we fell asleep with our arms around each other.

I woke just before dawn after the best sleep of the last six months. We had snuggled and spooned in various positions through the night. I got up, went to the bathroom to pee, and returned to the bed to find him sprawled in the center of the bed, naked of course, and still asleep. His cock was soft. I could not help myself. I sat on the edge of the bed and ran my finger from his knee to his balls on the inside of his thigh. He shivered his shoulders, but stayed asleep. I leaned over and took his cock in his mouth. I could still taste myself on him, and I twirled my tongue around his head.

I love the feel of a cock getting hard in my mouth. He shifted a little, but remained asleep while his cock engorged. Within a few minutes he was starting to get hard. He woke.

“What a way to say good morning,” he said. His voice was still thick with sleep.

“Hope you don’t mind.” I put my mouth around his cock again while stroking him.

“The down side of being an old guy is that it takes longer to recharge. I’d love to, but the equipment might not be able.”

“I know lots of tricks.”

I held his cock out and swirled my tongue on the head, feathering it with licks with the tip of my tongue. My other hand rubbed the soft skin on the base of his balls. Jake moaned, a deep guttural growl from his chest. His cock pulsed a little. I slid around and knelt between his legs, they were splayed out in a V. I spit on my fingers and crept my right hand to his asshole. His rosebud puckered at first, then I slid my slick finger in his ass.

“Ooooo!”

“Yeah, this will work.”

I moved my finger around pushing up against his prostate. His cock doubled in size.

“That’s it baby, make it big for me,” I said.

I swallowed the head and moved up and down, slobbering my spit on it, getting it wet, stroking his cock, probing his ass. He writhed on the bed, grabbing the sheet as I moved all three parts of the stimulation faster. I took him out of my mouth and looked at him.

“That’s it. That’s it. I want your cum. I want your cum. In my mouth. Please. Please. Please.”

I put my mouth on him again and jerked him harder. His body tensed, his cocked spasmed, and he shot three ropes of thick hot cum in my mouth. I sat up, opened my mouth so he could see the puddle of his cum on my tongue and swallowed. I fell on top of him, kissed him, and we drifted back to sleep.

I woke again midmorning and felt great. Jake was gone from the bed, and I called his name but he was not in the apartment. I cleaned up, dressed, and was in the kitchen when he returned with coffee, bagels, tea, croissants.

“Didn’t know what you liked, so grabbed it all.”

I leaned in and kissed him.

I was toasting the bagels when I heard his phone ring. He stepped out on the small balcony to continue the conversation. A few minutes after he returned, his face flushed, the door bell sounded.

“I’ll get it,”

“I’ve got it,” he said, and stepped past me.

The door pushed open as he turned the knob and Nicole entered the room.

“So, you do have that slut here,” she said.

The veins on her neck stood out, her face flushed, her voice amplified by her anger.

“Nicole, out. Now.”

“So, did you fuck him? You fucking slut.”

Jake was trying to reason with her and I retreated to the bedroom. I had packed my bag earlier. I checked for my phone and keys, rummaged through the bag for a moment, and headed for the front door.

Nicole was still shouting and cursing as I walked past her, with Jake between us. It looked like she was going to swing at me. I brought my hand up. I pointed a can of pepper spray at her face, had my thumb on the plunger. I held the spray at arm’s length.

“Just try it, bitch,” I said.

She did. And I did. The plumes were fast, the stream caught her in the eye and mouth. She stopped and screamed, and started rubbing her eyes, which was just going to make it worse. I walked out the door.

The adrenaline hit me as I got in the hall; my heart was racing, I was breathing hard, my energy and anger levels had doubled.

Jake stepped into the hall and called my name. I never looked back.

The August morning hit me like a wet blanket, but my rage made me ignore it. I was going to hail a Lyft but knew I had to walk, had to get rid of the kinetic energy in my chest and muscles. Within twenty minutes I was in my car. I turned on the air, melted in the seat and cried. I wasn’t sure where the tears came from. I was furious at Nicole. Mad at Jake for allowing her in the apartment. I drove home, stripped my clothes, took a hot shower and climbed in bed and slept the rest of the day.

The next afternoon Emily called me. She asked me if I was all right. I told her she was on her honeymoon and needed to focus on it. She said that Jake had called her, trying to get my number.

“What’s going on?” she said.

I told her. Everything. She listened to my whole story; my rambling tale took at least fifteen minutes.

“Chelsea, I am so sorry to hear what happened to you.”

“Do not tell Will. Promise. Promise me.”

“Absolutely not,” she said.

“Get back to your honeymoon.” I hung up.

I went back to work the next day. The joy of the weekend was washed away with my interaction with Nicole at the end. A couple of days passed, then a week, and I was in the groove of school and the kids. Emily checked in on the weekend, our conversation was light and did not mention Jake.

“He’s been asking for your number. What do you want me to do?”

I told her not to give it to him.

Two weekends later I went out for coffee with my friend Carol after a Pilates class. She is older, and my surrogate mother since mine had passed away. She is smart, and sexy as hell. She sensed something was wrong, and eventually got me to tell all. I know she made a lot of money as an investment banker, but she would have been a great therapist.

“So, you liked Jake. Had a good time. I assume that the sex was pretty good by the flush you had when you said you had spent the night together.” I nodded. “So, give him your number and listen to his side of the story. If it is not what you need to hear, move on. If it is, see what happens.”

When I got home I told Emily to give him my number. I celebrated the rest of my birthday with Netflix and a pint of Haagen-Dazs double chocolate.

The next morning my phone rang at 7:00AM. I was asleep, and fearing an emergency for a friend, I answered, my voice still thick with sleep.

“I woke you didn’t I?’

The connection was crappy, I didn’t recognize the voice.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“Jake.”

I was instantly awake.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself. You okay?”

“Yeah.”

When challenged, my response is to get back, reassess, make sure I’m safe. I don’t have PTSD or have never been assaulted, but the encounter with Nicole rattled me.

“I am sorry for what my daughter said and tried to do to you,” he said. His words were deliberate. “I cannot undo it. And, unfortunately, she will not apologize. But I am truly sorry for what happened.”

I listened. I was awake now and sat up in my bed.

“This is going to sound crazy, and if it does, and scares you, just tell me,” Jake said. “We had just met, and honest, I have never felt a connection to someone like I did with you before. So, when she did that, my heart hurt and I am truly sorry. I am glad you did what you did. And I am glad you left.”

“Okay.” I still was not sure where this was going.

“So, maybe we can go out for coffee sometime, maybe breakfast, and just talk. If that is okay with you.”

“Jake, you live 200 miles away. It’s not like ‘Oh, I’m in the neighborhood, you want to get a coffee?'”

“Oh, I’m in the neighborhood, you want to get a coffee?”

“What?”

“I’m in town, down near where they got married, a little café.”