Bab 2232: MONA AND ME
On a mid-summer day in Florida, the humidity is oppressive. The heat can be in the mid to upper 90's but actually it's the humidity that makes it so damned uncomfortable. There are only two things you can do on those days; you can either stay inside in the air conditioning or you can get in a pool. I had been in my house for three days getting over a summer cold and I needed to get out, so I chose to go to the pool.
I live in an apartment complex near Jacksonville and every reputable complex in the area has at least one pool. Complexes that have more than one pool often will designate one pool for adults only and another pool for families. My complex only has one pool but there aren't many kids living in the complex. There are a few teens but they usually don't get too rowdy during the day. Besides, I can handle kids as long as they're not crying babies.
It was a Thursday afternoon about 2:00 pm and I expected that I might have the pool to myself since most responsible adults would be at work. I pulled on a pair of swim trunks, fixed myself a frozen margarita, and headed down to the pool.
As I rounded the complex office and approached the pool, it appeared that my expectation was correct. There was not a soul in sight. "Ahhh!" I thought to myself, "I'll have some peace and quiet."
Don't misunderstand me; I'm not 89 years old and looking for a rocking chair to sit in whilst bird watching and preparing to die. I'm a 38 years old, single (divorced, actually) male and I'm looking for fun when it's time to party, but I still wasn't feeling 100% after battling the summer cold. I was feeling a bit tired and even a little stiff in the joints.
I spread my towel on a chaise lounge and settled back to enjoy an afternoon of baking and dipping. I enjoyed the margarita and it caught up with me sooner than I expected, probably potentiated by all the cold medicine I had been taking. I fell asleep and dozed quite comfortably for a few minutes before I was awakened by the sound of a splash.
I looked at the pool and could see that someone was swimming a lap below the surface. I quickly concluded that it was most likely someone I didn't know, for two reasons. First, I really didn't know very many people who lived in the complex, and second, my friends would all be at work at this time of day. When the swimmer's head popped into view, I confirmed that it was no one I had ever met.
The swimmer was a young girl - I would guess 14 or 15 years old - who had a very cute face. She had a clear but tanned complexion, a somewhat long and narrow face, and platinum blonde hair. She was looking right at me.
"Hi," she said, sounding a bit sheepish. "Hope I didn't wake you when I jumped in."
"Well, actually, you did . . . but I'm glad you did. Falling asleep in the sun can lead to a pretty nasty sunburn. You may have just saved my life!" I was obviously "hamming it up" just a bit with this little cutie.
"Does that mean you'll be my slave for the rest of your life?" she asked.
"I suspect that your mother and father would have some big problems with me hanging out with you all the time, so the slave thing probably isn't going to happen, but . . . I would be willing to buy you a cold drink from the machine in the club house."
"I only have a mom to worry about but you're right, she'd probably shit a brick if I brought a slave home, so I guess I'll settle for a cold drink. My name's Macy but my friends just call me Mace."
"Well, my name is Jack and I'm as Southern as an ole Southern boy can be, so I'll just call you Miss Macy, if you don't mind," I said.
"No, sir, I don't mind at all, Mr. Jack," she responded. "I wouldn't mind getting that drink now . . . if you were serious about the offer."
"Serious as a heart attack, Miss Macy," I insisted. "A gentleman never breaks a promise to a lady."
Miss Macy walked to the pool steps and starting coming up from the floor of the pool. As her body came into view, I could instantly tell that she was a little teen dream. Her legs looked like she swam laps every day and her yellow bikini revealed that her torso didn't have even an ounce of fat. Her breasts were not large; in fact, she probably wasn't bigger than a 32B, but she was only 15 years old (as I later learned) and they were perfectly proportioned to her lithe and nubile body.
Miss Macy accompanied me to the vending machines and I purchased a diet cola for her. When I turned to go back to my lounge, she followed me and sat in the lounge next to me.
"What kind of work do you do?" Macy asked.
"I'm an attorney. I have an office in Jacksonville. How about you? Are you . . . what, maybe a . . . secretary or a . . . nurse . . . no, you look more like a model," I said.
She giggled briefly. "I couldn't be a model. I'm too young and, besides," she paused and looked down at her chest, "I don't have a model's body. You know, I'm just in school!" she corrected me.
"Why, I had no idea, I thought maybe you were 19 or 20 years old," I pretended to defend myself.
"No, I'm just 15, and, hopefully, part of me is still growing," she said with hope. "Maybe I will be a model one day."
"Hey, don't put yourself down. You're a cute girl and you could be a model right now. If I was a 15 year old boy, I'd want you to be my girlfriend," I told her, immediately realizing that perhaps I shouldn't have made that last remark.
"Are you married?" she asked.
"Hey, I said if I was a 15 years old boy . . . but I'm not. You're a little too young for me but I'm very flattered that you asked, Miss Macy," I said.
"No, silly, I'm not asking for me . . . you're an old man," she laughed, letting me know that she was just teasing me. "No, my mom is single and she hasn't had a date in like forever. Do you want to go out with my mom?"
Obviously, Miss Macy didn't lack confidence or assertiveness. "Well, honey, you know you shouldn't try to set your mom up with dates unless she asks you to do that. She might not want to date, or she might think I'm a dork, or maybe I remind her of her grandfather, or . . . you know, that's her decision to make," I explained.
"She's real pretty," Miss Macy responded. "She's an eighth grade English teacher and she just doesn't meet many guys over the age of 14 and, you know, 14 year old boys are all such big jerks. So, how about if you meet her and then you could ask her out?" Macy seemed really eager to have me meet her mom.
"Well, I'll tell you what. The day after tomorrow is Saturday and I'm going to be down here at the pool then around 11 o'clock. If you want me to meet your mom, you can bring her to the pool, but I'm not promising anything. For all I know, she might look just like the first girl who broke my heart," I warned her. "That wouldn't be good. My heart's still mending," I feigned resignation to a moribund attitude. "But, if she's as cute as you . . .."
"Okay, I'll see you Saturday," Macy said, "and you'll see . . . she's beautiful." Macy stood and walked away while I watched her. She wasn't wearing a thong but her bikini revealed enough to make me wish that I was 15 years old again.
* * *
By Saturday morning, I felt much better than I had during the week. I remembered my promise to little Miss Macy. I am always a bit nervous about getting "set up" with a girl; it usually means that she looks somewhat less than divine. However, it was hard to imagine a butt-ugly woman giving birth to the little teen goddess who I had met Thursday afternoon.
I got down to the pool about 10:50 am and I saw Macy sitting on the edge of a chaise. She was talking to a woman who probably weighed at least 300 pounds and, even if she lost those 180 pounds of ugly fat, she wouldn't be much to look at.
I walked over to Macy and said hello.
"Hey, Jack. Are you feeling better?" she asked.
"Much better," I answered. "Is this your mom?"
"No, this is one of our neighbors, Cindy. Mom's not down here yet. She said she'd come down by 11 o'clock. I just told her that I had something I needed to show her, so don't act like this was all set up in advance, okay?" she asked.
"Okay, but I won't tell your mom any lies, either. That's not cool at any point in any relationship," I counseled her.
"Oh, you score major points for that," Cindy added with a chuckle. "I wish I had a dollar for every lie a guy ever told me!"
"Golden Rule, Cindy. You've always got to treat people the way you want to be treated," I said. "I learned about the Golden Rule when I was a child but I really learned about it the first time I got into a serious relationship. So, Macy, where's your mom?"
"She just texted and said she'd be here in like one minute," Macy explained somewhat plaintively. A few seconds later, she said, "There she is!"
I turned to look and saw an older version of Macy approaching. This woman didn't look like a goddess . . . because when you call a woman a goddess, that means she looks like she's probably not approachable. This woman looked approachable but she was also very pretty . . . very, very pretty.
Like her daughter, she had the same platinum blonde hair and blue eyes, and the same slightly long, thin face. She definitely had some Nordic heritage. Her breasts didn't appear to be very large - probably a 34B - but, like her daughter, they looked very proportionate to her body. She appeared to be well-toned without looking athletic and she certainly did not look muscular. She walked with confidence and poise and I could understand some men looking at her and being afraid to approach. You know, some guys just don't like confident women.
She walked up to us and looked at Macy. "Macy, is this gentleman what you wanted to 'show' me?" she said. She sounded somewhat irritated. She turned to me and said, "If you want to meet me, you should approach me directly instead of using my daughter. What kind of loser are you?" she said in a louder voice. She immediately turned and started walking away.
Macy ran after her mother and stopped her. "Mom, you've got it all wrong. He didn't ask me to introduce him to you. I begged him to please meet you . . . 'cause he seems like a nice guy and I thought . . . well, I guess it doesn't matter now, 'cause you called him a big loser . . . and he's not."
Macy's mom stood there and didn't say anything for about 15 seconds. Then she turned and walked back over to me.
"Apparently, I owe you a tremendous apology," she said. "I had the wrong idea about what my daughter was up to and I get kind of flustered about this sort of stuff and . . . I don't know what gets into her head sometimes," she said, then she offered her hand to me. "Hi, I'm Mona."
"I'm Jack. I met Miss Macy by the pool a few days ago. She interrogated me rather well before she asked me to meet you; I think she was concerned about trying to set you up with a loser. She may be awkward in doing this but it's obvious that she really loves you and she's concerned about you being alone, and . . . her heart's in the right place, which says you've done a good job with her."
"Thank you. That's kind of you to say that," she said.
