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Things you don’t expect



Image result for expectation images emoticon
The day before yesterday, my partner, Jeff sprang a trip on me to go see a nervous customer. We both knew from experience that I was better with these situations and ordinarily a trip wouldn’t be a problem, however, two weeks ago my friend Lisa left her new puppy with me when she left for a month in Abuja. However, I lived alone and was finding it impossible to get someone to puppy sit.
I sat in the kitchen frantically revisiting the list of those who had already said no, while wondering what I could offer in each case to get them to say yes. I was leaving on my trip tomorrow and it was looking more and more as if I would have to abandon Lisa’s puppy. Something she would never forgive me for if she ever found out.
At work, I spent the morning unable to concentrate on my job, completely distracted by the thought of abandoning Lisa’s puppy. I absentmindedly picked through the pile of papers, notes, and emails on my desk until my phone buzzed at 11:30 reminding me of the appointment I had for a haircut at noon. I grabbed my phone and bolted for the door and my car.
Lydia has been cutting my hair for almost twenty years. She had just gone out on her own when I noticed her shop on my way to lunch, its walk-in’s welcome sign prominent in the window. She did a great job, was like able, it was close and I’m a creature of habit and so our relationship began. Over the years, we have seen each other at least monthly for my haircut, occasionally at clubs, and randomly around town. We also have had countless phone conversations, texts, and shared occasional emails.
She was only 20 when I wandered in that first day. I remember her as a shy, insecure, young woman with an average figure and incredible eyes. As we became better acquainted, she often confided in me as she might a father, but unlike a father, there was never judgment, admonition, or punishment for her choices. I guessed her openness was because I was older, I didn’t mind, in fact I loved that she trusted me and wanted my opinion.
Initially she shared stories about boys, friends, and how crazy she got when she went out drinking with her girlfriends. Years passed and she began to call for my opinion on a wide range of topics and anytime she was about to make an important decision. Decisions on things like; what car to buy and how, how and when to raise her prices, if she should add a station and a host of other things she apparently felt more comfortable asking me than either of her alcoholic parents.
About 8 years into our relationship she began to talk about Mike. When she spoke of their relationship her tone was analytic, detached and unemotional. It was as if she was telling me about someone else’s love life. Then one day while I was in the chair she told me she was getting married. Like a knucklehead I asked “to whom”.
“To Mike of course“Oh” was my only response.“Well he asked me, and I said yes, will come to the wedding, please?”
“I wouldn’t miss it” I said as I thought how strange this was; every young girl I had ever known had planned and anticipated her wedding day since she was ten. She said nothing else about the wedding instead shifting the conversation to the weather or some other topic that I cannot remember. However, I was thinking of nothing else as I recalled how she talked about him during their courtship. Perhaps she thought the clock was ticking on finding a husband and any offer was better than none, but in my mind, that thinking was counter intuitive. In the years I had known her I watched her transformation from a cute young girl into a gorgeous, desirable woman. She was still slim but now thanks to a rigorous workout regimen she had the highly developed figure and legs of a model. Her skin was flawless; her red highlighted shoulder length hair framed her eyes and her slightly puffy lips and small perfect nose. She had become a woman who defined confidence and intrigue.
Within two years of their marriage, any conversation that included Mike became negative. A year and a half after that she divorced him, saying she was swearing off men. Not that she became a man hater she had not, but she stopped dating and was focusing her complete attention to developing her business. When my wife died suddenly from cancer a year after her divorce, she was supportive and kind; calling me routinely and occasionally coming by the office with “treats”. I appreciated her kindness but I was a mess; engaging in all forms of reckless and occasionally dangerous behavior. I don’t know why but I told her everything, including all the sorted details about what happened when women invited me in after dates.
Sexual feelings between us was nothing new; over the years many conversations included soft brushes on all sorts of sexual topics, but they were always comments and never about personal experiences. My revelations shifted our relationship and opened doors to conversations that became more sexual, suggestive and without boundaries. She responded to my stories with stories of her own accompanied by remarks about what she liked most. She always presented them jokingly but it was clear her underlying objective was to leave a lasting, erotic, impression on me. In the moment it was fun and harmless. From any other woman I would consider these conversations tantalizing and a turn on but from Lydia they made me uncomfortable, after all she was young enough to be the daughter I never had.
