My Wife Needed Every Detail About Mia, Our Daughter’s Best Friend (Jack, Ruby, Mia - Ch. 02) [M42/F40/F18] [Age Gap] [Daughter’s Best Friend] [Older Man] [Younger Woman] [Forbidden] [Family Friend] [Wife Knows] [Masturbation] [Secrets] [Exhibitionism] [Cum Swallowing] [Pussy licking] [Married]

(---SPOILERS---)

Recap of Part 1

Jack (42) and Ruby (40) are happily married, Beth (18), their daughter, is heartbroken over Christian (19), and Beth’s best friend Mia (18) comes over for dinner. Jack comes to realize Mia is looking at him differently and he finds himself increasingly attracted to her. After dinner, Jack is giving Mia a ride to her parents’ house. Mia compliments him, telling him his body feels “like warm stone, or something”. She redirects him away from her parents’ house, and lets Jack know she wants him. Jack knows he should just keep going straight, take her home; a good man, a good father would not do this. But he takes the turn anyway. What Mia doesn’t know: Ruby was aware the whole time that Jack might pursue Mia; they have some sort of a deal about her.

(---SPOILERS END---)

=======================

~~~

Sunday, June 7, 2026. Maplewood, New Jersey.

– 12:20 am

“You guys left, what then?” Ruby asked.

Jack had expected her to ask or say something to ease them into it, but of course he knew her and should have known better. “Well… small talk in the car. She was very complimentary of the fatherly work I’ve done and she talked about us.”

“Us?”

“You and me.”

“What about us?”

“She said we were cute together. That it was obvious we’re really in love.”

Ruby’s body tensed a bit then—enough for Jack to notice.

“Yeah, uh… listen. If you tell me you changed your mind or don’t feel right with this—we drop it. The whole idea. No questions—” Ruby interrupted him, aggressively grabbing him by his seashell shirt, stamping him with a smiling open-eyed kiss.

“Just excited. Tell me.” She sat back. Jack sat on the foot of the bed, facing his wife.

Mia had touched his hand, then apologized for overstepping.

“Oh, wow,” Ruby said.

“She was leading,” he said. “Or trying to.” Jack cringed at himself and laughed a bit.

Ruby knew what he meant, and said, “It’s very ‘she likes me, she likes me not’, yeah.”

“Yeah!” They shared a bit of a laugh and settled. “So, yeah, I mean, I told her it was ok to touch me and she could just call me Jack, enough with the Mr. D shit, you know?”

He told her about the laughs they had shared, Mia’s comments about his body.

“Warm stone…” Ruby repeated.

“Warm stone,” Jack shrugged, trying and failing to look humble.

“You fucking loved that, I know you did.” Ruby slapped his knee.

Jack made a purposefully girly noise, swatting her away. “OK, OK, I did, shut up!”

“Did you like her saying it?” Ruby asked, emphasizing the word ‘her’, not fully joking then.

“Yes, I did.”

“OK, what then?”

By the time they had reached the red light at Hoglund and Maine, Mia was almost done pretending. She kept looking at him, then away, working herself up to something, as far as he could tell.

“Almost at her house, then?”

“That’s right. She goes ‘turn here, it’s quicker.’ So I tell her, you know, straight is faster for sure. And she’s doing a lot of wording and gesticulating now, not really saying much, but more like delaying and working up courage. Then she stops herself. Takes a deep breath. And goes, word for word, ‘Basically, what I’m trying to say, Mr. D’—she turns to me—‘I would like to see your penis, and I think it’s better we do it on a street that is not in front of my parents’ house.’”

Ruby took a huge breath, eyes growing wilder, exhaling slowly, fingers tracing her collarbone.

“I put up a little bit of a fight, but, you know… it was sort of half-hearted. As I was pretending to object, she looked at me and played with her dress. Pulled it up a little, and slid her hands to the insides of her thighs.”

Ruby leaned her head back against the headboard, pulling one knee close to her chest. He could almost see her pussy, but the black sundress was still covering her.

“Jack…” Ruby didn’t have to say anything, Jack knew. Hot. Wrong. Words didn’t fit it right.

“So,” Ruby’s fingers were disappearing under the dress, “you turned?”

He did. Almost didn’t, having a crisis for about ten seconds. He left that out.

“Yeah.”

“Wait,” Ruby’s finger came back up, her thinking then. After a moment, she said, “Did she know I knew?”

“No.”

“Did she think you were cheating on me?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“So yes.”

Ruby looked at him, then away. They sat for a bit. Jack didn’t envy Ruby’s position. He had gone out and started the thing. If Mia didn’t want Ruby too, then consent or not, he had made Ruby the wife at home. He had no way of giving her a place in what had already happened.

And Mia had… yeah, shit, either way you cut it, Mia had betrayed Ruby.

“Well, ok,” she turned back to him now. “We knew this would have to be the way.” She meant that they couldn’t just knock on Mia’s parents’ door and ask her if she wanted to fuck them both.

“You alright?” Jack asked, not approaching.

“Mhmm,” she nodded, and he believed her. “I want to hear the rest. She asked to see your cock?”

“Yes.” Jack regrouped. “So I… I turned and we—”

“Jack?”

“Hmm?”

“You better tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

Ruby didn’t answer right away. She just looked at him.

He hated that look. The trouble with Ruby was she heard edits. And then she looked at him in a way. A way that let him know the jig was up.

“Are you leaving something out?”

“No. I mean—no, not really.”

Ruby waited.

“There was a second there at the light.”

“A second.”

“More, maybe.”

“OK.”

“I almost didn’t turn,” Jack said. After a moment he added, “I told myself to go straight. Take her home. Be a good man.”

Ruby watched him.

“I thought about Beth. You. Mia. Ron and Joan. Everybody. I thought ‘a good man would not do this’.”

“And then?”

“I turned anyway.”

They sat, Jack not knowing where to put his eyes, so he let them de-focus looking at a random crease in her dress.

Ruby nodded, slowly.

“Don’t leave those parts out.”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“Yes, you were.” Her voice was soft. She was fucking right.

Ruby’s expression relaxed. “We can’t ignore the ugly parts.”

He nodded.

“OK,” she said, leaning in, giving him a kiss, squeezing the muscle around his knees. “So you turned.”

“So I turned,” Jack told her about the dark spot under the broken streetlight, the first kiss, the touches. How quickly he could switch from guilt to sexual reminiscing. Back to being horny. As if the guilt had no weight to it at all. Was it just posturing?

As Jack spoke, sparing no detail, his wife’s fingers disappeared under the dress again. Jack knew his part in this was to sit there, tell the story truthfully, and let his wife enjoy herself. He had learned that part twenty years ago.

~~~

20 years ago, more or less.

~~~

Thursday, July 13, 2006. Maplewood, New Jersey.

– 8:40 pm

“You’re quiet,” Ruby said.

“I’m not quiet.” He had absolutely been quiet.

They were a couple drinks past dinner, two months into whatever this was, and Jack was trying to not seem too eager.

“You’ve been quiet for almost a minute.”

“I was admiring the view.”

She glanced behind her, toward the rest of the patio and the bright restaurant behind it.

“Not that view.” Great job playing it cool, stupid.

Ruby looked back at him, trying not to smile too much. “That was terrible.”

“Worked, though.”

“It did not.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m humoring you.”

“Good enough.” Jack took a drink and glanced past her shoulder. At the table near the little ficus tree, a man in a short-sleeve button-down with little anchors on it was explaining something to a woman who had clearly left her body some time ago. Jack decided it was probably insurance-related, based on nothing but the shirt.

“What?” Ruby asked.

“Nothing.”

“No, what?”

“I’m just wondering how long before a man starts ordering salmon because his doctor told him to.”

Ruby glanced back, then turned to him again.

“That’s you in 20 years.”

“Pff, come on.”

“You already have the shirt.”

“This is a good shirt.”

“It has dragons on it.”

“No, it—” Jack realized it had dragons on it. “Oh, fuck.”

They both laughed. Ruby kept laughing after he stopped, pleased with herself, one knee hugged to her chest, dress falling loose over her thigh. Jack looked away, forgetting this was not their first date and looking was OK.

The patio had gotten darker around them. Not dark-dark, just the kind of summer evening dark where everybody looked a little better and every table seemed like its own little island. Jack’s Long Island iced teas were probably doing at least some of the work on that fantasy. Somewhere inside, a woman’s loud laugh could be heard. Jack bet she was laughing at something that probably wasn’t that funny.

Ruby’s hand slid from her shin to her ankle. Then back up. Down. Was it an absent-minded move? Maybe pretending it was? On her way back up her hand went around the other side of her leg, up the calf. Again: slow.

She was still smiling, but her breathing had changed. Not much. Enough. Her eyes had gone a little unfocused, then sharp again when they found him watching.

“Ruby.”

“Jack.”

“What are you doing?”

“Having dinner.”

“We finished dinner.”

“Then I’m relaxing after dinner.”

He gave her a quiet laugh. “Right.”

Her hand disappeared behind her knee, under the loose fall of the dress.

Jack felt his own smile go stupid and helpless. “Are you—”

“Am I what?”

He looked around.

Her hand stayed where it was. Nothing obvious. Nothing anyone else could point at. But Jack saw the little tightening in her shoulders, the way her mouth softened and pressed together again.

“Ruby,” he said again, lower this time, smiling. “What are you doing?”

She leaned back in her chair. Not far. Just enough to give him a better angle if he chose to take it.

“Have a look.”

“At what?”

She tilted her head. Come on. His insecurity was speaking for him—he knew what she meant.

Jack stared at her, and she stared back, daring him, but there was something under the dare now, he thought. Something… less polished and refined. He could see it and, seeing it, understood that if he made the wrong joke, or grabbed her wrist, or looked around like she had embarrassed him… it’d be the wrong move, is the thing he sensed. He didn’t want to do any of those things anyway, not really. Only as an awkward reflex, to shoo away discomfort.

“Oh, boy,” he said, pushing his chair back. “You know what? I think my shoe’s come undone.”

Ruby’s mouth opened in silent laughter.

“Tragic,” she said.

“Could happen to anyone.”

He bent under the table.

For a moment he saw only shadow, the edge of the tablecloth, her knee, the black dress gathered in her hand. Then his eyes adjusted.

She was touching herself through her underwear.

Jack stopped breathing.

Ruby’s fingers, covered in numerous rings of various sizes and shapes, moved, slow and careful. Then she shifted the fabric aside just enough to remove any doubt about what she was doing. Her fingers slid around in circles, showing him how wet she was.

Jack made a sound he hoped could only be heard from inside his own body.

He sat back up too fast, bumping his knee on the underside of the table.

Ruby was looking at him.

Not laughing now. Not exactly. There was pleasure on her face, yes, plenty of it, but something else too. A question. Maybe even a little fear. Not fear that someone would see her masturbating. Or… not only that.

Fear of what he would do with what he had seen?

Jack swallowed.

“You OK?” she asked.

He almost laughed. She was asking him?

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m very OK.”

Her mouth moved like she was trying not to smile too much. Her hand was still under the dress. Still moving. Slower now, maybe because he was watching her face and not what she was doing.

“You’re not weirded out?”

“The way I get weirded out is by getting extremely hard, apparently.”

Ruby closed her eyes for a second, smiling through a breath.

“Good,” she said.

The waiter appeared beside the table.

Jack saw him before Ruby did. Or maybe Ruby saw him and simply decided that did not matter. Jack had no idea. The young man stopped with a trained, empty smile, paid not to see or understand too much.

“How is everything over here?”

Ruby kept going, not looking at the waiter.

Jack looked up at him.

“Oh, great,” he said. His voice sounded almost normal. “Really great.”

The waiter nodded. “Can I get you anything else?”

Jack looked at Ruby.

Ruby looked at Jack, barely present anymore.

Her breathing was faster now.

The waiter’s eyes darted from Jack to Ruby to Jack.

“No,” Jack said. “We’re good.”

“All right then,” the waiter said, already turning away, quicker than previous times.

Ruby’s shoulders dropped, free hand finding and grasping the table, rings clashing with the wood. She was in a full-body shiver now, which she tried to contain as best as she could.

Jack recognized the movement, of course. Her head coming down, along with the rest of her body, leaning on the table, eyes closed, still shivering, sounds of pleasure catching low in her throat.

Jack could have told her to stop. Could have made a joke. Could have looked around the patio again and turned this into something embarrassing, something she had done wrong.

Instead he stayed where he was.

He watched her.

That was all.

At twenty-two, he thought the test was whether he could handle how wild she was. At forty-two, he knew better. The test had been whether he could let her be, or whether he would make it about himself.

She looked up when it passed. His eyes were still on her. They laughed quietly and touched glasses like idiots.

~~~

Present day

~~~

Sunday, June 7, 2026. Maplewood, New Jersey.

– 12:40 am

“Tell me exactly what happened,” Ruby asked, losing herself in pleasure then, but listening.

He told her about Mia leaning over the console to kiss him.

“What did she look like? Her body, what was it doing?” Ruby wanted to know more, not just the mechanics. Jack had been there and experienced everything firsthand, but Ruby had to scavenge his memory for the impression.

Through all of this, Ruby touched herself under the dress.

The first time he held Mia’s face, he had felt it all at once: protectiveness, desire, guilt. Ruby asked if she had seemed scared and Jack said yes she did, but also excited and eager. Mia had seemed nervous, hopeful, a little wild. And her face had seemed so small and soft in his hands.

“Did you keep kissing?”

“No, actually. She took my hand. She licked my fingers and sucked one of them.”

“Which one?”

“Ring finger. And she sort of licked circles around the ring,” Jack saw her react to that. Not entirely negatively, but it was significant. He admitted then that he didn’t know why Mia had chosen that finger, whether the licking of the ring was something she’d done on purpose because of the marriage, on purpose because it was just hot, or in the absence of any thought at all.

“What do you think it was?”

“Honestly, I get the feeling it was maybe just hot and unplanned. But I could be wrong.”

“Did she say anything about me after that?”

Jack said no and then paused. “Not directly… but sorta. Later, I’m gonna get to it.”

Then she said “‘Mr. D?’ and I said ‘Yes, Mia?’ and she said ‘Can I see your penis?’”

“And she insists on calling it a penis, huh?” Ruby smiled with her cheeks, corners of her lips pointed down.

“Yes.” Jack paused to see if Ruby had other interruptions to get out. “I said nothing for a bit, just enjoying the moment. It was very exciting, having her ask. Having her want to see it. I don’t know if I can explain it.”

“I get it, I’m pretty sure,” Ruby was swallowing hard.

“‘I want you to see it,’ I told her.”

He tried to move quickly through the obvious parts—Mia taking out his cock, the gasp, the first lick, her mouth. Ruby let him, until his hand reached Mia’s back, then lower.

“She wasn’t wearing anything under it,” Jack said.

Ruby’s hand stopped for a moment. Eyebrow up.

“I don’t know if she planned it, hoped for it or just dressed that way for other reasons. I really want to know, though.”

“Me too.” Ruby sharply inhaled, which Jack was almost certain meant she had slid a finger inside herself more fully now.

Ruby asked Jack what Mia was saying and doing.

Ruby’s hand was moving again, and Jack had trouble looking anywhere else.

“She told me she’d fantasized about my penis since she learned how to masturbate,” Jack said.

Ruby swallowed. He told his wife that he pulled up their daughter’s best friend’s dress over her tanlined bottom. Mia’s perfect petite body in his lap, his cock almost all the way disappeared inside her mouth. “I could barely see. Let alone think. I told her she was a good girl, and that we were doing such a bad thing.”

“How did she respond?” Ruby asked.

Jack felt her attention sharpen.

“She kissed it, put it against her cheek, and said, ‘I love your cock, Mr. D.’”

“What did you think about?”

“I thought about wanting to do nasty things. I wanted to cum inside her, pick her up and fuck her, use her as an—” Jack’s shorts were filling up once more. He couldn’t find words to describe his fantasies.

“I love the darkness in you,” Ruby said as she pulled up her dress, showing her husband her hand doing circles around the opening below her clit.

Jack was ashamed of it. Feared it. But Ruby’s recognition of the darkness made him think it was OK to have thoughts, even unpalatable ones.

“I told her it was so wrong,” he said after a moment. “Though of course, I did nothing to stop it. She asked me to please let her keep going. I told her she was so young. She said, ‘I’m a consenting adult, Mr. D,’ and I asked if this was really what she wanted. She told me to touch her and find out.”

He gave Ruby the version she wanted: not just where his hand went, but how Mia moved against it. How wet she was. How sensitive. How she pushed back when he touched near her ass.

Ruby’s breathing changed at that.

“She wanted that?” Ruby asked.

“I think so.”

“She said, ‘Oh my god, I’m such a bad girl. Please make me cum, Mr. D. I want to cum so bad,’ and I called her by her name and told her she was a good girl, as she came, and as it was happening, she took my cock all the way into her throat.” Ruby’s eyes widened at that. But Jack kept going.

“She told me no one had ever made her cum.”

“What?” Ruby said, almost taking a break.

“That was my reaction too, though I kind of got it, with her age and lack of experience, maybe?”

“And she could take your entire cock? I can barely do that.” Ruby considered, still rubbing, but slowing down a bit. “I think your idea about Mia’s lack of experience might be a little misguided.”

“Maybe.” Jack paused. “After she came, she said I’d opened something in her. Still Mr. D then.”

Ruby watched him.

“I didn’t know what to say. Then she said, ‘I want to taste your cum, Mr. D.’”

“It’s hard to imagine her like that,” Ruby said, “But, fuck, it’s so…”

“Yeah, I know, baby. And she kept at it, too. She said, ‘I want your cum in my mouth. I know it’s wrong and we’re ruining our lives and we will be in so much trouble, but I need it.’ That’s what I meant earlier,” Jack said. “She didn’t say your name. But ‘ruining our lives’ meant you too, far as I could tell.”

“I see.”

“But I told her it’s OK. She didn’t hear me, I don’t think. She was only focused on one thing, she was obsessed. I’ll be honest, it was incredible. To have her want me to cum inside her so badly.” Jack touched his cock then, feeling new surges of heat.

“She kept saying she needed it. That she wouldn’t sleep if she didn’t taste it. And I encouraged her.”

“What did you say?” Ruby asked through strained breaths, rubbing herself faster now, her feet digging into the bed.

“I told her it was hers whenever she wanted it.”

Jack recoiled before saying the next part. Too private. Too ugly. But Ruby got the truth from him, that was the deal. “I told her I would sneak into her house and let her suck the cum out of me while her parents slept. I’d cum inside her any chance I got.”

He half-expected Ruby to be angry. She wasn’t. She just lost herself further and further into the story, using her free hand now to pinch her nipple, biting her lip.

“I was touching her all over her pussy and ass when I was getting ready to cum and she seemed to get back into it as well,” Jack’s ability to go into details was diminishing as he himself was reliving the story then. “I put my little finger in her ass, just the very tip of it. She groaned and I told her to take my cum and she did. I started cumming.”

Jack moved over Ruby then, taking her by the backs of the knees and pulling her down the bed.

“As I came, my finger was still in her little asshole.”

Ruby was on her back now. Jack pushed her legs up, opening her to him.

“I was pumping my cum into her throat, and rubbing her with my whole palm. Her pussy, her ass, all of it. She was so wet.”

He dripped saliva on his wife’s pussy from his opened mouth, having salivated from reliving the evening. Her hips were in the air below him, held there by his hands. Her mouth was pressed shut, lips almost white, the sound trapped in her throat.

“As I was almost done, I could feel her cumming again. She was rubbing herself against my palm.”

Jack lifted Ruby higher.

His wife’s familiar, pink, wonderful pussy and tight asshole were right there in front of him, on full display.

“We came together,” he said. “I can’t wait to make her come again, baby. I want you to see it. Feel it. I want you two together.”

Then he lowered his mouth and gave Ruby one decisive, strong, long, hot lick from her asshole to her clit.

He put her down and went back to his seat at the end of the bed.

Jack watched his wife finish the job herself, writhing on the bed, one hand tight on her breast, the other between her squeezed legs.

Jack gave her a moment to recover. As he did, he squeezed his cock. Throbbing. So soon after Mia. Surprising.

“The story’s not over, though,” Jack said.

Ruby got up, straightening her dress, giving her husband a kiss. “Please, continue.” They both laughed a bit.

“Afterward she called me Jack,” he said.

Ruby sat with that.

“After?”

“Yeah.”

“No more Mr. D?”

“No. She was normal again. Or not normal, exactly. Just… not like she’d been a minute before. Not sex-crazed. I don’t love that description of her, but I don’t know what else to call it.”

“I get it,” Ruby said. “So, Mr. D… she’s doing that on purpose. And calling it a penis as well, I think, no?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

He paused.

“I hate how much I liked it,” Jack said. “The Mr. D thing.”

Ruby’s hand rested on his leg.

“And I think she knows I like it. I think she used it because she knows.”

That was the part that made him feel sick. Or made it hotter. He couldn’t quite separate those.

“Yeah, it’s…” Ruby gestured. She seemed to agree. Not just with the shame, but with how hot this forbidden dynamic was. And what were they going to do about it anyway? Stop here?

“Honestly, I don’t want to stop. Even though we probably should,” Ruby said.

Jack said nothing. His cock was still hard as a rock, mocking his moral struggle.

“Why didn’t you go all the way with Mia?” Ruby asked.

Jack opened his mouth, then closed it again.

The answer did not come easy or clean. That meant it was liable to be honest.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Not exactly.”

Ruby waited.

“I think part of it was… what we were already doing felt like more than enough. Enough for the first time, I mean. It was already insane. It felt like we’d crossed every line there was.”

“Except the one.”

“Except the one,” Jack said. “And part of it was probably that I wanted you there for that. If it happened. When it happens. I don’t know. Maybe that’s me making myself sound better.”

“Is it?”

“Maybe. I wanted to fuck her. I definitely wanted to fuck her. I’m not going to sit here and tell you I stopped because I’m a gentleman or some shit.”

Jack stopped to think, then continued thinking out loud.

“Maybe it was hotter not to,” he said. “Leaving it there. Having something still waiting. Or maybe she asked for exactly what she wanted right then, and I gave it to her, and that was the shape of it.”

Ruby’s eyes moved over his face.

“And afterward?” she asked.

“Afterward she said she wished we could meet like that again.”

“And?”

“And I told her we shouldn’t.”

Ruby gave him nothing.

“To which Mia gave a disappointed, deflated response, nodding to agree with me. Then I told her we would anyway.”

That got the smallest breath out of her. Not a surprise, exactly. Not approval either.

Jack felt the need to explain and hated himself for it. “I did say we shouldn’t. I made sure she heard that part.”

“But you also told her you would.”

“Yes.” He’d tried patting himself on the back for some semantic bullshit. Like a fucking coward. “You’re right.” He thought for a bit. “But it’s what we wanted, right?”

Ruby looked down at her own hand, at the wedding ring, it seemed. Then back at him.

“Yes,” she said. “That was the door.”

Jack let out a breath he had not meant to hold.

“But,” Ruby said.

There it was.

“I’m not going to sit here just jacking off to the transcript forever.”

Jack knew it. He nodded. And he wanted her to join.

“No, Jack. I mean it.” Her voice stayed soft. “This was hot. Very hot. But I’m not going to become the wife you come home to with stories. I’m not going to be your audience.”

“You’re not.”

“Yeah. Not yet.”

He had no answer to that. He saw what she meant. A lot was hanging on whether Mia would be interested in Ruby as well. If she wasn’t, it’s a problem. If she was—that’s an even bigger one in some ways.

Ruby leaned back against the headboard again, calmer now.

“If this keeps going,” she said, “we have to move it forward.”

Jack nodded.

That sounded simple. Forward. Sure. Whatever the hell that meant.

“Do you feel something for her?”

Jack sat back a little.

“Yes,” he said, having taken a moment to genuinely think on it.

“What do you feel?”

“I don’t think it’s romance.”

“You don’t think.”

“No. I mean, yes. I mean I don’t think it is. It’s confusing because she’s not a stranger. I’ve known her since she was a kid. I had feelings around her before there was anything even remotely sexual in my head. Protective feelings. Fondness. Familiarity. Whatever you want to call it.”

Ruby watched him. “And now?” she asked.

“And now all of that is still there, except now I’ve had my hands on her, my cock in her mouth, I’ve made her cum. I can’t take any of that back.”

Ruby looked away at that, but not like she had been hurt.

“I mean—”

“I know what you mean.”

He believed he was telling the truth. But he had believed he would not betray Beth either, right up until he just fucking did it. He had thought about it. And then just did it. So what did his certainty mean now?

“I’m really not a fan of what this adventure is revealing about me as a man.”

That got half a smile from her.

“At least you know,” she said.

“Great.”

“And I’m right there with you, Jack.”

“At least there’s that.”

She laid her head on his lap, petting his leg.

“When do you think you’ll see her again?”

“I don’t know. We have no plans. This happened barely more than an hour ago.”

“Right.”

Ruby went quiet.

“Even without plans, she’ll come here again eventually,” Ruby said.

“Yeah, probably.”

“With Beth?”

“Most likely.”

“Alone?”

“I don’t know. Not likely,” Jack said. “Well, maybe.”

“What did you tell her about me?”

“Not much. I told her I love my wife.”

“Did she believe you?”

“I think so.”

“Does she have any reason to think I know?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

Jack watched her nod in silence. He didn’t like that particular silence. Something in it.

“I might not need to propose anything.”

“Ruby.”

“We have to make a move.”

“Agreed. But she could panic.”

“Yes. She could panic regardless.”

“She could tell Beth.”

Ruby’s expression sharpened at Beth’s name, but she did not cower. “She could already tell Beth. I more or less almost entirely trust that she won’t, though.”

Jack stared at his wife. As long as she fucking more or less almost entirely trusted her.

Ruby scared and excited him.

“I just want to see what she does,” she said.

“What do you have in mind?” he asked, more or less almost entirely certain he wasn't going to like the answer.

~~~

Monday, June 8, 2026. Maplewood, New Jersey.

– 4:18 pm

Spending time with Beth was weird now.

Mia loved her. She did. She loved her and she had fucked her father.

Not fucked. Technically. She had only sucked his dick in a car while he made her cum twice and touched her in places she had not known she wanted to be touched by anyone.

So, fine. Tomato potato.

Beth was really going through it with Christian, but Mia, bff of the year, could only think about Beth’s father and his wonderful, heavenly, thick, stupidly perfect tasty cock.

What the hell was wrong with her?

She didn’t know. Something had changed. But of course something had changed. Everything had changed. Her whole life was upside down now, and no one knew except Jack.

Beth sat beside her on the stone edge of the fountain, flicking water with two fingers, talking like the words were coming out because if they stayed in her body she would explode.

“It’s not even just that he cheated,” Beth said. “I mean, obviously fuck him forever, but it’s the lying. Like last month when I asked if something was going on and he made me feel insane for asking.”

Mia looked at her.

Really looked now.

“He said I was paranoid,” Beth said. “He said I was inventing problems because I was scared of leaving for school. And I believed him. I apologized to him. Apologized!”

Mia felt something cold move through her.

Beth laughed once, but there was nothing funny in it. “That’s the part I can’t stop thinking about. He had the real version. I didn’t. He got to walk around knowing what my life actually was, and I was out there making decisions with fake information. Made me a fucking fool.”

Christian had done the thing Mia was doing.

No. Worse. Mia was doing something way worse.

Beth turned her head. “Are you listening?”

“Yes.”

“What did I say?”

“You said he made you feel insane for asking,” Mia said. “That he had the real version and you didn’t. That you apologized to him, when it should have been the other way around.”

Beth considered that, then nodded. “Okay, fair.”

“And you are not a fool,” Mia said, emphasizing each word.

Mia had gotten lucky. She had been doing that a lot lately. Getting lucky. Making irresponsible decisions and then being allowed, somehow, to continue without having to answer for them.

Her phone was in her hand, screen black. Jack could text her, maybe? She kept thinking at the phone.

He would not text her. He couldn’t. Neither of them were that stupid. They had made no arrangements except the agreement that they would meet again.

Probably.

Hopefully.

Mia prayed, silently, for God to please let it happen again.

She had to snap out of it.

Come on. Her best friend was right there, heartbroken, venting. She couldn’t just sit there remembering Jack’s big strong hand holding her head down on his cock.

Back to reality, Mia.

Focus.

Beth. Beth. Beth. Christian. Boys. College. Gelato. Town square. Sun. Fountain. Water. Ruby walking over. Pigeon.

Ruby walking over.

Mia’s thoughts stopped so abruptly she coulda sworn they hit something.

Ruby crossed the square in a white dress, blond hair loose, sunlight catching on her arms and collarbone. She looked like she belonged there more than anyone else did. Like the benches and trees and the clock and the fountain were all falling into place around her.

She was looking at Beth.

Then she was looking at Mia.

What was that look?

Why was she here?

Act cool, stupid!

Mia turned back toward Beth too quickly.

Beth had not noticed. She was still going, “And now I keep replaying everything. I keep combing past conversations for clues I was too stupid to understand.”

“You couldn’t,” Mia said.

Beth looked at her.

“You couldn’t,” Mia said again, softer. “That’s not on you. That’s on him.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No. Seriously. If someone is hiding something from you, and they’re good at hiding it, that’s not you being stupid. That’s them lying.”

The sentence came out strong enough to sound real.

That was the worst part.

She meant it.

Beth’s eyes got wet, and Mia wanted to crawl out of her own skin.

“You’d tell me, right?” Beth asked.

Mia’s mouth went dry.

“If I was being ridiculous,” Beth said. “Or if someone was lying to me. You’d tell me.”

Mia could hear the fountain, the soft rush of water, people talking outside the café, a dog barking once from somewhere behind them.

“Of course,” Mia said.

The way Beth looked at her made her want to confess. She didn’t. Mia smiled. Apparently that was what she did now.

Lied and smiled.

“Of course I would.”

Beth nodded as her thumb wiped the wet from her eyelid. “Good.”

Mia reached over and squeezed her knee.

Ruby came and sat on the side of the fountain. Not too close to Mia. Not far either.

“How are we doing?”

“Bad,” Beth said.

Ruby nodded. “That tracks.”

“Mom.”

“What? You asked for honesty.”

“I did not.”

“It was implied, I felt.”

Beth smiled despite herself, and Mia hated Ruby a little for how good she was at that. For being beautiful and calm and funny and soft, all at once. For effortlessly allowing the world to form around her.

Ruby looked at Mia then. Just looked. Not angry. Not suspicious. Maybe not anything.

Mia’s body did not believe that.

“Hi, honey,” Ruby said.

“Hi, Mrs. D.”

Mia heard it after she said it. Mrs. D. Fuck.

“Ruby is fine, sweetie,” Ruby said.

Beth groaned. “Mom, no one calls you Ruby.”

“People call me Ruby.”

“Dad calls you Ruby when he’s annoyed.”

“And when he’s not.”

Mia examined her cuticles. Enthusiastically.

Ruby’s perfume reached her. Clean and warm. Grown-up. Expensive maybe. Or maybe Mia was assigning value to everything because she was losing her mind.

Beth pushed herself off the fountain edge. “I’m getting snacks. You guys want anything?”

“No, thanks,” Ruby said.

Mia shook her head. She was pretty sure she couldn’t move.

Ruby stayed seated at the fountain beside her.

There was no reason for Mia’s pulse to be doing what it was doing. Ruby had said nothing. Ruby knew nothing. Jack would not have told her. Why would he tell her?

Unless he had. Unless they talked.

Married people talked. Did married people talk about this? No. No normal married people talked about this.

Ruby looked toward Beth leaving, then back at Mia.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Mia said too fast. “I’m good.”

Ruby smiled a little. “You don’t look good.”

That was it.

That was death. That was the police. That was Beth crying. That was Ron killing her, Joan using it as an excuse to move to Belize. That was dying of shame right here in the square.

HOMEWRECKER.

“I’m just worried about Beth.”

“I know.”

Mia nodded.

Ruby’s eyes stayed on her.

“She loves you,” Ruby said.

“I love her too.”

“I know.”

Mia could not tell what she heard in Ruby’s voice.

Ruby rested one hand on the fountain wall between them. Her fingers were long, nails pale, wedding ring bright in the sun.

Mia saw the ring and immediately remembered Jack’s hand.

His finger in her mouth.

The ring against her tongue.

Oh, fuck.

She had licked his wedding ring.

She had put his married hand in her mouth and licked the ring like some kind of message.

Had she meant it?

No. She had been horny and stupid and trying to do something hot.

Ruby’s palm moved slowly over the stone beside her.

“These get so warm in the sun,” Ruby said.

Mia stopped breathing.

Ruby looked down at the fountain edge, like she was only talking about the fountain edge.

“Warm stone,” Ruby said.

The water kept falling behind them.

A kid laughed somewhere near the clock.

Mia’s whole body went numb.

Ruby looked at her then.

Not smiling.

Not angry.

Just there.

Mia opened her mouth and nothing came out.

Ruby’s voice stayed soft. “That’s a good phrase.”

Mia swallowed.

“I didn’t—”

Ruby waited.

Mia had no idea where that sentence was supposed to go.

I didn’t mean it like that.

I didn’t mean for him to tell you.

I didn’t mean to want him.

I didn’t mean for you to find out.

“I hadn’t thought about it. I guess it is, yeah,” Mia said, smiling and hoping to Christ her nose would not grow large enough to hang her over a man-cave fireplace like a swordfish.

Ruby’s mouth softened.

Beth appeared from the café window with a paper bag in one hand and a drink in the other. “They were out of the good chips, which feels targeted.”

Ruby took her hand off the stone.

“Obviously a personal attack,” she said.

Beth dropped back beside Mia and shoved the bag between them. “Eat something. You look pale.”

“I’m fine,” Mia said.

Ruby stood, smoothing the skirt of her dress. “I gotta get going.”

Beth leaned into her mother’s side for a quick hug.

Ruby kissed the top of Beth’s head. Easy. Natural.

Then she turned to Mia.

Mia stood because staying seated felt impossible.

Ruby leaned in for the usual cheek kiss. Mia had done this a hundred times. Hello, goodbye, birthdays, holidays, dinners at their house, rides home, ordinary life.

This time Ruby’s hand touched the side of Mia’s neck.

Not aggressive. Not dramatic.

Just there.

The kiss landed on Mia’s cheek.

Ruby smelled clean and expensive. She was so close. Mia’s body wanted to lean in as much as she wanted to make a run for the border.

Beth was digging through the paper bag. “Do you want the weird barbecue ones or the disappointing plain ones?”

Mia looked at Ruby.

Ruby looked back.

Mia could not tell if she was being tested. Or warned? Hunted? Forgiven?

Invited?

“Yes,” Mia said.

Beth frowned. “To which?”

Mia blinked. “Plain. Sorry.”

“Fuck, ok. Here.”

Ruby smiled at that, kissed Beth once more, and walked away across the square.

Mia watched her go, taking the bag from Beth’s extended arm.

Come on, turn around, Mia thought.

Look at her like that again.

Let her know she wasn’t imagining it.

Ruby did not turn around.

Mia sat back on the fountain edge. The stone was hot under her thighs now. Too hot. She put one hand beside her, where Ruby’s hand had been.

Warm stone.

Jack had told her.

Or Ruby had guessed.

No. You couldn’t guess that.

He told her.

Jack had gone home to his wife and told her what Mia had said in the car.

Why?

Beth bumped her shoulder against Mia’s. “You are being so weird.”

“I’m tired.”

Her neck still felt Ruby’s fingers. Ruby’s smell lingered. Her mouth remembered Jack’s ring.

===============

End of Chapter 2

===============

Huge shoutout to: 

- The early readers for their support! You can join them on Patreon, where we have also images of these characters and other stuff.

- All of you for the incredible response to the first chapter!

- To Ruby for being such a fucking rocket. 