"It's not kind; it's just the truth. Miss Macy told me it had been at least 100 years since you had a date because you teach school and don't meet many guys. Of course, I didn't believe any of that when she told me and, now that I've met you, I really don't believe it. . . . I mean, I believe that you teach school, but . . . a lady as pretty as you must have a lot of offers from guys."
"Well, yes, I occasionally have an offer, but either he's married, or he's only interested in one thing, or . . . occasionally I have an offer from a 14 year old boy who has a crush on me, but . . . decent guys aren't easy to find. You know . . . I would say that I ought to kill Macy for saying I haven't had a date in 100 years, but . . . somebody would report me to the child abuse registry an I'd lose my teaching job, so . . . let's just say that she's going to receive some discipline for this," Mona explained.
"I'm not sure whether I should take that as an insult, you know, punishing your daughter for introducing me to you," I offered in jest.
"Oh, no, I didn't mean it in that way," she said. "I just meant . . .." She was flustered again, so I had her where I wanted her. In my experience, when ladies are flustered or "off balance," they are less defensive than normal.
"I know what you meant," I interrupted her. "I'll make a deal with you. Let me take you out to dinner tonight . . . that is, of course, if you don't already have plans, and . . . if you don't have a good time, you can do whatever you think is appropriate to Miss Macy, but . . . if you have a good time, instead of disciplining her, you could maybe thank her or just, you know, have a talk with her. She really does seem to be a good kid."
"Well, you're giving me all kinds of flattery and, then, you're kind of sure of yourself, too, aren't you?" Mona asked rhetorically. "I don't think I have much of a chance against those weapons."
"Well, I just don't want to see Miss Macy get disciplined for introducing me to her lovely mother because, if I had seen you, I would have wanted to meet you anyway. And I would have approached you directly, so . . . how about it?"
"Well, it has been a hundred years since I went out on a date, so why not?" she asked.
"Try to restrain your enthusiasm. Just in case you're wondering . . . I am a gentleman . . . I'm a man, but I'm not an animal and I'm not 'all hands.' We'll have a good time, I'm sure," I promised.
"Since you're a gentleman, you probably expect to pick me up at my place, so . . . I'm in apartment 507. Tonight at 7 o'clock?" Mona asked.
"I'll be there," I confirmed. "If it's okay with you, we'll go to that New Orleans restaurant on Southside Boulevard in Jacksonville. It's casual attire but great food."
"See you at 7," she replied, then turned and went back wherever she came from. Apartment 507, I guess.
* * *
Teachers are almost always anxious to have a roll in the hay. I've dated a few and never had a problem getting them naked between the sheets. And . . . most of them have no problem with kinky stuff their first time doing the horizontal mambo with me. Most of them are politically liberal and they would rather die than be thought of as 'normal,' so they're quite anxious to prove that they don't follow social conventions and traditional mores. They can be tremendous fun for even a few dates but, eventually, there is a 'teacher' brand of craziness which starts to infiltrate the relationship . . . and then it's time to call it quits.
A few years ago, I dated this first-grade teacher and, after we had been dating for a few months, we had an argument about something. It wasn't a big argument but she wasn't having her way with me and she couldn't handle the frustration of not being in charge, so she turned to me and said, "We need five minutes of silence . . . beginning now!" She didn't have a smile on her face when she made that statement; neither did I. Guess what? That was our last date.
However, I had the impression that Mona was not that kind of girl. I actually thought that she had some potential as a long term relationship and that inspired me to take a different approach. If we didn't have sex on the first date . . . well, think about it. If a girl will hop in bed with me on the first date, it means that either I am the king stud of all time, or . . . she hops into bed with everybody on the first date. Now, I'm not a dud, but I don't think I'm a king stud, so . . . if I just need to get laid, an easy night between the sheets is okay, but, if I'm looking for something with some long-term potential, maybe I shouldn't choose a girl who's that easy.
Anyway, I got all "dolled up" for my date Saturday night: I took a shower and everything, wore clean clothes, the whole nine yards. Actually, I have good sense about dressing for dates, not too formal, not too casual.
I drove around to her apartment about 6:55 but waited until 7:00 pm sharp to knock on the door. Miss Macy answered the door.
"Hey, Jack. Mom's still getting ready. Come one in," she invited me as she stepped aside.
I entered the apartment and looked around quickly. I didn't want anyone to think I was prying too much, but I was looking for clues about what kind of person is Miss Mona.
"Mom's been getting ready for two hours already," Macy complained. "I think she's kind of excited about having a date tonight.
"You know, that's not really the kind of things you should be telling a gentleman calling on your mom," I warned her, "because it would make some people think that your mom's kid of desperate, which I don't believe, but some people might think it."
"Oh," she said. "Where you guys going tonight?"
"Dinner," I replied.
"Duh, I kind of figured you were going to dinner. Where you going?"
"Well, Miss Macy, if your mom wants you to know where she's going, I'm sure she'll tell you. For all I know, she wants to keep it a secret 'cause she's afraid you'll try to come and snoop on us," I said with a grin. "You wouldn't try to do that, would you?"
"Absolutely never," Miss Macy facetiously assured me.
About that time, Miss Mona emerged from what I assumed was her bedroom. She was a vision of loveliness. The word "smitten" aptly describes the way I felt when I saw her, and that made me feel like I was in junior high school again. I could easily understand her male students having a crush on her.
She was wearing a form-fitting red dress that was around knee length. The neckline didn't plunge too low but it was at least suggestive. It had buttons up the front but apparently they were decorative as I noticed a zipper in the back when she turned around. The dress fit like it had been made especially for Mona.
"I'm sure the Idiot's First Book Of Dating says you should never tell a girl how gorgeous she is on your first date, but . . . I rarely follow the book. You look absolutely . . . stunning!" I confessed.
"Well, I'll confess to something I probably shouldn't say, but . . . flattery always scores points with me."
"Mom, I need to know where you guys are going," Macy interjected.
Mona pulled her cell phone out of her purse. "You know the number for this cell phone, right? Well, I'm going to be within hearing distance of my cell phone, that's where I am going to be."
"That's no fun!" Macy said.
"Why do you need to know where we're going to be?" Mona asked.
"Well, what if something happens?" Macy quickly replied.
"If something happens . . . which it better not . . . call me," Mona said with a sound of finality to that conversation.
"Okay," Macy said after a pause. "You guys have fun."
Mona and I walked down to the parking lot and I opened her car door for her. "Aren't you quite the gentleman?" she commented.
"I do no less than what a proper Southern man should do," I replied without bragging. I know that treating a lady right gets her attention. "Didn't the guy open the car door for you on your last date 100 years ago," I teased her, "or had cars even been invented then?"
We both laughed. I asked a few questions about her job and Mona started telling me about how difficult it is to teach English to kids who think text lingo is standard English. I could tell that she was dedicated to her profession and I like that in a woman.
We arrived at the restaurant and were seated fairly quickly. I offered Mona a drink and it looked like she wanted to say 'yes' but she hesitated.
"Mona, I'm not going to drink because I'm driving. I'm going to do the responsible thing and protect you, protect me, and protect everybody else on the roads. I'm too grown up to let myself be irresponsible. But you can have a drink if you want."
I paused momentarily and then continued. "I'm not the kind of guy who is going to try to get you drunk and take advantage of you and you look like the kind of lady who knows how to control herself, so, just relax. You know, first dates can be stressful because you don't know what to expect, so I'm going to tell you what to expect. When I take you back home, I'll open your car door and then I hope you'll let me hold your hand while I walk you to your door. When we get to your door, if you want to kiss me good night, I'll consider myself to be a lucky guy. If you don't want to kiss me good night, I'll just hope that it happens on the second date."
"Well, you just spilled the beans, didn't you?" she said. "Actually . . . I'm impressed that you can be so . . . forthright with someone who is a relative stranger and, yes, hearing that does put me at ease. It's nice to be with someone who thinks about someone other than himself."
"And I'm impressed that you would use the word 'forthright' on a first date. I like intelligent women and, obviously, you're one of them."
I told Mona about my law practice while we were waiting for dinner to arrive but the wait was not very long. The food was very good and not horribly expensive and we both enjoyed the meal.
"Well, I've had a very nice time so far and the night is still young. Would you like to go somewhere else?" I asked.
"You mean like your place?"
"No. You don't know me . . . I understand that, but every guy on the planet is not expecting to have sex on a first date, just like every girl on the planet is not a slut. Maybe you've had some bad experiences but I'm not one of those bad guys from your past. I'm just a guy who met a very pretty, intelligent, charming lady and I'd like to spend more time with you tonight. What I had in mind was actually either going to a piano bar for a drink and some quiet music, or if you would prefer, driving down to the beach and going for a walk."
"I'm afraid I've embarrassed myself again," Mona admitted.
"Don't beat yourself up about it," I said. "If you've lived life and had some experiences, then you've had some bad experiences, and . . . well, all of us are damaged merchandise in some way. Just try to not let it control you, okay?"
"You're right," Mona replied. "You're absolutely right. So far, you've been a perfect gentleman and I'm giving you grief because of how a few guys tried to treat me in the past. I'll try not to let that happen again. So . . . if the offer is still available, how about a walk on the beach and maybe on the way out there we could pick up a bottle of wine and two glasses?"
"The offer is still available and I'd love to," I replied. "One of the things you might learn about me is that I try to let go of things quickly instead of carrying things around and letting them fester. Life's too damn short and anger, grudges, resentments, and the like are a cancer on your soul."
"Very well said, Jack. I'll try harder to do the same."