The shop was empty except for Lydia when I arrived.
“Hey, what’s new?” she asked
Like a sinner in confession, my problem finding a dog sitter spilled from my lips.
“I’ll do it.”
Somehow, in my attempts to find someone, I had never even thought of asking her. Although I was relieved to finally find help a twinge of nervousness settled in my stomach. I began telling her about the requirements for helping; when she would need to be there along with instructions on how to get into the house. About halfway through the list, she cut me off.
“Why don’t I just stay there, it would be easier for me.”“Oh, OK I guess, you could come by tonight and I will introduce you to the puppy, show you around and teach you how to work the TV, stereo etc.”“Great, what time?”“Say 7:30” “See you then.”
She finished my haircut and washed my hair without further conversation about puppy sitting. When she was done, I paid her and left. Although I was relieved to finally find someone to bail me out I had some trepidation about her staying at the house based on recent events and how I felt our relationship had become much more sexual. On the drive back to work, I re-played how an innocent comment led to the situation I was now in. I was excited and panicked at the same time. Part of me wanted to believe she was just a friend helping a friend in need, but another part of me, the part deep inside you are not supposed to think about was creating a stirring in my groin. Intellectually I knew I should be ashamed for the carnal thoughts I was having but emotionally I could not stop thinking about her in the most sensual way despite our significant age difference.
Back at work, I was more distracted than I had been in the morning. I tried everything I could keep my mind off Lydia. Nothing was helping. The harder I tried the more I thought about her. Finally, at four I gave up, told my partner I wasn’t feeling well and left.
I arrived home about 4:45 and spent the next couple of hours picking up the house and cleaning. Just before seven my stomach growled and as I walked to the kitchen in search of something to eat the doorbell rang. A lump settled in my throat and I turned walked to the front door.
I opened the door and my breath caught in my throat. Lydia stood before me dressed seductively. The tight white sleeveless top hugged her bra less breasts, showing her protruding nipples. Her long perfectly legs flowed to her small ankles and feet that were inside small heel strapy sandals.
I was so taken at the sight of her I forgot my manners. The corner of her bright red lips turned up as she stepped past me into the balcony , her shoulder length hair bouncing and her scent exploding in my nostrils as she passed. Once inside she turned to me, her eyes penetrating my pre-occupied mind.
“Beautiful home!” was all she said.
Her voice snapped me from the trance I was in. I managed to ask if she would like something to drink. She responded that she would love a beer. I turned for the kitchen feeling her in my wake. When I turned to open the refrigerator she was so close I could feel her breath on my face. I reached past her to grab two beers, mistakenly brushing her breast as I did. My face immediately ran red and I stumbled backward searching for a suitable apology. Sensing the awkwardness of the moment she just smiled moving with me and pushing her body back into mine. I arched back, closed the refrigerator door and twisted the tops off the bottles.
“Would you like a glass?”“No thank you, I prefer a bottle.” She raised it to her lips sliding them suggestively over the top of the bottle, blowing into it creating a whistle before she giggled and took a long pull. I stood in rapt attention losing the battle with the rapid growth in my dick.
“Would you like to see the house?”“That would be great, this must be the kitchen” she quipped.
To be continued.

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Friday, 22 December 2017

Things you dont expect part 1 18+

Things you don’t expect



Image result for expectation images emoticon
The day before yesterday, my partner, Jeff sprang a trip on me to go see a nervous customer. We both knew from experience that I was better with these situations and ordinarily a trip wouldn’t be a problem, however, two weeks ago my friend Lisa left her new puppy with me when she left for a month in Abuja. However, I lived alone and was finding it impossible to get someone to puppy sit.
I sat in the kitchen frantically revisiting the list of those who had already said no, while wondering what I could offer in each case to get them to say yes. I was leaving on my trip tomorrow and it was looking more and more as if I would have to abandon Lisa’s puppy. Something she would never forgive me for if she ever found out.
At work, I spent the morning unable to concentrate on my job, completely distracted by the thought of abandoning Lisa’s puppy. I absentmindedly picked through the pile of papers, notes, and emails on my desk until my phone buzzed at 11:30 reminding me of the appointment I had for a haircut at noon. I grabbed my phone and bolted for the door and my car.