Let me know if you want part 3 and any feedback you have ❤️

reddit.com
u/HaleWoodsWrote — 3 days ago

Mia Sweats Bullets at Dinner with Both Families (Jack, Ruby, Mia - Ch. 03) [F40/F18/M42] [Age Gap] [Daughter’s Best Friend] [Older Woman] [Younger Woman] [Forbidden] [Family Friend] [Almost Caught] [Family Dinner] [Lesbian] [First Time] [Secrets] [Masturbation] [Risky]

(---SPOILERS---)

Recap of Part 1

>!Jack (42) and Ruby (40) are happily married, Beth (18), their daughter, is heartbroken over Christian (19), and Beth’s best friend Mia (18) comes over for dinner. Jack comes to realize Mia is looking at him differently and he finds himself increasingly attracted to her. After dinner, Jack is giving Mia a ride to her parents’ house. Mia compliments him, telling him his body feels “like warm stone, or something”. She redirects him away from her parents’ house, and lets Jack know she wants him. Jack knows he should just keep going straight, take her home; a good man, a good father would not do this. But he takes the turn anyway. What Mia doesn’t know: Ruby was aware the whole time that Jack might pursue Mia; they have some sort of a deal about her.!<

Recap of Part 2

>!Jack comes home and tells Ruby everything that happened with Mia in the car. Ruby wants the truth, including the ugly parts, and makes it clear she refuses to stay just the wife hearing stories after the fact. The next day, Mia is with Beth in the town square, feeling awful while Beth talks about being lied to by Christian. Then Ruby appears. When Beth steps away, Ruby repeats Mia’s “warm stone” phrase, making it clear Jack told her. Mia realizes Ruby knows, but she can’t tell if Ruby is warning her, forgiving her, or inviting her.!<

(---SPOILERS END---)

=======================

~~~
Wednesday, June 10, 2026. Maplewood, New Jersey.
– 6:42 pm

The bottle slid around in Mia’s sweating hands as her mother Joan rang the bell. Mia thought it would be perfect, in a way, if she smashed a fancy wine bottle on Ruby’s lawn, in addition to having an affair with her husband.

Had she not taken creative writing courses? Had she not talked her way out of a hundred invitations to a hundred different things she wanted to avoid? She still couldn’t get out of this dinner?

Who was she kidding? Scared or not, Mia wanted to know what came next. If only she could find out without both families present to witness it.

The door opened to show a smiling Ruby, the light behind her making her outline shine. Mia’s forearms burned, gripping the bottle.

“I made ziti!” Joan said, instead of any kind of greeting. “Emilio says it’s the best he’s seen a new student do.”

“Beth’s going to jump on that like a starved dog,” Ruby said, as she kissed Joan on the cheek and motioned her inside.

“Beth!” Joan yelled. “I got ziti, sweetie!”

Mia’s face contorted in second-hand embarrassment, even though the Dauwalters had known the Taylors for too long to be surprised by their personalities.

“Ziti! Sweetie!” Ron said, emphasizing the rhymes, and then pausing before forcing out an over-the-top laughter. Then he also exchanged a cheek kiss with Ruby.

Mia loved her father. She did. And despite all her rationalizations, she still wanted to step into traffic.

Mia saw what her dad could never: the tiny wince in the corner of Ruby’s eye. There and gone before Ron finished laughing.

“Look at that dress!” Ron said. “Ooooh-weeee!”

He wasn’t wrong. Another sundress, this time emerald green, low at the chest and slit high on one leg.

Ruby looked down at Ron standing a few inches shorter and faked a whisper with a lean. “I’ll let Joan borrow it, dear!”

Joan fucking wishes! Mia’s mom would not fit in it. She wasn’t fat or anything like that, but for Ruby’s dress she was too short and had a little too much going on around the chest and other places. Mia felt guilty and odd. Her mother was a perfectly fine, pretty lady, no reason to compare her to Ruby. No reason at all.

“You coming?” Ruby said. Everyone inside, just the two of them now.

“Hi!” Mia entered and handed Ruby the bottle. With Ruby’s eyes on her now, Mia wondered if Ruby knew she had changed six times, each outfit making her feel like an idiot freshman playing dress-up, before ending up in this fitted white tank top and short, dark, flowy skirt. It made her feel pretty a little more than it made her feel ridiculous. The little strip of bare skin across her middle was good for the heat, at least. 

“Oh, thank you!” Ruby took it. As she did, she leaned down to give Mia a kiss on the cheek. The dress fell loose around Ruby’s chest and Mia found her eyes darting. Not quite seeing anything explicitly forbidden, but somehow feeling that all the forbidden places were as near, threatening and alluring as they’d ever been. Ruby smelled like fresh, cold pine and coconut. Fuck. The kiss, like the last one two days ago at the town square, went on a little long. Nothing anyone else would notice, perhaps. “Welcome.”

“Thank you.” Mia couldn’t quite tell if there was anything else in Ruby’s look. She could no longer tell with her at all. All she knew was that Ruby’s attention was undivided.

“Let’s go on inside,” Ruby said.

“Thank you!” Thank you? She’d said that already. What was wrong with her? She had to keep it together.

The house looked exactly the same, which felt obscene somehow.

Same dark floors. Same warm kitchen light. Same smell, clean and expensive, never bleachy, never fake lemon, never like the detergent aisle at Target. Same hallway Beth used to drag her through when they were thirteen and late to everything. Same stairs, family pictures. Same big shallow bowl by the door where Ruby kept keys and sunglasses and whatever else women like Ruby dropped in bowls. Mia put her purse next to the bowl.

It had always been Beth’s house. Now it was Ruby’s. Jack’s. The hallway had doors she had never thought much about before. Upstairs was not only Beth’s room, but Jack and Ruby’s.

A nonsensical idea gripped her: she wanted it to be her house. But that—

“Mia!” Beth yelled. Coming over from the kitchen, already reaching for her.

Mia smiled because Beth was smiling.

“Come on,” Beth said, grabbing Mia’s hand. “I have insane tea.”

Mia let herself be dragged. Halfway past the kitchen island, she saw Jack. He was standing with one hand in his pocket and the other wrapped around a glass he had not lifted to his mouth. Their eyes met for a second.

“Hi, Mr. D,” Mia said, waving with a shrug.

“Hey, kid.”

Kid. Where the butterflies had been in her stomach, there was now a motherfucking elephant.

“So this girl, Amanda, right? Absolute disaster. Like, they should have this bitch in a conservatorship or something. Don’t let her near hot liquids.”

Mia nodded. Beth had had her first trial shift that day, at “Sleepy Cat,” a coffee shop by the town square.

Through the screen door, Mia caught pieces of the kitchen: Joan at the oven, operating the space like she owned it, narrating her culinary class war stories; Mia’s dad with his hand on Jack’s shoulder telling him he’d been salivating over that bottle of Macallan 18 since the moment they’d put the dinner on the books; Ruby opening a drawer without looking, pulling the right thing from the right place with no effort; Jack asking if Ron had really been saving himself for two weeks; Ron going, “Not myself, just the bottle!” and exploding at his own joke.

Mia was surprised Jack laughed too. He usually didn’t.

“Are you listening?” Beth stopped.

“Yep.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Amanda, hot liquids, public safety, conservatorship.”

Beth narrowed her eyes. “Okay, maybe you can just also look like you’re listening?”

“No chance.”

Beth continued and Mia’s attention kept wandering back to the kitchen. She did her best to listen, but… Jack. Ruby. Her mom and dad. Jack and Ruby pretending it was just a normal Wednesday. Mia pretending she didn’t know the taste of Jack’s cum. Pretending she didn’t know Ruby knew. Or knew something, anyway. How the hell had she gotten here?

“By being a dumb whore,” Beth said.

Mia’s attention snapped back. “What?”

“I mean, clearly! How else could this moron of a girl be the supervisor? She’s blowing the manager. For sure!”

“Oh.” Mia laughed, relieved. “Right! Totally.”

Beth studied her. “You’re being weird.”

“My parents are just being embarrassing.”

Beth looked back through the screen door. “Our parents are always embarrassing.”

“I guess.”

Ruby called from inside.

“Girls! Food!”

Beth looked at Mia, squinting. Then she shrugged and they went inside. Mia was thankful it was dropped so easy.

As they came back in, Mia noticed Jack’s face, looking at her, then Beth, then Ron or Joan, she wasn’t sure. He was trying to be harmless and casual so hard it almost made her laugh out loud. At least she wasn’t the only one sweating bullets.

~~~
About 10 minutes later

Ruby sat at one end of the table, nearest the kitchen island. Jack sat at the other. Mia had Ruby on her left, Beth on her right. Joan was next to Jack on his right and Ron between Joan and Ruby opposite Mia.

“This is actually insane,” Beth said, pointing her fork at the ziti.

Joan clasped her hands under her chin. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“No, I mean, I’m mad at how good this is.”

“Emilio says I’m a natural.”

Ron made a sound.

“Who’s Emilio?” Ruby asked.

“My instructor.”

“Ah.”

“I told you, right?” Joan looked at Ruby, then Jack. “I tell him, I say, Emilio, I swear to God, I’ve never so much as boiled an egg before. He says, Joanna!” Joan did a thick, excellent, borderline offensive Italian accent. “This is impossible. It’s-a like-a my nonna came down from heaven and-a she cook-a through you.”

Beth looked at Mia. Mia looked at Beth. They did not laugh. Somehow.

Jack said, “It’s very good. Right, sweetie?” Jack turned to Beth.

“That’s what I said, yeah.” Beth had her mouth full, reaching for bread.

“Yeah, no, it’s good,” Ron said. “So, girls, are you excited about embarking on your higher education journey next year at Fairleigh?”

“Dad, not everything’s a journey,” Mia said.

“I’m actually so excited, Mr. Taylor. I can’t wait.”

“Good, good. I know you girls will do us proud.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. Very proud of you guys.” Jack chimed in, looking at the girls and making eye contact with everyone in a way that seemed to Mia like checking off items on a to-do list.

Mia was happy to see Beth excited about something. She could tell she was finally clawing her way out of the heartbreak hole Christian had put her in.

Mia herself could barely remember why she’d wanted to go to Fairleigh. A gymnastics scholarship? OK. It was a reason. She wasn’t sure it was a good one. She had been excited about college until… Last week. Well, right, that did make sense now that she considered it. No Jack in Fairleigh.

“There’s nothing more important than a good education, I always say.” Ron tore open a piece of bread, spreading crumbs over his plate.

Jack nodded, measured, listening.

“I mean…” Joan gestured with her wine glass to Mia and Beth. “It’s also very important to seize and experience your youth while you have it. It’s summer, for Christ’s sake, you guys gotta enjoy that too, right?”

“That’s a good point, girls, yeah! Well said, Joan,” Jack said.

Mia contained a laugh at that, failing to keep the tight-lipped smile inside completely. Jack’s placation of her parents was hilarious to her. She looked around the table, everyone carrying on, chewing, small talking, and ended up on Ruby. Ruby seemed to have the same look on her face. If Mia had it right, they were both sharing a laugh at Jack’s expense. But of course. Ruby knew too. Mia felt she should stop smiling, move on—wouldn’t their shared amusement imply an admission of guilt?—but the way Ruby looked at her made her realize how alone and isolated she’d felt that evening.

Just then she felt much less alone.

“Jack, you’re still giving my girl a ride?” Ron said.

What looked like panic to Mia flashed somewhere in Jack before he turned to look at Ron. She was too surprised and frozen to panic herself.

“Fairleigh. Next week right? Mia’s still OK to tag along with you and Beth?” Ron asked, chewing bread.

“Oh!” Jack said. “Yes, of course, that’s the plan, so that’s what we’re doing. Right?” he asked toward the girls, snapping a tiny look at Mia as well. A rare one at that dinner. Mia was acutely aware of the absence of any extra eye contact that night between her and Jack.

“Correct!” Mia said.

“You know Jack, babe,” Joan said to her husband. “If he says he’s going to do something, he will.”

“Very dependable, Mr. D is,” Mia said. And looked at Jack nod, stuff his face with a piece of asparagus and wash it down with about two fingers of whiskey. She felt something. Making a big man squirm made her feel powerful and tingly. When it was already too late, she caught herself turning to Ruby, going “isn’t that right?”

“Correct!” Ruby said, mirroring Mia. Without waiting, she turned to Mia’s dad, “Ron!” she put a hand on him.

He made a startled noise and looked at Ruby.

“What are you doing?” she asked him.

“Hmm?” he chewed, a puzzled look on his face.

“Why are you drinking out of that glass?”

“Ooh, that’s right, Ron, we got these—” Jack was getting up, but Ruby stopped him.

“No, no, I’ll get them.” Ruby turned to Ron to explain, “We bought these whiskey glasses and haven’t had the cause to use them yet. Your… what was it?” She pointed at the bottle.

“Macallan 18, dear. Old enough to order its own Macallan 18!” another Ron-splosion shook the room, Roscoe waking up, looking around for trouble.

“Your of-age whiskey deserves proper glassware. I’ll be right back.”

A step into leaving, Ruby turned back around and said to Mia, “Sweetie, any chance you could help me? I need some cloth napkins from the linen closet.”

“Of course,” Mia said and got up.

“You’re a doll! They’re in the linen closet upstairs next to the master bedroom, under the shoe rack in the corner, I think they’re in a sort of brown chest down there,” Ruby said, as she herself went behind the kitchen island and opened a cabinet, rummaging around inside it.

Mia was feeling better about the evening. The silent exchange with Ruby about Jack’s behavior had settled her nerves a little. It all felt more like play now. She was almost completely certain, thinking back on it, that Ruby had probably pretended not to remember what her dad’s fancy whiskey was called. She was so quick and calm and, if you paid attention, very funny. Everything seemed to be going…

Well, shit. It was going alright.

But her battery was depleted, this dinner draining it. So going up the stairs, she took the opportunity to slow down in the dark stairway and hall leading to the walk-in linen closet. She took a few breaths and felt her body. It calmed her down and energized her. A trick she’d learned from a sports medicine book.

She passed the master bedroom and managed to suppress the urge to peek inside.

In the closet she found the cloth napkins with no trouble and as she closed the chest she heard the closet door open and close again behind her. She stood up. Ruby watched her now, one hand behind her back, still on the doorknob.

Mia wanted to tell her she found the things, what are they called? She wanted to say she was about to come down. To ask Ruby if she forgot something, or…? To say something, to scream or even whisper.

“You found ‘em?”

Mia nodded yes. She was now acutely aware of her surroundings and what she was wearing. A survival thing, maybe? She didn’t know, but she knew she was thinking about equal parts ‘I hope this skirt won’t make it harder to fight’ and ‘please, be here to fuck me’.

Ruby came closer at the same steady pace, making Mia look up more with every step. Ruby put one hand on Mia’s wrist, the other on her side, as she gently kissed her. Mia kept her eyes open. The kiss was short. Ruby leaned back and looked at her. Mia was more certain now she recognized what she’d been seeing in Ruby’s eyes before, at the door, at the fountain. A little bit of vulnerability. Ruby’s demeanor had shifted. She was still in charge, but she either failed to hide or showed on purpose that she had something to lose. She had the look of a girl who hoped to be chosen - Mia knew the feeling well.

Mia didn’t know what she was going to do until her hands were already moving. She grabbed Ruby by her arms, pulled her down and kissed her. This would never happen again, she was sure. Ruby was an icon. Being here in the closet, being chosen by her, she felt like a rich and famous movie star had somehow sought her out and plucked her out of obscurity. Mia had to use this opportunity while she had it.

After a second’s delay, Ruby’s hands searched out and found Mia’s hips. Could it be? Could Mia have taken Ruby by surprise? Mia pushed Ruby’s arms back a little. Not away, God forbid, she did not want her to leave, but just enough to tell her to pause.

“Hey,” Mia said. She wanted something to ask or say, but couldn’t think of anything.

“We can stop,” Ruby said. Mia saw she meant it, but didn’t want to.

She wanted to ask why Ruby was doing this. What she knew. What she wanted. But she still couldn’t speak, so she pulled Ruby down again and they connected in another kiss. Ruby was so effortless. She seemed to know exactly where Mia’s tongue and lips were going to be before they got there. Was she guiding them there? Did Mia care?

No. 

Some sane part of her tried to step back. The rest of her stepped forward. 

If this really was her only chance, she wanted to make it count. She pushed Ruby against the shoe rack. Ruby’s face was surprised but inviting. Mia bunched up Ruby’s dress, holding her eyes. She saw fear, hunger, excitement. Mia felt drunk and empowered. Her hands finally got under the flaps of the dress and were shocked to find no panties at Ruby’s hips to hook into. “Oh!” she said.

Ruby’s eyes were surprised. Mia knelt down as Ruby said, very quietly, “Oh my fucking God.” Ruby’s leg went up on the opposite wall as Mia went low and licked her pussy. The first time her tongue touched her pussy lips, Ruby grabbed the sides of her head, digging her fingers through Mia’s thick, dark hair.

“What the fuck,” Ruby whispered, her legs trembling a little. Ruby had been so dramatically altered from the composed ideal woman, wife, mother she had been just seconds ago. How did this happen? And was Mia really the one responsible for this change?

She had never made out with a woman, certainly hadn’t licked a pussy. She had expected it to feel stranger than it did. Instead it was soft and warm and intimate, and the fact that it was Ruby made her feel like she was having an out-of-body experience. She told herself to focus. Find the clit. She did and she licked it, back and forth, slow.

Loud steps were stomping up the stairs. Ruby put her leg back down, stepping toward the door and moving her dress down all in one move, zero hesitation. She said in a low whisper “Watch out, sweetie. Open that brown chest. Make like you’re looking.” Ruby stepped up on a stool on the other side, pretending to look for something. Beth yanked the door open.

“Where’s the Bluetooth speaker?”

“Our bedroom, I think?” Ruby answered.

Beth moved on to the master bedroom next door.

Ruby looked down at Mia, stifled a laugh. She motioned for them to go. Mia followed behind. Before they left the closet, Ruby turned around, her hand on the door, and planted a single wet kiss on Mia.

“What are we going—” Mia started but Ruby stopped her with a simple look.

Mia had gotten a taste of the kind of power she didn’t think she could ever have. And now it was gone. Ruby didn’t need to ask for it back. She just had all of it. Again. Just like that. What?

She had to follow Ruby down the stairs. Pretend she had anything on her mind other than the taste of her.

~~~
A few minutes later

Mia envied Ruby being able to snap out of it just like that. She figured she must be doing OK herself as well, seeing as no one had cornered her demanding an explanation yet. But Ruby wasn’t just managing. Ruby wasn’t just normal. Ruby was pouring wine, passing around bread. Laughing. Asking questions. Keeping the room moving. Mere seconds after her daughter’s best friend had licked her pussy. She was still walking around with no underwear. Right. Ruby had come to dinner like that. Just like Mia had, the night Jack drove her home. Except Mia hadn’t had a plan. Not that day.

But as much as she was envious of Ruby’s ability to move on and compartmentalize, she also found herself being more and more attracted to her. To Jack’s wife. Mia looked at Jack. Did he know? He didn’t seem to. But then again he was so deep in method acting tonight, who could tell? If she sat closer to him, would he smell his wife on her? 

She felt that if she didn’t orgasm in the near future, she would lose her mind. Fuck it. Maybe at least then she'd be in the right mind to fully inhabit this situation she'd created. 

The music played. Beth had put on some jazz playlist.

“You good?” Beth asked Mia.

“Mhmm.” Mia nodded. “Just enjoying the music. What’s this song called?”

“No idea.”

The food tasted weird now. She wasn’t hungry anymore. Not for fucking ziti, anyway.

~~~
About an hour later

Jack and Beth were cleaning up in the kitchen, as Ruby escorted out the Taylors. Joan and Ron stepped out and as Mia left, Ruby handed her her purse.

“Get home safe, sweetie,” she said, and then quieter, “And breathe.”

Mia looked at Ruby. She was scared someone would see something weird about the way they behaved. But there was no such fear on Ruby’s face. Didn’t she have more to lose than Mia? 

“Goodnight, Ruby,” Mia said, knowing only Ruby could hear her. They exchanged a little peck. Perfectly innocent. Mia’s soaked panties would disagree, though.

The half-block walk to their car seemed like eternity to Mia. She couldn’t wait to… Could she maybe make an excuse and just run and hide somewhere so she could touch herself, so she could think again. Her body burned. She felt like she was going to evaporate in a fine mist.

Ron and Joan engaged in absent-minded bickering in the front seat. The back seat was completely dark, save for the street lights going by, casting rays on Mia’s thighs. They were too self-absorbed, right? She could probably just…

Mia tentatively slid a hand under her skirt, using the other hand to cover her lap with her purse. But every time they passed by a street light, it was clearly visible that Mia’s hand was under her skirt.

But her parents were not paying attention, come on. It was OK.

Her heart raced. She was on the verge of orgasm since before she even sat down in the car. Under her panties, her pussy was soaked and sticky. Oh my God, what if they can smell it? Or hear her? Is she breathing loudly?

She pressed her finger against her clit and froze.

“—could say that in terms of just the look of the thing?” Mia had no idea what her mother was saying.

“Mhmm,” her dad might have been in the same boat on that.

Whatever they were saying, they didn’t pay attention to her. She rubbed her clit. Light, rapid circles. Fuck! She was going to cum. She begged herself and God to just let her cum and not make a noise.

Mia had all but fucked Jack. Jack had made her cum so good. Ruby had kissed her. Mia had gone down on Ruby. She was now… Oh my God! Could they really want her to–

“Mia? Do you want ice cream?” Ron asked without looking back.

“Nothankyou!” Mia answered way too quickly, her eyes down on her lap, wide in panic. Waves of pleasure making it nearly impossible to stay composed. She could keep her body from convulsing too hard, but could not force herself to stop touching.

As her parents went back to talking at each other, she rubbed herself until she was finally done.

Afterward, shame and sobriety hit her fast and hard. What was she doing? Masturbating next to her parents? Was she losing her mind? This is not OK!

Alright, she had to get it together. She pulled her panties back over her dripping pussy, certainly a wet stain on the back of her skirt, no doubt about it. Thank God it was late and the skirt was dark. She licked her finger clean. It tasted so good and she still wanted to cum more, but had to put herself together.

She pulled down her skirt and opened the purse to check messages. A little note fell out.

It said “I’d love to return the favor.”

~~~
Same night, around 3:00 am

Mia woke from a dreamless sleep with a thought. She didn’t know where it came from. It didn’t matter. The thought was loud and clear and she couldn’t believe how in the hell it took her so long to notice the importance of it.

Jack was going to take Beth and her on an overnight trip to Fairleigh next week.

===============

End of Chapter 3

===============

Largest of shoutouts to: 
- The early readers for their support! You let me write more and faster and I love you so much!
- All of you for the incredible response to the first two chapters!
- To my neighbor for being such a wonderful inspiration for Ron. 

Let me know if you want part 4 and any feedback you have 💚

reddit.com
u/HaleWoodsWrote — 4 days ago
▲ 54 r/EroticWriting+3 crossposts

My Wife Needed Every Detail About Mia, Our Daughter’s Best Friend (Jack, Ruby, Mia - Ch. 02) [M42/F40/F18] [Age Gap] [Daughter’s Best Friend] [Older Man] [Younger Woman] [Forbidden] [Family Friend] [Wife Knows] [Masturbation] [Secrets] [Exhibitionism] [Cum Swallowing] [Pussy licking] [Married]

(---SPOILERS---)
Recap of Part 1
Jack (42) and Ruby (40) are happily married, Beth (18), their daughter, is heartbroken over Christian (19), and Beth’s best friend Mia (18) comes over for dinner. Jack comes to realize Mia is looking at him differently and he finds himself increasingly attracted to her. After dinner, Jack is giving Mia a ride to her parents’ house. Mia compliments him, telling him his body feels “like warm stone, or something”. She redirects him away from her parents’ house, and lets Jack know she wants him. Jack knows he should just keep going straight, take her home; a good man, a good father would not do this. But he takes the turn anyway. What Mia doesn’t know: Ruby was aware the whole time that Jack might pursue Mia; they have some sort of a deal about her.
(---SPOILERS END---)

=======================

~~~
Sunday, June 7, 2026. Maplewood, New Jersey.
– 12:20 am

“You guys left, what then?” Ruby asked.

Jack had expected her to ask or say something to ease them into it, but of course he knew her and should have known better. “Well… small talk in the car. She was very complimentary of the fatherly work I’ve done and she talked about us.”

“Us?”

“You and me.”

“What about us?”

“She said we were cute together. That it was obvious we’re really in love.”

Ruby’s body tensed a bit then—enough for Jack to notice.

“Yeah, uh… listen. If you tell me you changed your mind or don’t feel right with this—we drop it. The whole idea. No questions—” Ruby interrupted him, aggressively grabbing him by his seashell shirt, stamping him with a smiling open-eyed kiss.

“Just excited. Tell me.” She sat back. Jack sat on the foot of the bed, facing his wife.

Mia had touched his hand, then apologized for overstepping.

“Oh, wow,” Ruby said.

“She was leading,” he said. “Or trying to.” Jack cringed at himself and laughed a bit.

Ruby knew what he meant, and said, “It’s very ‘she likes me, she likes me not’, yeah.”

“Yeah!” They shared a bit of a laugh and settled. “So, yeah, I mean, I told her it was ok to touch me and she could just call me Jack, enough with the Mr. D shit, you know?”

He told her about the laughs they had shared, Mia’s comments about his body.

“Warm stone…” Ruby repeated.

“Warm stone,” Jack shrugged, trying and failing to look humble.

“You fucking loved that, I know you did.” Ruby slapped his knee.

Jack made a purposefully girly noise, swatting her away. “OK, OK, I did, shut up!”

“Did you like her saying it?” Ruby asked, emphasizing the word ‘her’, not fully joking then.

“Yes, I did.”

“OK, what then?”

By the time they had reached the red light at Hoglund and Maine, Mia was almost done pretending. She kept looking at him, then away, working herself up to something, as far as he could tell.

“Almost at her house, then?”

“That’s right. She goes ‘turn here, it’s quicker.’ So I tell her, you know, straight is faster for sure. And she’s doing a lot of wording and gesticulating now, not really saying much, but more like delaying and working up courage. Then she stops herself. Takes a deep breath. And goes, word for word, ‘Basically, what I’m trying to say, Mr. D’—she turns to me—‘I would like to see your penis, and I think it’s better we do it on a street that is not in front of my parents’ house.’”

Ruby took a huge breath, eyes growing wilder, exhaling slowly, fingers tracing her collarbone.

“I put up a little bit of a fight, but, you know… it was sort of half-hearted. As I was pretending to object, she looked at me and played with her dress. Pulled it up a little, and slid her hands to the insides of her thighs.”

Ruby leaned her head back against the headboard, pulling one knee close to her chest. He could almost see her pussy, but the black sundress was still covering her.

“Jack…” Ruby didn’t have to say anything, Jack knew. Hot. Wrong. Words didn’t fit it right.

“So,” Ruby’s fingers were disappearing under the dress, “you turned?”

He did. Almost didn’t, having a crisis for about ten seconds. He left that out.

“Yeah.”

“Wait,” Ruby’s finger came back up, her thinking then. After a moment, she said, “Did she know I knew?”

“No.”

“Did she think you were cheating on me?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“So yes.”

Ruby looked at him, then away. They sat for a bit. Jack didn’t envy Ruby’s position. He had gone out and started the thing. If Mia didn’t want Ruby too, then consent or not, he had made Ruby the wife at home. He had no way of giving her a place in what had already happened.

And Mia had… yeah, shit, either way you cut it, Mia had betrayed Ruby.

“Well, ok,” she turned back to him now. “We knew this would have to be the way.” She meant that they couldn’t just knock on Mia’s parents’ door and ask her if she wanted to fuck them both.

“You alright?” Jack asked, not approaching.

“Mhmm,” she nodded, and he believed her. “I want to hear the rest. She asked to see your cock?”

“Yes.” Jack regrouped. “So I… I turned and we—”

“Jack?”

“Hmm?”

“You better tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

Ruby didn’t answer right away. She just looked at him.

He hated that look. The trouble with Ruby was she heard edits. And then she looked at him in a way. A way that let him know the jig was up.

“Are you leaving something out?”

“No. I mean—no, not really.”

Ruby waited.

“There was a second there at the light.”

“A second.”

“More, maybe.”

“OK.”

“I almost didn’t turn,” Jack said. After a moment he added, “I told myself to go straight. Take her home. Be a good man.”

Ruby watched him.

“I thought about Beth. You. Mia. Ron and Joan. Everybody. I thought ‘a good man would not do this’.”

“And then?”

“I turned anyway.”

They sat, Jack not knowing where to put his eyes, so he let them de-focus looking at a random crease in her dress.

Ruby nodded, slowly.

“Don’t leave those parts out.”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“Yes, you were.” Her voice was soft. She was fucking right.

Ruby’s expression relaxed. “We can’t ignore the ugly parts.”

He nodded.

“OK,” she said, leaning in, giving him a kiss, squeezing the muscle around his knees. “So you turned.”

“So I turned,” Jack told her about the dark spot under the broken streetlight, the first kiss, the touches. How quickly he could switch from guilt to sexual reminiscing. Back to being horny. As if the guilt had no weight to it at all. Was it just posturing?

As Jack spoke, sparing no detail, his wife’s fingers disappeared under the dress again. Jack knew his part in this was to sit there, tell the story truthfully, and let his wife enjoy herself. He had learned that part twenty years ago.

~~~
20 years ago, more or less.
~~~
Thursday, July 13, 2006. Maplewood, New Jersey.
– 8:40 pm

“You’re quiet,” Ruby said.

“I’m not quiet.” He had absolutely been quiet.

They were a couple drinks past dinner, two months into whatever this was, and Jack was trying to not seem too eager.

“You’ve been quiet for almost a minute.”

“I was admiring the view.”

She glanced behind her, toward the rest of the patio and the bright restaurant behind it.

“Not that view.” Great job playing it cool, stupid.

Ruby looked back at him, trying not to smile too much. “That was terrible.”

“Worked, though.”

“It did not.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m humoring you.”

“Good enough.” Jack took a drink and glanced past her shoulder. At the table near the little ficus tree, a man in a short-sleeve button-down with little anchors on it was explaining something to a woman who had clearly left her body some time ago. Jack decided it was probably insurance-related, based on nothing but the shirt.

“What?” Ruby asked.

“Nothing.”

“No, what?”

“I’m just wondering how long before a man starts ordering salmon because his doctor told him to.”

Ruby glanced back, then turned to him again.

“That’s you in 20 years.”

“Pff, come on.”

“You already have the shirt.”

“This is a good shirt.”

“It has dragons on it.”

“No, it—” Jack realized it had dragons on it. “Oh, fuck.”

They both laughed. Ruby kept laughing after he stopped, pleased with herself, one knee hugged to her chest, dress falling loose over her thigh. Jack looked away, forgetting this was not their first date and looking was OK.

The patio had gotten darker around them. Not dark-dark, just the kind of summer evening dark where everybody looked a little better and every table seemed like its own little island. Jack’s Long Island iced teas were probably doing at least some of the work on that fantasy. Somewhere inside, a woman’s loud laugh could be heard. Jack bet she was laughing at something that probably wasn’t that funny.

Ruby’s hand slid from her shin to her ankle. Then back up. Down. Was it an absent-minded move? Maybe pretending it was? On her way back up her hand went around the other side of her leg, up the calf. Again: slow.

She was still smiling, but her breathing had changed. Not much. Enough. Her eyes had gone a little unfocused, then sharp again when they found him watching.

“Ruby.”

“Jack.”

“What are you doing?”

“Having dinner.”

“We finished dinner.”

“Then I’m relaxing after dinner.”

He gave her a quiet laugh. “Right.”

Her hand disappeared behind her knee, under the loose fall of the dress.

Jack felt his own smile go stupid and helpless. “Are you—”

“Am I what?”

He looked around.

Her hand stayed where it was. Nothing obvious. Nothing anyone else could point at. But Jack saw the little tightening in her shoulders, the way her mouth softened and pressed together again.

“Ruby,” he said again, lower this time, smiling. “What are you doing?”

She leaned back in her chair. Not far. Just enough to give him a better angle if he chose to take it.

“Have a look.”

“At what?”

She tilted her head. Come on. His insecurity was speaking for him—he knew what she meant.

Jack stared at her, and she stared back, daring him, but there was something under the dare now, he thought. Something… less polished and refined. He could see it and, seeing it, understood that if he made the wrong joke, or grabbed her wrist, or looked around like she had embarrassed him… it’d be the wrong move, is the thing he sensed. He didn’t want to do any of those things anyway, not really. Only as an awkward reflex, to shoo away discomfort.

“Oh, boy,” he said, pushing his chair back. “You know what? I think my shoe’s come undone.”

Ruby’s mouth opened in silent laughter.

“Tragic,” she said.

“Could happen to anyone.”

He bent under the table.

For a moment he saw only shadow, the edge of the tablecloth, her knee, the black dress gathered in her hand. Then his eyes adjusted.

She was touching herself through her underwear.

Jack stopped breathing.

Ruby’s fingers, covered in numerous rings of various sizes and shapes, moved, slow and careful. Then she shifted the fabric aside just enough to remove any doubt about what she was doing. Her fingers slid around in circles, showing him how wet she was.

Jack made a sound he hoped could only be heard from inside his own body.

He sat back up too fast, bumping his knee on the underside of the table.

Ruby was looking at him.

Not laughing now. Not exactly. There was pleasure on her face, yes, plenty of it, but something else too. A question. Maybe even a little fear. Not fear that someone would see her masturbating. Or… not only that.

Fear of what he would do with what he had seen?

Jack swallowed.

“You OK?” she asked.

He almost laughed. She was asking him?

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m very OK.”

Her mouth moved like she was trying not to smile too much. Her hand was still under the dress. Still moving. Slower now, maybe because he was watching her face and not what she was doing.

“You’re not weirded out?”

“The way I get weirded out is by getting extremely hard, apparently.”

Ruby closed her eyes for a second, smiling through a breath.

“Good,” she said.

The waiter appeared beside the table.

Jack saw him before Ruby did. Or maybe Ruby saw him and simply decided that did not matter. Jack had no idea. The young man stopped with a trained, empty smile, paid not to see or understand too much.

“How is everything over here?”

Ruby kept going, not looking at the waiter.

Jack looked up at him.

“Oh, great,” he said. His voice sounded almost normal. “Really great.”

The waiter nodded. “Can I get you anything else?”

Jack looked at Ruby.

Ruby looked at Jack, barely present anymore.

Her breathing was faster now.

The waiter’s eyes darted from Jack to Ruby to Jack.

“No,” Jack said. “We’re good.”

“All right then,” the waiter said, already turning away, quicker than previous times.

Ruby’s shoulders dropped, free hand finding and grasping the table, rings clashing with the wood. She was in a full-body shiver now, which she tried to contain as best as she could.

Jack recognized the movement, of course. Her head coming down, along with the rest of her body, leaning on the table, eyes closed, still shivering, sounds of pleasure catching low in her throat.

Jack could have told her to stop. Could have made a joke. Could have looked around the patio again and turned this into something embarrassing, something she had done wrong.

Instead he stayed where he was.

He watched her.

That was all.

At twenty-two, he thought the test was whether he could handle how wild she was. At forty-two, he knew better. The test had been whether he could let her be, or whether he would make it about himself.

She looked up when it passed. His eyes were still on her. They laughed quietly and touched glasses like idiots.

~~~
Present day
~~~
Sunday, June 7, 2026. Maplewood, New Jersey.
– 12:40 am

“Tell me exactly what happened,” Ruby asked, losing herself in pleasure then, but listening.

He told her about Mia leaning over the console to kiss him.

“What did she look like? Her body, what was it doing?” Ruby wanted to know more, not just the mechanics. Jack had been there and experienced everything firsthand, but Ruby had to scavenge his memory for the impression.

Through all of this, Ruby touched herself under the dress.

The first time he held Mia’s face, he had felt it all at once: protectiveness, desire, guilt. Ruby asked if she had seemed scared and Jack said yes she did, but also excited and eager. Mia had seemed nervous, hopeful, a little wild. And her face had seemed so small and soft in his hands.

“Did you keep kissing?”

“No, actually. She took my hand. She licked my fingers and sucked one of them.”

“Which one?”

“Ring finger. And she sort of licked circles around the ring,” Jack saw her react to that. Not entirely negatively, but it was significant. He admitted then that he didn’t know why Mia had chosen that finger, whether the licking of the ring was something she’d done on purpose because of the marriage, on purpose because it was just hot, or in the absence of any thought at all.

“What do you think it was?”

“Honestly, I get the feeling it was maybe just hot and unplanned. But I could be wrong.”

“Did she say anything about me after that?”

Jack said no and then paused. “Not directly… but sorta. Later, I’m gonna get to it.”

Then she said “‘Mr. D?’ and I said ‘Yes, Mia?’ and she said ‘Can I see your penis?’”

“And she insists on calling it a penis, huh?” Ruby smiled with her cheeks, corners of her lips pointed down.

“Yes.” Jack paused to see if Ruby had other interruptions to get out. “I said nothing for a bit, just enjoying the moment. It was very exciting, having her ask. Having her want to see it. I don’t know if I can explain it.”

“I get it, I’m pretty sure,” Ruby was swallowing hard.

“‘I want you to see it,’ I told her.”

He tried to move quickly through the obvious parts—Mia taking out his cock, the gasp, the first lick, her mouth. Ruby let him, until his hand reached Mia’s back, then lower.

“She wasn’t wearing anything under it,” Jack said.

Ruby’s hand stopped for a moment. Eyebrow up.

“I don’t know if she planned it, hoped for it or just dressed that way for other reasons. I really want to know, though.”

“Me too.” Ruby sharply inhaled, which Jack was almost certain meant she had slid a finger inside herself more fully now.

Ruby asked Jack what Mia was saying and doing.

Ruby’s hand was moving again, and Jack had trouble looking anywhere else.