We stopped and picked up a chilled bottle of a semi-sweet white wine and two cheap glasses at the liquor store, then we drove to the beach. Hanna Park was closed but there was a public access just south of the park; it was easy to get on the beach and then walk north and into the park. Inside the park, the beach was undeveloped and it was so much prettier than looking at beach houses and condominiums.
I opened the bottle of wine and poured us each a glass. Mona looked up at me and asked, "Do you want to make a toast?"
"Sure," I said. "Here's to friendship . . . and wherever that leads us."
"I'll second that motion," she said with a smile.
We started walking north along the beach, talking about whatever came to mind. I told Mona about law school and my brief marriage when I was fresh out of school. She told me about her first husband and how he abandoned her after Macy was born.
"Dating's difficult for you," I said, "and, no, I'm not trying to get you to apologize once again. I just wanted to point out that, sometimes, women think dating is so much easier for men, and . . . well, maybe it is for some guys, but . . . I think if a guy has some intelligence and he's sincere, you know, not just looking to add another notch to his belt . . . dating's difficult for guys, too. So, I want to challenge you to tell me why dating is difficult for you, and then I'll tell you why it's difficult for me."
"Wow! Okay. Well . . . first, when a guy asks me out, I don't know if he's some pervert who's going to hack me up into pieces after he rapes me. If he asks me out to dinner, I don't know if he considers Burger King to be fine dining. I don't know if he's going to burp in the middle of the meal and act gross. I don't know if he's some guy who wants to talk about himself constantly. If he's not a total pervert, I don't know if he's going to expect sex on the first date. I just really feel vulnerable being alone with someone who I don't know very well."
"You don't know me very well and you're alone with me right now," I observed.
"Yeah, but I can tell that you're different," she said.
"How can you tell I'm different?" I asked.
"All those guys I was talking about . . . they'd never start a conversation like this . . . and they'd never open the car door for me . . . they'd only have about half of your IQ points, and . . . I wouldn't want to hold their hand," she concluded.
"You want to hold my hand? Aren't you the little hussy?" I teasingly asked. I very consciously and deliberately changed my facial expression to something a bit more serious. "Actually, I'm flattered that you want to hold my hand and I think that's nice. So . . . your wish is my command."
She extended her right hand over towards me and I took it in my left hand.
"Much better," I said.
"Okay, your turn," she said.
"First, I can't date clients and I don't want to date other attorneys, so I don't meet lots of eligible ladies who seem nice enough to date."
"That sounds familiar," she interjected.
"When I do meet a lady, I can look for a wedding ring but maybe she's living with a guy and there's a chance I'm going to get shot down as soon as I ask. That's no fun," I said and then paused before I resumed. "I don't know if this lady is the real thing or a gold digger just looking for someone to bleed dry. If I take her to a nice restaurant, does she have enough class to not do something that might embarrass me? Is she going to think I'm a pervert if I try to get a good night kiss on the first date? Or, is she going to think I'm queer if I don't try to have sex on the first date?"
"Okay, I get your point," Mona conceded.
"But, it gets even better," I continued. "The second date is pretty much like the first date. When we get around to the third date, does she observe the three-date rule? Whenever we get around to developing a physical relationship, it gets worse. Most women expect men to be the aggressors in bed, so I can't just wait for her to make a move on me. When I start trying to get amorous with her, she's probably not going to tell me what turns her on, so . . . do I stick with the missionary position or go for something a little different? Do I try to impress her with my oral skills or will that make her feel obligated to reciprocate, and maybe she's not interested in that. If I suggest anything else, is she going to get turned on or will she think I'm a pervert from the word 'go?'"
"So, what do you do?" Mona asked.
"Well, you can have conversations about those things in advance and try to get some idea of what to expect," I answered her, "but, with most women, I have a sense that they wouldn't be comfortable with it, so I never make the suggestion."
"Very clever, Jack. So . . . how do you feel about having that conversation with me?"
"Well, if I thought you wouldn't be receptive, I wouldn't have gotten this far with talking about it," I explained. "Since we have gotten this far, I'm going to assume that you want to have that kind of conversation so . . . you want to take turns asking questions?" I asked.
"Sure," Mona responded. "Do you want to put any subjects off limits for tonight?"
"No, not unless you do," I suggested. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."
"No . . . nothing's off limits tonight. So I'll ask the first question. How do you want this date o end tonight?"
"Well, I'm very attracted to you, so I'd love to be intimate but . . . I wouldn't want you to think that's all I'm interested in. And . . . if you got in bed with me tonight, it would feel good, physically, but I'd think that maybe I had misjudged your character. I don't think that's the kind of girl you are . . . unless I'm just misjudging how horny you are, or maybe I'm such a special guy that you'd make an exception for me. I hope you don't think less of me for admitting to my desires but . . . I'm just telling you how I feel."
"No, there's much to be said for honesty and candor," Mona assured me. "Okay, now, ask me a question."
"Okay. How long do you feel a couple should wait before becoming intimate, assuming that they're going to be more than just casual fuck buddies?"
"Excellent question. I don't follow the three date rule because I think it depends on the individuals involved," she began.
"I get that," I interrupted, "but I really had you and me in mind and not a hypothetical couple."
"I'm very attracted to you and it's been a long time since I had a sexual partner, and I'd really love to feel you in me tonight, but I don't want you to think less of me, so it's pretty unlikely that I'd want to do it on our first date," she confided. "My turn again. What's the wildest thing that you enjoy in bed that you're afraid I'd think is weird?"
"That's an easy question but . . . do you really want to hear the answer?" I asked.
"Well, I did ask the question," she hinted.
"Okay. This is something that would never be a deal breaker for me, I mean, I can certainly live without it, but I've enjoyed it a few times in the past: anal sex."
"I don't think that's totally weird. I mean . . . I've tried it a few times in the past but I never really got anything out of it and . . . it wasn't exactly painful but it was sort of uncomfortable. So, I don't know if I'd want to try that again."
"I've done it with a couple of women in the past and both of them swore they had very hard orgasms from anal sex. I think a lot of guys don't realize that they need to use a lot of lube and start out slow and gentle, but if you do, well . . . they never said anything about it hurting I thought they had orgasms and . . . the bottom line is, they asked to do it again," I explained.
"Well, I don't think I'd want to do that the first time we were in bed," Mona cautioned me, "but maybe we could do it if I had a few drinks first so I was relaxed. So, it's your turn to ask me a question, but I think I know what you're going to ask me."
"Yeah, lucky guess. What's the wildest thing you want to do in bed that you're worried I'll think it's kinky?"
"Yeah, I saw that one coming. So . . . quite a few years ago, I had a boyfriend who let me blindfold him and tie him to the bed and then I could do whatever I wanted to him, you know, within reason, like no hot wax dripping on him, nothing that would cause pain. Oh, and I love to give oral sex . . . and I swallow. How about you?"
"Why, yes, I think I'd love to have my tongue inside of you and lick and suck on you until you cum real hard. Yes, I fancy that, maybe at the same time you're going down on me. And, by the way, I have the opinion that women who like to talk about sex . . . really enjoy sex . . . a lot . . . hot, wild, steamy, uninhibited sex." I paused for dramatic effect, as if a pause was necessary to add drama to this conversation, and then reminded her, "It's your turn to ask a question."
"Okay. How hard are you right now?" Mona asked unabashedly.
"Harder than titanium steel. How wet are you?"
"Dripping," she responded. "Tell me something else you think is a little kinky."
"Okay . . . I'd really like for you to take off your panties and let me smell your juices."
"Really?" she asked. "Okay."
We were standing near the edge of the water. There was another couple maybe fifty yards further down the beach. Mona looked at them, then turned and walked up towards the dunes, and found a place where there were some palmettos that provided some visual cover. It appeared that she was pulling her dress up just enough to reach under and it certainly looked like she was removing her panties.
She walked back down to me and held her hand out. "I made sure they were really wet before I pulled them down."
In her hand was a pair of bikini panties. I accepted her gift and brought them to my face. Her panties were very damp and the odor of an aroused woman was unmistakable. I inhaled deeply.
"You can't imagine how much that turns me on!" I said. "I'd love to be exploring between your legs with my tongue . . . right now."
"Jack, my nipples are hard and my pussy's wet. I need some release and I'm sure you do, too, but . . . you said you wouldn't respect me as much if we did it on our first date."
"No, no, no. I didn't really mean that," I claimed. "I'd really respect you if I could come inside your pussy and feel your hard nipples against my chest. Just tell me that you don't do this on every first date."
"No, of course I don't, but you already told me how you feel and I heard you say something about not just wanting to be fuck buddies. So . . . no horizontal mambo tonight . . . but . . .." Mona apparently enjoyed teasing men, or, at least, she was enjoying teasing me.
"But what?" I insistently asked.
"Jack, have you ever masturbated while you watched your partner doing the same thing?"
"No, but if that's an option tonight . . . if that's my only option . . . I'd love to give it a try."
"Then why don't we go back to your apartment and you can give me another glass of wine and that's probably all it'll take for me to drop my dress and finger myself while you watch."
"Let's go," I suggested.
We returned to my car and headed home. We stopped and got another bottle of wine, then resumed the journey to my bedroom.
When we got to my apartment, I remembered my manners and opened the car door for her. When she swung her legs to the side to exit her car seat, I got a flash of her pussy, as she had not put her panties on. I know she had not put her panties back on because they were in my pants pocket.
"Jack, you're being a bad boy looking at my private parts on the first date!" Mona facetiously chastised me.
"I'm not looking at your private parts, Mona, I'm looking at your pussy, and I like what I see. Besides . . . I think you like me being a bad boy," I responded, "don't you?"
When she got out of the car, she reached for my hand and we walked through the parking lot hand in hand.