Lydia has been cutting my hair for almost twenty years. She had just gone out on her own when I noticed her shop on my way to lunch, its walk-in’s welcome sign prominent in the window. She did a great job, was like able, it was close and I’m a creature of habit and so our relationship began. Over the years, we have seen each other at least monthly for my haircut, occasionally at clubs, and randomly around town. We also have had countless phone conversations, texts, and shared occasional emails.
She was only 20 when I wandered in that first day. I remember her as a shy, insecure, young woman with an average figure and incredible eyes. As we became better acquainted, she often confided in me as she might a father, but unlike a father, there was never judgment, admonition, or punishment for her choices. I guessed her openness was because I was older, I didn’t mind, in fact I loved that she trusted me and wanted my opinion.
Initially she shared stories about boys, friends, and how crazy she got when she went out drinking with her girlfriends. Years passed and she began to call for my opinion on a wide range of topics and anytime she was about to make an important decision. Decisions on things like; what car to buy and how, how and when to raise her prices, if she should add a station and a host of other things she apparently felt more comfortable asking me than either of her alcoholic parents.
About 8 years into our relationship she began to talk about Mike. When she spoke of their relationship her tone was analytic, detached and unemotional. It was as if she was telling me about someone else’s love life. Then one day while I was in the chair she told me she was getting married. Like a knucklehead I asked “to whom”.
“To Mike of course“Oh” was my only response.“Well he asked me, and I said yes, will come to the wedding, please?”
“I wouldn’t miss it” I said as I thought how strange this was; every young girl I had ever known had planned and anticipated her wedding day since she was ten. She said nothing else about the wedding instead shifting the conversation to the weather or some other topic that I cannot remember. However, I was thinking of nothing else as I recalled how she talked about him during their courtship. Perhaps she thought the clock was ticking on finding a husband and any offer was better than none, but in my mind, that thinking was counter intuitive. In the years I had known her I watched her transformation from a cute young girl into a gorgeous, desirable woman. She was still slim but now thanks to a rigorous workout regimen she had the highly developed figure and legs of a model. Her skin was flawless; her red highlighted shoulder length hair framed her eyes and her slightly puffy lips and small perfect nose. She had become a woman who defined confidence and intrigue.
Within two years of their marriage, any conversation that included Mike became negative. A year and a half after that she divorced him, saying she was swearing off men. Not that she became a man hater she had not, but she stopped dating and was focusing her complete attention to developing her business. When my wife died suddenly from cancer a year after her divorce, she was supportive and kind; calling me routinely and occasionally coming by the office with “treats”. I appreciated her kindness but I was a mess; engaging in all forms of reckless and occasionally dangerous behavior. I don’t know why but I told her everything, including all the sorted details about what happened when women invited me in after dates.
Sexual feelings between us was nothing new; over the years many conversations included soft brushes on all sorts of sexual topics, but they were always comments and never about personal experiences. My revelations shifted our relationship and opened doors to conversations that became more sexual, suggestive and without boundaries. She responded to my stories with stories of her own accompanied by remarks about what she liked most. She always presented them jokingly but it was clear her underlying objective was to leave a lasting, erotic, impression on me. In the moment it was fun and harmless. From any other woman I would consider these conversations tantalizing and a turn on but from Lydia they made me uncomfortable, after all she was young enough to be the daughter I never had.
The shop was empty except for Lydia when I arrived.
“Hey, what’s new?” she asked
Like a sinner in confession, my problem finding a dog sitter spilled from my lips.
“I’ll do it.”
Somehow, in my attempts to find someone, I had never even thought of asking her. Although I was relieved to finally find help a twinge of nervousness settled in my stomach. I began telling her about the requirements for helping; when she would need to be there along with instructions on how to get into the house. About halfway through the list, she cut me off.
“Why don’t I just stay there, it would be easier for me.”“Oh, OK I guess, you could come by tonight and I will introduce you to the puppy, show you around and teach you how to work the TV, stereo etc.”“Great, what time?”“Say 7:30” “See you then.”