“She told me she’d fantasized about my penis since she learned how to masturbate,” Jack said.

Ruby swallowed. He told his wife that he pulled up their daughter’s best friend’s dress over her tanlined bottom. Mia’s perfect petite body in his lap, his cock almost all the way disappeared inside her mouth. “I could barely see. Let alone think. I told her she was a good girl, and that we were doing such a bad thing.”

“How did she respond?” Ruby asked.

Jack felt her attention sharpen.

“She kissed it, put it against her cheek, and said, ‘I love your cock, Mr. D.’”

“What did you think about?”

“I thought about wanting to do nasty things. I wanted to cum inside her, pick her up and fuck her, use her as an—” Jack’s shorts were filling up once more. He couldn’t find words to describe his fantasies.

“I love the darkness in you,” Ruby said as she pulled up her dress, showing her husband her hand doing circles around the opening below her clit.

Jack was ashamed of it. Feared it. But Ruby’s recognition of the darkness made him think it was OK to have thoughts, even unpalatable ones.

“I told her it was so wrong,” he said after a moment. “Though of course, I did nothing to stop it. She asked me to please let her keep going. I told her she was so young. She said, ‘I’m a consenting adult, Mr. D,’ and I asked if this was really what she wanted. She told me to touch her and find out.”

He gave Ruby the version she wanted: not just where his hand went, but how Mia moved against it. How wet she was. How sensitive. How she pushed back when he touched near her ass.

Ruby’s breathing changed at that.

“She wanted that?” Ruby asked.

“I think so.”

“She said, ‘Oh my god, I’m such a bad girl. Please make me cum, Mr. D. I want to cum so bad,’ and I called her by her name and told her she was a good girl, as she came, and as it was happening, she took my cock all the way into her throat.” Ruby’s eyes widened at that. But Jack kept going.

“She told me no one had ever made her cum.”

“What?” Ruby said, almost taking a break.

“That was my reaction too, though I kind of got it, with her age and lack of experience, maybe?”

“And she could take your entire cock? I can barely do that.” Ruby considered, still rubbing, but slowing down a bit. “I think your idea about Mia’s lack of experience might be a little misguided.”

“Maybe.” Jack paused. “After she came, she said I’d opened something in her. Still Mr. D then.”

Ruby watched him.

“I didn’t know what to say. Then she said, ‘I want to taste your cum, Mr. D.’”

“It’s hard to imagine her like that,” Ruby said, “But, fuck, it’s so…”

“Yeah, I know, baby. And she kept at it, too. She said, ‘I want your cum in my mouth. I know it’s wrong and we’re ruining our lives and we will be in so much trouble, but I need it.’ That’s what I meant earlier,” Jack said. “She didn’t say your name. But ‘ruining our lives’ meant you too, far as I could tell.”

“I see.”

“But I told her it’s OK. She didn’t hear me, I don’t think. She was only focused on one thing, she was obsessed. I’ll be honest, it was incredible. To have her want me to cum inside her so badly.” Jack touched his cock then, feeling new surges of heat.

“She kept saying she needed it. That she wouldn’t sleep if she didn’t taste it. And I encouraged her.”

“What did you say?” Ruby asked through strained breaths, rubbing herself faster now, her feet digging into the bed.

“I told her it was hers whenever she wanted it.”

Jack recoiled before saying the next part. Too private. Too ugly. But Ruby got the truth from him, that was the deal. “I told her I would sneak into her house and let her suck the cum out of me while her parents slept. I’d cum inside her any chance I got.”

He half-expected Ruby to be angry. She wasn’t. She just lost herself further and further into the story, using her free hand now to pinch her nipple, biting her lip.

“I was touching her all over her pussy and ass when I was getting ready to cum and she seemed to get back into it as well,” Jack’s ability to go into details was diminishing as he himself was reliving the story then. “I put my little finger in her ass, just the very tip of it. She groaned and I told her to take my cum and she did. I started cumming.”

Jack moved over Ruby then, taking her by the backs of the knees and pulling her down the bed.

“As I came, my finger was still in her little asshole.”

Ruby was on her back now. Jack pushed her legs up, opening her to him.

“I was pumping my cum into her throat, and rubbing her with my whole palm. Her pussy, her ass, all of it. She was so wet.”

He dripped saliva on his wife’s pussy from his opened mouth, having salivated from reliving the evening. Her hips were in the air below him, held there by his hands. Her mouth was pressed shut, lips almost white, the sound trapped in her throat.

“As I was almost done, I could feel her cumming again. She was rubbing herself against my palm.”

Jack lifted Ruby higher.

His wife’s familiar, pink, wonderful pussy and tight asshole were right there in front of him, on full display.

“We came together,” he said. “I can’t wait to make her come again, baby. I want you to see it. Feel it. I want you two together.”

Then he lowered his mouth and gave Ruby one decisive, strong, long, hot lick from her asshole to her clit.

He put her down and went back to his seat at the end of the bed.

Jack watched his wife finish the job herself, writhing on the bed, one hand tight on her breast, the other between her squeezed legs.

Jack gave her a moment to recover. As he did, he squeezed his cock. Throbbing. So soon after Mia. Surprising.

“The story’s not over, though,” Jack said.

Ruby got up, straightening her dress, giving her husband a kiss. “Please, continue.” They both laughed a bit.

“Afterward she called me Jack,” he said.

Ruby sat with that.

“After?”

“Yeah.”

“No more Mr. D?”

“No. She was normal again. Or not normal, exactly. Just… not like she’d been a minute before. Not sex-crazed. I don’t love that description of her, but I don’t know what else to call it.”

“I get it,” Ruby said. “So, Mr. D… she’s doing that on purpose. And calling it a penis as well, I think, no?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

He paused.

“I hate how much I liked it,” Jack said. “The Mr. D thing.”

Ruby’s hand rested on his leg.

“And I think she knows I like it. I think she used it because she knows.”

That was the part that made him feel sick. Or made it hotter. He couldn’t quite separate those.

“Yeah, it’s…” Ruby gestured. She seemed to agree. Not just with the shame, but with how hot this forbidden dynamic was. And what were they going to do about it anyway? Stop here?

“Honestly, I don’t want to stop. Even though we probably should,” Ruby said.

Jack said nothing. His cock was still hard as a rock, mocking his moral struggle.

“Why didn’t you go all the way with Mia?” Ruby asked.

Jack opened his mouth, then closed it again.

The answer did not come easy or clean. That meant it was liable to be honest.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Not exactly.”

Ruby waited.

“I think part of it was… what we were already doing felt like more than enough. Enough for the first time, I mean. It was already insane. It felt like we’d crossed every line there was.”

“Except the one.”

“Except the one,” Jack said. “And part of it was probably that I wanted you there for that. If it happened. When it happens. I don’t know. Maybe that’s me making myself sound better.”

“Is it?”

“Maybe. I wanted to fuck her. I definitely wanted to fuck her. I’m not going to sit here and tell you I stopped because I’m a gentleman or some shit.”

Jack stopped to think, then continued thinking out loud.

“Maybe it was hotter not to,” he said. “Leaving it there. Having something still waiting. Or maybe she asked for exactly what she wanted right then, and I gave it to her, and that was the shape of it.”

Ruby’s eyes moved over his face.

“And afterward?” she asked.

“Afterward she said she wished we could meet like that again.”

“And?”

“And I told her we shouldn’t.”

Ruby gave him nothing.

“To which Mia gave a disappointed, deflated response, nodding to agree with me. Then I told her we would anyway.”

That got the smallest breath out of her. Not a surprise, exactly. Not approval either.

Jack felt the need to explain and hated himself for it. “I did say we shouldn’t. I made sure she heard that part.”

“But you also told her you would.”

“Yes.” He’d tried patting himself on the back for some semantic bullshit. Like a fucking coward. “You’re right.” He thought for a bit. “But it’s what we wanted, right?”

Ruby looked down at her own hand, at the wedding ring, it seemed. Then back at him.

“Yes,” she said. “That was the door.”

Jack let out a breath he had not meant to hold.

“But,” Ruby said.

There it was.

“I’m not going to sit here just jacking off to the transcript forever.”

Jack knew it. He nodded. And he wanted her to join.

“No, Jack. I mean it.” Her voice stayed soft. “This was hot. Very hot. But I’m not going to become the wife you come home to with stories. I’m not going to be your audience.”

“You’re not.”

“Yeah. Not yet.”

He had no answer to that. He saw what she meant. A lot was hanging on whether Mia would be interested in Ruby as well. If she wasn’t, it’s a problem. If she was—that’s an even bigger one in some ways.

Ruby leaned back against the headboard again, calmer now.

“If this keeps going,” she said, “we have to move it forward.”

Jack nodded.

That sounded simple. Forward. Sure. Whatever the hell that meant.

“Do you feel something for her?”

Jack sat back a little.

“Yes,” he said, having taken a moment to genuinely think on it.

“What do you feel?”

“I don’t think it’s romance.”

“You don’t think.”

“No. I mean, yes. I mean I don’t think it is. It’s confusing because she’s not a stranger. I’ve known her since she was a kid. I had feelings around her before there was anything even remotely sexual in my head. Protective feelings. Fondness. Familiarity. Whatever you want to call it.”

Ruby watched him. “And now?” she asked.

“And now all of that is still there, except now I’ve had my hands on her, my cock in her mouth, I’ve made her cum. I can’t take any of that back.”

Ruby looked away at that, but not like she had been hurt.

“I mean—”

“I know what you mean.”

He believed he was telling the truth. But he had believed he would not betray Beth either, right up until he just fucking did it. He had thought about it. And then just did it. So what did his certainty mean now?

“I’m really not a fan of what this adventure is revealing about me as a man.”

That got half a smile from her.

“At least you know,” she said.

“Great.”

“And I’m right there with you, Jack.”

“At least there’s that.”

She laid her head on his lap, petting his leg.

“When do you think you’ll see her again?”

“I don’t know. We have no plans. This happened barely more than an hour ago.”

“Right.”

Ruby went quiet.

“Even without plans, she’ll come here again eventually,” Ruby said.

“Yeah, probably.”

“With Beth?”

“Most likely.”

“Alone?”

“I don’t know. Not likely,” Jack said. “Well, maybe.”

“What did you tell her about me?”

“Not much. I told her I love my wife.”

“Did she believe you?”

“I think so.”

“Does she have any reason to think I know?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

Jack watched her nod in silence. He didn’t like that particular silence. Something in it.

“I might not need to propose anything.”

“Ruby.”

“We have to make a move.”

“Agreed. But she could panic.”

“Yes. She could panic regardless.”

“She could tell Beth.”

Ruby’s expression sharpened at Beth’s name, but she did not cower. “She could already tell Beth. I more or less almost entirely trust that she won’t, though.”

Jack stared at his wife. As long as she fucking more or less almost entirely trusted her.

Ruby scared and excited him.

“I just want to see what she does,” she said.

“What do you have in mind?” he asked, more or less almost entirely certain he wasn't going to like the answer.

~~~
Monday, June 8, 2026. Maplewood, New Jersey.
– 4:18 pm

Spending time with Beth was weird now.

Mia loved her. She did. She loved her and she had fucked her father.

Not fucked. Technically. She had only sucked his dick in a car while he made her cum twice and touched her in places she had not known she wanted to be touched by anyone.

So, fine. Tomato potato.

Beth was really going through it with Christian, but Mia, bff of the year, could only think about Beth’s father and his wonderful, heavenly, thick, stupidly perfect tasty cock.

What the hell was wrong with her?

She didn’t know. Something had changed. But of course something had changed. Everything had changed. Her whole life was upside down now, and no one knew except Jack.

Beth sat beside her on the stone edge of the fountain, flicking water with two fingers, talking like the words were coming out because if they stayed in her body she would explode.

“It’s not even just that he cheated,” Beth said. “I mean, obviously fuck him forever, but it’s the lying. Like last month when I asked if something was going on and he made me feel insane for asking.”

Mia looked at her.

Really looked now.

“He said I was paranoid,” Beth said. “He said I was inventing problems because I was scared of leaving for school. And I believed him. I apologized to him. Apologized!”

Mia felt something cold move through her.

Beth laughed once, but there was nothing funny in it. “That’s the part I can’t stop thinking about. He had the real version. I didn’t. He got to walk around knowing what my life actually was, and I was out there making decisions with fake information. Made me a fucking fool.”

Christian had done the thing Mia was doing.

No. Worse. Mia was doing something way worse.

Beth turned her head. “Are you listening?”

“Yes.”

“What did I say?”

“You said he made you feel insane for asking,” Mia said. “That he had the real version and you didn’t. That you apologized to him, when it should have been the other way around.”

Beth considered that, then nodded. “Okay, fair.”

“And you are not a fool,” Mia said, emphasizing each word.

Mia had gotten lucky. She had been doing that a lot lately. Getting lucky. Making irresponsible decisions and then being allowed, somehow, to continue without having to answer for them.

Her phone was in her hand, screen black. Jack could text her, maybe? She kept thinking at the phone.

He would not text her. He couldn’t. Neither of them were that stupid. They had made no arrangements except the agreement that they would meet again.

Probably.

Hopefully.

Mia prayed, silently, for God to please let it happen again.

She had to snap out of it.

Come on. Her best friend was right there, heartbroken, venting. She couldn’t just sit there remembering Jack’s big strong hand holding her head down on his cock.

Back to reality, Mia.

Focus.

Beth. Beth. Beth. Christian. Boys. College. Gelato. Town square. Sun. Fountain. Water. Ruby walking over. Pigeon.

Ruby walking over.

Mia’s thoughts stopped so abruptly she coulda sworn they hit something.

Ruby crossed the square in a white dress, blond hair loose, sunlight catching on her arms and collarbone. She looked like she belonged there more than anyone else did. Like the benches and trees and the clock and the fountain were all falling into place around her.

She was looking at Beth.

Then she was looking at Mia.

What was that look?

Why was she here?

Act cool, stupid!

Mia turned back toward Beth too quickly.

Beth had not noticed. She was still going, “And now I keep replaying everything. I keep combing past conversations for clues I was too stupid to understand.”

“You couldn’t,” Mia said.

Beth looked at her.

“You couldn’t,” Mia said again, softer. “That’s not on you. That’s on him.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No. Seriously. If someone is hiding something from you, and they’re good at hiding it, that’s not you being stupid. That’s them lying.”

The sentence came out strong enough to sound real.

That was the worst part.

She meant it.

Beth’s eyes got wet, and Mia wanted to crawl out of her own skin.

“You’d tell me, right?” Beth asked.

Mia’s mouth went dry.

“If I was being ridiculous,” Beth said. “Or if someone was lying to me. You’d tell me.”

Mia could hear the fountain, the soft rush of water, people talking outside the café, a dog barking once from somewhere behind them.

“Of course,” Mia said.

The way Beth looked at her made her want to confess. She didn’t. Mia smiled. Apparently that was what she did now.

Lied and smiled.

“Of course I would.”

Beth nodded as her thumb wiped the wet from her eyelid. “Good.”

Mia reached over and squeezed her knee.

Ruby came and sat on the side of the fountain. Not too close to Mia. Not far either.

“How are we doing?”

“Bad,” Beth said.

Ruby nodded. “That tracks.”

“Mom.”

“What? You asked for honesty.”

“I did not.”

“It was implied, I felt.”

Beth smiled despite herself, and Mia hated Ruby a little for how good she was at that. For being beautiful and calm and funny and soft, all at once. For effortlessly allowing the world to form around her.

Ruby looked at Mia then. Just looked. Not angry. Not suspicious. Maybe not anything.

Mia’s body did not believe that.

“Hi, honey,” Ruby said.

“Hi, Mrs. D.”

Mia heard it after she said it. Mrs. D. Fuck.

“Ruby is fine, sweetie,” Ruby said.

Beth groaned. “Mom, no one calls you Ruby.”

“People call me Ruby.”

“Dad calls you Ruby when he’s annoyed.”

“And when he’s not.”

Mia examined her cuticles. Enthusiastically.

Ruby’s perfume reached her. Clean and warm. Grown-up. Expensive maybe. Or maybe Mia was assigning value to everything because she was losing her mind.

Beth pushed herself off the fountain edge. “I’m getting snacks. You guys want anything?”

“No, thanks,” Ruby said.

Mia shook her head. She was pretty sure she couldn’t move.

Ruby stayed seated at the fountain beside her.

There was no reason for Mia’s pulse to be doing what it was doing. Ruby had said nothing. Ruby knew nothing. Jack would not have told her. Why would he tell her?

Unless he had. Unless they talked.

Married people talked. Did married people talk about this? No. No normal married people talked about this.

Ruby looked toward Beth leaving, then back at Mia.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Mia said too fast. “I’m good.”

Ruby smiled a little. “You don’t look good.”

That was it.

That was death. That was the police. That was Beth crying. That was Ron killing her, Joan using it as an excuse to move to Belize. That was dying of shame right here in the square.

HOMEWRECKER.

“I’m just worried about Beth.”

“I know.”

Mia nodded.

Ruby’s eyes stayed on her.

“She loves you,” Ruby said.

“I love her too.”

“I know.”

Mia could not tell what she heard in Ruby’s voice.

Ruby rested one hand on the fountain wall between them. Her fingers were long, nails pale, wedding ring bright in the sun.

Mia saw the ring and immediately remembered Jack’s hand.

His finger in her mouth.

The ring against her tongue.

Oh, fuck.

She had licked his wedding ring.

She had put his married hand in her mouth and licked the ring like some kind of message.

Had she meant it?

No. She had been horny and stupid and trying to do something hot.

Ruby’s palm moved slowly over the stone beside her.

“These get so warm in the sun,” Ruby said.

Mia stopped breathing.

Ruby looked down at the fountain edge, like she was only talking about the fountain edge.

“Warm stone,” Ruby said.

The water kept falling behind them.

A kid laughed somewhere near the clock.

Mia’s whole body went numb.

Ruby looked at her then.

Not smiling.

Not angry.

Just there.

Mia opened her mouth and nothing came out.

Ruby’s voice stayed soft. “That’s a good phrase.”

Mia swallowed.

“I didn’t—”

Ruby waited.

Mia had no idea where that sentence was supposed to go.

I didn’t mean it like that.

I didn’t mean for him to tell you.

I didn’t mean to want him.

I didn’t mean for you to find out.

“I hadn’t thought about it. I guess it is, yeah,” Mia said, smiling and hoping to Christ her nose would not grow large enough to hang her over a man-cave fireplace like a swordfish.

Ruby’s mouth softened.

Beth appeared from the café window with a paper bag in one hand and a drink in the other. “They were out of the good chips, which feels targeted.”

Ruby took her hand off the stone.

“Obviously a personal attack,” she said.

Beth dropped back beside Mia and shoved the bag between them. “Eat something. You look pale.”

“I’m fine,” Mia said.

Ruby stood, smoothing the skirt of her dress. “I gotta get going.”

Beth leaned into her mother’s side for a quick hug.

Ruby kissed the top of Beth’s head. Easy. Natural.

Then she turned to Mia.

Mia stood because staying seated felt impossible.

Ruby leaned in for the usual cheek kiss. Mia had done this a hundred times. Hello, goodbye, birthdays, holidays, dinners at their house, rides home, ordinary life.

This time Ruby’s hand touched the side of Mia’s neck.

Not aggressive. Not dramatic.

Just there.

The kiss landed on Mia’s cheek.

Ruby smelled clean and expensive. She was so close. Mia’s body wanted to lean in as much as she wanted to make a run for the border.

Beth was digging through the paper bag. “Do you want the weird barbecue ones or the disappointing plain ones?”

Mia looked at Ruby.

Ruby looked back.

Mia could not tell if she was being tested. Or warned? Hunted? Forgiven?

Invited?

“Yes,” Mia said.

Beth frowned. “To which?”

Mia blinked. “Plain. Sorry.”

“Fuck, ok. Here.”

Ruby smiled at that, kissed Beth once more, and walked away across the square.

Mia watched her go, taking the bag from Beth’s extended arm.

Come on, turn around, Mia thought.

Look at her like that again.

Let her know she wasn’t imagining it.

Ruby did not turn around.

Mia sat back on the fountain edge. The stone was hot under her thighs now. Too hot. She put one hand beside her, where Ruby’s hand had been.

Warm stone.

Jack had told her.

Or Ruby had guessed.

No. You couldn’t guess that.

He told her.

Jack had gone home to his wife and told her what Mia had said in the car.

Why?

Beth bumped her shoulder against Mia’s. “You are being so weird.”

“I’m tired.”

Her neck still felt Ruby’s fingers. Ruby’s smell lingered. Her mouth remembered Jack’s ring.

===============

End of Chapter 2

===============

Huge shoutout to: 
- The early readers for their support! You can join them on Patreon, where we have also images of these characters and other stuff.
- All of you for the incredible response to the first chapter!
- To Ruby for being such a fucking rocket. 

Let me know if you want part 3 and any feedback you have ❤️

u/HaleWoodsWrote — 3 days ago

My Wife Needed Every Detail About Mia, Our Daughter’s Best Friend (Jack, Ruby, Mia - Ch. 02) [M42/F40/F18] [Age Gap] [Daughter’s Best Friend] [Older Man] [Younger Woman] [Forbidden] [Family Friend] [Wife Knows] [Masturbation] [Secrets] [Exhibitionism] [Cum Swallowing] [Pussy licking] [Married]

(---SPOILERS---)
Recap of Part 1
Jack (42) and Ruby (40) are happily married, Beth (18), their daughter, is heartbroken over Christian (19), and Beth’s best friend Mia (18) comes over for dinner. Jack comes to realize Mia is looking at him differently and he finds himself increasingly attracted to her. After dinner, Jack is giving Mia a ride to her parents’ house. Mia compliments him, telling him his body feels “like warm stone, or something”. She redirects him away from her parents’ house, and lets Jack know she wants him. Jack knows he should just keep going straight, take her home; a good man, a good father would not do this. But he takes the turn anyway. What Mia doesn’t know: Ruby was aware the whole time that Jack might pursue Mia; they have some sort of a deal about her.
(---SPOILERS END---)

=======================

~~~
Sunday, June 7, 2026. Maplewood, New Jersey.
– 12:20 am

“You guys left, what then?” Ruby asked.

Jack had expected her to ask or say something to ease them into it, but of course he knew her and should have known better. “Well… small talk in the car. She was very complimentary of the fatherly work I’ve done and she talked about us.”

“Us?”

“You and me.”

“What about us?”

“She said we were cute together. That it was obvious we’re really in love.”

Ruby’s body tensed a bit then—enough for Jack to notice.

“Yeah, uh… listen. If you tell me you changed your mind or don’t feel right with this—we drop it. The whole idea. No questions—” Ruby interrupted him, aggressively grabbing him by his seashell shirt, stamping him with a smiling open-eyed kiss.

“Just excited. Tell me.” She sat back. Jack sat on the foot of the bed, facing his wife.

Mia had touched his hand, then apologized for overstepping.

“Oh, wow,” Ruby said.

“She was leading,” he said. “Or trying to.” Jack cringed at himself and laughed a bit.

Ruby knew what he meant, and said, “It’s very ‘she likes me, she likes me not’, yeah.”

“Yeah!” They shared a bit of a laugh and settled. “So, yeah, I mean, I told her it was ok to touch me and she could just call me Jack, enough with the Mr. D shit, you know?”

He told her about the laughs they had shared, Mia’s comments about his body.

“Warm stone…” Ruby repeated.

“Warm stone,” Jack shrugged, trying and failing to look humble.

“You fucking loved that, I know you did.” Ruby slapped his knee.

Jack made a purposefully girly noise, swatting her away. “OK, OK, I did, shut up!”

“Did you like her saying it?” Ruby asked, emphasizing the word ‘her’, not fully joking then.

“Yes, I did.”

“OK, what then?”

By the time they had reached the red light at Hoglund and Maine, Mia was almost done pretending. She kept looking at him, then away, working herself up to something, as far as he could tell.

“Almost at her house, then?”

“That’s right. She goes ‘turn here, it’s quicker.’ So I tell her, you know, straight is faster for sure. And she’s doing a lot of wording and gesticulating now, not really saying much, but more like delaying and working up courage. Then she stops herself. Takes a deep breath. And goes, word for word, ‘Basically, what I’m trying to say, Mr. D’—she turns to me—‘I would like to see your penis, and I think it’s better we do it on a street that is not in front of my parents’ house.’”

Ruby took a huge breath, eyes growing wilder, exhaling slowly, fingers tracing her collarbone.

“I put up a little bit of a fight, but, you know… it was sort of half-hearted. As I was pretending to object, she looked at me and played with her dress. Pulled it up a little, and slid her hands to the insides of her thighs.”

Ruby leaned her head back against the headboard, pulling one knee close to her chest. He could almost see her pussy, but the black sundress was still covering her.

“Jack…” Ruby didn’t have to say anything, Jack knew. Hot. Wrong. Words didn’t fit it right.

“So,” Ruby’s fingers were disappearing under the dress, “you turned?”

He did. Almost didn’t, having a crisis for about ten seconds. He left that out.

“Yeah.”

“Wait,” Ruby’s finger came back up, her thinking then. After a moment, she said, “Did she know I knew?”

“No.”

“Did she think you were cheating on me?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“So yes.”

Ruby looked at him, then away. They sat for a bit. Jack didn’t envy Ruby’s position. He had gone out and started the thing. If Mia didn’t want Ruby too, then consent or not, he had made Ruby the wife at home. He had no way of giving her a place in what had already happened.

And Mia had… yeah, shit, either way you cut it, Mia had betrayed Ruby.

“Well, ok,” she turned back to him now. “We knew this would have to be the way.” She meant that they couldn’t just knock on Mia’s parents’ door and ask her if she wanted to fuck them both.

“You alright?” Jack asked, not approaching.

“Mhmm,” she nodded, and he believed her. “I want to hear the rest. She asked to see your cock?”

“Yes.” Jack regrouped. “So I… I turned and we—”

“Jack?”

“Hmm?”

“You better tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

Ruby didn’t answer right away. She just looked at him.

He hated that look. The trouble with Ruby was she heard edits. And then she looked at him in a way. A way that let him know the jig was up.

“Are you leaving something out?”

“No. I mean—no, not really.”

Ruby waited.

“There was a second there at the light.”

“A second.”

“More, maybe.”

“OK.”

“I almost didn’t turn,” Jack said. After a moment he added, “I told myself to go straight. Take her home. Be a good man.”

Ruby watched him.

“I thought about Beth. You. Mia. Ron and Joan. Everybody. I thought ‘a good man would not do this’.”

“And then?”

“I turned anyway.”

They sat, Jack not knowing where to put his eyes, so he let them de-focus looking at a random crease in her dress.

Ruby nodded, slowly.

“Don’t leave those parts out.”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“Yes, you were.” Her voice was soft. She was fucking right.

Ruby’s expression relaxed. “We can’t ignore the ugly parts.”

He nodded.

“OK,” she said, leaning in, giving him a kiss, squeezing the muscle around his knees. “So you turned.”

“So I turned,” Jack told her about the dark spot under the broken streetlight, the first kiss, the touches. How quickly he could switch from guilt to sexual reminiscing. Back to being horny. As if the guilt had no weight to it at all. Was it just posturing?

As Jack spoke, sparing no detail, his wife’s fingers disappeared under the dress again. Jack knew his part in this was to sit there, tell the story truthfully, and let his wife enjoy herself. He had learned that part twenty years ago.

~~~
20 years ago, more or less.
~~~
Thursday, July 13, 2006. Maplewood, New Jersey.
– 8:40 pm

“You’re quiet,” Ruby said.

“I’m not quiet.” He had absolutely been quiet.

They were a couple drinks past dinner, two months into whatever this was, and Jack was trying to not seem too eager.

“You’ve been quiet for almost a minute.”

“I was admiring the view.”

She glanced behind her, toward the rest of the patio and the bright restaurant behind it.

“Not that view.” Great job playing it cool, stupid.

Ruby looked back at him, trying not to smile too much. “That was terrible.”

“Worked, though.”

“It did not.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m humoring you.”

“Good enough.” Jack took a drink and glanced past her shoulder. At the table near the little ficus tree, a man in a short-sleeve button-down with little anchors on it was explaining something to a woman who had clearly left her body some time ago. Jack decided it was probably insurance-related, based on nothing but the shirt.

“What?” Ruby asked.

“Nothing.”

“No, what?”

“I’m just wondering how long before a man starts ordering salmon because his doctor told him to.”

Ruby glanced back, then turned to him again.

“That’s you in 20 years.”

“Pff, come on.”

“You already have the shirt.”

“This is a good shirt.”

“It has dragons on it.”

“No, it—” Jack realized it had dragons on it. “Oh, fuck.”

They both laughed. Ruby kept laughing after he stopped, pleased with herself, one knee hugged to her chest, dress falling loose over her thigh. Jack looked away, forgetting this was not their first date and looking was OK.

The patio had gotten darker around them. Not dark-dark, just the kind of summer evening dark where everybody looked a little better and every table seemed like its own little island. Jack’s Long Island iced teas were probably doing at least some of the work on that fantasy. Somewhere inside, a woman’s loud laugh could be heard. Jack bet she was laughing at something that probably wasn’t that funny.

Ruby’s hand slid from her shin to her ankle. Then back up. Down. Was it an absent-minded move? Maybe pretending it was? On her way back up her hand went around the other side of her leg, up the calf. Again: slow.

She was still smiling, but her breathing had changed. Not much. Enough. Her eyes had gone a little unfocused, then sharp again when they found him watching.

“Ruby.”

“Jack.”

“What are you doing?”

“Having dinner.”

“We finished dinner.”

“Then I’m relaxing after dinner.”

He gave her a quiet laugh. “Right.”

Her hand disappeared behind her knee, under the loose fall of the dress.

Jack felt his own smile go stupid and helpless. “Are you—”

“Am I what?”

He looked around.

Her hand stayed where it was. Nothing obvious. Nothing anyone else could point at. But Jack saw the little tightening in her shoulders, the way her mouth softened and pressed together again.

“Ruby,” he said again, lower this time, smiling. “What are you doing?”

She leaned back in her chair. Not far. Just enough to give him a better angle if he chose to take it.

“Have a look.”

“At what?”

She tilted her head. Come on. His insecurity was speaking for him—he knew what she meant.

Jack stared at her, and she stared back, daring him, but there was something under the dare now, he thought. Something… less polished and refined. He could see it and, seeing it, understood that if he made the wrong joke, or grabbed her wrist, or looked around like she had embarrassed him… it’d be the wrong move, is the thing he sensed. He didn’t want to do any of those things anyway, not really. Only as an awkward reflex, to shoo away discomfort.

“Oh, boy,” he said, pushing his chair back. “You know what? I think my shoe’s come undone.”

Ruby’s mouth opened in silent laughter.

“Tragic,” she said.

“Could happen to anyone.”

He bent under the table.

For a moment he saw only shadow, the edge of the tablecloth, her knee, the black dress gathered in her hand. Then his eyes adjusted.

She was touching herself through her underwear.

Jack stopped breathing.

Ruby’s fingers, covered in numerous rings of various sizes and shapes, moved, slow and careful. Then she shifted the fabric aside just enough to remove any doubt about what she was doing. Her fingers slid around in circles, showing him how wet she was.

Jack made a sound he hoped could only be heard from inside his own body.

He sat back up too fast, bumping his knee on the underside of the table.

Ruby was looking at him.

Not laughing now. Not exactly. There was pleasure on her face, yes, plenty of it, but something else too. A question. Maybe even a little fear. Not fear that someone would see her masturbating. Or… not only that.

Fear of what he would do with what he had seen?

Jack swallowed.

“You OK?” she asked.

He almost laughed. She was asking him?

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m very OK.”

Her mouth moved like she was trying not to smile too much. Her hand was still under the dress. Still moving. Slower now, maybe because he was watching her face and not what she was doing.

“You’re not weirded out?”

“The way I get weirded out is by getting extremely hard, apparently.”

Ruby closed her eyes for a second, smiling through a breath.

“Good,” she said.

The waiter appeared beside the table.

Jack saw him before Ruby did. Or maybe Ruby saw him and simply decided that did not matter. Jack had no idea. The young man stopped with a trained, empty smile, paid not to see or understand too much.

“How is everything over here?”

Ruby kept going, not looking at the waiter.

Jack looked up at him.

“Oh, great,” he said. His voice sounded almost normal. “Really great.”

The waiter nodded. “Can I get you anything else?”

Jack looked at Ruby.

Ruby looked at Jack, barely present anymore.

Her breathing was faster now.

The waiter’s eyes darted from Jack to Ruby to Jack.

“No,” Jack said. “We’re good.”

“All right then,” the waiter said, already turning away, quicker than previous times.

Ruby’s shoulders dropped, free hand finding and grasping the table, rings clashing with the wood. She was in a full-body shiver now, which she tried to contain as best as she could.

Jack recognized the movement, of course. Her head coming down, along with the rest of her body, leaning on the table, eyes closed, still shivering, sounds of pleasure catching low in her throat.

Jack could have told her to stop. Could have made a joke. Could have looked around the patio again and turned this into something embarrassing, something she had done wrong.

Instead he stayed where he was.

He watched her.

That was all.

At twenty-two, he thought the test was whether he could handle how wild she was. At forty-two, he knew better. The test had been whether he could let her be, or whether he would make it about himself.

She looked up when it passed. His eyes were still on her. They laughed quietly and touched glasses like idiots.

~~~
Present day
~~~
Sunday, June 7, 2026. Maplewood, New Jersey.
– 12:40 am

“Tell me exactly what happened,” Ruby asked, losing herself in pleasure then, but listening.

He told her about Mia leaning over the console to kiss him.

“What did she look like? Her body, what was it doing?” Ruby wanted to know more, not just the mechanics. Jack had been there and experienced everything firsthand, but Ruby had to scavenge his memory for the impression.

Through all of this, Ruby touched herself under the dress.

The first time he held Mia’s face, he had felt it all at once: protectiveness, desire, guilt. Ruby asked if she had seemed scared and Jack said yes she did, but also excited and eager. Mia had seemed nervous, hopeful, a little wild. And her face had seemed so small and soft in his hands.

“Did you keep kissing?”

“No, actually. She took my hand. She licked my fingers and sucked one of them.”

“Which one?”

“Ring finger. And she sort of licked circles around the ring,” Jack saw her react to that. Not entirely negatively, but it was significant. He admitted then that he didn’t know why Mia had chosen that finger, whether the licking of the ring was something she’d done on purpose because of the marriage, on purpose because it was just hot, or in the absence of any thought at all.

“What do you think it was?”

“Honestly, I get the feeling it was maybe just hot and unplanned. But I could be wrong.”

“Did she say anything about me after that?”

Jack said no and then paused. “Not directly… but sorta. Later, I’m gonna get to it.”

Then she said “‘Mr. D?’ and I said ‘Yes, Mia?’ and she said ‘Can I see your penis?’”

“And she insists on calling it a penis, huh?” Ruby smiled with her cheeks, corners of her lips pointed down.

“Yes.” Jack paused to see if Ruby had other interruptions to get out. “I said nothing for a bit, just enjoying the moment. It was very exciting, having her ask. Having her want to see it. I don’t know if I can explain it.”

“I get it, I’m pretty sure,” Ruby was swallowing hard.

“‘I want you to see it,’ I told her.”

He tried to move quickly through the obvious parts—Mia taking out his cock, the gasp, the first lick, her mouth. Ruby let him, until his hand reached Mia’s back, then lower.

“She wasn’t wearing anything under it,” Jack said.

Ruby’s hand stopped for a moment. Eyebrow up.

“I don’t know if she planned it, hoped for it or just dressed that way for other reasons. I really want to know, though.”

“Me too.” Ruby sharply inhaled, which Jack was almost certain meant she had slid a finger inside herself more fully now.

Ruby asked Jack what Mia was saying and doing.

Ruby’s hand was moving again, and Jack had trouble looking anywhere else.

“She told me she’d fantasized about my penis since she learned how to masturbate,” Jack said.

Ruby swallowed. He told his wife that he pulled up their daughter’s best friend’s dress over her tanlined bottom. Mia’s perfect petite body in his lap, his cock almost all the way disappeared inside her mouth. “I could barely see. Let alone think. I told her she was a good girl, and that we were doing such a bad thing.”

“How did she respond?” Ruby asked.

Jack felt her attention sharpen.

“She kissed it, put it against her cheek, and said, ‘I love your cock, Mr. D.’”

“What did you think about?”

“I thought about wanting to do nasty things. I wanted to cum inside her, pick her up and fuck her, use her as an—” Jack’s shorts were filling up once more. He couldn’t find words to describe his fantasies.

“I love the darkness in you,” Ruby said as she pulled up her dress, showing her husband her hand doing circles around the opening below her clit.

Jack was ashamed of it. Feared it. But Ruby’s recognition of the darkness made him think it was OK to have thoughts, even unpalatable ones.