Once we were in my apartment, I poured us both another glass of wine.
"Shall we toast?" Mona asked.
I raised my glass in her direction and said, "Here's to having your panties in my pocket!"
"I'm happy for you, but . . . I'd rather have something of yours - something hard and throbbing - inside something of mine that's hot and wet," Mona replied in a blatantly seductive voice.
"I think I have an answer to our dilemma of not having sex on the first date, if you're interested," I announced.
"I'm very interested," she admitted.
"Our first date is going to be over in about 10 seconds and you are going to walk out of that door. About five seconds later, you can knock on the door and I'll let you in to start our second date. What do you think?" I asked with some small amount of pride for my clever solution to our problem.
"I think I like the way you think," Mona said, and I felt encouraged. "I bet I'm going to like the way you do other things, too!"
"Only one way to find out," I challenged her.
"Okay, but before we go ripping each other's clothes off . . . Jack, you can tell that I don't have big boobs. In fact, they're just 34-B's and, well . . . I've had a guy point at my chest and laugh when I got naked and you can't imagine . . .."
I put my arms around Mona and held her body tightly against mine. "No, I can't imagine, but if you can give me the guy's name and address, I'll make sure he has a very miserable rest of his life."
"You don't need to do that. All of that happened about 10 years ago and I heard that he died in a car wreck a few years back. But . . . you do get some points for making the offer," she said with a laugh and a brave smile.
"Okay, now this is just you and me here, and we need to be very open and honest with each other. I know you don't have big boobs . . . and I can't wait to lick and suck on them. I really can't stand 'watermelon tits' and I'm glad you're not overly endowed. You've got enough to make me very happy, and, you know . . . I'm not hung like a horse. Hell, I'm not even hung like a Great Dane . . . but I am big enough to reach all the right spots and I promise that I'll try to make sure that you feel just as good as I do. By the way, it's not microscopic, either, uh . . . I guess I'm about 5½ inches when I get bonified. But, the point is, how you use your equipment is much more important that how much equipment you have. Understand?"
"Why are you acting so terrific?" she asked. "I've never had a guy act like this."
"Well, honey, I don't know about other guys, but I do know that the Golden Rule is a pretty fine way of having good relationships. I wouldn't want you laughing at my willy and, the truth is, I really am much more turned on by small and medium-sized breasts. Floppy, flabby jugs don't do a thing for me. So, I accept the fact that you aren't built like some Hollywood silicone-enhanced starlet and you seem to be okay with the fact that I'm not hung like a porn star, so how about we stop talking?"
"Okay. Well, I guess I need to leave so our first date'll be over," Mona said.
"Okay. See you later," I said.
Mona and I walked to the front door and embraced in a very passionate kiss. "It was one hell of a first date, Miss Mona. It was award-winning!"
"Ditto," she responded. "See you soon."
I opened the door and she stepped out. I closed the door behind her and waited. About two seconds later, I heard her knocking.
"Who is it?" I asked in a sing-song teasing voice, then I jerked the door open, pulled her inside, and slammed the door shut. I began another hot and tongue-filled passionate kiss while my hands freely roamed over Mona's delightful body.
"I could rip the clothes off your body right here or we could retire to the bedroom and perhaps you would allow me the pleasure of undressing you," I offered.
"Yes, I want you to undress me, please," she responded.
I held her hand and led her into my bedroom. I turned on a night light in the adjoining bathroom so that there was very dim ambient lighting in the bedroom.
I returned to the bedroom and stood directly in front of Mona. I held both of her hands and looked into her eyes. "Fucking is what lesser creatures do. A woman like you deserves to be loved and to have a man make love to her. I want to make you cum with my fingers and then I want to make you cum with my tongue. Then, I want to be inside you and I want to feel you cumming when I release my seed inside you. Then, I'd like to roll over and go to sleep with my arms around you . . . but I know you have a daughter at home and you need to be there when she wakes up in the morning. So . . . afterwards, I'll walk you home and then I'll go to sleep and dream about having my arms around you."
"Undress me, please!" she requested.
I reached behind her and found the tab for her zipper. Most women savor the build-up and anticipation of sex and a slow seductive foreplay makes sex so much more intense. I slowly inched the zipper down until it reached the extent of its travel. I put the tip of my middle finger between the two sides of the zipper and found the soft, warm skin in the small of her back. I lightly traced circles at the bottom of her spine and then brought my finger slowly upwards until I was at the middle of her back. Then, I extended all of my fingers and used the palm of my hand to pull her body towards mine.
Our lips met and I kissed her with intensity. "I want you!" I said with urgency.
I pulled away from her and then pulled on the shoulders of her dress and lowered it until I could simply allow it to drop to the floor.
"You're not wearing any panties!" I said. "Do you want to be a bad girl, Mona?"
"It's been so long!" she said. "I need it bad!"
I reached behind her and unfastened the clasp of her bra. That, too, soon fell to the floor and Mona was in my arms nude.
"Now you're naked and I'm not. Why don't you do something about that?"
Mona nodded her head. She unfastened my belt and removed it from my waist. She began unbuttoning my shirt. When she reached the bottom of my buttons that were visible, she unhooked my pants and lowered the zipper so she could reach the last shirt button.
She pulled the shirt away from my torso and then she knelt in front of me, reaching down to remove my socks and shoes. A simple tug on my pants and they slid over my hips and fell to the floor. I stepped out of them and all that remained was my boxers. There was an obvious tent in my underpants.
"You look rather excited," Mona commented.
"I am rather excited," I acknowledged.
Mona was still on her knees as she pulled my boxers down. My stiff dick sprung up in her face. She raised her hand up to fondle my balls and she began to lick the underside of my hard shaft. After a few lollipop licks, she began moving her tongue in circles around the crown of my man meat and then she swallowed me whole.
Mona was in no danger of gagging or suffocating but her mouth was full. She began moving up and down on my unit but I stopped her after a few seconds.
"That feels wonderful, baby, and I'd like to have you finish that another time, but I want to save that for somewhere else tonight. Lay down on the bed," I requested, and she complied. "Earlier tonight, you offered to let me watch while you did yourself. I hope that offer is still open."
Mona nodded her head affirmatively. She brought both hands up to her breasts and began playing with her nipples. "Do you like my little boobies?"
"Mona, every square inch of your body is a beautiful treasure and I'm going to suck on those boobs in just a few minutes . . . and I'm going to love it."
I scanned her body with my eyes and tried to absorb the beauty of the treasure before me. Mona's pussy was shaved clean and she wasn't one of those 'full bloom' girls with the inner lips that protrude. On Mona, all that was visible was a simple slit. Her nipples were hard. They were a medium brown color and stood about ¼" from her small, rosy pink areolae. When she stood, her breasts were the size of small oranges and I wanted to touch them so badly! But I also wanted to watch her bring herself to orgasm and I knew she'd stop if I started to touch her in any way.
Mona placed her right hand between her legs and she started stroking up and down the slit between her pussy lips. She raised her legs up so that the heels of her feet rested on the edge of the mattress. This had the effect of changing the angle of her pelvis so that her little anus was now almost exposed to me.
"Mona, how often do you play with yourself?" I asked.
"All the time," she replied. "I'm a horny little girl and I need it almost every night." She continued to massage her left boob with her left hand while her right hand kept busy between her legs.
"Do you usually use your fingers or a toy?" I asked.
"If I'm in bed, I have a vibrator I like but . . . sometimes I do it in the shower and I use the shower head on my pussy. But . . . I'd rather have you inside me."
I could see that Mona was getting wet and her nipples had been hard since her bra had hit the floor. "You're wet. When I penetrate you, I want to have all of my dick buried in your hot pussy. Put your finger inside your pussy now, show me how you want to be fingered."
Mona slid her hand down until she could extend her middle finger and plunge it in her love hole. As soon as her finger was in her, I could hear her breathing getting ragged and raspy.
"You're close, aren't you? Are you thinking about the way my finger's going to feel when I do that to you?" I asked, then paused. "Or are you thinking about the way it'll feel when my tongue sets your clit on fire?"
"Yeah, I need it . . . all of it?"
"Are you a naughty girl, Mona? Do you ever touch yourself . . . back there?"
"Sometimes," she admitted.
"Do you want me to help you get off now?" I asked. She simply nodded her head affirmatively.
I knelt by the side of the bed, directly in front of her pussy. "Put your feet in my shoulders," I told her. She was very good at following my directions.
I had a tube of K-Y which I had retrieved from the bedside stand. I opened it and applied a little bit to the tip of my right middle finger. I then placed the K-Y tube on the floor and turned my attention to Mona. I reached down with my left hand and pulled her butt cheeks apart, then I placed the tip of my right middle finger on her anus.
As soon as she felt my fingertip, she began thrusting against my finger, trying to get my finger into her ass. When it became obvious that she wanted more penetration, I have her what she wanted and slid my finger, up to the second knuckle, inside her ass. I then began thrusting in and out while also twisting my finger to one side and then the other.
Mona had speeded up her hand so that she was stroking her clit very rapidly and almost roughly. She began to arch her back upwards and I knew he was starting to cum.
"Oh fuck, yeah! Oh, yeah!" she said.
I felt her ass contracting in waves, squeezing my finger and then relaxing. After four or five waves of anal orgasm, I slowly pulled my finger out of her cute little behind. I put my hands behind her knees and pushed them back towards her chest, then I bent forward and put my tongue directly on her hot clit.