She finished my haircut and washed my hair without further conversation about puppy sitting. When she was done, I paid her and left. Although I was relieved to finally find someone to bail me out I had some trepidation about her staying at the house based on recent events and how I felt our relationship had become much more sexual. On the drive back to work, I re-played how an innocent comment led to the situation I was now in. I was excited and panicked at the same time. Part of me wanted to believe she was just a friend helping a friend in need, but another part of me, the part deep inside you are not supposed to think about was creating a stirring in my groin. Intellectually I knew I should be ashamed for the carnal thoughts I was having but emotionally I could not stop thinking about her in the most sensual way despite our significant age difference.
Back at work, I was more distracted than I had been in the morning. I tried everything I could keep my mind off Lydia. Nothing was helping. The harder I tried the more I thought about her. Finally, at four I gave up, told my partner I wasn’t feeling well and left.
I arrived home about 4:45 and spent the next couple of hours picking up the house and cleaning. Just before seven my stomach growled and as I walked to the kitchen in search of something to eat the doorbell rang. A lump settled in my throat and I turned walked to the front door.
I opened the door and my breath caught in my throat. Lydia stood before me dressed seductively. The tight white sleeveless top hugged her bra less breasts, showing her protruding nipples. Her long perfectly legs flowed to her small ankles and feet that were inside small heel strapy sandals.
I was so taken at the sight of her I forgot my manners. The corner of her bright red lips turned up as she stepped past me into the balcony , her shoulder length hair bouncing and her scent exploding in my nostrils as she passed. Once inside she turned to me, her eyes penetrating my pre-occupied mind.
“Beautiful home!” was all she said.
Her voice snapped me from the trance I was in. I managed to ask if she would like something to drink. She responded that she would love a beer. I turned for the kitchen feeling her in my wake. When I turned to open the refrigerator she was so close I could feel her breath on my face. I reached past her to grab two beers, mistakenly brushing her breast as I did. My face immediately ran red and I stumbled backward searching for a suitable apology. Sensing the awkwardness of the moment she just smiled moving with me and pushing her body back into mine. I arched back, closed the refrigerator door and twisted the tops off the bottles.
“Would you like a glass?”“No thank you, I prefer a bottle.” She raised it to her lips sliding them suggestively over the top of the bottle, blowing into it creating a whistle before she giggled and took a long pull. I stood in rapt attention losing the battle with the rapid growth in my dick.
“Would you like to see the house?”“That would be great, this must be the kitchen” she quipped.
To be continued.

Things you don’t expect



Image result for expectation images emoticon
The day before yesterday, my partner, Jeff sprang a trip on me to go see a nervous customer. We both knew from experience that I was better with these situations and ordinarily a trip wouldn’t be a problem, however, two weeks ago my friend Lisa left her new puppy with me when she left for a month in Abuja. However, I lived alone and was finding it impossible to get someone to puppy sit.
I sat in the kitchen frantically revisiting the list of those who had already said no, while wondering what I could offer in each case to get them to say yes. I was leaving on my trip tomorrow and it was looking more and more as if I would have to abandon Lisa’s puppy. Something she would never forgive me for if she ever found out.
At work, I spent the morning unable to concentrate on my job, completely distracted by the thought of abandoning Lisa’s puppy. I absentmindedly picked through the pile of papers, notes, and emails on my desk until my phone buzzed at 11:30 reminding me of the appointment I had for a haircut at noon. I grabbed my phone and bolted for the door and my car.
Lydia has been cutting my hair for almost twenty years. She had just gone out on her own when I noticed her shop on my way to lunch, its walk-in’s welcome sign prominent in the window. She did a great job, was like able, it was close and I’m a creature of habit and so our relationship began. Over the years, we have seen each other at least monthly for my haircut, occasionally at clubs, and randomly around town. We also have had countless phone conversations, texts, and shared occasional emails.
She was only 20 when I wandered in that first day. I remember her as a shy, insecure, young woman with an average figure and incredible eyes. As we became better acquainted, she often confided in me as she might a father, but unlike a father, there was never judgment, admonition, or punishment for her choices. I guessed her openness was because I was older, I didn’t mind, in fact I loved that she trusted me and wanted my opinion.
Initially she shared stories about boys, friends, and how crazy she got when she went out drinking with her girlfriends. Years passed and she began to call for my opinion on a wide range of topics and anytime she was about to make an important decision. Decisions on things like; what car to buy and how, how and when to raise her prices, if she should add a station and a host of other things she apparently felt more comfortable asking me than either of her alcoholic parents.