“I told her it was so wrong,” he said after a moment. “Though of course, I did nothing to stop it. She asked me to please let her keep going. I told her she was so young. She said, ‘I’m a consenting adult, Mr. D,’ and I asked if this was really what she wanted. She told me to touch her and find out.”

He gave Ruby the version she wanted: not just where his hand went, but how Mia moved against it. How wet she was. How sensitive. How she pushed back when he touched near her ass.

Ruby’s breathing changed at that.

“She wanted that?” Ruby asked.

“I think so.”

“She said, ‘Oh my god, I’m such a bad girl. Please make me cum, Mr. D. I want to cum so bad,’ and I called her by her name and told her she was a good girl, as she came, and as it was happening, she took my cock all the way into her throat.” Ruby’s eyes widened at that. But Jack kept going.

“She told me no one had ever made her cum.”

“What?” Ruby said, almost taking a break.

“That was my reaction too, though I kind of got it, with her age and lack of experience, maybe?”

“And she could take your entire cock? I can barely do that.” Ruby considered, still rubbing, but slowing down a bit. “I think your idea about Mia’s lack of experience might be a little misguided.”

“Maybe.” Jack paused. “After she came, she said I’d opened something in her. Still Mr. D then.”

Ruby watched him.

“I didn’t know what to say. Then she said, ‘I want to taste your cum, Mr. D.’”

“It’s hard to imagine her like that,” Ruby said, “But, fuck, it’s so…”

“Yeah, I know, baby. And she kept at it, too. She said, ‘I want your cum in my mouth. I know it’s wrong and we’re ruining our lives and we will be in so much trouble, but I need it.’ That’s what I meant earlier,” Jack said. “She didn’t say your name. But ‘ruining our lives’ meant you too, far as I could tell.”

“I see.”

“But I told her it’s OK. She didn’t hear me, I don’t think. She was only focused on one thing, she was obsessed. I’ll be honest, it was incredible. To have her want me to cum inside her so badly.” Jack touched his cock then, feeling new surges of heat.

“She kept saying she needed it. That she wouldn’t sleep if she didn’t taste it. And I encouraged her.”

“What did you say?” Ruby asked through strained breaths, rubbing herself faster now, her feet digging into the bed.

“I told her it was hers whenever she wanted it.”

Jack recoiled before saying the next part. Too private. Too ugly. But Ruby got the truth from him, that was the deal. “I told her I would sneak into her house and let her suck the cum out of me while her parents slept. I’d cum inside her any chance I got.”

He half-expected Ruby to be angry. She wasn’t. She just lost herself further and further into the story, using her free hand now to pinch her nipple, biting her lip.

“I was touching her all over her pussy and ass when I was getting ready to cum and she seemed to get back into it as well,” Jack’s ability to go into details was diminishing as he himself was reliving the story then. “I put my little finger in her ass, just the very tip of it. She groaned and I told her to take my cum and she did. I started cumming.”

Jack moved over Ruby then, taking her by the backs of the knees and pulling her down the bed.

“As I came, my finger was still in her little asshole.”

Ruby was on her back now. Jack pushed her legs up, opening her to him.

“I was pumping my cum into her throat, and rubbing her with my whole palm. Her pussy, her ass, all of it. She was so wet.”

He dripped saliva on his wife’s pussy from his opened mouth, having salivated from reliving the evening. Her hips were in the air below him, held there by his hands. Her mouth was pressed shut, lips almost white, the sound trapped in her throat.

“As I was almost done, I could feel her cumming again. She was rubbing herself against my palm.”

Jack lifted Ruby higher.

His wife’s familiar, pink, wonderful pussy and tight asshole were right there in front of him, on full display.

“We came together,” he said. “I can’t wait to make her come again, baby. I want you to see it. Feel it. I want you two together.”

Then he lowered his mouth and gave Ruby one decisive, strong, long, hot lick from her asshole to her clit.

He put her down and went back to his seat at the end of the bed.

Jack watched his wife finish the job herself, writhing on the bed, one hand tight on her breast, the other between her squeezed legs.

Jack gave her a moment to recover. As he did, he squeezed his cock. Throbbing. So soon after Mia. Surprising.

“The story’s not over, though,” Jack said.

Ruby got up, straightening her dress, giving her husband a kiss. “Please, continue.” They both laughed a bit.

“Afterward she called me Jack,” he said.

Ruby sat with that.

“After?”

“Yeah.”

“No more Mr. D?”

“No. She was normal again. Or not normal, exactly. Just… not like she’d been a minute before. Not sex-crazed. I don’t love that description of her, but I don’t know what else to call it.”

“I get it,” Ruby said. “So, Mr. D… she’s doing that on purpose. And calling it a penis as well, I think, no?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

He paused.

“I hate how much I liked it,” Jack said. “The Mr. D thing.”

Ruby’s hand rested on his leg.

“And I think she knows I like it. I think she used it because she knows.”

That was the part that made him feel sick. Or made it hotter. He couldn’t quite separate those.

“Yeah, it’s…” Ruby gestured. She seemed to agree. Not just with the shame, but with how hot this forbidden dynamic was. And what were they going to do about it anyway? Stop here?

“Honestly, I don’t want to stop. Even though we probably should,” Ruby said.

Jack said nothing. His cock was still hard as a rock, mocking his moral struggle.

“Why didn’t you go all the way with Mia?” Ruby asked.

Jack opened his mouth, then closed it again.

The answer did not come easy or clean. That meant it was liable to be honest.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Not exactly.”

Ruby waited.

“I think part of it was… what we were already doing felt like more than enough. Enough for the first time, I mean. It was already insane. It felt like we’d crossed every line there was.”

“Except the one.”

“Except the one,” Jack said. “And part of it was probably that I wanted you there for that. If it happened. When it happens. I don’t know. Maybe that’s me making myself sound better.”

“Is it?”

“Maybe. I wanted to fuck her. I definitely wanted to fuck her. I’m not going to sit here and tell you I stopped because I’m a gentleman or some shit.”

Jack stopped to think, then continued thinking out loud.

“Maybe it was hotter not to,” he said. “Leaving it there. Having something still waiting. Or maybe she asked for exactly what she wanted right then, and I gave it to her, and that was the shape of it.”

Ruby’s eyes moved over his face.

“And afterward?” she asked.

“Afterward she said she wished we could meet like that again.”

“And?”

“And I told her we shouldn’t.”

Ruby gave him nothing.

“To which Mia gave a disappointed, deflated response, nodding to agree with me. Then I told her we would anyway.”

That got the smallest breath out of her. Not a surprise, exactly. Not approval either.

Jack felt the need to explain and hated himself for it. “I did say we shouldn’t. I made sure she heard that part.”

“But you also told her you would.”

“Yes.” He’d tried patting himself on the back for some semantic bullshit. Like a fucking coward. “You’re right.” He thought for a bit. “But it’s what we wanted, right?”

Ruby looked down at her own hand, at the wedding ring, it seemed. Then back at him.

“Yes,” she said. “That was the door.”

Jack let out a breath he had not meant to hold.

“But,” Ruby said.

There it was.

“I’m not going to sit here just jacking off to the transcript forever.”

Jack knew it. He nodded. And he wanted her to join.

“No, Jack. I mean it.” Her voice stayed soft. “This was hot. Very hot. But I’m not going to become the wife you come home to with stories. I’m not going to be your audience.”

“You’re not.”

“Yeah. Not yet.”

He had no answer to that. He saw what she meant. A lot was hanging on whether Mia would be interested in Ruby as well. If she wasn’t, it’s a problem. If she was—that’s an even bigger one in some ways.

Ruby leaned back against the headboard again, calmer now.

“If this keeps going,” she said, “we have to move it forward.”

Jack nodded.

That sounded simple. Forward. Sure. Whatever the hell that meant.

“Do you feel something for her?”

Jack sat back a little.

“Yes,” he said, having taken a moment to genuinely think on it.

“What do you feel?”

“I don’t think it’s romance.”

“You don’t think.”

“No. I mean, yes. I mean I don’t think it is. It’s confusing because she’s not a stranger. I’ve known her since she was a kid. I had feelings around her before there was anything even remotely sexual in my head. Protective feelings. Fondness. Familiarity. Whatever you want to call it.”

Ruby watched him. “And now?” she asked.

“And now all of that is still there, except now I’ve had my hands on her, my cock in her mouth, I’ve made her cum. I can’t take any of that back.”

Ruby looked away at that, but not like she had been hurt.

“I mean—”

“I know what you mean.”

He believed he was telling the truth. But he had believed he would not betray Beth either, right up until he just fucking did it. He had thought about it. And then just did it. So what did his certainty mean now?

“I’m really not a fan of what this adventure is revealing about me as a man.”

That got half a smile from her.

“At least you know,” she said.

“Great.”

“And I’m right there with you, Jack.”

“At least there’s that.”

She laid her head on his lap, petting his leg.

“When do you think you’ll see her again?”

“I don’t know. We have no plans. This happened barely more than an hour ago.”

“Right.”

Ruby went quiet.

“Even without plans, she’ll come here again eventually,” Ruby said.

“Yeah, probably.”

“With Beth?”

“Most likely.”

“Alone?”

“I don’t know. Not likely,” Jack said. “Well, maybe.”

“What did you tell her about me?”

“Not much. I told her I love my wife.”

“Did she believe you?”

“I think so.”

“Does she have any reason to think I know?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

Jack watched her nod in silence. He didn’t like that particular silence. Something in it.

“I might not need to propose anything.”

“Ruby.”

“We have to make a move.”

“Agreed. But she could panic.”

“Yes. She could panic regardless.”

“She could tell Beth.”

Ruby’s expression sharpened at Beth’s name, but she did not cower. “She could already tell Beth. I more or less almost entirely trust that she won’t, though.”

Jack stared at his wife. As long as she fucking more or less almost entirely trusted her.

Ruby scared and excited him.

“I just want to see what she does,” she said.

“What do you have in mind?” he asked, more or less almost entirely certain he wasn't going to like the answer.

~~~
Monday, June 8, 2026. Maplewood, New Jersey.
– 4:18 pm

Spending time with Beth was weird now.

Mia loved her. She did. She loved her and she had fucked her father.

Not fucked. Technically. She had only sucked his dick in a car while he made her cum twice and touched her in places she had not known she wanted to be touched by anyone.

So, fine. Tomato potato.

Beth was really going through it with Christian, but Mia, bff of the year, could only think about Beth’s father and his wonderful, heavenly, thick, stupidly perfect tasty cock.

What the hell was wrong with her?

She didn’t know. Something had changed. But of course something had changed. Everything had changed. Her whole life was upside down now, and no one knew except Jack.

Beth sat beside her on the stone edge of the fountain, flicking water with two fingers, talking like the words were coming out because if they stayed in her body she would explode.

“It’s not even just that he cheated,” Beth said. “I mean, obviously fuck him forever, but it’s the lying. Like last month when I asked if something was going on and he made me feel insane for asking.”

Mia looked at her.

Really looked now.

“He said I was paranoid,” Beth said. “He said I was inventing problems because I was scared of leaving for school. And I believed him. I apologized to him. Apologized!”

Mia felt something cold move through her.

Beth laughed once, but there was nothing funny in it. “That’s the part I can’t stop thinking about. He had the real version. I didn’t. He got to walk around knowing what my life actually was, and I was out there making decisions with fake information. Made me a fucking fool.”

Christian had done the thing Mia was doing.

No. Worse. Mia was doing something way worse.

Beth turned her head. “Are you listening?”

“Yes.”

“What did I say?”

“You said he made you feel insane for asking,” Mia said. “That he had the real version and you didn’t. That you apologized to him, when it should have been the other way around.”

Beth considered that, then nodded. “Okay, fair.”

“And you are not a fool,” Mia said, emphasizing each word.

Mia had gotten lucky. She had been doing that a lot lately. Getting lucky. Making irresponsible decisions and then being allowed, somehow, to continue without having to answer for them.

Her phone was in her hand, screen black. Jack could text her, maybe? She kept thinking at the phone.

He would not text her. He couldn’t. Neither of them were that stupid. They had made no arrangements except the agreement that they would meet again.

Probably.

Hopefully.

Mia prayed, silently, for God to please let it happen again.

She had to snap out of it.

Come on. Her best friend was right there, heartbroken, venting. She couldn’t just sit there remembering Jack’s big strong hand holding her head down on his cock.

Back to reality, Mia.

Focus.

Beth. Beth. Beth. Christian. Boys. College. Gelato. Town square. Sun. Fountain. Water. Ruby walking over. Pigeon.

Ruby walking over.

Mia’s thoughts stopped so abruptly she coulda sworn they hit something.

Ruby crossed the square in a white dress, blond hair loose, sunlight catching on her arms and collarbone. She looked like she belonged there more than anyone else did. Like the benches and trees and the clock and the fountain were all falling into place around her.

She was looking at Beth.

Then she was looking at Mia.

What was that look?

Why was she here?

Act cool, stupid!

Mia turned back toward Beth too quickly.

Beth had not noticed. She was still going, “And now I keep replaying everything. I keep combing past conversations for clues I was too stupid to understand.”

“You couldn’t,” Mia said.

Beth looked at her.

“You couldn’t,” Mia said again, softer. “That’s not on you. That’s on him.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No. Seriously. If someone is hiding something from you, and they’re good at hiding it, that’s not you being stupid. That’s them lying.”

The sentence came out strong enough to sound real.

That was the worst part.

She meant it.

Beth’s eyes got wet, and Mia wanted to crawl out of her own skin.

“You’d tell me, right?” Beth asked.

Mia’s mouth went dry.

“If I was being ridiculous,” Beth said. “Or if someone was lying to me. You’d tell me.”

Mia could hear the fountain, the soft rush of water, people talking outside the café, a dog barking once from somewhere behind them.

“Of course,” Mia said.

The way Beth looked at her made her want to confess. She didn’t. Mia smiled. Apparently that was what she did now.

Lied and smiled.

“Of course I would.”

Beth nodded as her thumb wiped the wet from her eyelid. “Good.”

Mia reached over and squeezed her knee.

Ruby came and sat on the side of the fountain. Not too close to Mia. Not far either.

“How are we doing?”

“Bad,” Beth said.

Ruby nodded. “That tracks.”

“Mom.”

“What? You asked for honesty.”

“I did not.”

“It was implied, I felt.”

Beth smiled despite herself, and Mia hated Ruby a little for how good she was at that. For being beautiful and calm and funny and soft, all at once. For effortlessly allowing the world to form around her.

Ruby looked at Mia then. Just looked. Not angry. Not suspicious. Maybe not anything.

Mia’s body did not believe that.

“Hi, honey,” Ruby said.

“Hi, Mrs. D.”

Mia heard it after she said it. Mrs. D. Fuck.

“Ruby is fine, sweetie,” Ruby said.

Beth groaned. “Mom, no one calls you Ruby.”

“People call me Ruby.”

“Dad calls you Ruby when he’s annoyed.”

“And when he’s not.”

Mia examined her cuticles. Enthusiastically.

Ruby’s perfume reached her. Clean and warm. Grown-up. Expensive maybe. Or maybe Mia was assigning value to everything because she was losing her mind.

Beth pushed herself off the fountain edge. “I’m getting snacks. You guys want anything?”

“No, thanks,” Ruby said.

Mia shook her head. She was pretty sure she couldn’t move.

Ruby stayed seated at the fountain beside her.

There was no reason for Mia’s pulse to be doing what it was doing. Ruby had said nothing. Ruby knew nothing. Jack would not have told her. Why would he tell her?

Unless he had. Unless they talked.

Married people talked. Did married people talk about this? No. No normal married people talked about this.

Ruby looked toward Beth leaving, then back at Mia.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Mia said too fast. “I’m good.”

Ruby smiled a little. “You don’t look good.”

That was it.

That was death. That was the police. That was Beth crying. That was Ron killing her, Joan using it as an excuse to move to Belize. That was dying of shame right here in the square.

HOMEWRECKER.

“I’m just worried about Beth.”

“I know.”

Mia nodded.

Ruby’s eyes stayed on her.

“She loves you,” Ruby said.

“I love her too.”

“I know.”

Mia could not tell what she heard in Ruby’s voice.

Ruby rested one hand on the fountain wall between them. Her fingers were long, nails pale, wedding ring bright in the sun.

Mia saw the ring and immediately remembered Jack’s hand.

His finger in her mouth.

The ring against her tongue.

Oh, fuck.

She had licked his wedding ring.

She had put his married hand in her mouth and licked the ring like some kind of message.

Had she meant it?

No. She had been horny and stupid and trying to do something hot.

Ruby’s palm moved slowly over the stone beside her.

“These get so warm in the sun,” Ruby said.

Mia stopped breathing.

Ruby looked down at the fountain edge, like she was only talking about the fountain edge.

“Warm stone,” Ruby said.

The water kept falling behind them.

A kid laughed somewhere near the clock.

Mia’s whole body went numb.

Ruby looked at her then.

Not smiling.

Not angry.

Just there.

Mia opened her mouth and nothing came out.

Ruby’s voice stayed soft. “That’s a good phrase.”

Mia swallowed.

“I didn’t—”

Ruby waited.

Mia had no idea where that sentence was supposed to go.

I didn’t mean it like that.

I didn’t mean for him to tell you.

I didn’t mean to want him.

I didn’t mean for you to find out.

“I hadn’t thought about it. I guess it is, yeah,” Mia said, smiling and hoping to Christ her nose would not grow large enough to hang her over a man-cave fireplace like a swordfish.

Ruby’s mouth softened.

Beth appeared from the café window with a paper bag in one hand and a drink in the other. “They were out of the good chips, which feels targeted.”

Ruby took her hand off the stone.

“Obviously a personal attack,” she said.

Beth dropped back beside Mia and shoved the bag between them. “Eat something. You look pale.”

“I’m fine,” Mia said.

Ruby stood, smoothing the skirt of her dress. “I gotta get going.”

Beth leaned into her mother’s side for a quick hug.

Ruby kissed the top of Beth’s head. Easy. Natural.

Then she turned to Mia.

Mia stood because staying seated felt impossible.

Ruby leaned in for the usual cheek kiss. Mia had done this a hundred times. Hello, goodbye, birthdays, holidays, dinners at their house, rides home, ordinary life.

This time Ruby’s hand touched the side of Mia’s neck.

Not aggressive. Not dramatic.

Just there.

The kiss landed on Mia’s cheek.

Ruby smelled clean and expensive. She was so close. Mia’s body wanted to lean in as much as she wanted to make a run for the border.

Beth was digging through the paper bag. “Do you want the weird barbecue ones or the disappointing plain ones?”

Mia looked at Ruby.

Ruby looked back.

Mia could not tell if she was being tested. Or warned? Hunted? Forgiven?

Invited?

“Yes,” Mia said.

Beth frowned. “To which?”

Mia blinked. “Plain. Sorry.”

“Fuck, ok. Here.”

Ruby smiled at that, kissed Beth once more, and walked away across the square.

Mia watched her go, taking the bag from Beth’s extended arm.

Come on, turn around, Mia thought.

Look at her like that again.

Let her know she wasn’t imagining it.

Ruby did not turn around.

Mia sat back on the fountain edge. The stone was hot under her thighs now. Too hot. She put one hand beside her, where Ruby’s hand had been.

Warm stone.

Jack had told her.

Or Ruby had guessed.

No. You couldn’t guess that.

He told her.

Jack had gone home to his wife and told her what Mia had said in the car.

Why?

Beth bumped her shoulder against Mia’s. “You are being so weird.”

“I’m tired.”

Her neck still felt Ruby’s fingers. Ruby’s smell lingered. Her mouth remembered Jack’s ring.

===============

End of Chapter 2

===============

Huge shoutout to: 
- The early readers for their support!
- All of you for the incredible response to the first chapter!
- To Ruby for being such a fucking rocket. 

Let me know if you want part 3 and any feedback you have ❤️

reddit.com
u/HaleWoodsWrote — 8 days ago
▲ 51 r/Erotica

My Wife Needed Every Detail About Mia, Our Daughter’s Best Friend (Jack, Ruby, Mia - Ch. 02) [M42/F40/F18] [Age Gap] [Daughter’s Best Friend] [Older Man] [Younger Woman] [Forbidden] [Family Friend] [Wife Knows] [Masturbation] [Secrets] [Exhibitionism] [Cum Swallowing] [Pussy licking] [Married]

(---SPOILERS---)
Recap of Part 1
Jack (42) and Ruby (40) are happily married, Beth (18), their daughter, is heartbroken over Christian (19), and Beth’s best friend Mia (18) comes over for dinner. Jack comes to realize Mia is looking at him differently and he finds himself increasingly attracted to her. After dinner, Jack is giving Mia a ride to her parents’ house. Mia compliments him, telling him his body feels “like warm stone, or something”. She redirects him away from her parents’ house, and lets Jack know she wants him. Jack knows he should just keep going straight, take her home; a good man, a good father would not do this. But he takes the turn anyway. What Mia doesn’t know: Ruby was aware the whole time that Jack might pursue Mia; they have some sort of a deal about her.
(---SPOILERS END---)

=======================

~~~
Sunday, June 7, 2026. Maplewood, New Jersey.
– 12:20 am

“You guys left, what then?” Ruby asked.

Jack had expected her to ask or say something to ease them into it, but of course he knew her and should have known better. “Well… small talk in the car. She was very complimentary of the fatherly work I’ve done and she talked about us.”

“Us?”

“You and me.”

“What about us?”

“She said we were cute together. That it was obvious we’re really in love.”

Ruby’s body tensed a bit then—enough for Jack to notice.

“Yeah, uh… listen. If you tell me you changed your mind or don’t feel right with this—we drop it. The whole idea. No questions—” Ruby interrupted him, aggressively grabbing him by his seashell shirt, stamping him with a smiling open-eyed kiss.

“Just excited. Tell me.” She sat back. Jack sat on the foot of the bed, facing his wife.

Mia had touched his hand, then apologized for overstepping.

“Oh, wow,” Ruby said.

“She was leading,” he said. “Or trying to.” Jack cringed at himself and laughed a bit.

Ruby knew what he meant, and said, “It’s very ‘she likes me, she likes me not’, yeah.”

“Yeah!” They shared a bit of a laugh and settled. “So, yeah, I mean, I told her it was ok to touch me and she could just call me Jack, enough with the Mr. D shit, you know?”

He told her about the laughs they had shared, Mia’s comments about his body.

“Warm stone…” Ruby repeated.

“Warm stone,” Jack shrugged, trying and failing to look humble.

“You fucking loved that, I know you did.” Ruby slapped his knee.

Jack made a purposefully girly noise, swatting her away. “OK, OK, I did, shut up!”

“Did you like her saying it?” Ruby asked, emphasizing the word ‘her’, not fully joking then.

“Yes, I did.”

“OK, what then?”

By the time they had reached the red light at Hoglund and Maine, Mia was almost done pretending. She kept looking at him, then away, working herself up to something, as far as he could tell.

“Almost at her house, then?”

“That’s right. She goes ‘turn here, it’s quicker.’ So I tell her, you know, straight is faster for sure. And she’s doing a lot of wording and gesticulating now, not really saying much, but more like delaying and working up courage. Then she stops herself. Takes a deep breath. And goes, word for word, ‘Basically, what I’m trying to say, Mr. D’—she turns to me—‘I would like to see your penis, and I think it’s better we do it on a street that is not in front of my parents’ house.’”

Ruby took a huge breath, eyes growing wilder, exhaling slowly, fingers tracing her collarbone.

“I put up a little bit of a fight, but, you know… it was sort of half-hearted. As I was pretending to object, she looked at me and played with her dress. Pulled it up a little, and slid her hands to the insides of her thighs.”

Ruby leaned her head back against the headboard, pulling one knee close to her chest. He could almost see her pussy, but the black sundress was still covering her.

“Jack…” Ruby didn’t have to say anything, Jack knew. Hot. Wrong. Words didn’t fit it right.

“So,” Ruby’s fingers were disappearing under the dress, “you turned?”

He did. Almost didn’t, having a crisis for about ten seconds. He left that out.

“Yeah.”

“Wait,” Ruby’s finger came back up, her thinking then. After a moment, she said, “Did she know I knew?”

“No.”

“Did she think you were cheating on me?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“So yes.”

Ruby looked at him, then away. They sat for a bit. Jack didn’t envy Ruby’s position. He had gone out and started the thing. If Mia didn’t want Ruby too, then consent or not, he had made Ruby the wife at home. He had no way of giving her a place in what had already happened.

And Mia had… yeah, shit, either way you cut it, Mia had betrayed Ruby.

“Well, ok,” she turned back to him now. “We knew this would have to be the way.” She meant that they couldn’t just knock on Mia’s parents’ door and ask her if she wanted to fuck them both.

“You alright?” Jack asked, not approaching.

“Mhmm,” she nodded, and he believed her. “I want to hear the rest. She asked to see your cock?”

“Yes.” Jack regrouped. “So I… I turned and we—”

“Jack?”

“Hmm?”

“You better tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

Ruby didn’t answer right away. She just looked at him.

He hated that look. The trouble with Ruby was she heard edits. And then she looked at him in a way. A way that let him know the jig was up.

“Are you leaving something out?”

“No. I mean—no, not really.”

Ruby waited.

“There was a second there at the light.”

“A second.”

“More, maybe.”

“OK.”

“I almost didn’t turn,” Jack said. After a moment he added, “I told myself to go straight. Take her home. Be a good man.”

Ruby watched him.

“I thought about Beth. You. Mia. Ron and Joan. Everybody. I thought ‘a good man would not do this’.”

“And then?”

“I turned anyway.”

They sat, Jack not knowing where to put his eyes, so he let them de-focus looking at a random crease in her dress.

Ruby nodded, slowly.

“Don’t leave those parts out.”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“Yes, you were.” Her voice was soft. She was fucking right.

Ruby’s expression relaxed. “We can’t ignore the ugly parts.”

He nodded.

“OK,” she said, leaning in, giving him a kiss, squeezing the muscle around his knees. “So you turned.”

“So I turned,” Jack told her about the dark spot under the broken streetlight, the first kiss, the touches. How quickly he could switch from guilt to sexual reminiscing. Back to being horny. As if the guilt had no weight to it at all. Was it just posturing?

As Jack spoke, sparing no detail, his wife’s fingers disappeared under the dress again. Jack knew his part in this was to sit there, tell the story truthfully, and let his wife enjoy herself. He had learned that part twenty years ago.

~~~
20 years ago, more or less.
~~~
Thursday, July 13, 2006. Maplewood, New Jersey.
– 8:40 pm

“You’re quiet,” Ruby said.

“I’m not quiet.” He had absolutely been quiet.

They were a couple drinks past dinner, two months into whatever this was, and Jack was trying to not seem too eager.

“You’ve been quiet for almost a minute.”

“I was admiring the view.”

She glanced behind her, toward the rest of the patio and the bright restaurant behind it.

“Not that view.” Great job playing it cool, stupid.

Ruby looked back at him, trying not to smile too much. “That was terrible.”

“Worked, though.”

“It did not.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m humoring you.”

“Good enough.” Jack took a drink and glanced past her shoulder. At the table near the little ficus tree, a man in a short-sleeve button-down with little anchors on it was explaining something to a woman who had clearly left her body some time ago. Jack decided it was probably insurance-related, based on nothing but the shirt.

“What?” Ruby asked.

“Nothing.”

“No, what?”

“I’m just wondering how long before a man starts ordering salmon because his doctor told him to.”

Ruby glanced back, then turned to him again.

“That’s you in 20 years.”

“Pff, come on.”

“You already have the shirt.”

“This is a good shirt.”

“It has dragons on it.”

“No, it—” Jack realized it had dragons on it. “Oh, fuck.”

They both laughed. Ruby kept laughing after he stopped, pleased with herself, one knee hugged to her chest, dress falling loose over her thigh. Jack looked away, forgetting this was not their first date and looking was OK.

The patio had gotten darker around them. Not dark-dark, just the kind of summer evening dark where everybody looked a little better and every table seemed like its own little island. Jack’s Long Island iced teas were probably doing at least some of the work on that fantasy. Somewhere inside, a woman’s loud laugh could be heard. Jack bet she was laughing at something that probably wasn’t that funny.

Ruby’s hand slid from her shin to her ankle. Then back up. Down. Was it an absent-minded move? Maybe pretending it was? On her way back up her hand went around the other side of her leg, up the calf. Again: slow.

She was still smiling, but her breathing had changed. Not much. Enough. Her eyes had gone a little unfocused, then sharp again when they found him watching.

“Ruby.”

“Jack.”

“What are you doing?”

“Having dinner.”

“We finished dinner.”

“Then I’m relaxing after dinner.”

He gave her a quiet laugh. “Right.”

Her hand disappeared behind her knee, under the loose fall of the dress.

Jack felt his own smile go stupid and helpless. “Are you—”

“Am I what?”

He looked around.

Her hand stayed where it was. Nothing obvious. Nothing anyone else could point at. But Jack saw the little tightening in her shoulders, the way her mouth softened and pressed together again.

“Ruby,” he said again, lower this time, smiling. “What are you doing?”

She leaned back in her chair. Not far. Just enough to give him a better angle if he chose to take it.

“Have a look.”

“At what?”

She tilted her head. Come on. His insecurity was speaking for him—he knew what she meant.

Jack stared at her, and she stared back, daring him, but there was something under the dare now, he thought. Something… less polished and refined. He could see it and, seeing it, understood that if he made the wrong joke, or grabbed her wrist, or looked around like she had embarrassed him… it’d be the wrong move, is the thing he sensed. He didn’t want to do any of those things anyway, not really. Only as an awkward reflex, to shoo away discomfort.

“Oh, boy,” he said, pushing his chair back. “You know what? I think my shoe’s come undone.”

Ruby’s mouth opened in silent laughter.

“Tragic,” she said.

“Could happen to anyone.”

He bent under the table.

For a moment he saw only shadow, the edge of the tablecloth, her knee, the black dress gathered in her hand. Then his eyes adjusted.

She was touching herself through her underwear.

Jack stopped breathing.

Ruby’s fingers, covered in numerous rings of various sizes and shapes, moved, slow and careful. Then she shifted the fabric aside just enough to remove any doubt about what she was doing. Her fingers slid around in circles, showing him how wet she was.

Jack made a sound he hoped could only be heard from inside his own body.

He sat back up too fast, bumping his knee on the underside of the table.

Ruby was looking at him.

Not laughing now. Not exactly. There was pleasure on her face, yes, plenty of it, but something else too. A question. Maybe even a little fear. Not fear that someone would see her masturbating. Or… not only that.

Fear of what he would do with what he had seen?

Jack swallowed.

“You OK?” she asked.

He almost laughed. She was asking him?

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m very OK.”

Her mouth moved like she was trying not to smile too much. Her hand was still under the dress. Still moving. Slower now, maybe because he was watching her face and not what she was doing.

“You’re not weirded out?”

“The way I get weirded out is by getting extremely hard, apparently.”

Ruby closed her eyes for a second, smiling through a breath.

“Good,” she said.

The waiter appeared beside the table.

Jack saw him before Ruby did. Or maybe Ruby saw him and simply decided that did not matter. Jack had no idea. The young man stopped with a trained, empty smile, paid not to see or understand too much.

“How is everything over here?”

Ruby kept going, not looking at the waiter.

Jack looked up at him.

“Oh, great,” he said. His voice sounded almost normal. “Really great.”

The waiter nodded. “Can I get you anything else?”

Jack looked at Ruby.

Ruby looked at Jack, barely present anymore.

Her breathing was faster now.

The waiter’s eyes darted from Jack to Ruby to Jack.

“No,” Jack said. “We’re good.”

“All right then,” the waiter said, already turning away, quicker than previous times.

Ruby’s shoulders dropped, free hand finding and grasping the table, rings clashing with the wood. She was in a full-body shiver now, which she tried to contain as best as she could.

Jack recognized the movement, of course. Her head coming down, along with the rest of her body, leaning on the table, eyes closed, still shivering, sounds of pleasure catching low in her throat.

Jack could have told her to stop. Could have made a joke. Could have looked around the patio again and turned this into something embarrassing, something she had done wrong.

Instead he stayed where he was.

He watched her.

That was all.

At twenty-two, he thought the test was whether he could handle how wild she was. At forty-two, he knew better. The test had been whether he could let her be, or whether he would make it about himself.

She looked up when it passed. His eyes were still on her. They laughed quietly and touched glasses like idiots.

~~~
Present day
~~~
Sunday, June 7, 2026. Maplewood, New Jersey.
– 12:40 am

“Tell me exactly what happened,” Ruby asked, losing herself in pleasure then, but listening.

He told her about Mia leaning over the console to kiss him.

“What did she look like? Her body, what was it doing?” Ruby wanted to know more, not just the mechanics. Jack had been there and experienced everything firsthand, but Ruby had to scavenge his memory for the impression.

Through all of this, Ruby touched herself under the dress.

The first time he held Mia’s face, he had felt it all at once: protectiveness, desire, guilt. Ruby asked if she had seemed scared and Jack said yes she did, but also excited and eager. Mia had seemed nervous, hopeful, a little wild. And her face had seemed so small and soft in his hands.

“Did you keep kissing?”

“No, actually. She took my hand. She licked my fingers and sucked one of them.”

“Which one?”

“Ring finger. And she sort of licked circles around the ring,” Jack saw her react to that. Not entirely negatively, but it was significant. He admitted then that he didn’t know why Mia had chosen that finger, whether the licking of the ring was something she’d done on purpose because of the marriage, on purpose because it was just hot, or in the absence of any thought at all.

“What do you think it was?”

“Honestly, I get the feeling it was maybe just hot and unplanned. But I could be wrong.”

“Did she say anything about me after that?”

Jack said no and then paused. “Not directly… but sorta. Later, I’m gonna get to it.”

Then she said “‘Mr. D?’ and I said ‘Yes, Mia?’ and she said ‘Can I see your penis?’”

“And she insists on calling it a penis, huh?” Ruby smiled with her cheeks, corners of her lips pointed down.

“Yes.” Jack paused to see if Ruby had other interruptions to get out. “I said nothing for a bit, just enjoying the moment. It was very exciting, having her ask. Having her want to see it. I don’t know if I can explain it.”

“I get it, I’m pretty sure,” Ruby was swallowing hard.

“‘I want you to see it,’ I told her.”

He tried to move quickly through the obvious parts—Mia taking out his cock, the gasp, the first lick, her mouth. Ruby let him, until his hand reached Mia’s back, then lower.

“She wasn’t wearing anything under it,” Jack said.

Ruby’s hand stopped for a moment. Eyebrow up.

“I don’t know if she planned it, hoped for it or just dressed that way for other reasons. I really want to know, though.”

“Me too.” Ruby sharply inhaled, which Jack was almost certain meant she had slid a finger inside herself more fully now.

Ruby asked Jack what Mia was saying and doing.

Ruby’s hand was moving again, and Jack had trouble looking anywhere else.

“She told me she’d fantasized about my penis since she learned how to masturbate,” Jack said.

Ruby swallowed. He told his wife that he pulled up their daughter’s best friend’s dress over her tanlined bottom. Mia’s perfect petite body in his lap, his cock almost all the way disappeared inside her mouth. “I could barely see. Let alone think. I told her she was a good girl, and that we were doing such a bad thing.”

“How did she respond?” Ruby asked.

Jack felt her attention sharpen.

“She kissed it, put it against her cheek, and said, ‘I love your cock, Mr. D.’”

“What did you think about?”

“I thought about wanting to do nasty things. I wanted to cum inside her, pick her up and fuck her, use her as an—” Jack’s shorts were filling up once more. He couldn’t find words to describe his fantasies.

“I love the darkness in you,” Ruby said as she pulled up her dress, showing her husband her hand doing circles around the opening below her clit.

Jack was ashamed of it. Feared it. But Ruby’s recognition of the darkness made him think it was OK to have thoughts, even unpalatable ones.

“I told her it was so wrong,” he said after a moment. “Though of course, I did nothing to stop it. She asked me to please let her keep going. I told her she was so young. She said, ‘I’m a consenting adult, Mr. D,’ and I asked if this was really what she wanted. She told me to touch her and find out.”

He gave Ruby the version she wanted: not just where his hand went, but how Mia moved against it. How wet she was. How sensitive. How she pushed back when he touched near her ass.

Ruby’s breathing changed at that.

“She wanted that?” Ruby asked.

“I think so.”

“She said, ‘Oh my god, I’m such a bad girl. Please make me cum, Mr. D. I want to cum so bad,’ and I called her by her name and told her she was a good girl, as she came, and as it was happening, she took my cock all the way into her throat.” Ruby’s eyes widened at that. But Jack kept going.

“She told me no one had ever made her cum.”

“What?” Ruby said, almost taking a break.

“That was my reaction too, though I kind of got it, with her age and lack of experience, maybe?”

“And she could take your entire cock? I can barely do that.” Ruby considered, still rubbing, but slowing down a bit. “I think your idea about Mia’s lack of experience might be a little misguided.”