I sucked the little nubbin onto my mouth and held it between my teeth while I licked little circles around it. This caused Mona to start cumming again and, while she was rocking from the second wave of orgasmic bliss, I placed my finger on her little pink pucker and lightly traced circles without making any efforts to again penetrate her sacred sphincter.
Suddenly, I felt her ass cheeks squeeze together and she begged me, "Stop! Please! I can't breathe!"
Obviously, she was breathing, but I understood that she had become so sensitive that her orgasm was probably teetering on the border between pleasure and pain. I released her clit from between my teeth and I ran my tongue down between her pussy lips, over her perineum, and then I allowed it to linger on her anal ring before I withdrew from the playground.
"Holy fuck!" she uttered. "That was so fucking hot. I haven't cum that hard since . . . I can't remember ever cumming that hard before."
"And we're not finished," I said. "Not until I cum inside your cute little pussy."
Mona slid around in the bed so that her head was on a pillow and her feet were at the bottom of the bed. "Come and get me!" she challenged me.
"How do you want me in you? Like, what position do you like?" I asked.
"What I really want right now is the good old-fashioned missionary position, man on top. I want to see your eyes when you're inside me," she said.
I lay beside her and bent over, taking a nipple between my lips. I licked like a cat lapping up milk from a bowl.
"Your boobs are perfect . . . and delicious!" I declared.
I moved on top of Mona and positioned myself so that the tip of my dick was near the entrance to her pussy. She reached down between us and guided my unit and I slid forward. I felt the wetness of her pussy on the tip of my meat and then I began to feel her wet warmth as I slid in between her tight and hungry lips. She was tight, not like a teenaged virgin, but like a fit woman who does her Kegel exercises regularly.
"You feel so damn good!" I uttered. "You're so tight I may not last very long!"
As soon as I bottomed out, I reversed direction and slowly began retracting the vulvar probe. When I felt myself close to the point of withdrawal, I again changed course and began plunging into the depths of her female receptacle. I kept thrusting in and out of her at a slow pace, hoping to prolong the experience for me, and for her.
"Faster!" she implored me and I responded by slowly increasing the tempo. As I continued pistoning into her girl hole, I bent forward so that my chest rubbed against her nipples. This also increased the stimulation to her clit and the sum effect was to push her closer to another orgasm. She began softly moaning. "So good, Jack! So good!"
She looked me in the eyes and said, "I'm close. . . . Cum with me!"
As soon as she said that, I increased the pace of my thrusts so that I was now plunging into her honey hole like a jackhammer.
"You're so . . . incredible. I'm so . . . close . . . I want to cum in your pussy so bad!" I exclaimed. Her moaning got louder and quicker and I knew she was very close to her orgasm.
I felt the pressure behind my balls that signaled the impending torrent of sperm spewing from my meat. "Here it comes," I said as I felt my body beginning to release my male fluids.
I placed my lips on hers and engaged in a passionate kiss as the sperm flowed from my body and into hers. I felt her hips thrusting up to meet mine and I could feel her pussy squeezing my dick, milking the cum from my rod.
As my orgasm subsided, I stopped thrusting and I stopped kissing her.
"That was incredible . . . and you are incredible!" I exclaimed.
"Ditto!" she uttered, still catching her breath.
I lay on the bed beside her and rolled over onto my side so that I was facing her. She rolled over to face me.
"Well, so far, I think you are very sweet, nice, smart, and beautiful. Your face is stunningly beautiful and your naked body is all of my dreams come true. I know you're self-conscious about your boobs, but I think they're perfect and I look forward to having many more opportunities to lick and suck on them. Your little behind is so cute and sexy; it inspires me to be a very naughty boy. And this thing down here," I said as I placed my fingers on her pussy, "either I'm going to fuck you 'til your eyes pop out or I'm going to fuck you 'til my eyes pop out. I want you . . . all of you!"
"You've got me. I'll try to set it up so Macy spends next weekend with one of my relatives and that way I won't need to leave in the middle of the night."
"That would be wonderful," I said.
"But . . . if you're going to be a part of my life, than Macy needs to be included in some of the things we do. That's the way it is when you're a good parent," Mona explained.
"Mona, I don't have any kids of my own, but I know about good parenting, and it's one of the things I like about you. Don't feel like you need to be apologetic or even defensive about it. Besides, I've known Macy longer than I've known you!" I teased her.
"So maybe we can all do dinner together sometime during the week?" Mona asked.
"I'd love to," I responded.
We both got up and got dressed, then I walked Mona back to her apartment. It was about 1:30 am and the world was quiet. All of creation was at peace.
We reached her front door and this is where I would say 'good night.' "You know I don't follow the Guy's Playbook, right? So, here's something you're never supposed to tell a girl on the first date: Miss Mona, this was absolutely, without a doubt, the best first date that I have ever had."
"Jack, I feel the same way. A lot of folks think it's stupid, but I don't like playing those cat-and-mouse games, playing chase. I'll tell you straight up what I'm feeling or what I'm thinking. This was better that I thought any first date could ever be. You made me feel so relaxed and not . . . judged, and . . . I feel like I could open my heart to you and you wouldn't use something to attack me, you'd just try to protect me. I guess part of it is the Southern gentleman thing; I thought that was just something out of the movies, but . . . wow, you swept me off my feet."
I put my arms around her and gave her a long, warm hug, followed by a steamy kiss that would have led to more sex if we hadn't been standing outside of her front door.
"You'll call me soon?" Mona asked, apparently needing some reassurance that what was happening was real and not pretend.
"How about tomorrow late morning?" I asked.
"That would be perfect!" Mona said. "Good night."
"Good night, Miss Mona," I replied. As I walked back to my apartment, I'm not sure that my feet were actually touching the ground. I couldn't remember meeting a girl who made me feel so comfortable, so not challenged . . . so good about myself.
Sometimes, life is great.The following Wednesday night, I took Miss Mona and Miss Macy out to dinner. I didn't feel that I needed to impress Miss Mona but I did want to take Miss Macy to some place where she would feel that she was being treated like an "adult," so we went to an upscale steak house in one of the downtown hotels on the river.
Both the girls got dressed up and I walked in to the restaurant with one girl on each side of me. More than a few heads turned to check us out and the guys who made eye contact gave me that look that that says, "You lucky son of a bitch!"
I assumed that Miss Macy had never been to a restaurant like this because she seemed to be watching her mom for cues about how to act and what fork to use, etc. She obviously wanted to become skilled in the social graces (all of which I, fortunately, had learned from time in a great college fraternity.)
When she finished her meal, Miss Mona excused herself to go to the ladies' room. She asked if Miss Macy needed to go but my younger escort declined the invitation. As soon as Miss Mona was outside of hearing distance, Miss Macy turned to me and asked, "Are you going to be my stepfather?"
I was not quite prepared for that question but I am fairly good at reacting and responding quickly. "Everything that I know about your mother tells me that she would be a good wife for someone but I certainly don't know her well enough to know whether we would be a good couple. I do know enough about her to want to spend more time with her and if we both decide we are a good match, then I assume that we would talk about marriage, but that probably wouldn't happen until we had spent much more time together. And if it came to that . . . I would be honored to be your stepfather. So you'll just need to wait and see what happens."
"I'd like that, and Mom's crazy about you!" she finished just as Miss Mona returned to the table.
"So what did I interrupt," Miss Mona asked nonchalantly.
"Well . . . Miss Macy and I were talking about getting married . . ."
Miss Mona interrupted, "Don't you think she is a little bit young for you . . . and she would need to finish school first!" I sensed that Miss Mona was just teasing us.
"Well, actually we were talking about the idea of you and I getting married," I explained.
"Oh!" was the simple reply. I sensed that this was not the last I would hear on this topic.
After dinner, we returned to Miss Mona's apartment and Miss Macy had some homework to do. "Care to go for a walk?" Miss Mona asked. Her tone of voice suggested that it really wasn't a question but a request I should not refuse.
As soon as we were out the front door, she asked me about the marriage discussion. I quickly recounted what Miss Macy had asked and how I had responded.
"Well, it sounds like you handled that as well as it could be handled, but that was rude of her to put you on the spot like that," Miss Mona insisted.
"Dear, she's only 15 years old. I understand that she wants a father in her life, she senses that you and I are happy together, she likes me, and she has a very simple view of how such things happen. I wasn't bothered at all and I don't think you should chastise her if you feel the need to discuss this with her. And . . . I was very sincere in what I told her about you. We have much more to learn about each other and we don't need to be thinking about marriage now, but I'm not opposed to the idea and, so far, I like everything I know about you."
We made our plans for Miss Mona to spend the night at my apartment that Friday night. Then, we shared a very passionate kiss as we said goodbye for the evening.
* * *
Friday night came and so did I - many times!
We stayed in and grilled steaks, drank a few margaritas, then we got naked. I licked her pussy on the sofa in my living room. She gave me a blow job in the kitchen. We got in bed and did it doggy style. While we were in that position, I started playing with her little pink pucker and she started squirming with arousal. She finally asked me to fuck her in the ass and I was happy to oblige. We got in the shower together and played rub-a-dub-dub for a few minutes but the alcohol and activity had both of us drowsy.
We went to sleep with me on my back, her on her side with her head on my left shoulder and her left leg draped over my leg. We were two naked bodies perfectly intertwined, satisfied and contented.
* * *
Weeks of dating became months of dating. We were usually together for dinner one night during the week and that almost always included Miss Macy. After a couple of months, Miss Macy told her mom that she knew that she was spending nights with me when she went away to Grandma's house and she didn't want to play the charade any more. That was a relief and I started spending Friday nights and Saturday nights at Miss Mona's apartment regardless of where Miss Macy spent the night.
