Hey folks, first off thanks to everyone who wrote to me about Free Pass. I love hearing your opinions on stories and characters. Thanks also to the great Barney -R who edited this story in less time than it takes to say he did it. His work is great and he is largely responsible for you being able to read and understand my gibberish. Of course I went back through and changed his neat professional looking straight lines to separate the sections back into my****s.
But almost everything else I left alone.
And now the warning. This is a very dark story. If you’re looking for a story to make you feel good ... this ain’t it. If you’re looking for a happy ending ... this AIN’T it. Not every story can have a happy ending, but I hope you’ll give it a read anyway. And then let me know what you liked, hated or just would have liked to see changed. Any way ... Here we go SS06
The first thing that went through my brain was lust. The lust came from seeing her standing there, clearly waiting for me, naked as a jaybird, as I opened the door.
My fifty five year old dick was as hard as ... something really hard ... as I reacted to her twenty year old body. She was slim and, petite, with flesh as tight and toned as only someone her age can ever have.
Her legs, though thin were sexy and sculptured. There wasn’t an ounce of fat anywhere on her. Her beautiful eyes seemed sad. But at the same time her mouth, the same one that I loved to kiss seemed resolved.
It was almost as if she didn’t want to do this. That made no sense because she’d been the one who called me home so we could have sex.
Her breasts, barely more than a mouthful were more enticing than I remembered. I wanted to suck those tiny nipples more than anything else on earth at that moment.
The second thing that went through my brain was shock as she raised the hand that she’d concealed behind her back.
Before we discuss MY shock, let’s talk about yours. I mean I’m sure you’re confused about why a twenty year old woman is trying to seduce a guy who’ll be sixty in just under four years right?
So let’s go back to how and when this all got started...
It was a great fall Saturday morning. It was also the worst day of my life. I’d awakened that morning to check the weather before going out for my usual Saturday morning run.
According to the National Weather Service App on my iPhone, it was supposed to be a beautiful, sunny, fall day. But after checking my voicemail, the weather in my marriage was going to be cloudy with an unusually high probability of storms.
The voice, female and smokey, was sexier than should be legally allowed. She spoke with that weird Midwestern accent that seems like the speaker doesn’t have an accent.
People from Michigan and Chicago who went to good schools seem to speak with an unusual lack of regional attributes. They don’t sound like New Yorkers. They don’t sound Southern. Nor do they sound like they’re from the west coast.
“Mr. Shotz,” she’d said. And for all I knew that she’d made this same call to give other people the same shitty news, I really felt that she was genuinely sad to tell me.
Her name was Sarah Pryce and she was the best there is at what she does. Sarah is an extremely skilled, high priced, private investigator. And I’d hired her to ease the strange feeling I’d had in my gut.
My wife, Betty had been visiting her mother an awful lot lately. And while it was definitely true that, mentally, her mother was on her last legs ... I just had a feeling.
The message from Sarah told me that I’d been right to worry. The email she sent was very thorough. It included all of the sordid information I needed. It included who he was. It included photos of him. It included what he did for a living. It included the fact that he was not only married, but had children. There were photos of his wife and all of her phone numbers.
There were also photos of the two of them together at several locations over the past month or so. Sarah had somehow also managed to get recorded conversations between them, both face to face talks and phone calls.
Most damning though was the video. It wasn’t some grainy, barely viewable cell phone footage; it looked like a high resolution, extremely boring porno movie.
I guess I should have been hurt. I should have been shattered emotionally. After all, Betty and I had been married for more than twenty years.
And I was in fact angry. But to be truthful, a part of me was relieved. It was almost as if deep down inside I’d been waiting for this to happen.
There are moments or events in every relationship that define it. It can be a shared vacation, the birth of a child, the death of a family member, or any shared emotional event that binds two people together.
Betty and I had never experienced that. We had never looked into each other’s eyes and felt any sort of overwhelming emotion.
There had never ... at least from my viewpoint, been a watershed moment where we had felt, declared or thought that we were the missing pieces to each other’s souls.
I guess if I had to describe our relationship in one word, the word would not be love. I’m also pretty sure that knowing what I knew now, the word would probably also not be permanent.
The word that seemed to fit most was, “comfortable.”
Betty and I fit together well. And I mean that both literally and figuratively.
I hadn’t been very thorough in going through the material. I hadn’t listened to any of the conversations. I hadn’t done more than glanced at the video.
It was all too new ... it was too soon. Before I was able to study what she’d done, I needed time to process the fact that she’d done it.
The rest would come later. And that included how I intended to handle it. In other words ... how I intended to handle the divorce.
I went down the stairs and into my kitchen. I grabbed a Honey Crisp apple from the bowl on the table and bit into it as I headed through the kitchen door and into the garage.
I smiled as soon as I saw my blacked out 2014 Mustang GT. I never looked at the car without smiling. The car, unlike some people I could name, always did exactly what I expected.
I knew it was stupid as soon as I thought it, but it was all I had.
I drove the car to the park and got ready to run. I started out fast and slowed to an easier pace as I passed the tree line. I relaxed and took in the sights and smells of the woods as I skimmed along the trail with a playlist of my favorite eighties songs on my iPod.
I ran along and allowed my mind to wander as the tap-tapping of my footfalls matched the beat of the music.
I passed walkers and slower runners effortlessly; nodding at people I knew or had seen on the trails before.