About 8 years into our relationship she began to talk about Mike. When she spoke of their relationship her tone was analytic, detached and unemotional. It was as if she was telling me about someone else’s love life. Then one day while I was in the chair she told me she was getting married. Like a knucklehead I asked “to whom”.
“To Mike of course“Oh” was my only response.“Well he asked me, and I said yes, will come to the wedding, please?”
“I wouldn’t miss it” I said as I thought how strange this was; every young girl I had ever known had planned and anticipated her wedding day since she was ten. She said nothing else about the wedding instead shifting the conversation to the weather or some other topic that I cannot remember. However, I was thinking of nothing else as I recalled how she talked about him during their courtship. Perhaps she thought the clock was ticking on finding a husband and any offer was better than none, but in my mind, that thinking was counter intuitive. In the years I had known her I watched her transformation from a cute young girl into a gorgeous, desirable woman. She was still slim but now thanks to a rigorous workout regimen she had the highly developed figure and legs of a model. Her skin was flawless; her red highlighted shoulder length hair framed her eyes and her slightly puffy lips and small perfect nose. She had become a woman who defined confidence and intrigue.
Within two years of their marriage, any conversation that included Mike became negative. A year and a half after that she divorced him, saying she was swearing off men. Not that she became a man hater she had not, but she stopped dating and was focusing her complete attention to developing her business. When my wife died suddenly from cancer a year after her divorce, she was supportive and kind; calling me routinely and occasionally coming by the office with “treats”. I appreciated her kindness but I was a mess; engaging in all forms of reckless and occasionally dangerous behavior. I don’t know why but I told her everything, including all the sorted details about what happened when women invited me in after dates.
Sexual feelings between us was nothing new; over the years many conversations included soft brushes on all sorts of sexual topics, but they were always comments and never about personal experiences. My revelations shifted our relationship and opened doors to conversations that became more sexual, suggestive and without boundaries. She responded to my stories with stories of her own accompanied by remarks about what she liked most. She always presented them jokingly but it was clear her underlying objective was to leave a lasting, erotic, impression on me. In the moment it was fun and harmless. From any other woman I would consider these conversations tantalizing and a turn on but from Lydia they made me uncomfortable, after all she was young enough to be the daughter I never had.
The shop was empty except for Lydia when I arrived.
“Hey, what’s new?” she asked
Like a sinner in confession, my problem finding a dog sitter spilled from my lips.
“I’ll do it.”
Somehow, in my attempts to find someone, I had never even thought of asking her. Although I was relieved to finally find help a twinge of nervousness settled in my stomach. I began telling her about the requirements for helping; when she would need to be there along with instructions on how to get into the house. About halfway through the list, she cut me off.
“Why don’t I just stay there, it would be easier for me.”“Oh, OK I guess, you could come by tonight and I will introduce you to the puppy, show you around and teach you how to work the TV, stereo etc.”“Great, what time?”“Say 7:30” “See you then.”
She finished my haircut and washed my hair without further conversation about puppy sitting. When she was done, I paid her and left. Although I was relieved to finally find someone to bail me out I had some trepidation about her staying at the house based on recent events and how I felt our relationship had become much more sexual. On the drive back to work, I re-played how an innocent comment led to the situation I was now in. I was excited and panicked at the same time. Part of me wanted to believe she was just a friend helping a friend in need, but another part of me, the part deep inside you are not supposed to think about was creating a stirring in my groin. Intellectually I knew I should be ashamed for the carnal thoughts I was having but emotionally I could not stop thinking about her in the most sensual way despite our significant age difference.
Back at work, I was more distracted than I had been in the morning. I tried everything I could keep my mind off Lydia. Nothing was helping. The harder I tried the more I thought about her. Finally, at four I gave up, told my partner I wasn’t feeling well and left.
I arrived home about 4:45 and spent the next couple of hours picking up the house and cleaning. Just before seven my stomach growled and as I walked to the kitchen in search of something to eat the doorbell rang. A lump settled in my throat and I turned walked to the front door.
I opened the door and my breath caught in my throat. Lydia stood before me dressed seductively. The tight white sleeveless top hugged her bra less breasts, showing her protruding nipples. Her long perfectly legs flowed to her small ankles and feet that were inside small heel strapy sandals.