Initially, Miss Mona was afraid to make any noise when we made love. She didn't want Miss Macy to know what we were doing. I was fairly certain that Miss Macy knew we were doing more than kissing when the bedroom door was closed and, gradually, Miss Mona relaxed.
Everything got more relaxed. One morning, I got up early and thought it would be "safe" to go to the kitchen in just my boxers. Twenty seconds later, Miss Macy came strolling in to the kitchen. She said a very routine "Good morning" as if she was quite accustomed to seeing me in my boxers, and as if she as accustomed to me seeing her in just her panties and bra!
"Uhh . . . sorry but I didn't think you would be awake this early," I offered apologetically.
"Well, we're getting to be like a family and it obviously doesn't bother me so you don't need to apologize," Miss Macy responded. "When you're not here, mom and I sometimes run around here naked and think nothing of it." With that, she got a drink out of the refrigerator and returned to her bedroom.
* * *
Miss Macy's sixteenth birthday was in July and I sent her sixteen red roses and a pair of diamond earrings. It was a bit over the top but she loved them and I loved putting a smile on her cute little face.
Miss Macy and I had started developing a hobby together. She had a real aptitude for visual arts but she was not a particularly talented painter, sculptor, or sketch artist. When I suggested that we start studying photography together, she jumped at the suggestion. I bought each of us a 35mm digital camera, lenses, and filters, and the three of us started visiting places that presented opportunities for photography.
We went to St. Augustine, Fort Clinch, Big Talbot Island, Kingsley Plantation and other places and started practicing our skills. We both improved significantly and she even won a few awards when she entered some art contests. It was a great bonding time for us and we became even closer.
Of course, as we became more comfortable with each other, the practice of modesty in Miss Mona's apartment dwindled. I never saw Miss Macy nude or even topless but she was quite comfortable walking around in her underwear and that did not seem to bother Miss Mona. I frequently went into the kitchen in the mornings wearing just my boxers and no one thought that it was the least bit concerning. Naturally, Miss Macy was also comfortable with our relaxed attitudes on this subject. I think she was a closet exhibitionist.
At Thanksgiving, I met Miss Mona's extended family. Everyone gathered at Grandma's house for the Thanksgiving feast and to meet Miss Mona's "new" boyfriend. Her mother was actually a very nice lady who made me feel very welcome in her home. A few of her family members were somewhat nutty but every family has some.
At Christmas, Mona and Macy went with me to have Christmas dinner with my family. My father had been dead for several years. My mom, my sister, and my two brothers always had Christmas dinner together and it was a great time for Mona to meet everyone. They all loved her - of course - and start needling me about buying an engagement ring and proposing to Miss Mona.
Actually, I had started thinking about proposing to Miss Mona as our relationship had remained as smooth as silk. We rarely disagreed and, when we did, we quickly resolved our differences. We had similar tastes in food, music, entertainment, similar views on religious and political matters, had a common goal of retiring to a cabin in the North Carolina mountains, etc., and the sex was great!
To make Miss Macy feel included, I took her into my confidence and told her that I intended to propose to her mother. I asked for her blessing and consent because I needed her to accept me not just as her mother's husband, but also as her stepfather. Miss Macy was quite excited, told me that she was thrilled with the idea, and promised not to "spill the beans" on my surprise.
For New Years Eve, I took Miss Mona to a dinner and dance at the local dinner theatre. She was dressed "to kill" and I knew that every man in the place would be jealous of me when we walked in. The theatre had a big band singer and orchestra playing and we met some friends there.
After dinner, the band started playing a slow song and I got Miss Mona out on the dance floor. As we danced, I said, "My dear, the past 7 months have been the best months of my life and I sincerely hope that we will continue making each other very happy. We've formed a family and I'm proud to be a part of it. Since we're beginning a new year, it is time for us to begin a new chapter in our lives."
As I finished those last words, I released my hold around Miss Mona and I dropped to one knee. "Miss Mona, I would consider myself to be the luckiest man alive if you were my wife. Will you marry me?"
The rest of the crowd had noticed me getting down on one knee and everyone had backed away so that all eyes in the room were watching us.
"Yes, yes, yes! I'll marry you! Now get up here and kiss me!" she replied.
The room erupted in applause as I planted a passionate kiss on my fiancée. The remainder of the night passed quickly. After we said our goodbyes to my friends, we returned to my car and headed home. Miss Mona slid over in the seat and quietly said, "You can't imagine how happy I am and I want to show you how grateful I am to have you in my life, not just for me but for Macy, also. Now . . . don't get in a wreck trying to get home quicker but, when we get home, I'm going to get in bed and let you do whatever you want . . . to whatever hole you want to do it in!"
When we got home, Miss Macy - my little exhibitionist - was asleep on the living room sofa, dressed only in her bra and panties. I put a blanket over her and gave her a goodnight kiss on the forehead. Then I headed towards the bedroom.
Miss Mona was in her bathroom with the door closed. A minute later, she emerged in just her panties and bra. "Don't tell me what you are going to do. Just do it to me and make it feel good. I just want you to know how much I appreciate having you in my life, and in Macy's life! Now take me!"
I stood behind her and reached around to cup both of her boobs with my hands. "I love feeling your boobs. I love making your nipples get hard. I love sucking your little titties while I finger your pussy. I reached down with my right hand and cupped her panty-clad pussy.
"You're wet, Miss Mona. Very wet! I'm going to give you something you've been wanting for a long time!"
I reached behind her, unfastened her bra, and let it fall to the floor. I again cupped her boobs and started rolling her nipples between my fingers. "I wanna make you moan!"
I lowered my right hand and slid my fingers inside her little panties. She had obviously prepared for having sex tonight; her pussy was cleanly shaved and I did not feel any stubble at all. I teased her clit with my fingers and then brought my left hand around to her cute little behind. I groped and fondled her ass for a minute and then I slid my left hand inside her panties and down her ass crack until the tip of my finger came to rest on her cute little asshole. She immediately began thrusting her ass towards my finger while uttering soft moans of pleasure.
"Oh, baby! Do you wanna fuck me in the ass?" she asked, clearly suggesting that she wanted to feel my dick in her behind.
"Maybe I do, but you said I can't tell you!" I responded. "So I'm just going to do it!"
When I sensed that she was getting close to an orgasm, I withdrew my hands from her panties. She was standing by the side of the bed and I turned her so that her back was towards the bed. I knelt on the floor and reached up to pull down her panties. As soon as her pussy came into view, I leaned forward and began lapping at her slit.
I gently pushed her towards the bed and she sat down, then I pushed her torso so that she was reclined with her ass at the edge of the bed. I reached into the bedside stand and retrieved a slender vibrator and some KY. I turned on the vibrator and started sliding it up and down her slit, not allowing it to rest on her clit very long. I put her feet on my shoulders and she inched forward, toward the side of the bed, and her cute little pink pucker came out of hiding.
I started moving the vibrator in circles around her clit and she again started moaning softly. I then lowered my face and began licking on one side, and then the other, of her ass, gradually moving closer to the bottom of her crack and her cute little heiney hole.
When the tip of my tongue touched her pucker, she began to thrust her ass towards my tongue. Rather than prolong her agony, I decided to let her have her first orgasm of the night. I put a bit of KY on my finger, penetrated her derriere with my slippery finger, took the vibrator off of her clit and put it inside her pussy, then started sucking on her clit as I thrust the vibrator and my finger in and out of her in unison.
"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!" she cried as her arousal built in a rapid crescendo. "I'm so close, baby!"
I renewed my attack on her clit and sucked and licked as if my life depended on her orgasm. I licked up and down her gash, I sucked her juices, I twirled my tongue around her fun nubbin, and I moaned as if I was the one who was about to have an orgasm.
Within seconds, she was over the edge. She grabbed my head and held it close to her pussy. Her breathing became ragged and her body began to have rhythmic waves of contractions. "Ohhhhh!!" she moaned. "Fuuuuuck!" I felt her ass squeezing my finger, relaxing, squeezing again, until her energy was spent and she was covered with a sheen of perspiration.
I withdrew my finger and the vibrator and got on the bed, patting the bed to indicate that she should move up to be beside me. "Holy shit!" she managed to weakly proclaim as she crawled into place beside me.
I pushed her shoulder, indicating that I wanted her to roll over, and she did not have the power to resist. I straddled her ass and placed a generous amount of KY on my dick, then I took aim and rubbed the head against her back door.
"Uhhhmmmm," she vocalized, and I kept rubbing and pushing. In a few seconds, I moved past her sphincter and the head of my dick was in her ass. "Don't move for a few seconds. Let me get used to it," she requested, and I complied.
Despite her apparent arousal from anal play over the preceding six months, we had not had penetrating anal sex very often. I thought that she was willing to do it for me but really would prefer not to do it, and I was okay with not having anal sex, but if it was an option . . . hell yes, I wanted to cum in her ass!
"Okay now, go slow," she said. I began to push forward into her ass about two inches and I felt my balls resting on her butt cheeks.
"Baby, your ass is SOOO tight! You feel so good!" I whispered into her ear. "I'm not gonna stop 'til I cum inside you!"
I began to pull back but not so far that I pulled out of her. Then I reversed direction and stared pushing back into her, a little bit faster this time. "You're so beautiful, and I get so turned on by your boobs and pussy and ass. You make me feel so good!"
"Fuck my ass harder! Cum in my ass! Fill me up!"
That was all the encouragement I needed. I started thrusting more vigorously while I reached under her and grabbed her titties. Her nipples felt like steel ball bearings. Her ass squeezed me like a hand that did not want to let go! Before long, I felt the pressure building behind my balls. I was so close!