“Maybe.” Jack paused. “After she came, she said I’d opened something in her. Still Mr. D then.”

Ruby watched him.

“I didn’t know what to say. Then she said, ‘I want to taste your cum, Mr. D.’”

“It’s hard to imagine her like that,” Ruby said, “But, fuck, it’s so…”

“Yeah, I know, baby. And she kept at it, too. She said, ‘I want your cum in my mouth. I know it’s wrong and we’re ruining our lives and we will be in so much trouble, but I need it.’ That’s what I meant earlier,” Jack said. “She didn’t say your name. But ‘ruining our lives’ meant you too, far as I could tell.”

“I see.”

“But I told her it’s OK. She didn’t hear me, I don’t think. She was only focused on one thing, she was obsessed. I’ll be honest, it was incredible. To have her want me to cum inside her so badly.” Jack touched his cock then, feeling new surges of heat.

“She kept saying she needed it. That she wouldn’t sleep if she didn’t taste it. And I encouraged her.”

“What did you say?” Ruby asked through strained breaths, rubbing herself faster now, her feet digging into the bed.

“I told her it was hers whenever she wanted it.”

Jack recoiled before saying the next part. Too private. Too ugly. But Ruby got the truth from him, that was the deal. “I told her I would sneak into her house and let her suck the cum out of me while her parents slept. I’d cum inside her any chance I got.”

He half-expected Ruby to be angry. She wasn’t. She just lost herself further and further into the story, using her free hand now to pinch her nipple, biting her lip.

“I was touching her all over her pussy and ass when I was getting ready to cum and she seemed to get back into it as well,” Jack’s ability to go into details was diminishing as he himself was reliving the story then. “I put my little finger in her ass, just the very tip of it. She groaned and I told her to take my cum and she did. I started cumming.”

Jack moved over Ruby then, taking her by the backs of the knees and pulling her down the bed.

“As I came, my finger was still in her little asshole.”

Ruby was on her back now. Jack pushed her legs up, opening her to him.

“I was pumping my cum into her throat, and rubbing her with my whole palm. Her pussy, her ass, all of it. She was so wet.”

He dripped saliva on his wife’s pussy from his opened mouth, having salivated from reliving the evening. Her hips were in the air below him, held there by his hands. Her mouth was pressed shut, lips almost white, the sound trapped in her throat.

“As I was almost done, I could feel her cumming again. She was rubbing herself against my palm.”

Jack lifted Ruby higher.

His wife’s familiar, pink, wonderful pussy and tight asshole were right there in front of him, on full display.

“We came together,” he said. “I can’t wait to make her come again, baby. I want you to see it. Feel it. I want you two together.”

Then he lowered his mouth and gave Ruby one decisive, strong, long, hot lick from her asshole to her clit.

He put her down and went back to his seat at the end of the bed.

Jack watched his wife finish the job herself, writhing on the bed, one hand tight on her breast, the other between her squeezed legs.

Jack gave her a moment to recover. As he did, he squeezed his cock. Throbbing. So soon after Mia. Surprising.

“The story’s not over, though,” Jack said.

Ruby got up, straightening her dress, giving her husband a kiss. “Please, continue.” They both laughed a bit.

“Afterward she called me Jack,” he said.

Ruby sat with that.

“After?”

“Yeah.”

“No more Mr. D?”

“No. She was normal again. Or not normal, exactly. Just… not like she’d been a minute before. Not sex-crazed. I don’t love that description of her, but I don’t know what else to call it.”

“I get it,” Ruby said. “So, Mr. D… she’s doing that on purpose. And calling it a penis as well, I think, no?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

He paused.

“I hate how much I liked it,” Jack said. “The Mr. D thing.”

Ruby’s hand rested on his leg.

“And I think she knows I like it. I think she used it because she knows.”

That was the part that made him feel sick. Or made it hotter. He couldn’t quite separate those.

“Yeah, it’s…” Ruby gestured. She seemed to agree. Not just with the shame, but with how hot this forbidden dynamic was. And what were they going to do about it anyway? Stop here?

“Honestly, I don’t want to stop. Even though we probably should,” Ruby said.

Jack said nothing. His cock was still hard as a rock, mocking his moral struggle.

“Why didn’t you go all the way with Mia?” Ruby asked.

Jack opened his mouth, then closed it again.

The answer did not come easy or clean. That meant it was liable to be honest.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Not exactly.”

Ruby waited.

“I think part of it was… what we were already doing felt like more than enough. Enough for the first time, I mean. It was already insane. It felt like we’d crossed every line there was.”

“Except the one.”

“Except the one,” Jack said. “And part of it was probably that I wanted you there for that. If it happened. When it happens. I don’t know. Maybe that’s me making myself sound better.”

“Is it?”

“Maybe. I wanted to fuck her. I definitely wanted to fuck her. I’m not going to sit here and tell you I stopped because I’m a gentleman or some shit.”

Jack stopped to think, then continued thinking out loud.

“Maybe it was hotter not to,” he said. “Leaving it there. Having something still waiting. Or maybe she asked for exactly what she wanted right then, and I gave it to her, and that was the shape of it.”

Ruby’s eyes moved over his face.

“And afterward?” she asked.

“Afterward she said she wished we could meet like that again.”

“And?”

“And I told her we shouldn’t.”

Ruby gave him nothing.

“To which Mia gave a disappointed, deflated response, nodding to agree with me. Then I told her we would anyway.”

That got the smallest breath out of her. Not a surprise, exactly. Not approval either.

Jack felt the need to explain and hated himself for it. “I did say we shouldn’t. I made sure she heard that part.”

“But you also told her you would.”

“Yes.” He’d tried patting himself on the back for some semantic bullshit. Like a fucking coward. “You’re right.” He thought for a bit. “But it’s what we wanted, right?”

Ruby looked down at her own hand, at the wedding ring, it seemed. Then back at him.

“Yes,” she said. “That was the door.”

Jack let out a breath he had not meant to hold.

“But,” Ruby said.

There it was.

“I’m not going to sit here just jacking off to the transcript forever.”

Jack knew it. He nodded. And he wanted her to join.

“No, Jack. I mean it.” Her voice stayed soft. “This was hot. Very hot. But I’m not going to become the wife you come home to with stories. I’m not going to be your audience.”

“You’re not.”

“Yeah. Not yet.”

He had no answer to that. He saw what she meant. A lot was hanging on whether Mia would be interested in Ruby as well. If she wasn’t, it’s a problem. If she was—that’s an even bigger one in some ways.

Ruby leaned back against the headboard again, calmer now.

“If this keeps going,” she said, “we have to move it forward.”

Jack nodded.

That sounded simple. Forward. Sure. Whatever the hell that meant.

“Do you feel something for her?”

Jack sat back a little.

“Yes,” he said, having taken a moment to genuinely think on it.

“What do you feel?”

“I don’t think it’s romance.”

“You don’t think.”

“No. I mean, yes. I mean I don’t think it is. It’s confusing because she’s not a stranger. I’ve known her since she was a kid. I had feelings around her before there was anything even remotely sexual in my head. Protective feelings. Fondness. Familiarity. Whatever you want to call it.”

Ruby watched him. “And now?” she asked.

“And now all of that is still there, except now I’ve had my hands on her, my cock in her mouth, I’ve made her cum. I can’t take any of that back.”

Ruby looked away at that, but not like she had been hurt.

“I mean—”

“I know what you mean.”

He believed he was telling the truth. But he had believed he would not betray Beth either, right up until he just fucking did it. He had thought about it. And then just did it. So what did his certainty mean now?

“I’m really not a fan of what this adventure is revealing about me as a man.”

That got half a smile from her.

“At least you know,” she said.

“Great.”

“And I’m right there with you, Jack.”

“At least there’s that.”

She laid her head on his lap, petting his leg.

“When do you think you’ll see her again?”

“I don’t know. We have no plans. This happened barely more than an hour ago.”

“Right.”

Ruby went quiet.

“Even without plans, she’ll come here again eventually,” Ruby said.

“Yeah, probably.”

“With Beth?”

“Most likely.”

“Alone?”

“I don’t know. Not likely,” Jack said. “Well, maybe.”

“What did you tell her about me?”

“Not much. I told her I love my wife.”

“Did she believe you?”

“I think so.”

“Does she have any reason to think I know?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

Jack watched her nod in silence. He didn’t like that particular silence. Something in it.

“I might not need to propose anything.”

“Ruby.”

“We have to make a move.”

“Agreed. But she could panic.”

“Yes. She could panic regardless.”

“She could tell Beth.”

Ruby’s expression sharpened at Beth’s name, but she did not cower. “She could already tell Beth. I more or less almost entirely trust that she won’t, though.”

Jack stared at his wife. As long as she fucking more or less almost entirely trusted her.

Ruby scared and excited him.

“I just want to see what she does,” she said.