I was so taken at the sight of her I forgot my manners. The corner of her bright red lips turned up as she stepped past me into the balcony , her shoulder length hair bouncing and her scent exploding in my nostrils as she passed. Once inside she turned to me, her eyes penetrating my pre-occupied mind.
“Beautiful home!” was all she said.
Her voice snapped me from the trance I was in. I managed to ask if she would like something to drink. She responded that she would love a beer. I turned for the kitchen feeling her in my wake. When I turned to open the refrigerator she was so close I could feel her breath on my face. I reached past her to grab two beers, mistakenly brushing her breast as I did. My face immediately ran red and I stumbled backward searching for a suitable apology. Sensing the awkwardness of the moment she just smiled moving with me and pushing her body back into mine. I arched back, closed the refrigerator door and twisted the tops off the bottles.
“Would you like a glass?”“No thank you, I prefer a bottle.” She raised it to her lips sliding them suggestively over the top of the bottle, blowing into it creating a whistle before she giggled and took a long pull. I stood in rapt attention losing the battle with the rapid growth in my dick.
“Would you like to see the house?”“That would be great, this must be the kitchen” she quipped.
To be continued.

Things you don’t expect



Image result for expectation images emoticon
The day before yesterday, my partner, Jeff sprang a trip on me to go see a nervous customer. We both knew from experience that I was better with these situations and ordinarily a trip wouldn’t be a problem, however, two weeks ago my friend Lisa left her new puppy with me when she left for a month in Abuja. However, I lived alone and was finding it impossible to get someone to puppy sit.
I sat in the kitchen frantically revisiting the list of those who had already said no, while wondering what I could offer in each case to get them to say yes. I was leaving on my trip tomorrow and it was looking more and more as if I would have to abandon Lisa’s puppy. Something she would never forgive me for if she ever found out.
At work, I spent the morning unable to concentrate on my job, completely distracted by the thought of abandoning Lisa’s puppy. I absentmindedly picked through the pile of papers, notes, and emails on my desk until my phone buzzed at 11:30 reminding me of the appointment I had for a haircut at noon. I grabbed my phone and bolted for the door and my car.
Lydia has been cutting my hair for almost twenty years. She had just gone out on her own when I noticed her shop on my way to lunch, its walk-in’s welcome sign prominent in the window. She did a great job, was like able, it was close and I’m a creature of habit and so our relationship began. Over the years, we have seen each other at least monthly for my haircut, occasionally at clubs, and randomly around town. We also have had countless phone conversations, texts, and shared occasional emails.
She was only 20 when I wandered in that first day. I remember her as a shy, insecure, young woman with an average figure and incredible eyes. As we became better acquainted, she often confided in me as she might a father, but unlike a father, there was never judgment, admonition, or punishment for her choices. I guessed her openness was because I was older, I didn’t mind, in fact I loved that she trusted me and wanted my opinion.
Initially she shared stories about boys, friends, and how crazy she got when she went out drinking with her girlfriends. Years passed and she began to call for my opinion on a wide range of topics and anytime she was about to make an important decision. Decisions on things like; what car to buy and how, how and when to raise her prices, if she should add a station and a host of other things she apparently felt more comfortable asking me than either of her alcoholic parents.
About 8 years into our relationship she began to talk about Mike. When she spoke of their relationship her tone was analytic, detached and unemotional. It was as if she was telling me about someone else’s love life. Then one day while I was in the chair she told me she was getting married. Like a knucklehead I asked “to whom”.
“To Mike of course“Oh” was my only response.“Well he asked me, and I said yes, will come to the wedding, please?”
“I wouldn’t miss it” I said as I thought how strange this was; every young girl I had ever known had planned and anticipated her wedding day since she was ten. She said nothing else about the wedding instead shifting the conversation to the weather or some other topic that I cannot remember. However, I was thinking of nothing else as I recalled how she talked about him during their courtship. Perhaps she thought the clock was ticking on finding a husband and any offer was better than none, but in my mind, that thinking was counter intuitive. In the years I had known her I watched her transformation from a cute young girl into a gorgeous, desirable woman. She was still slim but now thanks to a rigorous workout regimen she had the highly developed figure and legs of a model. Her skin was flawless; her red highlighted shoulder length hair framed her eyes and her slightly puffy lips and small perfect nose. She had become a woman who defined confidence and intrigue.