"I'm gonna cum in your ass!" I told her and within a few seconds, I felt the cum rushing through my dick, squirting into her tight ass.
"Ahhhh!" she cried and it looked like she, too, was having an orgasm from butt sex! I felt her ass pulsing in waves of contractions just like a pussy when it cums.
"So fucking good!" I uttered before my last jet of cum entered her tight little asshole.
"Oh, fuck!" she managed to say. "Fuck that was good!"
Within a minute, I went limp and her tight sphincter pushed me out. I knew that I should go to the bathroom and clean up . . . but I didn't. I was still a bit under the influence of the alcohol we had consumed earlier, I was exhausted from the anxiety of proposing, and I was exhausted from giving Miss Mona the ass fucking of her life. Within seconds, I was in dream land and so was Miss Mona.
The next morning, I got up, put on a bathrobe, and headed towards the kitchen to make coffee. Miss Macy was not sleeping on the sofa. Her bedroom door was open so I looked in to see if she was awake. She was sprawled on her bed, still in the same panties and bra, sleeping rather soundly.
About an hour later, Miss Mona woke, fixed her cup of coffee, and joined me on the sofa in the family room. She put her arms around me, gave me a nice kiss, and said, "Good morning, Mr. Landis!"
"Good morning, Mrs. Landis!" I replied.
"We can 'celebrate' some more tonight but I need to get some food in my stomach. I'm a little bit hung over. And . . . it's the damnedest thing but . . . it feels like," and she lowered her tone to a whisper as she continued, "it feels like I got fucked in my ass last night! I can barely sit down!"
"It probably feels that way because . . . I did fuck you in your ass!" I whispered in response.
"Mr. Landis, you are a naughty, naughty boy!" she pretended to chastise me.
"If I may be so presumptuous as to call you Mrs. Landis . . . my dear, you begged me to fuck your ass and you wouldn't allow me to stop until I came in your cute little behind, so . . . I think YOU are the naughty one! But . . . I LOVE that in a future wife!" I paused, then asked, "Does it really hurt, dear?"
As I finished that question, we both heard the flush of a toilet that indicated Miss Macy was awake and in motion so we reigned in the sexual banter. When she walked into the family room, Miss Mona called her over to the sofa and then held her hand up to show off her engagement ring.
"Congratulations, Mom!" she said. "When's the wedding?"
"Well, we just got engaged last night so we really haven't had a chance to talk about any details. I'm sure we'll all start planning this together in the next several weeks."
"Does this mean we'll all start living together? Maybe in a house instead of an apartment?"
"Is that what you want, sweetie?" I asked.
"Of course it is!" she exclaimed. "I want us to be a happy family and . . . do you think maybe I'll get a baby brother or sister?" she asked with a teasing twinkle in her eye.
"No, I meant would you rather live in a house than an apartment?" I asked teasingly.
"Well, there are some cute guys at the pool here, but I can't go skinny dipping in the pool here!"
"Who says we'd get a house with a pool?" I continued my teasing?
"And who says you'd be allowed to go skinny dipping?" Miss Mona asked with a slightly more serious tone in her voice.
"Well, if I went skinny dipping when you two weren't home, you'd never know about it, would you?" Miss Macy quickly replied. "But, first, we need to get you two married! Can we go shopping today?"
"Well, we could," replied Miss Mona, "but today is New Year's Day and everything is closed! Let's enjoy the day and we can start thinking about a date for the wedding."
* * *
In the following months, Miss Mona and I selected a date and a place for the wedding and reception and everything else was planned by Miss Mona and Miss Macy. They were both very excited and nothing gets the estrogen flowing like planning a wedding! I understood that my role was to simply provide a credit card and check book and show up at the chosen place and time.
Miss Mona decided to have Miss Macy serve as her maid of honor. If she had not done that, I probably would have had Miss Macy be my best man! Instead, I chose my best friend from college. Ken lived about 5 hours away so Miss Mona and I found a long weekend, took an extra day off of the work week, and we visited Ken and his wife. Ken and I caught up on old times while Miss Mona and Ken's wife got acquainted.
Miss Macy actually volunteered to be the wedding photographer and I thought she would probably do a decent job but I did not want to put any pressure on her. I wanted her to be able to participate in the wedding and enjoy it so I explained all of that to her and she was fine with my decision, perhaps because I also emphasized that I was very proud of how well she had progressed with her photography.
I continued to sleep over at Miss Mona's on weekend nights but stayed in my own apartment during the week. Miss Mona and I continued to have a great time together and we included Miss Macy in many of our activities. Miss Macy had an active social life and there were boys who took her on dates but they never lasted very long. Despite the lack of a long term boyfriend, Miss Macy seemed to be very happy.
The wedding was scheduled for July. Miss Mona and I would be able to enjoy a honeymoon before she needed to return to work in August. Miss Macy would stay with her grandmother while we were away. When we returned, we would start looking for a house to buy. Everything was discussed and planned and life seemed rather perfect.
You may be thinking that this all sounds too perfect and that, certainly, something ominous must be lurking behind the pages of the calendar. No, everything was happy, we were becoming a stronger family unit - even before the wedding - and all was well with us.
When the school year ended, Miss Macy got a job working in a boutique at the mall. She spent all of her money on clothes and became ever more of a girly girl. I could see that the transformation from little girl to young woman had begun and I was proud to claim her as my future step-daughter. We continued working on our photography hobby and I could easily imagine her becoming a professional photographer.
We found a house that was big enough for the three of us, big enough for some serious entertaining, and it had a large, landscaped pool with a stucco privacy fence. I know Miss Macy was happy about the pool and her large bedroom. Miss Mona was happy that the house had enough rooms to dedicate one to being a home office and she also loved the kitchen. What I loved the most was that my girls were happy! We closed on the house about a month before the wedding and we all moved in immediately.
The wedding was a blowout affair. Miss Mona had excellent taste and she had put much time and energy into planning the day. We had a church wedding and a reception at the Ribault Club, an elegant but not pretentious facility on Ft. George Island. Miss Mona was absolutely beautiful and Miss Macy looked like a fashion model! We had a great live band, a wonderful caterer, a bartender who really knew her stuff, and even the old dinosaurs in attendance got down and boogied!
I had a father-daughter dance with Miss Macy and she went overboard telling me how happy she was and that she knew her mom was happy and then she said that the absolute best part was that she had introduced the two of us . . . and she was right! I kissed her on the forehead and told her that the day I met her was the second best day of my life. She smiled and then she kissed me on the cheek and whispered, "Me, too!"
Miss Mona's mom came and stayed at our house with Miss Macy while we were on our honeymoon, so we didn't need to worry about wild parties and adolescent debauchery while we were away. Instead, we simply enjoyed our Caribbean cruise and we had more sex than a Hindu whore house! We had passionate sex, we had hot sex, we had wild sex, and we had kinky sex. I was sad to see the week come to an end, but it did. Our ship returned to home port and we were ready to get in our car and drive home. We both missed Miss Macy!
Miss Macy was glad to see us and grandma was glad to be able to return to her home. We all went out to dinner that night to celebrate the first night that we were together as an "official" family. Then we went home and Miss Mona and I slept quite soundly.
* * *
Miss Mona was just as wonderful after our marriage as she had been before our marriage. She was an honest, faithful, and dedicated partner, a beautiful woman, and as horny as a woman can be. She kept me happy in every way that a man can expect. She wanted sex 3 or 4 times every week and I was very happy to respond to her needs.
Miss Macy became like a daughter to me. She asked my permission to do things, she occasionally sought my advice, and she and I occasionally went out to dinner when Miss Mona had an obligation in the evening. She didn't call me "Daddy" when she was talking to me but when I overheard her talking to her friends, she referred to me as "her Daddy." Every time I heard that, I smiled.
Things got even more relaxed around our house. There was never any nudity but seeing Miss Macy in her bra and panties became quite the norm and Miss Mona also frequently walked around the house in her underwear, sometimes topless. I was a bit more reserved only because I did not want anyone to learn what was happening in the privacy of our home and twist it into a story about me exposing myself to a teen girl and especially a teen girl who was not my daughter. I know that it is silly that guys must worry about such things but it is a sometimes silly society in which we live.
Yes, Miss Macy knew that she had me wrapped around her little finger and I really didn't care. She had lived most of her life without a father and she deserved some pampering and extra attention. A week after we returned from the honeymoon, we celebrated Miss Macy's seventeenth birthday. I took her on a shopping spree and she spent some major bucks on clothes but I'm sure that, within the following weeks, she began to get lots of mileage out of being the best dressed girl in the senior class.
In October, it appeared that Miss Macy was getting a serious boyfriend and Miss Mona got her daughter started on birth control. His name was Jason and he seemed like a good kid. He was one of the academic kids, well mannered and very sociable. Despite his pleasant appearance and good manners, I was convinced that he was very interested in pulling down Miss Macy's panties. I guess the overprotective father in me reacted with a bit of anger and resentment. I tried to keep those feelings to myself because nothing good would come from revealing them to Miss Macy and . . . up until now, she had been a really good kid. As far as I knew, Miss Macy was still a virgin, and the resident Mama Bear had the same impression about Miss Baby Bear.
Miss Macy was rarely home on Friday and Saturday nights and Miss Mona and I had the house to ourselves. We had a heater on the pool so we could use it into late November. Quite often, on a Friday night, we would come home and grill steaks, have a few Margaritas, and then go skinny dipping in the pool. Of course, that always led to sex but not in the pool.