“What do you have in mind?” he asked, more or less almost entirely certain he wasn't going to like the answer.

~~~
Monday, June 8, 2026. Maplewood, New Jersey.
– 4:18 pm

Spending time with Beth was weird now.

Mia loved her. She did. She loved her and she had fucked her father.

Not fucked. Technically. She had only sucked his dick in a car while he made her cum twice and touched her in places she had not known she wanted to be touched by anyone.

So, fine. Tomato potato.

Beth was really going through it with Christian, but Mia, bff of the year, could only think about Beth’s father and his wonderful, heavenly, thick, stupidly perfect tasty cock.

What the hell was wrong with her?

She didn’t know. Something had changed. But of course something had changed. Everything had changed. Her whole life was upside down now, and no one knew except Jack.

Beth sat beside her on the stone edge of the fountain, flicking water with two fingers, talking like the words were coming out because if they stayed in her body she would explode.

“It’s not even just that he cheated,” Beth said. “I mean, obviously fuck him forever, but it’s the lying. Like last month when I asked if something was going on and he made me feel insane for asking.”

Mia looked at her.

Really looked now.

“He said I was paranoid,” Beth said. “He said I was inventing problems because I was scared of leaving for school. And I believed him. I apologized to him. Apologized!”

Mia felt something cold move through her.

Beth laughed once, but there was nothing funny in it. “That’s the part I can’t stop thinking about. He had the real version. I didn’t. He got to walk around knowing what my life actually was, and I was out there making decisions with fake information. Made me a fucking fool.”

Christian had done the thing Mia was doing.

No. Worse. Mia was doing something way worse.

Beth turned her head. “Are you listening?”

“Yes.”

“What did I say?”

“You said he made you feel insane for asking,” Mia said. “That he had the real version and you didn’t. That you apologized to him, when it should have been the other way around.”

Beth considered that, then nodded. “Okay, fair.”

“And you are not a fool,” Mia said, emphasizing each word.

Mia had gotten lucky. She had been doing that a lot lately. Getting lucky. Making irresponsible decisions and then being allowed, somehow, to continue without having to answer for them.

Her phone was in her hand, screen black. Jack could text her, maybe? She kept thinking at the phone.

He would not text her. He couldn’t. Neither of them were that stupid. They had made no arrangements except the agreement that they would meet again.

Probably.

Hopefully.

Mia prayed, silently, for God to please let it happen again.

She had to snap out of it.

Come on. Her best friend was right there, heartbroken, venting. She couldn’t just sit there remembering Jack’s big strong hand holding her head down on his cock.

Back to reality, Mia.

Focus.

Beth. Beth. Beth. Christian. Boys. College. Gelato. Town square. Sun. Fountain. Water. Ruby walking over. Pigeon.

Ruby walking over.

Mia’s thoughts stopped so abruptly she coulda sworn they hit something.

Ruby crossed the square in a white dress, blond hair loose, sunlight catching on her arms and collarbone. She looked like she belonged there more than anyone else did. Like the benches and trees and the clock and the fountain were all falling into place around her.

She was looking at Beth.

Then she was looking at Mia.

What was that look?

Why was she here?

Act cool, stupid!

Mia turned back toward Beth too quickly.

Beth had not noticed. She was still going, “And now I keep replaying everything. I keep combing past conversations for clues I was too stupid to understand.”

“You couldn’t,” Mia said.

Beth looked at her.

“You couldn’t,” Mia said again, softer. “That’s not on you. That’s on him.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No. Seriously. If someone is hiding something from you, and they’re good at hiding it, that’s not you being stupid. That’s them lying.”

The sentence came out strong enough to sound real.

That was the worst part.

She meant it.

Beth’s eyes got wet, and Mia wanted to crawl out of her own skin.

“You’d tell me, right?” Beth asked.

Mia’s mouth went dry.

“If I was being ridiculous,” Beth said. “Or if someone was lying to me. You’d tell me.”

Mia could hear the fountain, the soft rush of water, people talking outside the café, a dog barking once from somewhere behind them.

“Of course,” Mia said.

The way Beth looked at her made her want to confess. She didn’t. Mia smiled. Apparently that was what she did now.

Lied and smiled.

“Of course I would.”

Beth nodded as her thumb wiped the wet from her eyelid. “Good.”

Mia reached over and squeezed her knee.

Ruby came and sat on the side of the fountain. Not too close to Mia. Not far either.

“How are we doing?”

“Bad,” Beth said.

Ruby nodded. “That tracks.”

“Mom.”

“What? You asked for honesty.”

“I did not.”

“It was implied, I felt.”

Beth smiled despite herself, and Mia hated Ruby a little for how good she was at that. For being beautiful and calm and funny and soft, all at once. For effortlessly allowing the world to form around her.

Ruby looked at Mia then. Just looked. Not angry. Not suspicious. Maybe not anything.

Mia’s body did not believe that.

“Hi, honey,” Ruby said.

“Hi, Mrs. D.”

Mia heard it after she said it. Mrs. D. Fuck.

“Ruby is fine, sweetie,” Ruby said.

Beth groaned. “Mom, no one calls you Ruby.”

“People call me Ruby.”

“Dad calls you Ruby when he’s annoyed.”

“And when he’s not.”

Mia examined her cuticles. Enthusiastically.

Ruby’s perfume reached her. Clean and warm. Grown-up. Expensive maybe. Or maybe Mia was assigning value to everything because she was losing her mind.

Beth pushed herself off the fountain edge. “I’m getting snacks. You guys want anything?”

“No, thanks,” Ruby said.

Mia shook her head. She was pretty sure she couldn’t move.

Ruby stayed seated at the fountain beside her.

There was no reason for Mia’s pulse to be doing what it was doing. Ruby had said nothing. Ruby knew nothing. Jack would not have told her. Why would he tell her?

Unless he had. Unless they talked.

Married people talked. Did married people talk about this? No. No normal married people talked about this.

Ruby looked toward Beth leaving, then back at Mia.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Mia said too fast. “I’m good.”

Ruby smiled a little. “You don’t look good.”

That was it.

That was death. That was the police. That was Beth crying. That was Ron killing her, Joan using it as an excuse to move to Belize. That was dying of shame right here in the square.

HOMEWRECKER.

“I’m just worried about Beth.”

“I know.”

Mia nodded.

Ruby’s eyes stayed on her.

“She loves you,” Ruby said.

“I love her too.”

“I know.”

Mia could not tell what she heard in Ruby’s voice.

Ruby rested one hand on the fountain wall between them. Her fingers were long, nails pale, wedding ring bright in the sun.

Mia saw the ring and immediately remembered Jack’s hand.

His finger in her mouth.

The ring against her tongue.

Oh, fuck.

She had licked his wedding ring.

She had put his married hand in her mouth and licked the ring like some kind of message.

Had she meant it?

No. She had been horny and stupid and trying to do something hot.

Ruby’s palm moved slowly over the stone beside her.

“These get so warm in the sun,” Ruby said.

Mia stopped breathing.

Ruby looked down at the fountain edge, like she was only talking about the fountain edge.

“Warm stone,” Ruby said.

The water kept falling behind them.

A kid laughed somewhere near the clock.

Mia’s whole body went numb.

Ruby looked at her then.

Not smiling.

Not angry.

Just there.

Mia opened her mouth and nothing came out.

Ruby’s voice stayed soft. “That’s a good phrase.”

Mia swallowed.

“I didn’t—”

Ruby waited.

Mia had no idea where that sentence was supposed to go.

I didn’t mean it like that.

I didn’t mean for him to tell you.

I didn’t mean to want him.

I didn’t mean for you to find out.

“I hadn’t thought about it. I guess it is, yeah,” Mia said, smiling and hoping to Christ her nose would not grow large enough to hang her over a man-cave fireplace like a swordfish.

Ruby’s mouth softened.

Beth appeared from the café window with a paper bag in one hand and a drink in the other. “They were out of the good chips, which feels targeted.”

Ruby took her hand off the stone.

“Obviously a personal attack,” she said.

Beth dropped back beside Mia and shoved the bag between them. “Eat something. You look pale.”

“I’m fine,” Mia said.

Ruby stood, smoothing the skirt of her dress. “I gotta get going.”

Beth leaned into her mother’s side for a quick hug.

Ruby kissed the top of Beth’s head. Easy. Natural.

Then she turned to Mia.

Mia stood because staying seated felt impossible.

Ruby leaned in for the usual cheek kiss. Mia had done this a hundred times. Hello, goodbye, birthdays, holidays, dinners at their house, rides home, ordinary life.

This time Ruby’s hand touched the side of Mia’s neck.

Not aggressive. Not dramatic.

Just there.

The kiss landed on Mia’s cheek.

Ruby smelled clean and expensive. She was so close. Mia’s body wanted to lean in as much as she wanted to make a run for the border.

Beth was digging through the paper bag. “Do you want the weird barbecue ones or the disappointing plain ones?”

Mia looked at Ruby.

Ruby looked back.

Mia could not tell if she was being tested. Or warned? Hunted? Forgiven?

Invited?

“Yes,” Mia said.

Beth frowned. “To which?”

Mia blinked. “Plain. Sorry.”

“Fuck, ok. Here.”

Ruby smiled at that, kissed Beth once more, and walked away across the square.

Mia watched her go, taking the bag from Beth’s extended arm.

Come on, turn around, Mia thought.

Look at her like that again.

Let her know she wasn’t imagining it.

Ruby did not turn around.

Mia sat back on the fountain edge. The stone was hot under her thighs now. Too hot. She put one hand beside her, where Ruby’s hand had been.

Warm stone.

Jack had told her.

Or Ruby had guessed.

No. You couldn’t guess that.

He told her.

Jack had gone home to his wife and told her what Mia had said in the car.

Why?

Beth bumped her shoulder against Mia’s. “You are being so weird.”

“I’m tired.”

Her neck still felt Ruby’s fingers. Ruby’s smell lingered. Her mouth remembered Jack’s ring.

===============

End of Chapter 2

===============

Huge shoutout to: 
- The early readers for their support! You can join them on Patreon, where we have also images of these characters and other stuff.
- All of you for the incredible response to the first chapter!
- To Ruby for being such a fucking rocket. 

Let me know if you want part 3 and any feedback you have ❤️

reddit.com
u/HaleWoodsWrote — 8 days ago

The Ride Home with My Daughter’s Best Friend [M42/F18] [Age Gap] [Daughter’s Best Friend] [Older Man] [Younger Woman] [Forbidden] [Family Friend] [Cheating] [Blowjob] [Deepthroat] [Wife Knows] [Fingering] [Car]

My name is Jack Dauwalter. This is how I started a relationship with my daughter’s best friend. 

Saturday, June 6, 2026. Maplewood, New Jersey.

– 7:00 pm

We were all around the kitchen island doing the tasks assigned to us by Ruby, the woman of the house. Blond. Tall—at 5'9", just a few inches shorter than me. Dressed in a black sundress under the white apron. Nothing on under the sundress. Information I was privy to as the husband, lucky enough to get to watch her dress and undress whenever I pleased. 

Beth, my daughter—18, currently experiencing some vague boy trouble and grumpier than usual—was cubing up feta cheese (Ruby was cutting cucumbers, I was cutting celery). 

Beth was doing a good job of putting up a brave, annoyed face, but we knew her well enough to know she wanted to be surrounded by family and the clatter of dinner being made while she waited for the aching heart to nurse itself back to health.

“You sure you don’t want to go out?” Ruby asked Beth. 

“Mom.”

“Ope, that means no,” I said. 

“It means stop looking at me like I’m a dying cat. I’m allowed to be in a bad mood in my own home.”

“You’re right.”

“Good,” Beth said, “then everybody act normal.”

“Normal?” I said.

“Oh Jesus,” Beth sighed as I did my Taz the Tasmanian Devil impression.

“Honey.” Ruby stopped me. “I don’t think that’s helping.”

“Fair,” I said, and we all went back to our tasks. 

I threw a single pistachio to Roscoe, our dog. Kid was mixed beyond recognition, the size of a small Labrador, just as friendly and cute.

Beth said, “He’ll shit like crazy.” 

“You’re just jealous Roscoe got a snack and you didn’t.” 

“Pff.”

I threw a pistachio at her face. “Catch, girl.”

“I’m not a dog.” She picked up the pistachio from the fold in her sweater and ate it. I was looking at her while cutting celery. She made a face at me and returned to cubing feta cheese, smiling just a little.

Ruby and I exchanged a look. Silent communication. See that smile? Progress.

“Where’s my snack?” Ruby asked.

“You’ll get yours later.” I touched her ass, the hem of her black sundress fluttered and flowed, catching air. 

“Ewww-ah!” Beth growled. 

“Oh, OK.” Ruby gave my arm a squeeze.

Beth shivered and shook her head with a disgusted look on her face. Blond hair making waves in front of her face. 

I looked at my wife as she spoke to Beth but looked at me. “You know, young lady, when you spend 20 years married to the love of your life, you’ll understand what a blessing it is to not only tolerate, but desire your chosen–”

“EWWWWWWWWW” 

Ruby and I laughed. 

“That’s fucking gross.”

“Hey, language!”

“Deee-zaaaaaa-yer! Who speaks like that?” Beth mocked us. 

Laughing at Beth’s dramatics, Ruby and I exchanged a peck on the lips, the back of my hand gently feeling through the apron for the spot where her thigh met her abdomen. I liked having my hands on my wife. Sue me. She was slender, toned, sensual, delicate. Forty, somehow. Not one of those fake-tit ghouls who made excuses to touch my arm at the farmer’s market. My Ruby was in a different category entirely. And on top of all that, an all-around excellent wife.

If I didn’t know January Jones existed, I might spend my hall pass on my own wife. 

“Besides,” Ruby said then, “aren’t all you eighteen-year-olds supposed to be hormone-mad and horny 24/7?”

“Mom!”

“OK—” I said. “Now I’m gonna be sick.”

Ruby went back to cutting cucumbers. Surely smiling.  

“Roscoe, come on, buddy,” Beth said, grabbing a piece of halloumi and leaving through the screen door into the backyard. “Let’s leave this nuthouse!”

I turned, grabbed my wife under her arms, around her waist, lifted her up. She laughed a beautiful, sexual, quiet laugh. Just for me. This woman never stopped doing it for me. She had the kind of body that got better with time, somehow. Wonderful small breasts, perfect little nipples. Tight ass. Strong, smooth legs. A little tan. With a healthy shine to them. I sometimes wondered when that would end. Just then I wondered why I was not inside her. 

“Unhand me, you brute.”

The doorbell rang. 

I gave her a kiss and put her down. She gave my cock a little squeeze with a wink. The shorts were now just a little too tight for comfort.

“You better get that, big guy!”

I tucked my quarter-hard cock down a little on my way to the door. Not too bad. I toweled off my hands as I opened the door. 

“Hey, kid!”

“Hi, Mr. D!”

Mia. Beth’s best friend since middle school. Short, standing at about 5'2", deep brown hair, shoulder length, with just enough wave to move when she did, falling delicately on her lightly freckled, strong gymnast shoulders. The shoulders were on full display in the floral dark red bodycon mini dress. It was a little difficult to keep it together, I’ll admit that. The tuck was still working, though—thank God. 

I felt a little silly standing in front of this girl in shorts for some reason. Then she looked me over. Quick but not quick enough. Thinking about what she might’ve seen, I didn’t feel too bad. Broad shoulders, a farmhand’s build, tan enough. I was not exactly a pudgy mess. At 42, I took pride in it, though you’d never hear me say it out loud. 

We exchanged a polite kiss on the cheek. I patted her on the shoulder, and she put her hand on my forearm. Damn, that tuck was not going to hold forever. 

“Thanks for coming over.”

“Of course!”

“We tried to get Beth to go out with friends or something, but…”

“Oh, yeah, I know, boy trouble. Christian’s been a bit of an effin tool lately.”

“Any serious offense there? Anything I should know about?”

“Umm, no, not really.”

I smiled with a nod. “Good. I hope you didn’t cancel any plans?”

“No, not at all! You know I love eating your food.” She winked. I always liked this girl. 

“OK, then. Go on, help the missus set the table and let’s eat!”

She went inside past me as I held the door. She smelled like a creamy liquor made of apple pies. It was hard to not follow her with my eyes. I even gave in a little. And her body in that burgundy dress was quite a reward for my lack of restraint. Goosebumps—actual goosebumps—formed under the dark hair on my forearm. 

– 7:40 pm

My wife sat to my right. Beth sat next to her, opposite me, and Mia sat on my left. 

“I think I saw them setting something up at the square,” Ruby said. 

“Ugh…” Beth grunted, pushing food around the plate, barely eating. 

Ruby used her face to ask Mia and me: what’s that about?

“I think what Beth is trying to say,” Mia said, “is that Christian’s going to be there performing with his band.”

“Ah, copy that.” Ruby snapped her fingers and pointed at her head to say she remembered now. 

“Bethany, darling,” I said, reaching across the table, “just say the word and I will go down there with a paintball gun.”

“Ooooh, I’d love to see that!” Mia’s eyes were wide and encouraging of the idea, as she looked around the table at everyone as if to say ‘You in? You in? You in?’

“I’ll hold him down,” Ruby said. 

Beth gave in and huffed a little laugh through her nose. 

“That’s my mothafuckin’ wife!” I kissed her hand. 

After a moment, when we all went back to eating, Mia said, “Honestly—and I know it sounds bad, I’m sorry.” She was talking to Beth specifically, then to the whole table. “I’d literally pay to feel that kind of heartbreak.”

“Don’t romanticize this,” Beth said. 

“No, you’re right, I know it sucks, and I’m sorry. Definitely. But only something serious and meaningful can make you feel like that.”

“Is there a point?” Beth asked. 

“All the boys in my life are more interested in beer bongs or gaming or, excuse my language, just hooking up.”

I clutched my pearls. 

Mia and Ruby chuckled; Beth rolled her eyes. 

“I’d love a serious guy who wants serious things. Someone I could be genuinely interested in. Someone with some depth. Solid, you know?”

Ruby then said, “Your time will come, sweetie. Trust me. At this age it’s just how boys are.”

“It’s true,” I said. 

“Can’t imagine you being like that, though,” Mia said, taking me a bit by surprise there. Looking at me then. 

“Me? No. Very mature, always.”

“HAH!” Ruby laughed. “This guy was a shithead and a half for most of his twenties.”

“Hey!” I feigned offense. 

“But you were my shithead.” She blew me a kiss. 

“Aww,” Mia said, “you guys are so sweet together!”

“She’s right though, yeah,” I said, chewing, “boys are boys are boys are boys. We’re all pretty dumb for a very long time, but then life sort of sets you straight.”

“And this, uhh, setting-straight business”—Mia pointed around with her fork at nothing in particular—“when would one typically expect for that to kick in?”

I pondered that. Shrugged. “Dear?”

“Somewhere between the positive pregnancy test and the delivery,” Ruby said. “Sometime after the first panic attack, but not before some kind of last-ditch effort to clutch at their youth.”

“I never had any kind of last-ditch effort to clutch at my youth,” I said. 

“No, no, definitely not,” Ruby said. “You definitely didn’t—what is it the kids say, get on your tits?—get off your tits on MDMA and booze, spend the night dancing at some warehouse rave and have to go sober for half a decade.”

“Oh.”

“I do believe it’s ‘off’ your tits,” Mia said, laughing. “Respectfully.”

“Thank you, sweetie.”

“Yes, Mia, thank you,” I said. “Well, yes, there was that, I suppose.”

Mia laughed. 

I enjoyed listening to Mia talk about the shortcomings of all the boys her age a little more than I should have. I couldn’t help but compare myself against her complaints and realize that I would fit the role of what she was looking for. Every complaint she had about boys somehow sounded like a compliment aimed at me. Probably just wishful thinking. What man doesn’t want to be complimented by a pretty young woman?

“Honestly, I don’t even need perfect,” Mia said. “I’d settle for someone who knows what he wants and can make a decision without consulting a friggin’ group chat.”

I know what I want, I thought. And nothing any group chat has to say about it is of any consequence to me. As the thoughts bubbled up, I realized they were… well, the thing I couldn’t help but want was Mia. 

– 8:20 pm

The first course was done and Roscoe was demolishing a toy penguin over by the kitchen island behind Beth. We were all watching him. Not a bad show. 

Speaking of, at one point during the show, I looked at Mia. Her hair was tucked behind her ear on my side. It created a natural path. From her eyes, to her jawline. The little, almost imperceptible white hairs on her cheek revealed by the light hitting her just so. Down to her neck, the artery pulsing, her throat moving as she swallowed water. Down further to her breasts, not large, but just right. B cups maybe. And they needed no help from any bra. Are those… Jesus, I could see her nip– 

I looked up to find her looking at me and I looked away immediately, toward Roscoe demolishing the toy. The white filling flew around in chunks. My face burned. When I looked back ten seconds later she was still on me. Mia held my eyes for just a split second before looking down without moving her head, the dimples deepening in her lightly blushed cheeks. Whoa. Does she…?

“Roscoe, come on now!” Ruby said. “Give that poor animal a break, buddy!”

“He’s really something, huh?” Mia said. But she looked at me as she said it, lips looking a little fuller and wetter now. 

“Oh yeah!” Ruby said, turning back to the table. Mia’s eyes snapped to her, eyebrows up, lips reorganizing quickly into a friendly, inquisitive smile. “You should see him go at the dog park. Everything is either fightable or humpable.”

I laughed along with them, but all I could think of then was that burgundy dress. And what it concealed. 

– 9:40 pm

These shorts, which, thank God, were dark and not stretchy, were really earning their keep tonight. I was at the family dinner table hard as a rock and twice as dumb. 

Ruby and Beth went to get the dessert ready, leaving Mia and me alone. 

Fuck. 

Quick, pick an innocent topic to talk about. 

“So how’s your old man? Does he come home from our tennis matches and tell you how he kicks my ass?”

“No, actually, the other way around.” 

“Ahh! So he’s a truth teller, your dad.”

She nodded, looking at me. I couldn’t quite tell why, but I was getting the idea that maybe she wanted to tell me something.  

“That’s why you’re such a good shit, Mia. Ope, sorry!” I raised my hands to apologize for forgetting myself.

My brain screamed for me to keep it together. To not let out even a little bit of my hunger in front of my daughter. She was her best friend, after all.

“So what’s Joan planning to do with that Medusa statue?”

“You saw that?” She laughed. I nodded. “Oh, well, you know Mom,” Mia said, putting on Joan’s voice, “never done discovering her very bestest, authentic-est self!” 

I laughed at that, relaxing back into my chair, letting my legs fall to the sides. My leg bumped into hers. I felt it and knew, I fucking KNEW I should have pulled it back.

“I’m just glad it’s no longer candle-making.”

But I didn’t. I pretended to not notice. I figured if she said something, I’d say I thought it was the leg of the table, sorry, kid. 

“My dad just keeps encouraging her as well.” She was looking over to the girls prepping dessert now. 

Wait. She was pretending our legs weren’t touching either. “Do you guys need some help?” She slid forward in her chair, slow and controlled, her leg sliding further against mine, and, without waiting for an answer from the kitchen, got up. 

I couldn’t believe it. I thought she was playing with me. As she walked away, there was power in her body from the relentless practice and competitions and she was swaying it more than she needed to. She knew I was looking. On the other side of the kitchen island, hovering over the dessert tray being prepped, she tucked her hair behind her ear. Her hand traveled slowly, freely from the back of her head, over her neck, down over her chest.

Don’t bite. Not now, not here. 

Dessert came. Saved by the tiramisu.

– 10:30 pm

Ruby and I were in the kitchen, talking, maybe playing a little grab ass. The girls were on the couch on their phones, taking occasional breaks to show each other something, which usually earned a little exhale from the one being shown the thing. I’ll be honest, it was still hard to focus on anything else other than the thought of Mia making eyes at me. What was she thinking?

“Alright, guys, thank you so much for the dinner!” Mia said.

“You going?” Ruby asked over the Tupperware she was handling.

“Yep, got practice in the morning.”

“How are you getting home, sweetie?” Ruby asked.

“Uber.”

“Don’t be silly! Jack’ll take you.” Ruby pressed a Tupperware lid into place with both thumbs, not looking at me. 

“I will?”

“He will?”

“He will!”

“Of course, I’ll take you!” I tried to put a little reluctance on that. 

“It’s really OK,” Mia said. In my opinion, there was very little conviction in her words. “I don’t mind Ubering.”

“No, no, come on, my lovely wife’s right as always. Any foot fetishist in a Yaris can download an app and start giving young girls rides on dark evenings.”

“Eww!” Beth said from the couch, not looking up from the phone.

“Yes, daughter, exactly. Eww!” I grabbed the keys to the Range Rover. “Let’s go get you home.”

– 10:38 pm

“You’re such a cool dad, Mr. D.”

“Oh yeah?” I laughed. “How so?”

“Taking me home, being protective, it’s sweet.”

“No, stop. Just can’t let a pretty girl get into a stranger’s car for no good reason.”

“Pretty, huh?”

She shot me a look, eyebrow raised. A look I read as teasing.

“Well. You know what I mean!”

The eyebrow stayed up. 

“Oh, drop it, kid, you’re pretty! Not for me, but just generally, obviously.”

“Obviously,” she said, clearly not believing me. She seemed to enjoy seeing me squirm. 

After a little while she said, “And you’re so cute with your wife. It’s so clear you guys are really in love.”

“I do love my wife.”

“And that time you busted into Tim’s party, found Beth drunk and stoned, dragged her out of there kicking and screaming.”

“You were there?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Sorry you had to see that.”

“I was glad to see it, really. I kinda sometimes wish my parents cared that much.”

I said nothing to that. 

“Everyone tries so hard to be cool instead of protecting their kids from creeps and bad decisions,” she said. “Or that time Beth and I were robbed by those two assholes.”

“Oof. Yeah, I remember that.”

“From what Beth tells me you beat them within an inch of their lives.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

My lawyer had told me to not say that. And it really wasn’t that bad. 

“Beth was in the parked car, pointing them out to you, right?”

So the long and short of it was that when Beth and Mia were fourteen they’d been robbed by two twitchy twenty-year-old thuglets. The girls were pretty shook up about it, of course, but otherwise fine. To try and rectify the situation, I took Beth around the same neighborhood where it had happened. And we found them.

I’m the first to admit that I had (and still have) quite a bit of anger in me, all of which needed to be processed and channeled and whatnot. Generally speaking, I was good at controlling my emotions. But someone laying hands on my little girl—that had given me a justified reason to… process some anger in an unhealthy way, let’s say. I don’t feel bad about it. Righteous anger is a hell of a cheat meal.

“Oh, they were just dumb kids.”

“She said there was a lot of blood.”

I waved that off. “Dumb kids bleed real easy.”

Mia laughed, grabbing my forearm. Her delicate hand, so small on mine. I felt my impulse control being disassembled by the waves of cold heat her touch sent over me. 

I looked at her. She took her hand off me, her laugh gradually turning into a smile and an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, Mr. D.”

“For what?” 

After a moment she said, “Overstepping, I guess?”

“You can call me Jack. You’re an adult. You don’t have to apologize for touching someone’s arm.”

I made a tiny fake jab toward her arm. She laughed and slapped my fist. “Stop! You’d break me!”

“Oh, stoooop!” I laughed. 

“What, you’re huge! And those arms are… Well, you know.” She was flushing. “It’s like you’re made of warm stone or something.”

As she mused, I looked at her and saw her, not very covertly, eyeing my body. Her eyes moved over the loose-fitting T-shirt under the silky, seashell-patterned, short-sleeved button-down, then my legs, while the buttons on my shorts and the darkness of the car did a lot of work to hide my erection from her. 

I had to get my eyes back on the road, but I couldn’t help but be thrilled about what was happening in the passenger seat. I knew she was thinking about something real hard and maybe even working up the courage for something. The smile on her face was changing. Getting braver. More dangerous.

We were stopped at a red light. 

“Oh, you know what,” Mia said, “turn right here, it’s quicker.” 

“It’s faster to go straight, we’re almost there. Why do you want to turn?”

“I just figured that maybe… maybe it’s better to go there… Because that street, as opposed to this street…” She was doing a lot of pointing and turning and gesturing now, drawing out what she was saying, seemingly on purpose. Maybe because she was scared to say it? “And that one doesn’t have many trees and it’s a little too…” She exhaled heavily, steadying herself. After a brief pause she said, “Basically, what I’m trying to say, Mr. D…” She looked at me now, fully turned to face me. “I would like to see your penis, and I think it’s better we do it on a street that is not in front of my parents’ house.” She was shaking a little—a mix of fear and excitement. It was the same thing I felt. 

“Whoa, Mia!”

“Would that be a problem?” she said as her fingers played with the hem of her dress, going higher up, revealing more of her tan, silky, strong thighs. 

“Oh, boy, Mia.”

Her fingers were moving toward her inner thighs now, and her chest rose and fell with deep, strained breaths. 

“The light’s green, Mr. D.”

Beth. Joan and Ron. Fuck, I mean, Mia too. I could ruin all of our lives. Ruby’s too. But Beth’s most of all. The kind of man I’d want anywhere near Beth would take Mia straight home. No question. Just go straight, you fucking idiot. 

I turned the blinker on.

The steering wheel was damp from my sweating palms. I slowed down on this new street, looking for places to park with a bit of privacy. And it just so happened that there was a streetlight out between a couple houses. I pulled in.

We stopped. I killed the engine. 

I turned my head to her. Her leg, the one nearest to me, was tucked in below her right one on the seat. I got a view of her inner thighs disappearing into the darkness under the dress. 

She leaned in over the console and gave me a kiss. It was almost a peck. She was looking at me, hopeful, nervous, a little wild. 

Her face felt so small in my hands. Like a sweet, friendly animal to protect from the world. 

She snuggled her face up to my hand as I touched her cheek. She smiled. 

Mia moved her face into my palm, her hot breath flowing down my forearm. She took me by the wrist, her fingers slim and delicate. 

She pulled my hand down a little and maneuvered her lips to the tips of my fingers. Her tongue glistened as she found my ring finger. She put it in her mouth slowly, working her tongue in circles around the wedding ring, looking at me then. She pushed my palm away from her slowly, my finger leaving the comfort of her hot, soft mouth. 

“Mr. D?”

“Yes, Mia?”

“Can I see your penis?”

I said nothing, looking at her. I felt as though her words were going to turn me into a puff of smoke.

“I want you to see it, Mia.”

Her breathing was fast as she reached over to unbutton my shorts. She had to unbutton them all the way and reach inside deep, as I closed my eyes in excited pleasure. Her small, soft, trembling hand found it and she pulled it out, with a bit of help from me hooking my fingers behind the waist and pulling the shorts down a bit. 

She let out a bit of a gasp, looking back up at me. 

“Mr. D?” she said, squeezing my hard cock at the base, swinging its weight around a little. 

“Mmm?” I moaned, looking down at her. 

She looked up at me and said, “I knew you had a big one.” 

I tensed it and made it pulse in her hand. Her compliments made me feel like I could run through a brick wall. 

It isn’t that big, it’s just good. But for her size and experience (I assume) it must have seemed big. We must have looked like Beauty and the Beast, proportion-wise. I wasn’t exactly turned off by that.

She looked down slowly and gave the tip a lick like it was a lollipop. I groaned. I put my hand over my mouth, elbow on the window frame, and caught a glimpse of my wedding ring. I could not believe this was really happening. My cock had not felt this hard and full for a long time. 

But it was happening. Oh yeah, the twitch in my groin as she opened her mouth and took my cock. 

The tactile feel of her silky smooth dark hair in my hand. 

The silky dress fabric folded and snapped under my sweaty, large palm, as I slid it back and forth over her strong, slender back. The dress was very thin; I could feel her spine, her ribs, the muscles. Her behind in the air, knees on the passenger seat. 

She was sucking it with purpose now. Not fast, but… with feeling. With enthusiasm. Stopping at the top to take breaths, letting out moans through her nose on the way down.

She couldn’t take my cock entirely. But now that it was slick with her spit—sticky and syrupy from the tiramisu—she was getting closer than most could. 

I ran my hand lower down her back, and what did I feel? Or rather, didn’t feel… 

Mia, you dirty slut. She was not wearing any panties. To a dinner at her friend’s parents’ house. Had she planned this? Or was she hoping for it?

“I have fantasized about your penis since the day I learned how to masturbate,” she said, no longer mincing words. 

She laid her left leg down on the passenger seat, lying flat now across the front over the console, fitting inside the car just right. This allowed me to pull up her dress and reveal her tanlined ass. I could swear I was salivating. I looked down at her. 

The pleasure I was receiving was out of this world. Mia was still doing her absolute best to get it inside her all the way, grasping my shaft with her left hand, with her right hand clamping around the shaft on the other side, under my sack, so that when she went down, her cheek and lips, sometimes nose, slightly grazed them. It wasn’t the most technically refined blowjob I had ever received, but what mattered was who was giving it to me: this perfect young girl, so hot, so perky, with perfect little ass and perfect little tits, in her perfect little dress. 

“You’re such a good girl, Mia.”

She squeezed my cock with her hands like a cat making biscuits. 

“And we were doing such a bad thing,” I said, without thinking. 

She took my cock out of her mouth, panting, catching her breath. She looked up at me. 

“I love your cock, Mr. D.” She kissed it, watching me. She propped it up against her cheek, nuzzling it, giving my balls a playful kiss. She ever so lightly slapped her cheek with it. 

I wanted to cum in her mouth as she looked at me. I wanted to keep cumming, to fill her up. I wanted things I knew better than to want, things that were shameful to me and impossible to push away. This girl made me insane, putting images in my head. 

Somehow I was convinced we were seeing these images together. 

She sucked the tip into her mouth as hard as she could, given how slick and slippery with my precum and her saliva it was, and let it go with a smacking pop. 

“Oh my God, Mia. This is so wrong.”

“Please let me keep going, Mr. D.”

“But you’re so young.”

“I’m a consenting adult, Mr. D.”

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Touch me and you’ll know.”

I touched her pussy and it was so wet and hot that my finger slid right between her lips. Not inside; it was too tight. 

She almost screamed, her eyes closed, head down between my legs, her moans vibrating into my balls.

I rubbed her slit up and down slowly, surprised at the size and hardness of her clit. And it was sen-si-tive! Whenever I glided over it, she’d shiver and arch. 

I slid my fingers further up, lightly grazing her asshole. I spread her cheeks a little with one hand, and though it was dark in the car, I could see just how clean, pristine and tight it was. I touched it again and I could feel her push up against my finger. I couldn’t believe my own thoughts, but I could have sworn she wanted me to put my finger inside. But I held off. 

I went back to her wet slit instead. I rubbed her pussy gently, up and down, as her head was moving up and down on my cock. She took tiny breaks at the top to exhale, moan, inhale, and go back in. My balls were wet with her saliva and she was struggling to cup them in her right hand as her left worked the very bottom of my shaft. 

I worked on her clit for a bit, and as she got wetter and wetter, looser and looser, I worked my index finger at her opening. I put it in a little and the pressure from her squeezed it. She wasn’t doing it on purpose; it’s just how tight she was. I didn’t move it. 

I left my index finger still and rubbed her clit on and off with my middle finger. She herself was moaning and writhing in my lap, such a sensitive girl, and her pussy was performing its own dance, pulsating, exacting waves of pressure on my index finger. 

She moaned louder. “You’re gonna make me cum, Mr. D. Oh my God, I’m such a bad girl. Please make me cum, Mr. D. I want to cum so bad!”

She took a big breath and shoved my cock deeper inside her mouth than before and something opened up and it went in all the way. 

She shivered and moaned out of control and I felt her finally release. 

“Oh, yeah. Good girl, Mia.”

Her body kept shivering for a bit and she calmed down. She came up for air, spit dripping on my cock and her hands from her open, gasping mouth. 

“Mr. D, thank you! No one has ever made me cum.”

“No one!?” My words were shocked, but I wasn’t.

“The boys my age don’t know what they’re doing.”

“Well, you sure know what you’re doing, Mia.”

“Really? You think so?”

“Didn’t you just take my penis all the way into your throat?”

“I DID! You noticed!”

“How could I not?”

“It’s the first time that has happened.”

“Wow, it’s really something.”

She came up to me to kiss me. “I think you’re opening something in me, Mr. D.”

I didn’t know what to say. I was in complete awe of this girl, in my lap. Going from my daughter’s cute friend, my buddy’s daughter, to this convulsing perfect storm.

Just as I was looking for words, my hand still enjoying the feel of her ass and my cock pulsing in hers, she said, “I want to taste your cum, Mr. D.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Mr. D. I want you to cum in my mouth. I know it’s wrong and we’re ruining our lives and we will be in so much trouble, but I need it.”

“It’s OK.” I touched her face, encouraging her. 

“I don’t think I can live without it, Mr. D. I won’t sleep if I don’t taste your semen.”

“All yours, Mia,” I said through a smile, knowing she wasn’t listening. 

“Cum in my mouth, Mr. D, OK? I want to taste your cum, please!” She seemed obsessed, barely hearing the words I was saying, barely understanding what was happening. To her, it was just her and my cock, as far as I could tell. 

“Of course, Mia.” I couldn’t wait to cum in her mouth; I was already leaking so much precum. She went back down, and with a soft exhale I said, “Suck my cock, baby. I’m going to cum inside your throat.”

I kept whispering to her as she sucked and moaned. 

“I can’t believe I’m inside you, girl! Go ahead, take my cock. It’s all yours for now. It’s yours whenever you want it, Mia.”

She was moving in my hands. I realized my own grasp on reality was slipping. 
 
As she gave me the sloppiest head I’d ever received, I kept whispering to her, “I will sneak into your room and you can suck the cum out of me while your parents are asleep. I’m going to cum inside you any chance I get. Just forget everything and suck my cock now, baby.”

My finger was inside her again and I could feel her body recovering from the orgasm, getting wetter again, writhing against my palm again. 

I removed the finger and instead laid my full palm over her vagina and ass and rubbed slowly, fully, back and forth. 

“I’m going to cum, Mia.”

She continued to suck at the same pace. 

I was so close. I could already feel it. I took my pinky finger and pressed the tip of it against her asshole.

I must have pressed a little too hard. It slid inside her. 

She groaned into my cock, her mouth still completely stuffed with it. She kept on sucking, her asshole tightening on my pinky, just one little knuckle in. 

“Go ahead, Mia, take my cum, OK?”

She bobbed her head faster and I came. One pump—oh God—two pumps, her head was up now and suctioning the tip of my cock into her mouth HARD—three pumps—her head was moving down all the way into her throat again.

“Mia, fuck—” I took her head with my left hand and pushed it down. I think my right hand must have been twitching in reflex because she curled and arched her pelvis in response. 

As I came more and more—four pumps, five, six, seven—I removed my pinky from her ass and rubbed her slit and her clit with my middle finger stretched out to cover her whole crotch. 

I couldn’t believe it, as I came—pumps eight, nine, and ten—she was coming again at the same time as me. She moved her head despite her body being mostly out of control at this point, her legs shivering, giving themselves some bruises against the interior of my car, but she didn’t care. Neither of us did. 

I don’t know about her, but this was the hardest I had come in a good while. 

She came up carefully, stopping at the tip and using it almost as a cork. She took a couple of steadying breaths through her nose, and I could hear and see her swallowing my cum. 

“Such a good girl.”

“Mr. D.” She was still catching her breath. “You made me cum again, Mr. D!”

“I hope you didn’t mind my finger there…”

“No! It was… Thank you, Jack!” she said. 

She sounded completely normal now. Panting, recovering, but no longer crazed. 

“Hey, Mia.” We locked eyes. I put my hand on her neck, thumb touching her cheek. “That was really something.” I smiled and we kissed. 

After a moment, we sat back, lazily cleaning ourselves up and looking around a little, but there was no one around. She laughed, the way a truly relaxed and happy person might, you know? And I joined her in that. 

“I hope I can see you like this again sometime, Jack!”

“We really shouldn’t.”

She nodded in agreement, obviously swallowing a healthy dose of disappointment along with it. 
 
“But we will.”

She lit up. Kissed me all girly. Settled back into the passenger seat. 

– 11:20 pm

“OK, bye! Thanks for the lift, Mr. D!” 

She got out and went up to her house in a half-jog. I wondered for a bit if Joan and Ron would ever find out about this. I had been friendly with her parents since our girls were in diapers. Not best friends, but close enough. But right then it was beside the point. Her ass shook from the half-jog and it made my old, boring soul sing. 

– 11:29 pm

“OK, ladies, the party is over, the day is done, my Ubering shift is over. I am entitled to a beer and some me time, yes or yes?” I said as I came back into the dining room and opened the fridge for a beer. The words made me sick. I was a liar now. 

Ruby was doing the dishes, Beth was on her phone in front of the TV. 

“Get her home safe?” Beth asked without looking up from her phone.

“Sure thing, honey!”

I kissed my wife on the cheek, opened my beer and propped up against the counter next to her as she scrubbed a casserole dish. 

She leaned in a bit, looking over her shoulder at Beth before saying, “How’d it go?”

“Well…” I said, taking a drink, giving her a look.

“No!” she said. 

I made a shushing motion. 

“Already?” she asked, impressed.

“I guess I’m just that irresistible.” I swallowed the cold beer and exhaled. Inside, I was somewhere between shame and pride. Fear and elation.

“I can’t wait to hear all about it.” Ruby kissed me, bit my lip, licked it, kissed it again, then went back to the casserole, smiling, her chest rising and falling faster now. 

~
Starving for feedback.
Let me know if you want part two.

reddit.com
u/HaleWoodsWrote — 16 days ago
▲ 240 r/EroticWriting+3 crossposts

The Ride Home with My Daughter’s Best Friend [M42/F18] [Age Gap] [Daughter’s Best Friend] [Older Man] [Younger Woman] [Forbidden] [Family Friend] [Cheating] [Blowjob] [Deepthroat] [Wife Knows] [Fingering] [Car]

My name is Jack Dauwalter. This is how I started a relationship with my daughter’s best friend. 

Saturday, June 6, 2026. Maplewood, New Jersey.

– 7pm

We were all around the kitchen island doing the tasks assigned to us by Ruby, the woman of the house. Blond. Tall—at 5'9", just a few inches shorter than me. Dressed in a black sundress under the white apron. Nothing on under the sundress. Information I was privy to as the husband, lucky enough to get to watch her dress and undress whenever I pleased. 

Beth, my daughter—18, currently experiencing some vague boy trouble and grumpier than usual—was cubing up feta cheese (Ruby was cutting cucumbers, I was cutting celery). 

Beth was doing a good job of putting up a brave, annoyed face, but we knew her well enough to know she wanted to be surrounded by family and the clatter of dinner being made while she waited for the aching heart to nurse itself back to health.

“You sure you don’t want to go out?” Ruby asked Beth. 

“Mom.”

“Ope, that means no,” I said. 

“It means stop looking at me like I’m a dying cat. I’m allowed to be in a bad mood in my own home.”

“You’re right.”

“Good,” Beth said, “then everybody act normal.”

“Normal?” I said.

“Oh Jesus,” Beth sighed as I did my Taz the Tasmanian Devil impression.

“Honey.” Ruby stopped me. “I don’t think that’s helping.”

“Fair,” I said, and we all went back to our tasks. 

I threw a single pistachio to Roscoe, our dog. Kid was mixed beyond recognition, the size of a small Labrador, just as friendly and cute.

Beth said, “He’ll shit like crazy.” 

“You’re just jealous Roscoe got a snack and you didn’t.” 

“Pff.”

I threw a pistachio at her face. “Catch, girl.”

“I’m not a dog.” She picked up the pistachio from the fold in her sweater and ate it. I was looking at her while cutting celery. She made a face at me and returned to cubing feta cheese, smiling just a little.

Ruby and I exchanged a look. Silent communication. See that smile? Progress.

“Where’s my snack?” Ruby asked.

“You’ll get yours later.” I touched her ass, the hem of her black sundress fluttered and flowed, catching air. 

“Ewww-ah!” Beth growled. 

“Oh, OK.” Ruby gave my arm a squeeze.

Beth shivered and shook her head with a disgusted look on her face. Blond hair making waves in front of her face. 

I looked at my wife as she spoke to Beth but looked at me. “You know, young lady, when you spend 20 years married to the love of your life, you’ll understand what a blessing it is to not only tolerate, but desire your chosen–”

“EWWWWWWWWW” 

Ruby and I laughed. 

“That’s fucking gross.”

“Hey, language!”

“Deee-zaaaaaa-yer! Who speaks like that?” Beth mocked us. 

Laughing at Beth’s dramatics, Ruby and I exchanged a peck on the lips, the back of my hand gently feeling through the apron for the spot where her thigh met her abdomen. I liked having my hands on my wife. Sue me. She was slender, toned, sensual, delicate. Forty, somehow. Not one of those fake-tit ghouls who made excuses to touch my arm at the farmer’s market. My Ruby was in a different category entirely. And on top of all that, an all-around excellent wife.

If I didn’t know January Jones existed, I might spend my hall pass on my own wife. 

“Besides,” Ruby said then, “aren’t all you eighteen-year-olds supposed to be hormone-mad and horny 24/7?”

“Mom!”

“OK—” I said. “Now I’m gonna be sick.”

Ruby went back to cutting cucumbers. Surely smiling.  

“Roscoe, come on, buddy,” Beth said, grabbing a piece of halloumi and leaving through the screen door into the backyard. “Let’s leave this nuthouse!”

I turned, grabbed my wife under her arms, around her waist, lifted her up. She laughed a beautiful, sexual, quiet laugh. Just for me. This woman never stopped doing it for me. She had the kind of body that got better with time, somehow. Wonderful small breasts, perfect little nipples. Tight ass. Strong, smooth legs. A little tan. With a healthy shine to them. I sometimes wondered when that would end. Just then I wondered why I was not inside her. 

“Unhand me, you brute.”

The doorbell rang. 

I gave her a kiss and put her down. She gave my cock a little squeeze with a wink. The shorts were now just a little too tight for comfort.

“You better get that, big guy!”

I tucked my quarter-hard cock down a little on my way to the door. Not too bad. I toweled off my hands as I opened the door. 

“Hey, kid!”

“Hi, Mr. D!”

Mia. Beth’s best friend since middle school. Short, standing at about 5'2", deep brown hair, shoulder length, with just enough wave to move when she did, falling delicately on her lightly freckled, strong gymnast shoulders. The shoulders were on full display in the floral dark red bodycon mini dress. It was a little difficult to keep it together, I’ll admit that. The tuck was still working, though—thank God. 

I felt a little silly standing in front of this girl in shorts for some reason. Then she looked me over. Quick but not quick enough. Thinking about what she might’ve seen, I didn’t feel too bad. Broad shoulders, a farmhand’s build, tan enough. I was not exactly a pudgy mess. At 42, I took pride in it, though you’d never hear me say it out loud. 

We exchanged a polite kiss on the cheek. I patted her on the shoulder, and she put her hand on my forearm. Damn, that tuck was not going to hold forever. 

“Thanks for coming over.”

“Of course!”

“We tried to get Beth to go out with friends or something, but…”

“Oh, yeah, I know, boy trouble. Christian’s been a bit of an effin tool lately.”

“Any serious offense there? Anything I should know about?”

“Umm, no, not really.”

I smiled with a nod. “Good. I hope you didn’t cancel any plans?”

“No, not at all! You know I love eating your food.” She winked. I always liked this girl. 

“OK, then. Go on, help the missus set the table and let’s eat!”

She went inside past me as I held the door. She smelled like a creamy liquor made of apple pies. It was hard to not follow her with my eyes. I even gave in a little. And her body in that burgundy dress was quite a reward for my lack of restraint. Goosebumps—actual goosebumps—formed under the dark hair on my forearm. 

– 7:40 pm

My wife sat to my right. Beth sat next to her, opposite me, and Mia sat on my left. 

“I think I saw them setting something up at the square,” Ruby said. 

“Ugh…” Beth grunted, pushing food around the plate, barely eating. 

Ruby used her face to ask Mia and me: what’s that about?

“I think what Beth is trying to say,” Mia said, “is that Christian’s going to be there performing with his band.”

“Ah, copy that.” Ruby snapped her fingers and pointed at her head to say she remembered now. 

“Bethany, darling,” I said, reaching across the table, “just say the word and I will go down there with a paintball gun.”

“Ooooh, I’d love to see that!” Mia’s eyes were wide and encouraging of the idea, as she looked around the table at everyone as if to say ‘You in? You in? You in?’

“I’ll hold him down,” Ruby said. 

Beth gave in and huffed a little laugh through her nose. 