Within two years of their marriage, any conversation that included Mike became negative. A year and a half after that she divorced him, saying she was swearing off men. Not that she became a man hater she had not, but she stopped dating and was focusing her complete attention to developing her business. When my wife died suddenly from cancer a year after her divorce, she was supportive and kind; calling me routinely and occasionally coming by the office with “treats”. I appreciated her kindness but I was a mess; engaging in all forms of reckless and occasionally dangerous behavior. I don’t know why but I told her everything, including all the sorted details about what happened when women invited me in after dates.
Sexual feelings between us was nothing new; over the years many conversations included soft brushes on all sorts of sexual topics, but they were always comments and never about personal experiences. My revelations shifted our relationship and opened doors to conversations that became more sexual, suggestive and without boundaries. She responded to my stories with stories of her own accompanied by remarks about what she liked most. She always presented them jokingly but it was clear her underlying objective was to leave a lasting, erotic, impression on me. In the moment it was fun and harmless. From any other woman I would consider these conversations tantalizing and a turn on but from Lydia they made me uncomfortable, after all she was young enough to be the daughter I never had.
The shop was empty except for Lydia when I arrived.
“Hey, what’s new?” she asked
Like a sinner in confession, my problem finding a dog sitter spilled from my lips.
“I’ll do it.”
Somehow, in my attempts to find someone, I had never even thought of asking her. Although I was relieved to finally find help a twinge of nervousness settled in my stomach. I began telling her about the requirements for helping; when she would need to be there along with instructions on how to get into the house. About halfway through the list, she cut me off.
“Why don’t I just stay there, it would be easier for me.”“Oh, OK I guess, you could come by tonight and I will introduce you to the puppy, show you around and teach you how to work the TV, stereo etc.”“Great, what time?”“Say 7:30” “See you then.”
She finished my haircut and washed my hair without further conversation about puppy sitting. When she was done, I paid her and left. Although I was relieved to finally find someone to bail me out I had some trepidation about her staying at the house based on recent events and how I felt our relationship had become much more sexual. On the drive back to work, I re-played how an innocent comment led to the situation I was now in. I was excited and panicked at the same time. Part of me wanted to believe she was just a friend helping a friend in need, but another part of me, the part deep inside you are not supposed to think about was creating a stirring in my groin. Intellectually I knew I should be ashamed for the carnal thoughts I was having but emotionally I could not stop thinking about her in the most sensual way despite our significant age difference.
Back at work, I was more distracted than I had been in the morning. I tried everything I could keep my mind off Lydia. Nothing was helping. The harder I tried the more I thought about her. Finally, at four I gave up, told my partner I wasn’t feeling well and left.
I arrived home about 4:45 and spent the next couple of hours picking up the house and cleaning. Just before seven my stomach growled and as I walked to the kitchen in search of something to eat the doorbell rang. A lump settled in my throat and I turned walked to the front door.
I opened the door and my breath caught in my throat. Lydia stood before me dressed seductively. The tight white sleeveless top hugged her bra less breasts, showing her protruding nipples. Her long perfectly legs flowed to her small ankles and feet that were inside small heel strapy sandals.
I was so taken at the sight of her I forgot my manners. The corner of her bright red lips turned up as she stepped past me into the balcony , her shoulder length hair bouncing and her scent exploding in my nostrils as she passed. Once inside she turned to me, her eyes penetrating my pre-occupied mind.
“Beautiful home!” was all she said.
Her voice snapped me from the trance I was in. I managed to ask if she would like something to drink. She responded that she would love a beer. I turned for the kitchen feeling her in my wake. When I turned to open the refrigerator she was so close I could feel her breath on my face. I reached past her to grab two beers, mistakenly brushing her breast as I did. My face immediately ran red and I stumbled backward searching for a suitable apology. Sensing the awkwardness of the moment she just smiled moving with me and pushing her body back into mine. I arched back, closed the refrigerator door and twisted the tops off the bottles.
“Would you like a glass?”“No thank you, I prefer a bottle.” She raised it to her lips sliding them suggestively over the top of the bottle, blowing into it creating a whistle before she giggled and took a long pull. I stood in rapt attention losing the battle with the rapid growth in my dick.
“Would you like to see the house?”“That would be great, this must be the kitchen” she quipped.
To be continued.

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