If you have ever seen movies that showed a couple having sex in the pool, it looks like it would be a great place for sex. The reality is that water washes away a woman's natural lubrication so penetration is much more difficult when you are in the water. We usually went from the pool to the shower - together - where we played rub-a-dub-dub with our naked bodies and then we got in bed and went wild. On a few occasions, we had sex in the shower (I would temporarily turn off the water) and once or twice, we just got out of the pool and had sex on the pool deck.
By the time that Christmas arrived, Miss Macy had broken up with Jason. She didn't seem very upset by the breakup and she started dating a few other guys but nothing that was very serious. Miss Mona and I decided to take Miss Macy with us to Charleston for the week after Christmas and the three of us had a great time. If you have never been there, it is a charming city, a very welcoming place for visitors, and a fun destination.
* * *
On March 14, around 10:30 am, my secretary - Miss Darcy - told me that there was some breaking news alert about Miss Mona's school. I turned on the local news and heard that Miss Mona's school - Englewood Middle School - was on lockdown and there were reports of gunshots being heard at the school. The immediate suspicion was that a student had brought a gun to school and was running loose, shooting at whoever came into view.
I immediately got in my car and rushed to the school. Of course, the police had a perimeter barricade established and I was not allowed to enter. Still, I was close enough to hear what was happening and to watch the little bit of first responder traffic that was entering and leaving the school. At one point, I saw an ambulance entering the perimeter and then rushing away with sirens blaring just a few minutes later.
Shortly afterwards, I received a call from a number that caller ID said was the Jacksonville Sheriff's Office. I answered it before the second ring, afraid to hear whatever news the caller had for me. "Hello, this is Jack Landis," I answered.
"Mr. Landis, this is Lt. Roberts with the Jacksonville Sheriff's Office. I'm very sorry to have to tell you that your wife has been shot in the shooting at Englewood Middle School. She's in an ambulance en route to University Hospital on Eighth Street. She's alive but she appears to be in very serious condition. Would you like for me to have a patrol car pick you up and take you to the hospital?"
"Yes, I'm not sure I would be very safe behind the wheel right now. I'm at the intersection of Spring Park and Spring Glen Road."
"Stay there and I'll have Sgt. Acosta pick you up in about two minutes. Mr. Landis, your wife is a very brave woman!"
Sgt. Acosta arrived very quickly, put me in his front seat, then turned on the blue lights and siren and started racing to University Hospital. Fortunately, there wasn't much traffic on the interstate. While we were en route, Sgt. Acosta told me that my wife had apparently been shot while trying to protect her students. The police had shot and killed the shooter and were in the process of searching the school just to verify that there was not more than one shooter on the scene.
While he and I were talking, I remembered Miss Macy and asked if she could be picked up and brought to the hospital. He promised that he would go to her high school and get her just as soon as he dropped me off at the emergency room.
I entered the University ER and was told that Miss Mona had immediately been taken into surgery. I was taken to the surgery waiting area, I fixed a cup of coffee, and then I sat and began crying. After the passage of some time - it felt like an eternity - I felt a presence near me and I looked up and saw Miss Macy.
She was standing in front of me and I immediately rose and put my arms around her. Her quiet sobs turned into anguished cries and all I could do was to hold her in my arms. I could think of no words that would possibly comfort her so I said nothing.
About twenty minutes later, a surgeon approached us. "Are you Mr. Landis?" he asked.
"Yes," I responded, "and this is my daughter, Miss Macy."
"Mrs. Landis was barely alive when she got to the hospital. She had two gunshot wounds, one to the chest and one to the abdomen. She had suffered a very heavy loss of blood and we began immediate transfusions. The chest wound involved a rupture of the pulmonary artery and we immediately began procedures to repair that but Mrs. Landis went into hypovolemic shock and, despite our best efforts, we couldn't save her. I'm very sorry but she passed away about 10 minutes ago."
I remained silent for a moment, trying to absorb the enormity of the realization that I would never again see Miss Mona. Finally, I managed to say, "We appreciate your efforts. Thank you," I heard myself saying but it felt tremendously unreal to me. Miss Macy looked at me as if the world had just ended. Within seconds, we were both crying like babies. I was holding her and she was holding me. We cried forever and then we cried some more.
When we stopped crying, the hospital staff again spoke to us. Under state law, all homicides require an autopsy of the victim. The staff estimated that the autopsy could be performed within the next 12 hours. After that, they would be able to transfer the body to a funeral home and they asked for my preference.
Later that day, we learned that the shooter was a student at the school. He had recently expressed a romantic interest in one of the female students and she had rebuffed his attention. The female student was in Miss Mona's third period class and that is when the male retrieved a gun from his locker and proceeded to Miss Mona's classroom. Miss Mona had immediately tried to talk him down from his bitter need for revenge but he was undeterred. She then used her body to shield the girl from her attacker and that is when she got shot. By that time, the school security officer was approaching the classroom and the shooter ran without ever firing at his intended victim so Miss Mona had, in fact, been successful at saving the young girl's life.
Fortunately, a friend of mine had recently retired and he offered to fill in at my office while I dealt with all of the consequences of this horrible, horrible tragedy. The next few days were an absolute nightmare. I had to notify all of her family and my family, make funeral arrangements, and console Miss Macy. And, when I had a moment that was not consumed with some responsibility, I cried.
I had experienced many relationships in my past that were okay but none that compared to what I had with Miss Mona. No one would ever replace Miss Mona.
The night of March 14, after all of the family and friends had left and Miss Macy and I were finally alone, we sat on the sofa in silence. She just leaned towards me and buried her face in my chest and I kept my arms around her.
After a few minutes, I suggested that it was bedtime for both of us. She gave me a tight hug and told me that she was glad that she still had me in her life. I kissed her on the forehead and then sent her upstairs to get ready for bed. I went to my bedroom, got undressed - except for my boxers - brushed my teeth, etc. I then walked down the hallway to check on Miss Macy. She was in her bed but I could hear her crying.
I walked to her bedside and placed my hand on her shoulder.
"Daddy, will you lie down with me and hold me?" she asked. How could anyone refuse that request? I lifted the covers and slid into her bed, snuggled up behind her, and put my arms around her.
"Close your eyes, sweetie," I suggested to her, "I'll stay with you until you fall asleep." Within seconds, we were both asleep.
* * *
When I woke up the following morning, I was still in bed with Miss Macy. The preceding night, I had not noticed, but she was wearing only her panties and a t-shirt. Seeing her like that made me think of how cute she was, both physically and emotionally, and how much this sweet girl did not deserve to lose her one remaining parent at such an early age. I eased out of bed so that I would not wake her, got dressed, and went to the kitchen to fix a cup of coffee.
The day was a blur of activity and, fortunately, it finally came to an end. Just like the previous night, I went to check on Miss Macy, she was crying. Again, she requested that I lie down and comfort her and we spent a second night in bed together.
* * *
The funeral was the most attended funeral I have ever seen. There were hundreds of students, teachers, administrators, friends, elected officials, Miss Mona's family and friends, Miss Macy's friends, my family and friends, professional acquaintances, and others who simply wanted to pay their respects to a brave woman. Miss Mona's death had actually received some attention from the national media and even more attention from the statewide media. Even the Governor attended the funeral!
Throughout the day, Miss Macy was by my side constantly. If I turned away from her for a moment, she soon felt my absence, searched for me, and then resumed her vigil by my side. We held hands at the graveside as we touched the coffin and said goodbye. I thought that Miss Macy was going to collapse and I promised myself that I would be strong for her.
As we turned away from the grave and headed towards our car, Miss Macy's grandmother suggested that Miss Macy could come live at grandma's house. Her sense of timing was absolutely awful but I knew that she meant well. Before I could respond and suggest that we consider that idea at a later time, Miss Macy said that she still had a home with me and she tactfully declined the offer. Grandma understood and I assured Miss Mona's mother that Miss Macy and I would visit her on a regular basis.
* * *
In the coming weeks, Miss Macy and I had several discussions. I told her that, although she was not my daughter in any legal sense, I loved her like a father loves a daughter and I would certainly treat her as I would treat a daughter. She could continue to live with me for as long as she wanted to do that. I assured her that I could easily get a custody order that would satisfy the legal requirements and that, obviously, when she turned 18 in four months, she would legally be an adult and would have the legal right to make decisions for herself.
After a week away from school, Miss Macy resumed attending for her final months of high school. The months that should have been an absolute delight for her had become dreary and burdensome. She did not attend her senior prom or participate in many of the other social events associated with the final months of high school. Fortunately, she did return to her studies and kept her grades up.
She had not yet made a final decision about college. Though she had been accepted to several schools, she decided to postpone going away to college. She decided to spend at least her first year at the local state university. I must admit that, solely from a selfish perspective, I was happy to hear her decision. Having Miss Macy leave in August would have been devastating for me.
High school graduation was a bittersweet event because Miss Mona's absence was painfully obvious. Even though Miss Mona had not taught at Miss Macy's high school, the school took time to recognize Miss Mona's brave sacrifice. Miss Macy received a standing ovation as she walked across the stage and I could tell that she was crying as she received her diploma. Instead of going out to graduation parties and having fun with her friends after the ceremony, she came home and stayed in for the night.
It was obvious that Miss Macy was going to recover very slowly and I wanted to do whatever I could to speed along the process before she started her college classes in late August. I suggested that we take a 7 night Caribbean cruise in July to celebrate her eighteenth birthday and she didn't act thrilled about the idea but she didn't say no, so I had Miss Darcy book a room on one of the nicer cruise ships.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
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