“That’s my mothafuckin’ wife!” I kissed her hand. 

After a moment, when we all went back to eating, Mia said, “Honestly—and I know it sounds bad, I’m sorry.” She was talking to Beth specifically, then to the whole table. “I’d literally pay to feel that kind of heartbreak.”

“Don’t romanticize this,” Beth said. 

“No, you’re right, I know it sucks, and I’m sorry. Definitely. But only something serious and meaningful can make you feel like that.”

“Is there a point?” Beth asked. 

“All the boys in my life are more interested in beer bongs or gaming or, excuse my language, just hooking up.”

I clutched my pearls. 

Mia and Ruby chuckled; Beth rolled her eyes. 

“I’d love a serious guy who wants serious things. Someone I could be genuinely interested in. Someone with some depth. Solid, you know?”

Ruby then said, “Your time will come, sweetie. Trust me. At this age it’s just how boys are.”

“It’s true,” I said. 

“Can’t imagine you being like that, though,” Mia said, taking me a bit by surprise there. Looking at me then. 

“Me? No. Very mature, always.”

“HAH!” Ruby laughed. “This guy was a shithead and a half for most of his twenties.”

“Hey!” I feigned offense. 

“But you were my shithead.” She blew me a kiss. 

“Aww,” Mia said, “you guys are so sweet together!”

“She’s right though, yeah,” I said, chewing, “boys are boys are boys are boys. We’re all pretty dumb for a very long time, but then life sort of sets you straight.”

“And this, uhh, setting-straight business”—Mia pointed around with her fork at nothing in particular—“when would one typically expect for that to kick in?”

I pondered that. Shrugged. “Dear?”

“Somewhere between the positive pregnancy test and the delivery,” Ruby said. “Sometime after the first panic attack, but not before some kind of last-ditch effort to clutch at their youth.”

“I never had any kind of last-ditch effort to clutch at my youth,” I said. 

“No, no, definitely not,” Ruby said. “You definitely didn’t—what is it the kids say, get on your tits?—get off your tits on MDMA and booze, spend the night dancing at some warehouse rave and have to go sober for half a decade.”

“Oh.”

“I do believe it’s ‘off’ your tits,” Mia said, laughing. “Respectfully.”

“Thank you, sweetie.”

“Yes, Mia, thank you,” I said. “Well, yes, there was that, I suppose.”

Mia laughed. 

I enjoyed listening to Mia talk about the shortcomings of all the boys her age a little more than I should have. I couldn’t help but compare myself against her complaints and realize that I would fit the role of what she was looking for. Every complaint she had about boys somehow sounded like a compliment aimed at me. Probably just wishful thinking. What man doesn’t want to be complimented by a pretty young woman?

“Honestly, I don’t even need perfect,” Mia said. “I’d settle for someone who knows what he wants and can make a decision without consulting a friggin’ group chat.”

I know what I want, I thought. And nothing any group chat has to say about it is of any consequence to me. As the thoughts bubbled up, I realized they were… well, the thing I couldn’t help but want was Mia. 

– 8:20 pm

The first course was done and Roscoe was demolishing a toy penguin over by the kitchen island behind Beth. We were all watching him. Not a bad show. 

Speaking of, at one point during the show, I looked at Mia. Her hair was tucked behind her ear on my side. It created a natural path. From her eyes, to her jawline. The little, almost imperceptible white hairs on her cheek revealed by the light hitting her just so. Down to her neck, the artery pulsing, her throat moving as she swallowed water. Down further to her breasts, not large, but just right. B cups maybe. And they needed no help from any bra. Are those… Jesus, I could see her nip– 

I looked up to find her looking at me and I looked away immediately, toward Roscoe demolishing the toy. The white filling flew around in chunks. My face burned. When I looked back ten seconds later she was still on me. Mia held my eyes for just a split second before looking down without moving her head, the dimples deepening in her lightly blushed cheeks. Whoa. Does she…?

“Roscoe, come on now!” Ruby said. “Give that poor animal a break, buddy!”

“He’s really something, huh?” Mia said. But she looked at me as she said it, lips looking a little fuller and wetter now. 

“Oh yeah!” Ruby said, turning back to the table. Mia’s eyes snapped to her, eyebrows up, lips reorganizing quickly into a friendly, inquisitive smile. “You should see him go at the dog park. Everything is either fightable or humpable.”

I laughed along with them, but all I could think of then was that burgundy dress. And what it concealed. 

– 9:40 pm

These shorts, which, thank God, were dark and not stretchy, were really earning their keep tonight. I was at the family dinner table hard as a rock and twice as dumb. 

Ruby and Beth went to get the dessert ready, leaving Mia and me alone. 

Fuck. 

Quick, pick an innocent topic to talk about. 

“So how’s your old man? Does he come home from our tennis matches and tell you how he kicks my ass?”

“No, actually, the other way around.” 

“Ahh! So he’s a truth teller, your dad.”

She nodded, looking at me. I couldn’t quite tell why, but I was getting the idea that maybe she wanted to tell me something.  

“That’s why you’re such a good shit, Mia. Ope, sorry!” I raised my hands to apologize for forgetting myself.

My brain screamed for me to keep it together. To not let out even a little bit of my hunger in front of my daughter. She was her best friend, after all.

“So what’s Joan planning to do with that Medusa statue?”

“You saw that?” She laughed. I nodded. “Oh, well, you know Mom,” Mia said, putting on Joan’s voice, “never done discovering her very bestest, authentic-est self!” 

I laughed at that, relaxing back into my chair, letting my legs fall to the sides. My leg bumped into hers. I felt it and knew, I fucking KNEW I should have pulled it back.

“I’m just glad it’s no longer candle-making.”

But I didn’t. I pretended to not notice. I figured if she said something, I’d say I thought it was the leg of the table, sorry, kid. 

“My dad just keeps encouraging her as well.” She was looking over to the girls prepping dessert now. 

Wait. She was pretending our legs weren’t touching either. “Do you guys need some help?” She slid forward in her chair, slow and controlled, her leg sliding further against mine, and, without waiting for an answer from the kitchen, got up. 

I couldn’t believe it. I thought she was playing with me. As she walked away, there was power in her body from the relentless practice and competitions and she was swaying it more than she needed to. She knew I was looking. On the other side of the kitchen island, hovering over the dessert tray being prepped, she tucked her hair behind her ear. Her hand traveled slowly, freely from the back of her head, over her neck, down over her chest.

Don’t bite. Not now, not here. 

Dessert came. Saved by the tiramisu.

– 10:30 pm

Ruby and I were in the kitchen, talking, maybe playing a little grab ass. The girls were on the couch on their phones, taking occasional breaks to show each other something, which usually earned a little exhale from the one being shown the thing. I’ll be honest, it was still hard to focus on anything else other than the thought of Mia making eyes at me. What was she thinking?

“Alright, guys, thank you so much for the dinner!” Mia said.

“You going?” Ruby asked over the Tupperware she was handling.

“Yep, got practice in the morning.”

“How are you getting home, sweetie?” Ruby asked.

“Uber.”

“Don’t be silly! Jack’ll take you.” Ruby pressed a Tupperware lid into place with both thumbs, not looking at me. 

“I will?”

“He will?”

“He will!”

“Of course, I’ll take you!” I tried to put a little reluctance on that. 

“It’s really OK,” Mia said. In my opinion, there was very little conviction in her words. “I don’t mind Ubering.”

“No, no, come on, my lovely wife’s right as always. Any foot fetishist in a Yaris can download an app and start giving young girls rides on dark evenings.”

“Eww!” Beth said from the couch, not looking up from the phone.

“Yes, daughter, exactly. Eww!” I grabbed the keys to the Range Rover. “Let’s go get you home.”

– 10:38 pm

“You’re such a cool dad, Mr. D.”

“Oh yeah?” I laughed. “How so?”

“Taking me home, being protective, it’s sweet.”

“No, stop. Just can’t let a pretty girl get into a stranger’s car for no good reason.”

“Pretty, huh?”

She shot me a look, eyebrow raised. A look I read as teasing.

“Well. You know what I mean!”

The eyebrow stayed up. 

“Oh, drop it, kid, you’re pretty! Not for me, but just generally, obviously.”

“Obviously,” she said, clearly not believing me. She seemed to enjoy seeing me squirm. 

After a little while she said, “And you’re so cute with your wife. It’s so clear you guys are really in love.”

“I do love my wife.”

“And that time you busted into Tim’s party, found Beth drunk and stoned, dragged her out of there kicking and screaming.”

“You were there?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Sorry you had to see that.”

“I was glad to see it, really. I kinda sometimes wish my parents cared that much.”

I said nothing to that. 

“Everyone tries so hard to be cool instead of protecting their kids from creeps and bad decisions,” she said. “Or that time Beth and I were robbed by those two assholes.”

“Oof. Yeah, I remember that.”

“From what Beth tells me you beat them within an inch of their lives.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

My lawyer had told me to not say that. And it really wasn’t that bad. 

“Beth was in the parked car, pointing them out to you, right?”

So the long and short of it was that when Beth and Mia were fourteen they’d been robbed by two twitchy twenty-year-old thuglets. The girls were pretty shook up about it, of course, but otherwise fine. To try and rectify the situation, I took Beth around the same neighborhood where it had happened. And we found them.

I’m the first to admit that I had (and still have) quite a bit of anger in me, all of which needed to be processed and channeled and whatnot. Generally speaking, I was good at controlling my emotions. But someone laying hands on my little girl—that had given me a justified reason to… process some anger in an unhealthy way, let’s say. I don’t feel bad about it. Righteous anger is a hell of a cheat meal.

“Oh, they were just dumb kids.”

“She said there was a lot of blood.”

I waved that off. “Dumb kids bleed real easy.”

Mia laughed, grabbing my forearm. Her delicate hand, so small on mine. I felt my impulse control being disassembled by the waves of cold heat her touch sent over me. 

I looked at her. She took her hand off me, her laugh gradually turning into a smile and an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, Mr. D.”

“For what?” 

After a moment she said, “Overstepping, I guess?”

“You can call me Jack. You’re an adult. You don’t have to apologize for touching someone’s arm.”

I made a tiny fake jab toward her arm. She laughed and slapped my fist. “Stop! You’d break me!”

“Oh, stoooop!” I laughed. 

“What, you’re huge! And those arms are… Well, you know.” She was flushing. “It’s like you’re made of warm stone or something.”

As she mused, I looked at her and saw her, not very covertly, eyeing my body. Her eyes moved over the loose-fitting T-shirt under the silky, seashell-patterned, short-sleeved button-down, then my legs, while the buttons on my shorts and the darkness of the car did a lot of work to hide my erection from her. 

I had to get my eyes back on the road, but I couldn’t help but be thrilled about what was happening in the passenger seat. I knew she was thinking about something real hard and maybe even working up the courage for something. The smile on her face was changing. Getting braver. More dangerous.

We were stopped at a red light. 

“Oh, you know what,” Mia said, “turn right here, it’s quicker.” 

“It’s faster to go straight, we’re almost there. Why do you want to turn?”

“I just figured that maybe… maybe it’s better to go there… Because that street, as opposed to this street…” She was doing a lot of pointing and turning and gesturing now, drawing out what she was saying, seemingly on purpose. Maybe because she was scared to say it? “And that one doesn’t have many trees and it’s a little too…” She exhaled heavily, steadying herself. After a brief pause she said, “Basically, what I’m trying to say, Mr. D…” She looked at me now, fully turned to face me. “I would like to see your penis, and I think it’s better we do it on a street that is not in front of my parents’ house.” She was shaking a little—a mix of fear and excitement. It was the same thing I felt. 

“Whoa, Mia!”

“Would that be a problem?” she said as her fingers played with the hem of her dress, going higher up, revealing more of her tan, silky, strong thighs. 

“Oh, boy, Mia.”

Her fingers were moving toward her inner thighs now, and her chest rose and fell with deep, strained breaths. 

“The light’s green, Mr. D.”

Beth. Joan and Ron. Fuck, I mean, Mia too. I could ruin all of our lives. Ruby’s too. But Beth’s most of all. The kind of man I’d want anywhere near Beth would take Mia straight home. No question. Just go straight, you fucking idiot. 

I turned the blinker on.

The steering wheel was damp from my sweating palms. I slowed down on this new street, looking for places to park with a bit of privacy. And it just so happened that there was a streetlight out between a couple houses. I pulled in.

We stopped. I killed the engine. 

I turned my head to her. Her leg, the one nearest to me, was tucked in below her right one on the seat. I got a view of her inner thighs disappearing into the darkness under the dress. 

She leaned in over the console and gave me a kiss. It was almost a peck. She was looking at me, hopeful, nervous, a little wild. 

Her face felt so small in my hands. Like a sweet, friendly animal to protect from the world. 

She snuggled her face up to my hand as I touched her cheek. She smiled. 

Mia moved her face into my palm, her hot breath flowing down my forearm. She took me by the wrist, her fingers slim and delicate. 

She pulled my hand down a little and maneuvered her lips to the tips of my fingers. Her tongue glistened as she found my ring finger. She put it in her mouth slowly, working her tongue in circles around the wedding ring, looking at me then. She pushed my palm away from her slowly, my finger leaving the comfort of her hot, soft mouth. 

“Mr. D?”

“Yes, Mia?”

“Can I see your penis?”

I said nothing, looking at her. I felt as though her words were going to turn me into a puff of smoke.

“I want you to see it, Mia.”

Her breathing was fast as she reached over to unbutton my shorts. She had to unbutton them all the way and reach inside deep, as I closed my eyes in excited pleasure. Her small, soft, trembling hand found it and she pulled it out, with a bit of help from me hooking my fingers behind the waist and pulling the shorts down a bit. 

She let out a bit of a gasp, looking back up at me. 

“Mr. D?” she said, squeezing my hard cock at the base, swinging its weight around a little. 

“Mmm?” I moaned, looking down at her. 

She looked up at me and said, “I knew you had a big one.” 

I tensed it and made it pulse in her hand. Her compliments made me feel like I could run through a brick wall. 

It isn’t that big, it’s just good. But for her size and experience (I assume) it must have seemed big. We must have looked like Beauty and the Beast, proportion-wise. I wasn’t exactly turned off by that.

She looked down slowly and gave the tip a lick like it was a lollipop. I groaned. I put my hand over my mouth, elbow on the window frame, and caught a glimpse of my wedding ring. I could not believe this was really happening. My cock had not felt this hard and full for a long time. 

But it was happening. Oh yeah, the twitch in my groin as she opened her mouth and took my cock. 

The tactile feel of her silky smooth dark hair in my hand. 

The silky dress fabric folded and snapped under my sweaty, large palm, as I slid it back and forth over her strong, slender back. The dress was very thin; I could feel her spine, her ribs, the muscles. Her behind in the air, knees on the passenger seat. 

She was sucking it with purpose now. Not fast, but… with feeling. With enthusiasm. Stopping at the top to take breaths, letting out moans through her nose on the way down.

She couldn’t take my cock entirely. But now that it was slick with her spit—sticky and syrupy from the tiramisu—she was getting closer than most could. 

I ran my hand lower down her back, and what did I feel? Or rather, didn’t feel… 

Mia, you dirty slut. She was not wearing any panties. To a dinner at her friend’s parents’ house. Had she planned this? Or was she hoping for it?

“I have fantasized about your penis since the day I learned how to masturbate,” she said, no longer mincing words. 

She laid her left leg down on the passenger seat, lying flat now across the front over the console, fitting inside the car just right. This allowed me to pull up her dress and reveal her tanlined ass. I could swear I was salivating. I looked down at her. 

The pleasure I was receiving was out of this world. Mia was still doing her absolute best to get it inside her all the way, grasping my shaft with her left hand, with her right hand clamping around the shaft on the other side, under my sack, so that when she went down, her cheek and lips, sometimes nose, slightly grazed them. It wasn’t the most technically refined blowjob I had ever received, but what mattered was who was giving it to me: this perfect young girl, so hot, so perky, with perfect little ass and perfect little tits, in her perfect little dress. 

“You’re such a good girl, Mia.”

She squeezed my cock with her hands like a cat making biscuits. 

“And we were doing such a bad thing,” I said, without thinking. 

She took my cock out of her mouth, panting, catching her breath. She looked up at me. 

“I love your cock, Mr. D.” She kissed it, watching me. She propped it up against her cheek, nuzzling it, giving my balls a playful kiss. She ever so lightly slapped her cheek with it. 

I wanted to cum in her mouth as she looked at me. I wanted to keep cumming, to fill her up. I wanted things I knew better than to want, things that were shameful to me and impossible to push away. This girl made me insane, putting images in my head. 

Somehow I was convinced we were seeing these images together. 

She sucked the tip into her mouth as hard as she could, given how slick and slippery with my precum and her saliva it was, and let it go with a smacking pop. 

“Oh my God, Mia. This is so wrong.”

“Please let me keep going, Mr. D.”

“But you’re so young.”

“I’m a consenting adult, Mr. D.”

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Touch me and you’ll know.”

I touched her pussy and it was so wet and hot that my finger slid right between her lips. Not inside; it was too tight. 

She almost screamed, her eyes closed, head down between my legs, her moans vibrating into my balls.

I rubbed her slit up and down slowly, surprised at the size and hardness of her clit. And it was sen-si-tive! Whenever I glided over it, she’d shiver and arch. 

I slid my fingers further up, lightly grazing her asshole. I spread her cheeks a little with one hand, and though it was dark in the car, I could see just how clean, pristine and tight it was. I touched it again and I could feel her push up against my finger. I couldn’t believe my own thoughts, but I could have sworn she wanted me to put my finger inside. But I held off. 

I went back to her wet slit instead. I rubbed her pussy gently, up and down, as her head was moving up and down on my cock. She took tiny breaks at the top to exhale, moan, inhale, and go back in. My balls were wet with her saliva and she was struggling to cup them in her right hand as her left worked the very bottom of my shaft. 

I worked on her clit for a bit, and as she got wetter and wetter, looser and looser, I worked my index finger at her opening. I put it in a little and the pressure from her squeezed it. She wasn’t doing it on purpose; it’s just how tight she was. I didn’t move it. 

I left my index finger still and rubbed her clit on and off with my middle finger. She herself was moaning and writhing in my lap, such a sensitive girl, and her pussy was performing its own dance, pulsating, exacting waves of pressure on my index finger. 

She moaned louder. “You’re gonna make me cum, Mr. D. Oh my God, I’m such a bad girl. Please make me cum, Mr. D. I want to cum so bad!”

She took a big breath and shoved my cock deeper inside her mouth than before and something opened up and it went in all the way. 

She shivered and moaned out of control and I felt her finally release. 

“Oh, yeah. Good girl, Mia.”

Her body kept shivering for a bit and she calmed down. She came up for air, spit dripping on my cock and her hands from her open, gasping mouth. 

“Mr. D, thank you! No one has ever made me cum.”

“No one!?” My words were shocked, but I wasn’t.

“The boys my age don’t know what they’re doing.”

“Well, you sure know what you’re doing, Mia.”

“Really? You think so?”

“Didn’t you just take my penis all the way into your throat?”

“I DID! You noticed!”

“How could I not?”

“It’s the first time that has happened.”

“Wow, it’s really something.”

She came up to me to kiss me. “I think you’re opening something in me, Mr. D.”

I didn’t know what to say. I was in complete awe of this girl, in my lap. Going from my daughter’s cute friend, my buddy’s daughter, to this convulsing perfect storm.

Just as I was looking for words, my hand still enjoying the feel of her ass and my cock pulsing in hers, she said, “I want to taste your cum, Mr. D.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Mr. D. I want you to cum in my mouth. I know it’s wrong and we’re ruining our lives and we will be in so much trouble, but I need it.”

“It’s OK.” I touched her face, encouraging her. 

“I don’t think I can live without it, Mr. D. I won’t sleep if I don’t taste your semen.”

“All yours, Mia,” I said through a smile, knowing she wasn’t listening. 

“Cum in my mouth, Mr. D, OK? I want to taste your cum, please!” She seemed obsessed, barely hearing the words I was saying, barely understanding what was happening. To her, it was just her and my cock, as far as I could tell. 

“Of course, Mia.” I couldn’t wait to cum in her mouth; I was already leaking so much precum. She went back down, and with a soft exhale I said, “Suck my cock, baby. I’m going to cum inside your throat.”

I kept whispering to her as she sucked and moaned. 

“I can’t believe I’m inside you, girl! Go ahead, take my cock. It’s all yours for now. It’s yours whenever you want it, Mia.”

She was moving in my hands. I realized my own grasp on reality was slipping. 
 
As she gave me the sloppiest head I’d ever received, I kept whispering to her, “I will sneak into your room and you can suck the cum out of me while your parents are asleep. I’m going to cum inside you any chance I get. Just forget everything and suck my cock now, baby.”

My finger was inside her again and I could feel her body recovering from the orgasm, getting wetter again, writhing against my palm again. 

I removed the finger and instead laid my full palm over her vagina and ass and rubbed slowly, fully, back and forth. 

“I’m going to cum, Mia.”

She continued to suck at the same pace. 

I was so close. I could already feel it. I took my pinky finger and pressed the tip of it against her asshole.

I must have pressed a little too hard. It slid inside her. 

She groaned into my cock, her mouth still completely stuffed with it. She kept on sucking, her asshole tightening on my pinky, just one little knuckle in. 

“Go ahead, Mia, take my cum, OK?”

She bobbed her head faster and I came. One pump—oh God—two pumps, her head was up now and suctioning the tip of my cock into her mouth HARD—three pumps—her head was moving down all the way into her throat again.

“Mia, fuck—” I took her head with my left hand and pushed it down. I think my right hand must have been twitching in reflex because she curled and arched her pelvis in response. 

As I came more and more—four pumps, five, six, seven—I removed my pinky from her ass and rubbed her slit and her clit with my middle finger stretched out to cover her whole crotch. 

I couldn’t believe it, as I came—pumps eight, nine, and ten—she was coming again at the same time as me. She moved her head despite her body being mostly out of control at this point, her legs shivering, giving themselves some bruises against the interior of my car, but she didn’t care. Neither of us did. 

I don’t know about her, but this was the hardest I had come in a good while. 

She came up carefully, stopping at the tip and using it almost as a cork. She took a couple of steadying breaths through her nose, and I could hear and see her swallowing my cum. 

“Such a good girl.”

“Mr. D.” She was still catching her breath. “You made me cum again, Mr. D!”

“I hope you didn’t mind my finger there…”

“No! It was… Thank you, Jack!” she said. 

She sounded completely normal now. Panting, recovering, but no longer crazed. 

“Hey, Mia.” We locked eyes. I put my hand on her neck, thumb touching her cheek. “That was really something.” I smiled and we kissed. 

After a moment, we sat back, lazily cleaning ourselves up and looking around a little, but there was no one around. She laughed, the way a truly relaxed and happy person might, you know? And I joined her in that. 

“I hope I can see you like this again sometime, Jack!”

“We really shouldn’t.”

She nodded in agreement, obviously swallowing a healthy dose of disappointment along with it. 
 
“But we will.”

She lit up. Kissed me all girly. Settled back into the passenger seat. 

– 11:20 

“OK, bye! Thanks for the lift, Mr. D!” 

She got out and went up to her house in a half-jog. I wondered for a bit if Joan and Ron would ever find out about this. I had been friendly with her parents since our girls were in diapers. Not best friends, but close enough. But right then it was beside the point. Her ass shook from the half-jog and it made my old, boring soul sing. 

– 11:29 

“OK, ladies, the party is over, the day is done, my Ubering shift is over. I am entitled to a beer and some me time, yes or yes?” I said as I came back into the dining room and opened the fridge for a beer. The words made me sick. I was a liar now. 

Ruby was doing the dishes, Beth was on her phone in front of the TV. 

“Get her home safe?” Beth asked without looking up from her phone.

“Sure thing, honey!”

I kissed my wife on the cheek, opened my beer and propped up against the counter next to her as she scrubbed a casserole dish. 

She leaned in a bit, looking over her shoulder at Beth before saying, “How’d it go?”

“Well…” I said, taking a drink, giving her a look.

“No!” she said. 

I made a shushing motion. 

“Already?” she asked, impressed.

“I guess I’m just that irresistible.” I swallowed the cold beer and exhaled. Inside, I was somewhere between shame and pride. Fear and elation.

“I can’t wait to hear all about it.” Ruby kissed me, bit my lip, licked it, kissed it again, then went back to the casserole, smiling, her chest rising and falling faster now. 

— ~ —
Let me know if you want part two.
Please support me on Substack or Patreon so I can spend more time on this instead of my boring ass day job, lol. 

u/HaleWoodsWrote — 16 days ago

Has anyone encountered erotica written they way Elmore Leonard used to write?

I'm not sure I can explain, and if you've read Elmore Leonard, I kinda think you don't need me to, if that makes sense? For those of you who haven't read him, sorry and def recommend. It's a lot of entertaining novels about criminals and lawmen and bags of money, written in a way that's crazy enjoyable to read.

reddit.com
u/HaleWoodsWrote — 20 days ago

“The Heatwave Hangover”: Surviving a Heatwave on the Couch with My College Professor Roommate [F40/M20] [Older Woman] [Age Gap] [Roommates] [Deepthroat] [Sweaty] [Blouse]

Note: ideally I would give you more context about all the things that have happened with Kat up to this point, but it’ll have to wait. It’s too hot right now.

The day got written off the moment it began. The hangover, in cahoots with this damned heatwave, put a can of Coke Zero in my hand and escorted me to the living room couch. It left me like an iPad baby.

Coke Zero because I’m not big on putting unnecessary poison in my body. Aside, of course, from all of yesterday’s numerous drinks. And “only when I drink” cigarettes. And any powdery substances arranged in lines for purely aesthetic purposes that may or may not have been hoovered up - - entirely accidentally and in a frankly disappointing display of nasal curiosity. That’s all alleged, obv.

Point being: hypocrisy be damned, or something. It’s too hot to give a care. How hot? You know that guy who goes “it’s the humidity that gets you”? In this kinda heat he’s liable to be found as the wheezing centerpiece of a Ren Faire evacuation.

Careful, don’t get the wrong idea. I’m no party animal. At the age of twenty, going into my second year of college, you would not be crazy to think that, but you’d be wrong. I’d honestly rather have stayed inside, windows open, fan on, maybe have a beer. By no means am I old, of course, but it does feel, especially on hungover mornings like this, that my drinking days would be better left behind. Yesterday was a special occasion. A friend of mine had a birthday a couple days ago and another musician friend landed a spot on a tour with a pretty big band. So, yeah, of course I gave into peer pressure - - maybe even a little bit of FOMO - - and we went for drinks.

Only a few minutes had passed, I think, between waking up and ending up over here on the couch. Let’s see. Fading back in, waking to the clicking sound of my eyelids before the picture sharpened. Straight to shower. A cool one. Towel off, barely. Fridge, envious of the khshhhh-kh-tssss pressure release from the coke can, stood over there for a sec enjoying the cool air, the sweet smell from the fizzy drink. And here I am. Only a few minutes. Just counting so I could understand if I’m missing something. Because how am I sweaty again?

Disgusted to even admit it to myself, it felt good to look down at my stomach. It felt good because the stomach was flat and the contours of muscle greatly exaggerated by a glint from the TV. Disgusted at the confused vanity of a man sitting alone in his darkened flat admiring his own physique in a state of deflation and perspiration. But when else would I enjoy it? Shape of my life. I know you haven’t seen him, but trust me, if Woods Sr. is any indication of what I have in store genetics-wise, this is probably as good as it’s getting. Hypocrisy, meet modesty. Both of you, be damned.

Some commercial for something loud between episodes of Two and a Half Men. I scoffed all high minded at the programming (RIP the Chromecast, gone too soon, in an unfortunate vacuuming catastrophe). Thought back to last night. A slack, airless, still July evening in Milford. What is it about heat like this? All of this is completely void of any research on my part, mind you, but it feels like heat makes us do some counter-intuitive things. People: huffing, puffing, wiping brows, seeking shade, avoiding movement. Give those same people some darkness preceded by a sunset sky, a crowd, music, drinks. And now somehow we all agree - the lights shine a little brighter, everyone goes dancing because the music sounds a little better through some mechanism, talking, exerting ourselves in ways we’d unanimously agreed are inadvisable. If you’re gonna walk on ice, you might as well dance? Is that it? Heat, sweat, dancing and delirium as preferable over quiet submission? Rebellion?

And in all of that, somehow, for some reason, everyone gets horny. Maybe not everyone, I don’t know. I do. And it feels like one of those survival things. Like how you get aroused sometimes during a high fever, a spell of the flu. To continue your lineage for the end-times are upon you. Is that real? Just bro science, probably. I coulda looked it up. I didn’t. Because… you know.

Kat barged in just then.

— I saw a girl in a wig. A wig! In this weather?

Light flared through the darkened kitchen-living-room for a short moment. A gust of air exactly the same temperature barged in. Subtracting and adding nothing except another reason to complain. So adding, actually? Or is that subtraction because you add a negative? Nevermind.

— What color?

— HUH!? — she yelled. She liked doing that.

— The wig, — had to stop to take a pained breath. — what color?

— Oh! Blond, to be fair, yeah, but a hat is a hat, no?

— That’s crazy. — I said with the dragged out inflection of a sub-par sports podcaster checking his phone during an interview.

Kat and I have been roommates for a few months now. Four, I think? Kat’s full name’s Katherine David. A college history professor at Milford University. Don’t confuse that with University of Milford, which is where I go. Go hawgs! She’s here for another semester and then it’s back to Putney with her. We got along quite well from the start. She rented this place and put up an ad for the room I’m in now and when I came by to check it out we bonded over London stuff, as I spent my gap year there before starting college.

Not to be crass, but the dynamic got even better when we started having sex with each other about a month after I moved in.

— The flat’s pretty hot, not gonna lie, — I call it a flat sometimes, yes. Her fault. Her terrible influence, plus my annoyingly brief time in the jolly old country. If I gave it any more thought, I might ask why I talk to my forty-year-old roommate so much that I’ve started picking up Britishisms, which must be doing catastrophic damage to my odds with anyone who isn’t my homesick British roommate. But hey. Snap out of it and sniff the air. It hurts to breathe. I obviously can’t be arsed to ask myself uncomfortable questions. Hypocrisy and modesty, welcome introspection. You lot can all piss off.

I turned, slumped over the back of the couch to look at her, — It’s not much better out there, huh?

— Oh, come now! That’s no way to attack the day, young man! Who’s gonna carry the boats, Hale-othy?

— One time! One time I watched a Goggins video.

She danced around the kitchen area as she put away her bag, took off her heels, grabbed a baby carrot, a cherry tomato and a can of Coke from the fridge. Carrot in her mouth like a cigar, the little tomato balanced on top of the Coke can as she nudged the fridge closed with her hip. It was clear she was reeeeeeally powering through the situation. She does that when the going gets tough. You slow down, you start thinking: surely you can’t get going again. That’s what she says, anyway.

God. Fucking. Damn. You’d never guess forty. Dancing now, she was in her work clothes: tailored high-waisted trousers, a snug fitting white blouse, the kind of lightweight, almost-pantsuit thing that made her look taller than she was. Slender frame, clean lines, dark hair still somehow behaving in the heat. Images of Caroline Polachek flickered in the triangle of empty space between the couch, the blind-covered window and the raised kitchen area.

— We must not be defeated!

— Uh-huh.

— Victory at all costs!

— That one of your toga guys?

She open-palm-slammed the counter with both hands, the ring on her right middle finger making a muted clink. Poised like a human turret. — You HAVE to be joking!

I’d say I gave her a pretty good confused dog look, but that’s just what my face looked like today.

— You know, I try to teach you something. It’s your country’s history too!

— I think you mean our country, gov.

Her nose sucked in a deep slow breath, forming a fireball of - -

— Kidding! Kidding! — I raised a hand to stop the incoming nerd rage spaz. — Churchill’s the man. Come. Sit.

I turned back to face the TV and realized that this small interaction had drained me of what little energy still remained. I heard/felt/sensed she wanted to say something witty, but moved on. A rarity for her. Instead she opened the freezer and sent an ice cube at my head. Missed. It hit the CD rack to the right of the entertainment center.

— Jeez.

— What’re you gonna say to that, Billy Big Bollocks?

— Something funny about The Blitz? — unsure of myself, I muttered in response.

— Chamberlain would have loved you.

No idea what that one meant. — Right. Pull up a couch cushion. — I patted the spot to my left. — Charlie’s trying to fuck the babysitter or something.

— No, I gotta go and - uhh — she stopped by the couch, distracted by the TV, I thought. A short moment later she sat down. Looked at me, clearly spent. We shared an acknowledging smile. — Who’s kidding who?

— Das right! — I offered my can for a clink and she returned the trashy gesture.

— Love me a bit of Charlie.

— Sure you do!

— Wait, you know what that means?

— Of course! I’m surprised you do! Didn’t peg you as a nose beers gal.

She snorted out a laugh. — Oh my god! Nose beers! I remember that.

Did I tell you I went out with an Aussie for a while?

— Ah yeah? Good on ya. What’s his name?

— Simon.

— Simooooon.

— Loved a bit of goey, Simon did.

— Really?

— Oh, yeah. ‘Nothing like a nice glass of Nosé,’ he used to say.

— Ha! That’s a new one!

— Good one, eh?

— Simon sounds great.

— He — she began, stopped, seemed to think for a second and with a look and a nod said — yeah, he was alright, actually.

— Glad to hear he’s a good guy at least.

We speculated a bit more about why Australians, at least the ones we’d made contact with, were such fans of the schneef but soon enough the small talk petered out and we watched Two and a Half Men. Alan was helping Charlie with his accounting after Charlie’s accountant, played by Richard Lewis, informs him his shit’s dried up or something, ah fuck, I can’t honestly keep up. Just pump the laughtrack into my ears.

— Oh, how was the party? — she asked, in a slight turn-lean toward me, but eyes still fixed on the TV. — Is your friend excited about the tour?

— Hmm? Oh. Yeah, very much so. Wouldn’t shut up about it. Very happy for him.

— You sound it.

— No, I really am. I’m just fuckin’...— I sighed and gestured down to the vague coordinates of my body, indicating the suffering we mostly shared. Though I bore the brunt of it, given yesterday’s sins. I was also thinking about last night and the girl I had made out with at the Arbory (hands down my favorite bar in Milford). A little crumb of panic flashed in my body. The flash was over before it began and I had the heat and hangover to thank for the fact that it even flashed in the first place. Kat and I are not dating, obviously. I know you don’t have all the context for that, but do you need it right now? Do you? I don’t know, analytic thinking is out somewhere with introspection and modesty and I think there was another one. Trying to scrounge up a coherent sentence out from under a bus stop bench, I bet.

We’re not exactly in the same dating pool, is my point. So the fact that I made out with a girl wouldn’t bother her, right? I still don’t need to share it. We’re not holding each other to anything, but I - well, I feel a little something sometimes when I think of Kat with other men. I don’t think she does. And neither of us should, right? So let’s not. Ok? Ok.

Charlie’s hitting on a hot brunette at the grocery store now.

— Wait, you were on campus today?

— Yeah. Summer course office hours.

— How was it?

— Hot, boring, got some reading done.

— What’s on deck?

— Bulgakov.

— Don’t know him.

— Russian guy. The Master and Margarita. That’s the name of the book.

— Any good?

— Unexpectedly so.

— How so?

— Ummm… — she thought for a bit. — I think it’s the way he writes.

We shared a laugh at that. Her laugh made a little boy of me.

And she was willing to sound foolish, even though she wasn’t. I found that hard to resist.

As we continued to enjoy the programming and the numerous annoying commercial breaks, her leg brushed up against mine. I couldn’t imagine having sex right now. She was still in her high-waisted trousers, and even slumped into the couch, she really did something to my insides. But it’s so sticky and hot and I’m so poorly assembled. Unsound in an anatomical way.

All that’s my brain, though. My sensible side — seems I still have one. Kat’s special effect on me was exercising its power on authorities higher and more powerful than rationality.

I took a sip from the cold can and put it to my left eye. So nice. Right eye now. Out of the corner of my cold-lidded left eye I thought I saw her looking at me. Coulda sworn she was looking at my stomach as well. Or maybe the outline of - - I looked down there myself and yeah, of course. Regardless of what I wanted or had the appetite for, my cock had appetites of its own and it was subject to a higher authority. It was down there now, slumped over still, but beginning to stir and these shorts, the only thing I had on, were barely clothing, given all the free space and air flow. She wasn’t hiding her looks. She didn’t need to. God, this woman really had me. Thank god I showered.

After a little while, she laid out on the couch, legs curled in her seat, head on my lap, facing the TV. Her can of Coke she put on the floor. I felt her cheek on my heavy cock now and wondered if she felt it on her face. Oh god, of course she would have - there may as well be nothing in between, the shorts were so thin and silky. Kat had confessed, very embarrassed, that before anything had happened between us, she’d accidentally seen me toweling off after a shower. She’d come home as I was getting out of the shower and caught a glimpse through the two, in her words, “fortunately positioned” mirrors - one by the entrance on top of the cupboard where we dropped off keys and bags, and the one on the bathroom wall all the way across the flat. She swore she looked away as soon as she snapped out of the surprise. I believed her as well. Because she admitted to pleasuring herself to the image of me naked multiple times after that.

I should explain something. I was never a great student or very witty or good with girls or anything, but what I did have was one of those best-in-show cocks in the flaccid category. It didn’t get much bigger hard, but it also didn’t need to. Most girls couldn’t… sorry. Bragging is an ugly thing. And what’s there to even brag about, right? This is not exactly an important quality. But I like that she likes it. And — don’t tell her I said this — I really like it when she tells me she likes it, especially given the frequency and enthusiasm with which she tells me. She is as generous with praise for my body as I am with admiration for hers.

You could say she was snuggling with my cock. Brushing at it a few times with her cheek, playing it off as failed attempts at getting comfortable. A good couple of her breaths sounded almost like moans. We were both doing some heavy breathing and sighing today, sure, but these were not that.

Kat undid a couple buttons on her shirt and as she moved to do that, she maneuvered my shorts a little higher. I’m almost certain it was on purpose, but she didn’t make it look that way. The shorts were not all the way up my leg, but enough to give the TV a good glimpse. As exciting as that was, I was enamored by something else. The obvious attraction in the room. Kat’s chest, now at an angle between the TV and me, such that I could see the bra. It was one of those light lace see-throughs I really enjoyed. Her breasts were small. I loved them. But I couldn’t see them at this time. I could see, however, the skin on her chest. Like my own, her skin was covered by a thin layer of sweat which shone in the light coming from the TV. Oh God, her chest is wet. The little hairs. It’s rising up and down as she breathes. A little too deep, a little too fast. I blew a quick little breath at her halfway unbuttoned top and a wave of the most distinct little goosebumps traveled across her chest like just the sweetest cliche you’ve ever had the bliss of experiencing. And just then, as a direct result of the wave, almost as if to continue the spread of cause and effect from her wet skin to my body, my cock contracted and relaxed, receiving a fresh wave of blood and pressure. Something tingled somewhere in me. Somewhere in my abdomen or maybe chest or maybe not even strictly inside my body. It made me moan. MOAN! A guy moaning, what’s that? On a day like this, they were difficult to keep inside.

But the moan was fine. More than fine. My moan made her moan. My breaths, deepening, deepened hers. The sharp corners of her lips curled up in a little smile, upper lip shiny. When her eyes were open, she was still watching the TV. She brushed back a strand of her silky brown hair behind the ear on the side I could see. In a sly trick, she did the same motion on the side I couldn’t see. I don’t know if there was more hair down there to brush aside, but she sure did pull up my shorts all the way on my right leg. Never touching my cock with her hand, never acknowledging its presence even.

We carried on watching. She watched the TV. I - her. My cock, contracting mostly involuntarily, was left completely ignored. My abdomen tingled. I felt like I was on a swing with my eyes closed. Pleasure, inexplicable pleasure, from no physical source, kept running drills on my nervous system. As if to see if it could make me cum from just sitting there like some sex scene from a 90s action movie. I had never been so thoroughly and completely teased. Little did I know at the time, this moment would become my most re-visited memory.

I didn’t dare touch her. Right hand on the armrest, the other one resting on Kat’s side on the couch. I just watched her chest. Rising and falling. Sweat beading off it, rolling down, absorbed by the laces of her bra.

Kat rolled her head deeper into my lap. She rolled her cheek, nose and other cheek over my now fully erect cock like a lazy house cat rolling over on the windowsill in the afternoon sun. Moving herself around to lie on her stomach, she suctioned the tip of my cock into her open mouth. She wasted no movement. And now that she had me in her mouth, I flexed my cock out of instinct. As it rose, so did she, pushing her ass in the air and lifting her head. My tip was still firmly in the grasp of her thin, hot, wet lips. Without moving up or down, she sucked harder, trying to drink me like a milkshake. She didn’t use her hands at all. She knew exactly where my cock would go and she used her mouth expertly to guide it with ease. She also knew that I was looking at her. She looked back at me. Strength entered and left my body at rates and intensities that made me feel, just for a moment, weak enough to slip out of consciousness and strong enough to rip a hole big enough in the air in front of me to earn me a flashing charge in a neighboring dimension. I looked away and closed my eyes, but I still felt her stare burning the underside of my jaw. My cock now confidently standing on its own, holding her head up rather than the other way around.

No longer looking at me, but down at my lap she finally released, without moving her head, the suction grip she’d confidently held for the past little while - somewhere between a few seconds and an eon, no one would be able to tell you. Her lips let through a mouthful of saliva that stuck thick to the entire length of my cock, pooled on the rise above it and dripped down over and around my balls, pooling around my taint and between my ass cheeks. The sensation was tender, slow, confusing and pleasurable enough to summon ideas of sin - like I should be doing this with a cloth over my head to hide from God. I realized she’d been saving up her saliva on purpose. Such a volume doesn’t just happen. I still wonder now how I didn’t cum right then and there. I should have.

Kat panting and moaning in a hover above my cock, bubbles of saliva forming and bursting, stuck out her tongue and pausing for just a second - - her ass constrained so snug in her beige trousers, seeing the outline of her panties now, blouse tucked, the seams almost perfectly meeting up at the waist, a still dance of beautiful female form creating a shape I could not be more in awe of - - she confidently went down. She had to stop halfway to guide me into her throat. She squeezed my ankle with her left hand and kneaded my thigh with her right. She stayed down. Her tongue moved from left to right as much as it could, there was not much space in there. Then she rose. Slooooowly.

— Fuck, Kat!

She gasped for air, not so much because she was out of breath, but out of what seemed like delirium. She enjoyed the view of my wet, slick, veiny cock being liberated from her grasp and leaning over to the side a bit. I loved the view too. The sight of her with my cock. Only she could make it disappear almost completely.

I could swear it wasn’t about just sex for her sometimes. Not in the way that I understood sex, anyway. She got something out of it. More. She got some prize out of providing pleasure that I just couldn’t fully relate to. That didn’t stop me from enjoying it, though. I admired her.

All the way down again. Prayed it wouldn’t be the last time.

And back up. She got one breath out, one back in. She hovered over my full, glistening cock with her lips open. She took the base with her right hand, resting the palm on my pubic bone. She dripped saliva. With a tight grip on the base, she swung it around a little. Admiring it. It’s almost like I wasn’t there. But then she looked at me.

I must’ve been a fucking embarrassment. Mouth open, maybe not quite drooling, but close to it. Sweat beading off my forehead, chest, sides of my torso.

— Hot, huh? — she asked. How does a person look and sound so confident while mid-pant, mouth covered in saliva, eyes tearing up? HOW?

I made some stupid non-verbal affirmative noise I hoped didn’t come off as “oh boy yes sirree it sure is hot around these here parts, oo-wee”.

She kept the eye contact going. She knew it made me uncomfortable. She’d said on a previous occasion — It’s ok, you don’t have to look back at me. I still want to look at you. Is that ok? — I’d said yes, of course. I didn’t tell her, but I did like her looking at me. I can’t look back too long, not sure why, but fuck do I like knowing she’s watching me. And so, eyes fixed on me, she reached her left hand down to the ground where the near-ice cold coke can was sweating more than either of us. She put it to my balls.

— OH!!! — I nearly jumped. My limbs all jerking up involuntarily, trying to roll me up like a hedgehog.

She stopped me from getting up. She smiled, eyebrows up, mouth open a little, playfully, carefully, in total control. She shushed me back down gently. And after only another short moment, the cold shock turned into something so wonderful. My breath caught up. I felt a cool wave travel outward from my groin. The cock got a little softer. And just as it started slumping slightly, Kat put it back in her mouth.

— Fuck! Oh my god. — I breathed like a man in pain.

The alienating cold of the can contrasted with the incredible, inviting heat of the inside of her mouth. I don’t know if it was right then or if my mind skipped time, but I was cumming. And I watched. Despite Kat looking in my eyes. That I watched. Her lips and my contracting cock - - the little bit still visible, the rest in Kat’s throat - - cast shadows on my stomach.

It was one of those orgasms that didn’t know when to end. She somehow knew though. She let about three pumps come through while she was all the way down, then she kept on sucking. Another pump. A little pause. She knew I wasn’t done. I think there’s still a dent on the right arm of that couch from that little pause - from my fist closing on the upholstery in a kind of tense plea I couldn’t verbalize.

She took it now, from the tip all the way down and back up. Again. No pauses. Long, smooth movements. The last four or so pumps of my cum flowed from the heat of my body through the cold of the coke-chilled base and back to the warmth of her throat and mouth.

I let go. Crumbled. It feels like the cum has been ripped from my insides and I wish I had more insides to offer her. Take them all.

The base of my spent, heavy cock still in the confident grip of her right hand, leaning to the side now, she took a drink from the can with the other. She bounced down to the floor by my feet, no longer commanding, but lady-like, a little girly even. Still in her business attire. Hair somehow still much more together than it should be. The eye contact is a little different now. She’s different and it’s easier for me to look back. Making me cum seems to change something in her too. I don’t get it.

— You’re really, — I had to breathe. — something. — What am I saying? — You know?

She smiled. Not proud or coy, but sweet. She lifted my cock back up and took it all the way again, brief, tender, like a little goodbye. Then she kissed it, laid it on my thigh, and rested her head on it like a pillow. All without breaking eye contact.

---

This is my first published story. Excited to get some feedback, though also worried, of course. I write slower fiction, loosely(!) inspired by true events and keep it pretty close to reality (no 1000 people orgies and tentacles, just not my bag of tricks). Feedback welcome, especially on pacing and use of humor, which I am pretty insecure about - don't want to lose people because of mistimed jokes preventing them from getting off.

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u/HaleWoodsWrote — 29 days ago

“The Heatwave Hangover”: Surviving a Heatwave on the Couch with My College Professor Roommate [F40/M20] [Older Woman] [Age Gap] [Roommates] [Deepthroat] [Sweaty] [Blouse]

Note: ideally I would give you more context about all the things that have happened with Kat up to this point, but it’ll have to wait. It’s too hot right now.

The day got written off the moment it began. The hangover, in cahoots with this damned heatwave, put a can of Coke Zero in my hand and escorted me to the living room couch. It left me like an iPad baby.

Coke Zero because I’m not big on putting unnecessary poison in my body. Aside, of course, from all of yesterday’s numerous drinks. And “only when I drink” cigarettes. And any powdery substances arranged in lines for purely aesthetic purposes that may or may not have been hoovered up - - entirely accidentally and in a frankly disappointing display of nasal curiosity. That’s all alleged, obv.

Point being: hypocrisy be damned, or something. It’s too hot to give a care. How hot? You know that guy who goes “it’s the humidity that gets you”? In this kinda heat he’s liable to be found as the wheezing centerpiece of a Ren Faire evacuation.

Careful, don’t get the wrong idea. I’m no party animal. At the age of twenty, going into my second year of college, you would not be crazy to think that, but you’d be wrong. I’d honestly rather have stayed inside, windows open, fan on, maybe have a beer. By no means am I old, of course, but it does feel, especially on hungover mornings like this, that my drinking days would be better left behind. Yesterday was a special occasion. A friend of mine had a birthday a couple days ago and another musician friend landed a spot on a tour with a pretty big band. So, yeah, of course I gave into peer pressure - - maybe even a little bit of FOMO - - and we went for drinks.

Only a few minutes had passed, I think, between waking up and ending up over here on the couch. Let’s see. Fading back in, waking to the clicking sound of my eyelids before the picture sharpened. Straight to shower. A cool one. Towel off, barely. Fridge, envious of the khshhhh-kh-tssss pressure release from the coke can, stood over there for a sec enjoying the cool air, the sweet smell from the fizzy drink. And here I am. Only a few minutes. Just counting so I could understand if I’m missing something. Because how am I sweaty again?

Disgusted to even admit it to myself, it felt good to look down at my stomach. It felt good because the stomach was flat and the contours of muscle greatly exaggerated by a glint from the TV. Disgusted at the confused vanity of a man sitting alone in his darkened flat admiring his own physique in a state of deflation and perspiration. But when else would I enjoy it? Shape of my life. I know you haven’t seen him, but trust me, if Woods Sr. is any indication of what I have in store genetics-wise, this is probably as good as it’s getting. Hypocrisy, meet modesty. Both of you, be damned.

Some commercial for something loud between episodes of Two and a Half Men. I scoffed all high minded at the programming (RIP the Chromecast, gone too soon, in an unfortunate vacuuming catastrophe). Thought back to last night. A slack, airless, still July evening in Milford. What is it about heat like this? All of this is completely void of any research on my part, mind you, but it feels like heat makes us do some counter-intuitive things. People: huffing, puffing, wiping brows, seeking shade, avoiding movement. Give those same people some darkness preceded by a sunset sky, a crowd, music, drinks. And now somehow we all agree - the lights shine a little brighter, everyone goes dancing because the music sounds a little better through some mechanism, talking, exerting ourselves in ways we’d unanimously agreed are inadvisable. If you’re gonna walk on ice, you might as well dance? Is that it? Heat, sweat, dancing and delirium as preferable over quiet submission? Rebellion?

And in all of that, somehow, for some reason, everyone gets horny. Maybe not everyone, I don’t know. I do. And it feels like one of those survival things. Like how you get aroused sometimes during a high fever, a spell of the flu. To continue your lineage for the end-times are upon you. Is that real? Just bro science, probably. I coulda looked it up. I didn’t. Because… you know.

Kat barged in just then.

— I saw a girl in a wig. A wig! In this weather?

Light flared through the darkened kitchen-living-room for a short moment. A gust of air exactly the same temperature barged in. Subtracting and adding nothing except another reason to complain. So adding, actually? Or is that subtraction because you add a negative? Nevermind.

— What color?

— HUH!? — she yelled. She liked doing that.

— The wig, — had to stop to take a pained breath. — what color?

— Oh! Blond, to be fair, yeah, but a hat is a hat, no?

— That’s crazy. — I said with the dragged out inflection of a sub-par sports podcaster checking his phone during an interview.

Kat and I have been roommates for a few months now. Four, I think? Kat’s full name’s Katherine David. A college history professor at Milford University. Don’t confuse that with University of Milford, which is where I go. Go hawgs! She’s here for another semester and then it’s back to Putney with her. We got along quite well from the start. She rented this place and put up an ad for the room I’m in now and when I came by to check it out we bonded over London stuff, as I spent my gap year there before starting college.

Not to be crass, but the dynamic got even better when we started having sex with each other about a month after I moved in.

— The flat’s pretty hot, not gonna lie, — I call it a flat sometimes, yes. Her fault. Her terrible influence, plus my annoyingly brief time in the jolly old country. If I gave it any more thought, I might ask why I talk to my forty-year-old roommate so much that I’ve started picking up Britishisms, which must be doing catastrophic damage to my odds with anyone who isn’t my homesick British roommate. But hey. Snap out of it and sniff the air. It hurts to breathe. I obviously can’t be arsed to ask myself uncomfortable questions. Hypocrisy and modesty, welcome introspection. You lot can all piss off.

I turned, slumped over the back of the couch to look at her, — It’s not much better out there, huh?

— Oh, come now! That’s no way to attack the day, young man! Who’s gonna carry the boats, Hale-othy?

— One time! One time I watched a Goggins video.

She danced around the kitchen area as she put away her bag, took off her heels, grabbed a baby carrot, a cherry tomato and a can of Coke from the fridge. Carrot in her mouth like a cigar, the little tomato balanced on top of the Coke can as she nudged the fridge closed with her hip. It was clear she was reeeeeeally powering through the situation. She does that when the going gets tough. You slow down, you start thinking: surely you can’t get going again. That’s what she says, anyway.

God. Fucking. Damn. You’d never guess forty. Dancing now, she was in her work clothes: tailored high-waisted trousers, a snug fitting white blouse, the kind of lightweight, almost-pantsuit thing that made her look taller than she was. Slender frame, clean lines, dark hair still somehow behaving in the heat. Images of Caroline Polachek flickered in the triangle of empty space between the couch, the blind-covered window and the raised kitchen area.

— We must not be defeated!

— Uh-huh.

— Victory at all costs!

— That one of your toga guys?

She open-palm-slammed the counter with both hands, the ring on her right middle finger making a muted clink. Poised like a human turret. — You HAVE to be joking!

I’d say I gave her a pretty good confused dog look, but that’s just what my face looked like today.

— You know, I try to teach you something. It’s your country’s history too!

— I think you mean our country, gov.

Her nose sucked in a deep slow breath, forming a fireball of - -

— Kidding! Kidding! — I raised a hand to stop the incoming nerd rage spaz. — Churchill’s the man. Come. Sit.

I turned back to face the TV and realized that this small interaction had drained me of what little energy still remained. I heard/felt/sensed she wanted to say something witty, but moved on. A rarity for her. Instead she opened the freezer and sent an ice cube at my head. Missed. It hit the CD rack to the right of the entertainment center.

— Jeez.

— What’re you gonna say to that, Billy Big Bollocks?

— Something funny about The Blitz? — unsure of myself, I muttered in response.

— Chamberlain would have loved you.

No idea what that one meant. — Right. Pull up a couch cushion. — I patted the spot to my left. — Charlie’s trying to fuck the babysitter or something.

— No, I gotta go and - uhh — she stopped by the couch, distracted by the TV, I thought. A short moment later she sat down. Looked at me, clearly spent. We shared an acknowledging smile. — Who’s kidding who?

— Das right! — I offered my can for a clink and she returned the trashy gesture.

— Love me a bit of Charlie.

— Sure you do!

— Wait, you know what that means?

— Of course! I’m surprised you do! Didn’t peg you as a nose beers gal.

She snorted out a laugh. — Oh my god! Nose beers! I remember that.

Did I tell you I went out with an Aussie for a while?

— Ah yeah? Good on ya. What’s his name?

— Simon.

— Simooooon.

— Loved a bit of goey, Simon did.

— Really?

— Oh, yeah. ‘Nothing like a nice glass of Nosé,’ he used to say.

— Ha! That’s a new one!

— Good one, eh?

— Simon sounds great.

— He — she began, stopped, seemed to think for a second and with a look and a nod said — yeah, he was alright, actually.

— Glad to hear he’s a good guy at least.

We speculated a bit more about why Australians, at least the ones we’d made contact with, were such fans of the schneef but soon enough the small talk petered out and we watched Two and a Half Men. Alan was helping Charlie with his accounting after Charlie’s accountant, played by Richard Lewis, informs him his shit’s dried up or something, ah fuck, I can’t honestly keep up. Just pump the laughtrack into my ears.

— Oh, how was the party? — she asked, in a slight turn-lean toward me, but eyes still fixed on the TV. — Is your friend excited about the tour?

— Hmm? Oh. Yeah, very much so. Wouldn’t shut up about it. Very happy for him.

— You sound it.

— No, I really am. I’m just fuckin’...— I sighed and gestured down to the vague coordinates of my body, indicating the suffering we mostly shared. Though I bore the brunt of it, given yesterday’s sins. I was also thinking about last night and the girl I had made out with at the Arbory (hands down my favorite bar in Milford). A little crumb of panic flashed in my body. The flash was over before it began and I had the heat and hangover to thank for the fact that it even flashed in the first place. Kat and I are not dating, obviously. I know you don’t have all the context for that, but do you need it right now? Do you? I don’t know, analytic thinking is out somewhere with introspection and modesty and I think there was another one. Trying to scrounge up a coherent sentence out from under a bus stop bench, I bet.

We’re not exactly in the same dating pool, is my point. So the fact that I made out with a girl wouldn’t bother her, right? I still don’t need to share it. We’re not holding each other to anything, but I - well, I feel a little something sometimes when I think of Kat with other men. I don’t think she does. And neither of us should, right? So let’s not. Ok? Ok.

Charlie’s hitting on a hot brunette at the grocery store now.

— Wait, you were on campus today?

— Yeah. Summer course office hours.

— How was it?

— Hot, boring, got some reading done.

— What’s on deck?

— Bulgakov.

— Don’t know him.

— Russian guy. The Master and Margarita. That’s the name of the book.

— Any good?

— Unexpectedly so.

— How so?

— Ummm… — she thought for a bit. — I think it’s the way he writes.

We shared a laugh at that. Her laugh made a little boy of me.

And she was willing to sound foolish, even though she wasn’t. I found that hard to resist.

As we continued to enjoy the programming and the numerous annoying commercial breaks, her leg brushed up against mine. I couldn’t imagine having sex right now. She was still in her high-waisted trousers, and even slumped into the couch, she really did something to my insides. But it’s so sticky and hot and I’m so poorly assembled. Unsound in an anatomical way.

All that’s my brain, though. My sensible side — seems I still have one. Kat’s special effect on me was exercising its power on authorities higher and more powerful than rationality.

I took a sip from the cold can and put it to my left eye. So nice. Right eye now. Out of the corner of my cold-lidded left eye I thought I saw her looking at me. Coulda sworn she was looking at my stomach as well. Or maybe the outline of - - I looked down there myself and yeah, of course. Regardless of what I wanted or had the appetite for, my cock had appetites of its own and it was subject to a higher authority. It was down there now, slumped over still, but beginning to stir and these shorts, the only thing I had on, were barely clothing, given all the free space and air flow. She wasn’t hiding her looks. She didn’t need to. God, this woman really had me. Thank god I showered.

After a little while, she laid out on the couch, legs curled in her seat, head on my lap, facing the TV. Her can of Coke she put on the floor. I felt her cheek on my heavy cock now and wondered if she felt it on her face. Oh god, of course she would have - there may as well be nothing in between, the shorts were so thin and silky. Kat had confessed, very embarrassed, that before anything had happened between us, she’d accidentally seen me toweling off after a shower. She’d come home as I was getting out of the shower and caught a glimpse through the two, in her words, “fortunately positioned” mirrors - one by the entrance on top of the cupboard where we dropped off keys and bags, and the one on the bathroom wall all the way across the flat. She swore she looked away as soon as she snapped out of the surprise. I believed her as well. Because she admitted to pleasuring herself to the image of me naked multiple times after that.

I should explain something. I was never a great student or very witty or good with girls or anything, but what I did have was one of those best-in-show cocks in the flaccid category. It didn’t get much bigger hard, but it also didn’t need to. Most girls couldn’t… sorry. Bragging is an ugly thing. And what’s there to even brag about, right? This is not exactly an important quality. But I like that she likes it. And — don’t tell her I said this — I really like it when she tells me she likes it, especially given the frequency and enthusiasm with which she tells me. She is as generous with praise for my body as I am with admiration for hers.

You could say she was snuggling with my cock. Brushing at it a few times with her cheek, playing it off as failed attempts at getting comfortable. A good couple of her breaths sounded almost like moans. We were both doing some heavy breathing and sighing today, sure, but these were not that.

Kat undid a couple buttons on her shirt and as she moved to do that, she maneuvered my shorts a little higher. I’m almost certain it was on purpose, but she didn’t make it look that way. The shorts were not all the way up my leg, but enough to give the TV a good glimpse. As exciting as that was, I was enamored by something else. The obvious attraction in the room. Kat’s chest, now at an angle between the TV and me, such that I could see the bra. It was one of those light lace see-throughs I really enjoyed. Her breasts were small. I loved them. But I couldn’t see them at this time. I could see, however, the skin on her chest. Like my own, her skin was covered by a thin layer of sweat which shone in the light coming from the TV. Oh God, her chest is wet. The little hairs. It’s rising up and down as she breathes. A little too deep, a little too fast. I blew a quick little breath at her halfway unbuttoned top and a wave of the most distinct little goosebumps traveled across her chest like just the sweetest cliche you’ve ever had the bliss of experiencing. And just then, as a direct result of the wave, almost as if to continue the spread of cause and effect from her wet skin to my body, my cock contracted and relaxed, receiving a fresh wave of blood and pressure. Something tingled somewhere in me. Somewhere in my abdomen or maybe chest or maybe not even strictly inside my body. It made me moan. MOAN! A guy moaning, what’s that? On a day like this, they were difficult to keep inside.

But the moan was fine. More than fine. My moan made her moan. My breaths, deepening, deepened hers. The sharp corners of her lips curled up in a little smile, upper lip shiny. When her eyes were open, she was still watching the TV. She brushed back a strand of her silky brown hair behind the ear on the side I could see. In a sly trick, she did the same motion on the side I couldn’t see. I don’t know if there was more hair down there to brush aside, but she sure did pull up my shorts all the way on my right leg. Never touching my cock with her hand, never acknowledging its presence even.

We carried on watching. She watched the TV. I - her. My cock, contracting mostly involuntarily, was left completely ignored. My abdomen tingled. I felt like I was on a swing with my eyes closed. Pleasure, inexplicable pleasure, from no physical source, kept running drills on my nervous system. As if to see if it could make me cum from just sitting there like some sex scene from a 90s action movie. I had never been so thoroughly and completely teased. Little did I know at the time, this moment would become my most re-visited memory.

I didn’t dare touch her. Right hand on the armrest, the other one resting on Kat’s side on the couch. I just watched her chest. Rising and falling. Sweat beading off it, rolling down, absorbed by the laces of her bra.

Kat rolled her head deeper into my lap. She rolled her cheek, nose and other cheek over my now fully erect cock like a lazy house cat rolling over on the windowsill in the afternoon sun. Moving herself around to lie on her stomach, she suctioned the tip of my cock into her open mouth. She wasted no movement. And now that she had me in her mouth, I flexed my cock out of instinct. As it rose, so did she, pushing her ass in the air and lifting her head. My tip was still firmly in the grasp of her thin, hot, wet lips. Without moving up or down, she sucked harder, trying to drink me like a milkshake. She didn’t use her hands at all. She knew exactly where my cock would go and she used her mouth expertly to guide it with ease. She also knew that I was looking at her. She looked back at me. Strength entered and left my body at rates and intensities that made me feel, just for a moment, weak enough to slip out of consciousness and strong enough to rip a hole big enough in the air in front of me to earn me a flashing charge in a neighboring dimension. I looked away and closed my eyes, but I still felt her stare burning the underside of my jaw. My cock now confidently standing on its own, holding her head up rather than the other way around.

No longer looking at me, but down at my lap she finally released, without moving her head, the suction grip she’d confidently held for the past little while - somewhere between a few seconds and an eon, no one would be able to tell you. Her lips let through a mouthful of saliva that stuck thick to the entire length of my cock, pooled on the rise above it and dripped down over and around my balls, pooling around my taint and between my ass cheeks. The sensation was tender, slow, confusing and pleasurable enough to summon ideas of sin - like I should be doing this with a cloth over my head to hide from God. I realized she’d been saving up her saliva on purpose. Such a volume doesn’t just happen. I still wonder now how I didn’t cum right then and there. I should have.

Kat panting and moaning in a hover above my cock, bubbles of saliva forming and bursting, stuck out her tongue and pausing for just a second - - her ass constrained so snug in her beige trousers, seeing the outline of her panties now, blouse tucked, the seams almost perfectly meeting up at the waist, a still dance of beautiful female form creating a shape I could not be more in awe of - - she confidently went down. She had to stop halfway to guide me into her throat. She squeezed my ankle with her left hand and kneaded my thigh with her right. She stayed down. Her tongue moved from left to right as much as it could, there was not much space in there. Then she rose. Slooooowly.

— Fuck, Kat!

She gasped for air, not so much because she was out of breath, but out of what seemed like delirium. She enjoyed the view of my wet, slick, veiny cock being liberated from her grasp and leaning over to the side a bit. I loved the view too. The sight of her with my cock. Only she could make it disappear almost completely.

I could swear it wasn’t about just sex for her sometimes. Not in the way that I understood sex, anyway. She got something out of it. More. She got some prize out of providing pleasure that I just couldn’t fully relate to. That didn’t stop me from enjoying it, though. I admired her.

All the way down again. Prayed it wouldn’t be the last time.

And back up. She got one breath out, one back in. She hovered over my full, glistening cock with her lips open. She took the base with her right hand, resting the palm on my pubic bone. She dripped saliva. With a tight grip on the base, she swung it around a little. Admiring it. It’s almost like I wasn’t there. But then she looked at me.

I must’ve been a fucking embarrassment. Mouth open, maybe not quite drooling, but close to it. Sweat beading off my forehead, chest, sides of my torso.

— Hot, huh? — she asked. How does a person look and sound so confident while mid-pant, mouth covered in saliva, eyes tearing up? HOW?

I made some stupid non-verbal affirmative noise I hoped didn’t come off as “oh boy yes sirree it sure is hot around these here parts, oo-wee”.

She kept the eye contact going. She knew it made me uncomfortable. She’d said on a previous occasion — It’s ok, you don’t have to look back at me. I still want to look at you. Is that ok? — I’d said yes, of course. I didn’t tell her, but I did like her looking at me. I can’t look back too long, not sure why, but fuck do I like knowing she’s watching me. And so, eyes fixed on me, she reached her left hand down to the ground where the near-ice cold coke can was sweating more than either of us. She put it to my balls.

— OH!!! — I nearly jumped. My limbs all jerking up involuntarily, trying to roll me up like a hedgehog.

She stopped me from getting up. She smiled, eyebrows up, mouth open a little, playfully, carefully, in total control. She shushed me back down gently. And after only another short moment, the cold shock turned into something so wonderful. My breath caught up. I felt a cool wave travel outward from my groin. The cock got a little softer. And just as it started slumping slightly, Kat put it back in her mouth.

— Fuck! Oh my god. — I breathed like a man in pain.

The alienating cold of the can contrasted with the incredible, inviting heat of the inside of her mouth. I don’t know if it was right then or if my mind skipped time, but I was cumming. And I watched. Despite Kat looking in my eyes. That I watched. Her lips and my contracting cock - - the little bit still visible, the rest in Kat’s throat - - cast shadows on my stomach.

It was one of those orgasms that didn’t know when to end. She somehow knew though. She let about three pumps come through while she was all the way down, then she kept on sucking. Another pump. A little pause. She knew I wasn’t done. I think there’s still a dent on the right arm of that couch from that little pause - from my fist closing on the upholstery in a kind of tense plea I couldn’t verbalize.

She took it now, from the tip all the way down and back up. Again. No pauses. Long, smooth movements. The last four or so pumps of my cum flowed from the heat of my body through the cold of the coke-chilled base and back to the warmth of her throat and mouth.

I let go. Crumbled. It feels like the cum has been ripped from my insides and I wish I had more insides to offer her. Take them all.

The base of my spent, heavy cock still in the confident grip of her right hand, leaning to the side now, she took a drink from the can with the other. She bounced down to the floor by my feet, no longer commanding, but lady-like, a little girly even. Still in her business attire. Hair somehow still much more together than it should be. The eye contact is a little different now. She’s different and it’s easier for me to look back. Making me cum seems to change something in her too. I don’t get it.

— You’re really, — I had to breathe. — something. — What am I saying? — You know?

She smiled. Not proud or coy, but sweet. She lifted my cock back up and took it all the way again, brief, tender, like a little goodbye. Then she kissed it, laid it on my thigh, and rested her head on it like a pillow. All without breaking eye contact.

---

This is my first published story. Excited to get some feedback, though also worried, of course. I write slower fiction, loosely(!) inspired by true events and keep it pretty close to reality (no 1000 people orgies and tentacles, just not my bag of tricks). Feedback welcome, especially on pacing and use of humor, which I am pretty insecure about - don't want to lose people because of mistimed jokes preventing them from getting off.

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u/HaleWoodsWrote — 30 days ago

“The Heatwave Hangover”: Surviving a Heatwave on the Couch with My College Professor Roommate [F40/M20] [Older Woman] [Age Gap] [Roommates] [Deepthroat] [Sweaty] [Blouse]

Note: ideally I would give you more context about all the things that have happened with Kat up to this point, but it’ll have to wait. It’s too hot right now.

The day got written off the moment it began. The hangover, in cahoots with this damned heatwave, put a can of Coke Zero in my hand and escorted me to the living room couch. It left me like an iPad baby.

Coke Zero because I’m not big on putting unnecessary poison in my body. Aside, of course, from all of yesterday’s numerous drinks. And “only when I drink” cigarettes. And any powdery substances arranged in lines for purely aesthetic purposes that may or may not have been hoovered up - - entirely accidentally and in a frankly disappointing display of nasal curiosity. That’s all alleged, obv.

Point being: hypocrisy be damned, or something. It’s too hot to give a care. How hot? You know that guy who goes “it’s the humidity that gets you”? In this kinda heat he’s liable to be found as the wheezing centerpiece of a Ren Faire evacuation.

Careful, don’t get the wrong idea. I’m no party animal. At the age of twenty, going into my second year of college, you would not be crazy to think that, but you’d be wrong. I’d honestly rather have stayed inside, windows open, fan on, maybe have a beer. By no means am I old, of course, but it does feel, especially on hungover mornings like this, that my drinking days would be better left behind. Yesterday was a special occasion. A friend of mine had a birthday a couple days ago and another musician friend landed a spot on a tour with a pretty big band. So, yeah, of course I gave into peer pressure - - maybe even a little bit of FOMO - - and we went for drinks.

Only a few minutes had passed, I think, between waking up and ending up over here on the couch. Let’s see. Fading back in, waking to the clicking sound of my eyelids before the picture sharpened. Straight to shower. A cool one. Towel off, barely. Fridge, envious of the khshhhh-kh-tssss pressure release from the coke can, stood over there for a sec enjoying the cool air, the sweet smell from the fizzy drink. And here I am. Only a few minutes. Just counting so I could understand if I’m missing something. Because how am I sweaty again?

Disgusted to even admit it to myself, it felt good to look down at my stomach. It felt good because the stomach was flat and the contours of muscle greatly exaggerated by a glint from the TV. Disgusted at the confused vanity of a man sitting alone in his darkened flat admiring his own physique in a state of deflation and perspiration. But when else would I enjoy it? Shape of my life. I know you haven’t seen him, but trust me, if Woods Sr. is any indication of what I have in store genetics-wise, this is probably as good as it’s getting. Hypocrisy, meet modesty. Both of you, be damned.

Some commercial for something loud between episodes of Two and a Half Men. I scoffed all high minded at the programming (RIP the Chromecast, gone too soon, in an unfortunate vacuuming catastrophe). Thought back to last night. A slack, airless, still July evening in Milford. What is it about heat like this? All of this is completely void of any research on my part, mind you, but it feels like heat makes us do some counter-intuitive things. People: huffing, puffing, wiping brows, seeking shade, avoiding movement. Give those same people some darkness preceded by a sunset sky, a crowd, music, drinks. And now somehow we all agree - the lights shine a little brighter, everyone goes dancing because the music sounds a little better through some mechanism, talking, exerting ourselves in ways we’d unanimously agreed are inadvisable. If you’re gonna walk on ice, you might as well dance? Is that it? Heat, sweat, dancing and delirium as preferable over quiet submission? Rebellion?

And in all of that, somehow, for some reason, everyone gets horny. Maybe not everyone, I don’t know. I do. And it feels like one of those survival things. Like how you get aroused sometimes during a high fever, a spell of the flu. To continue your lineage for the end-times are upon you. Is that real? Just bro science, probably. I coulda looked it up. I didn’t. Because… you know.

Kat barged in just then.

— I saw a girl in a wig. A wig! In this weather?

Light flared through the darkened kitchen-living-room for a short moment. A gust of air exactly the same temperature barged in. Subtracting and adding nothing except another reason to complain. So adding, actually? Or is that subtraction because you add a negative? Nevermind.

— What color?

— HUH!? — she yelled. She liked doing that.

— The wig, — had to stop to take a pained breath. — what color?

— Oh! Blond, to be fair, yeah, but a hat is a hat, no?

— That’s crazy. — I said with the dragged out inflection of a sub-par sports podcaster checking his phone during an interview.

Kat and I have been roommates for a few months now. Four, I think? Kat’s full name’s Katherine David. A college history professor at Milford University. Don’t confuse that with University of Milford, which is where I go. Go hawgs! She’s here for another semester and then it’s back to Putney with her. We got along quite well from the start. She rented this place and put up an ad for the room I’m in now and when I came by to check it out we bonded over London stuff, as I spent my gap year there before starting college.

Not to be crass, but the dynamic got even better when we started having sex with each other about a month after I moved in.

— The flat’s pretty hot, not gonna lie, — I call it a flat sometimes, yes. Her fault. Her terrible influence, plus my annoyingly brief time in the jolly old country. If I gave it any more thought, I might ask why I talk to my forty-year-old roommate so much that I’ve started picking up Britishisms, which must be doing catastrophic damage to my odds with anyone who isn’t my homesick British roommate. But hey. Snap out of it and sniff the air. It hurts to breathe. I obviously can’t be arsed to ask myself uncomfortable questions. Hypocrisy and modesty, welcome introspection. You lot can all piss off.

I turned, slumped over the back of the couch to look at her, — It’s not much better out there, huh?

— Oh, come now! That’s no way to attack the day, young man! Who’s gonna carry the boats, Hale-othy?

— One time! One time I watched a Goggins video.

She danced around the kitchen area as she put away her bag, took off her heels, grabbed a baby carrot, a cherry tomato and a can of Coke from the fridge. Carrot in her mouth like a cigar, the little tomato balanced on top of the Coke can as she nudged the fridge closed with her hip. It was clear she was reeeeeeally powering through the situation. She does that when the going gets tough. You slow down, you start thinking: surely you can’t get going again. That’s what she says, anyway.

God. Fucking. Damn. You’d never guess forty. Dancing now, she was in her work clothes: tailored high-waisted trousers, a snug fitting white blouse, the kind of lightweight, almost-pantsuit thing that made her look taller than she was. Slender frame, clean lines, dark hair still somehow behaving in the heat. Images of Caroline Polachek flickered in the triangle of empty space between the couch, the blind-covered window and the raised kitchen area.

— We must not be defeated!

— Uh-huh.

— Victory at all costs!

— That one of your toga guys?

She open-palm-slammed the counter with both hands, the ring on her right middle finger making a muted clink. Poised like a human turret. — You HAVE to be joking!

I’d say I gave her a pretty good confused dog look, but that’s just what my face looked like today.

— You know, I try to teach you something. It’s your country’s history too!

— I think you mean our country, gov.

Her nose sucked in a deep slow breath, forming a fireball of - -

— Kidding! Kidding! — I raised a hand to stop the incoming nerd rage spaz. — Churchill’s the man. Come. Sit.

I turned back to face the TV and realized that this small interaction had drained me of what little energy still remained. I heard/felt/sensed she wanted to say something witty, but moved on. A rarity for her. Instead she opened the freezer and sent an ice cube at my head. Missed. It hit the CD rack to the right of the entertainment center.

— Jeez.

— What’re you gonna say to that, Billy Big Bollocks?

— Something funny about The Blitz? — unsure of myself, I muttered in response.

— Chamberlain would have loved you.

No idea what that one meant. — Right. Pull up a couch cushion. — I patted the spot to my left. — Charlie’s trying to fuck the babysitter or something.

— No, I gotta go and - uhh — she stopped by the couch, distracted by the TV, I thought. A short moment later she sat down. Looked at me, clearly spent. We shared an acknowledging smile. — Who’s kidding who?

— Das right! — I offered my can for a clink and she returned the trashy gesture.

— Love me a bit of Charlie.

— Sure you do!

— Wait, you know what that means?

— Of course! I’m surprised you do! Didn’t peg you as a nose beers gal.

She snorted out a laugh. — Oh my god! Nose beers! I remember that.

Did I tell you I went out with an Aussie for a while?

— Ah yeah? Good on ya. What’s his name?

— Simon.

— Simooooon.

— Loved a bit of goey, Simon did.

— Really?

— Oh, yeah. ‘Nothing like a nice glass of Nosé,’ he used to say.

— Ha! That’s a new one!

— Good one, eh?

— Simon sounds great.

— He — she began, stopped, seemed to think for a second and with a look and a nod said — yeah, he was alright, actually.

— Glad to hear he’s a good guy at least.

We speculated a bit more about why Australians, at least the ones we’d made contact with, were such fans of the schneef but soon enough the small talk petered out and we watched Two and a Half Men. Alan was helping Charlie with his accounting after Charlie’s accountant, played by Richard Lewis, informs him his shit’s dried up or something, ah fuck, I can’t honestly keep up. Just pump the laughtrack into my ears.

— Oh, how was the party? — she asked, in a slight turn-lean toward me, but eyes still fixed on the TV. — Is your friend excited about the tour?

— Hmm? Oh. Yeah, very much so. Wouldn’t shut up about it. Very happy for him.

— You sound it.

— No, I really am. I’m just fuckin’...— I sighed and gestured down to the vague coordinates of my body, indicating the suffering we mostly shared. Though I bore the brunt of it, given yesterday’s sins. I was also thinking about last night and the girl I had made out with at the Arbory (hands down my favorite bar in Milford). A little crumb of panic flashed in my body. The flash was over before it began and I had the heat and hangover to thank for the fact that it even flashed in the first place. Kat and I are not dating, obviously. I know you don’t have all the context for that, but do you need it right now? Do you? I don’t know, analytic thinking is out somewhere with introspection and modesty and I think there was another one. Trying to scrounge up a coherent sentence out from under a bus stop bench, I bet.

We’re not exactly in the same dating pool, is my point. So the fact that I made out with a girl wouldn’t bother her, right? I still don’t need to share it. We’re not holding each other to anything, but I - well, I feel a little something sometimes when I think of Kat with other men. I don’t think she does. And neither of us should, right? So let’s not. Ok? Ok.

Charlie’s hitting on a hot brunette at the grocery store now.

— Wait, you were on campus today?

— Yeah. Summer course office hours.

— How was it?

— Hot, boring, got some reading done.

— What’s on deck?

— Bulgakov.

— Don’t know him.

— Russian guy. The Master and Margarita. That’s the name of the book.

— Any good?

— Unexpectedly so.

— How so?

— Ummm… — she thought for a bit. — I think it’s the way he writes.

We shared a laugh at that. Her laugh made a little boy of me.

And she was willing to sound foolish, even though she wasn’t. I found that hard to resist.

As we continued to enjoy the programming and the numerous annoying commercial breaks, her leg brushed up against mine. I couldn’t imagine having sex right now. She was still in her high-waisted trousers, and even slumped into the couch, she really did something to my insides. But it’s so sticky and hot and I’m so poorly assembled. Unsound in an anatomical way.

All that’s my brain, though. My sensible side — seems I still have one. Kat’s special effect on me was exercising its power on authorities higher and more powerful than rationality.

I took a sip from the cold can and put it to my left eye. So nice. Right eye now. Out of the corner of my cold-lidded left eye I thought I saw her looking at me. Coulda sworn she was looking at my stomach as well. Or maybe the outline of - - I looked down there myself and yeah, of course. Regardless of what I wanted or had the appetite for, my cock had appetites of its own and it was subject to a higher authority. It was down there now, slumped over still, but beginning to stir and these shorts, the only thing I had on, were barely clothing, given all the free space and air flow. She wasn’t hiding her looks. She didn’t need to. God, this woman really had me. Thank god I showered.

After a little while, she laid out on the couch, legs curled in her seat, head on my lap, facing the TV. Her can of Coke she put on the floor. I felt her cheek on my heavy cock now and wondered if she felt it on her face. Oh god, of course she would have - there may as well be nothing in between, the shorts were so thin and silky. Kat had confessed, very embarrassed, that before anything had happened between us, she’d accidentally seen me toweling off after a shower. She’d come home as I was getting out of the shower and caught a glimpse through the two, in her words, “fortunately positioned” mirrors - one by the entrance on top of the cupboard where we dropped off keys and bags, and the one on the bathroom wall all the way across the flat. She swore she looked away as soon as she snapped out of the surprise. I believed her as well. Because she admitted to pleasuring herself to the image of me naked multiple times after that.

I should explain something. I was never a great student or very witty or good with girls or anything, but what I did have was one of those best-in-show cocks in the flaccid category. It didn’t get much bigger hard, but it also didn’t need to. Most girls couldn’t… sorry. Bragging is an ugly thing. And what’s there to even brag about, right? This is not exactly an important quality. But I like that she likes it. And — don’t tell her I said this — I really like it when she tells me she likes it, especially given the frequency and enthusiasm with which she tells me. She is as generous with praise for my body as I am with admiration for hers.

You could say she was snuggling with my cock. Brushing at it a few times with her cheek, playing it off as failed attempts at getting comfortable. A good couple of her breaths sounded almost like moans. We were both doing some heavy breathing and sighing today, sure, but these were not that.

Kat undid a couple buttons on her shirt and as she moved to do that, she maneuvered my shorts a little higher. I’m almost certain it was on purpose, but she didn’t make it look that way. The shorts were not all the way up my leg, but enough to give the TV a good glimpse. As exciting as that was, I was enamored by something else. The obvious attraction in the room. Kat’s chest, now at an angle between the TV and me, such that I could see the bra. It was one of those light lace see-throughs I really enjoyed. Her breasts were small. I loved them. But I couldn’t see them at this time. I could see, however, the skin on her chest. Like my own, her skin was covered by a thin layer of sweat which shone in the light coming from the TV. Oh God, her chest is wet. The little hairs. It’s rising up and down as she breathes. A little too deep, a little too fast. I blew a quick little breath at her halfway unbuttoned top and a wave of the most distinct little goosebumps traveled across her chest like just the sweetest cliche you’ve ever had the bliss of experiencing. And just then, as a direct result of the wave, almost as if to continue the spread of cause and effect from her wet skin to my body, my cock contracted and relaxed, receiving a fresh wave of blood and pressure. Something tingled somewhere in me. Somewhere in my abdomen or maybe chest or maybe not even strictly inside my body. It made me moan. MOAN! A guy moaning, what’s that? On a day like this, they were difficult to keep inside.

But the moan was fine. More than fine. My moan made her moan. My breaths, deepening, deepened hers. The sharp corners of her lips curled up in a little smile, upper lip shiny. When her eyes were open, she was still watching the TV. She brushed back a strand of her silky brown hair behind the ear on the side I could see. In a sly trick, she did the same motion on the side I couldn’t see. I don’t know if there was more hair down there to brush aside, but she sure did pull up my shorts all the way on my right leg. Never touching my cock with her hand, never acknowledging its presence even.

We carried on watching. She watched the TV. I - her. My cock, contracting mostly involuntarily, was left completely ignored. My abdomen tingled. I felt like I was on a swing with my eyes closed. Pleasure, inexplicable pleasure, from no physical source, kept running drills on my nervous system. As if to see if it could make me cum from just sitting there like some sex scene from a 90s action movie. I had never been so thoroughly and completely teased. Little did I know at the time, this moment would become my most re-visited memory.

I didn’t dare touch her. Right hand on the armrest, the other one resting on Kat’s side on the couch. I just watched her chest. Rising and falling. Sweat beading off it, rolling down, absorbed by the laces of her bra.

Kat rolled her head deeper into my lap. She rolled her cheek, nose and other cheek over my now fully erect cock like a lazy house cat rolling over on the windowsill in the afternoon sun. Moving herself around to lie on her stomach, she suctioned the tip of my cock into her open mouth. She wasted no movement. And now that she had me in her mouth, I flexed my cock out of instinct. As it rose, so did she, pushing her ass in the air and lifting her head. My tip was still firmly in the grasp of her thin, hot, wet lips. Without moving up or down, she sucked harder, trying to drink me like a milkshake. She didn’t use her hands at all. She knew exactly where my cock would go and she used her mouth expertly to guide it with ease. She also knew that I was looking at her. She looked back at me. Strength entered and left my body at rates and intensities that made me feel, just for a moment, weak enough to slip out of consciousness and strong enough to rip a hole big enough in the air in front of me to earn me a flashing charge in a neighboring dimension. I looked away and closed my eyes, but I still felt her stare burning the underside of my jaw. My cock now confidently standing on its own, holding her head up rather than the other way around.

No longer looking at me, but down at my lap she finally released, without moving her head, the suction grip she’d confidently held for the past little while - somewhere between a few seconds and an eon, no one would be able to tell you. Her lips let through a mouthful of saliva that stuck thick to the entire length of my cock, pooled on the rise above it and dripped down over and around my balls, pooling around my taint and between my ass cheeks. The sensation was tender, slow, confusing and pleasurable enough to summon ideas of sin - like I should be doing this with a cloth over my head to hide from God. I realized she’d been saving up her saliva on purpose. Such a volume doesn’t just happen. I still wonder now how I didn’t cum right then and there. I should have.

Kat panting and moaning in a hover above my cock, bubbles of saliva forming and bursting, stuck out her tongue and pausing for just a second - - her ass constrained so snug in her beige trousers, seeing the outline of her panties now, blouse tucked, the seams almost perfectly meeting up at the waist, a still dance of beautiful female form creating a shape I could not be more in awe of - - she confidently went down. She had to stop halfway to guide me into her throat. She squeezed my ankle with her left hand and kneaded my thigh with her right. She stayed down. Her tongue moved from left to right as much as it could, there was not much space in there. Then she rose. Slooooowly.

— Fuck, Kat!

She gasped for air, not so much because she was out of breath, but out of what seemed like delirium. She enjoyed the view of my wet, slick, veiny cock being liberated from her grasp and leaning over to the side a bit. I loved the view too. The sight of her with my cock. Only she could make it disappear almost completely.

I could swear it wasn’t about just sex for her sometimes. Not in the way that I understood sex, anyway. She got something out of it. More. She got some prize out of providing pleasure that I just couldn’t fully relate to. That didn’t stop me from enjoying it, though. I admired her.

All the way down again. Prayed it wouldn’t be the last time.

And back up. She got one breath out, one back in. She hovered over my full, glistening cock with her lips open. She took the base with her right hand, resting the palm on my pubic bone. She dripped saliva. With a tight grip on the base, she swung it around a little. Admiring it. It’s almost like I wasn’t there. But then she looked at me.

I must’ve been a fucking embarrassment. Mouth open, maybe not quite drooling, but close to it. Sweat beading off my forehead, chest, sides of my torso.

— Hot, huh? — she asked. How does a person look and sound so confident while mid-pant, mouth covered in saliva, eyes tearing up? HOW?

I made some stupid non-verbal affirmative noise I hoped didn’t come off as “oh boy yes sirree it sure is hot around these here parts, oo-wee”.

She kept the eye contact going. She knew it made me uncomfortable. She’d said on a previous occasion — It’s ok, you don’t have to look back at me. I still want to look at you. Is that ok? — I’d said yes, of course. I didn’t tell her, but I did like her looking at me. I can’t look back too long, not sure why, but fuck do I like knowing she’s watching me. And so, eyes fixed on me, she reached her left hand down to the ground where the near-ice cold coke can was sweating more than either of us. She put it to my balls.

— OH!!! — I nearly jumped. My limbs all jerking up involuntarily, trying to roll me up like a hedgehog.

She stopped me from getting up. She smiled, eyebrows up, mouth open a little, playfully, carefully, in total control. She shushed me back down gently. And after only another short moment, the cold shock turned into something so wonderful. My breath caught up. I felt a cool wave travel outward from my groin. The cock got a little softer. And just as it started slumping slightly, Kat put it back in her mouth.

— Fuck! Oh my god. — I breathed like a man in pain.

The alienating cold of the can contrasted with the incredible, inviting heat of the inside of her mouth. I don’t know if it was right then or if my mind skipped time, but I was cumming. And I watched. Despite Kat looking in my eyes. That I watched. Her lips and my contracting cock - - the little bit still visible, the rest in Kat’s throat - - cast shadows on my stomach.

It was one of those orgasms that didn’t know when to end. She somehow knew though. She let about three pumps come through while she was all the way down, then she kept on sucking. Another pump. A little pause. She knew I wasn’t done. I think there’s still a dent on the right arm of that couch from that little pause - from my fist closing on the upholstery in a kind of tense plea I couldn’t verbalize.

She took it now, from the tip all the way down and back up. Again. No pauses. Long, smooth movements. The last four or so pumps of my cum flowed from the heat of my body through the cold of the coke-chilled base and back to the warmth of her throat and mouth.

I let go. Crumbled. It feels like the cum has been ripped from my insides and I wish I had more insides to offer her. Take them all.

The base of my spent, heavy cock still in the confident grip of her right hand, leaning to the side now, she took a drink from the can with the other. She bounced down to the floor by my feet, no longer commanding, but lady-like, a little girly even. Still in her business attire. Hair somehow still much more together than it should be. The eye contact is a little different now. She’s different and it’s easier for me to look back. Making me cum seems to change something in her too. I don’t get it.

— You’re really, — I had to breathe. — something. — What am I saying? — You know?

She smiled. Not proud or coy, but sweet. She lifted my cock back up and took it all the way again, brief, tender, like a little goodbye. Then she kissed it, laid it on my thigh, and rested her head on it like a pillow. All without breaking eye contact.

---

This is my first published story. Excited to get some feedback, though also worried, of course. I write slower fiction, loosely(!) inspired by true events and keep it pretty close to reality (no 1000 people orgies and tentacles, just not my bag of tricks). Feedback welcome, especially on pacing and use of humor, which I am pretty insecure about - don't want to lose people because of mistimed jokes preventing them from getting off.

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u/HaleWoodsWrote — 1 month ago