Why the hell had she done it? Was it something that I had done or had failed to do that caused it? According to what little I’d read from Sarah’s report, it had been going on for at least a month. It may have been going on for longer, but Sarah was able to get evidence that suggested about a month.
I knew the bastard. Well ... I’d heard enough about him over the years to feel like I knew him. His name was Earl Gray, and he’d been Betty’s first boyfriend. He’d been her first everything. And now he could add a couple of more statistics to his record. He was the first guy she cheated on me with. And the first one she could call after I threw her ass out.
Logic dictated that I listen to her side of the story. Fuck logic, I just wanted to end this farce and begin the next chapter of my life.
I had to be careful though. At my age, I was still young enough to bounce back from this and find someone to spend the rest of my life with, but I didn’t have enough time to waste on another woman who wasn’t right.
Betty and I met in our thirties, and as I’ve said, she was someone I was comfortable with, but I felt like kicking myself in the ass. I had been lazy. I had settled for comfort instead of love and look where it got me.
Maybe that was why it happened. Maybe Earl was Betty’s great love and she had never gotten over him. Well, I wished her good luck with that. Perhaps, Betty, Earl, his wife, and their kids could all be happy together.
The heavy steps of someone clomping on the trail ahead of me pulled me from my thoughts. My eyes focused and found three younger guys ahead of me. I instinctively went into hunter mode, efficiently shifting gears and quickening my pace.
My running form improved and my longer strides ate up the ground between us.
As I gained on them, I saw that from the heavy and ungainly way they ran that they weren’t experienced or trained runners.
They seemed almost clumsy and one of them was wearing basketball shoes. His feet and ankles would be really sore the next day.
As I closed on them I could see sweat pouring off of them. They ran with a kind of hunched over stance that made them look like a group of gorillas. They were also amazingly hairy, which only added to their apelike appearance.
There were two dark haired men and one with lighter hair. One of the dark haired guys and the blond guy also sported full beards, which even though monkeys had very little hair on their faces, seemed to add to their apelike appearance.
Most runners use their arms to help drive them along and to help them with their balance. One of the trio seemed to either understand this or just did it naturally. The other two ... Not so much. They shambled along with their arms hanging uselessly from their shoulders.
It was almost like someone had given them invisible weights to carry in their hands and they could no longer lift them.
They too must have been lost in concentration or whatever they were thinking about, because my light, quick strides seemed to take them by surprise.
One second, I appeared slightly behind them, out of nowhere; the next I was beside them; the following second I was ahead of them and gone.
If any of them had x-ray eyes, he could have peered through the back of my skull and saw the broad, satisfied smile on my face.
Maybe I had lost my wife, but I could still run a bunch of twenty-something guys into the ground. That had to mean something, even if only to me.
With the group of young guys behind me, my thoughts again turned to the remnants of my shattered life.
I began to question some things and regret others. My questions were mostly about how my life would change going forward. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t still have a deep curiosity about why Betty had chosen to destroy our life, but that was to be expected.
My regrets were only two. The first was staying with Betty after discovering that she was unable to bear children. But let’s face it, in my late twenties and early thirties, I wanted to live fast, work hard and take a lot of vacations.
The last thing I wanted was to have to worry about a kid or kids. I looked at Betty like a goddess because I could fuck the shit out of her and never have to worry about birth control or condoms.
At the time having a kid was the last thing on my mind. But now, later in life, I realize that I was only being selfish. In fact the idea of having a smaller version of Betty or me seemed extremely good.
When I finished the first four mile loop of the park, I started on my second loop. That time around, I concentrated on making plans for how to most easily handle my marital woes.
I needed an attorney. I immediately thought of her cousin Mark. I thought of Mark for two reasons. The first was because he was a decent lawyer who had handled several divorce cases that I knew of. The second was purely evil on my part.
I thought that if I retained Mark, Betty wouldn’t be able to. That meant that she would have to pay an attorney who would charge her much more. Since I would not be paying her legal fees, it would be just another way to turn the screws on her.
I also decided that I was not going to pay Betty a nickel more than I had to resolve our issues and separate. I wasn’t paying for or attending any counseling sessions or any of that other bullshit.
My only mistake in the entire situation had been one of complacence. I had foolishly trusted her and believed that if we’d had any problems, she would have come to me.
She had been the one who went outside of our marriage. If she hated me soooooo fucking much why didn’t she just say, “Buck, I’m tired of you and your shit. Let’s get a divorce.”
Or better still. “Buck, Honey, I’d really like it if you could do this, that or the other thing.”
But she’d just gone out and found her now-married first love and started screwing him behind my back. Fuck her!
I’d gotten so worked up that I was running much faster on the second loop. When I came out of the woods and headed for my car I saw the group of guys I had passed on the first loop.
They were wiped out. They had gathered around one of the benches to recuperate and discuss their run or whatever they were calling what they did.
I guess I felt some weird sense of validation because of the fact that they’d run the loop once and were practically upchucking their cornflakes while I’d run it twice, much faster, and felt as fresh as a daisy.
It just serves to prove that age was not the barrier that everyone seems to think it was. There was very little that the younger guys could do that I couldn’t do.
I was all puffed up and feeling good about myself when they moved apart and showed me something that changed the whole conversation.
There is one difference between younger guys and me. There’s something that they can get almost without effort that I couldn’t get if I tried.
She was about 5 foot five and almost lanky, but she still seemed tiny next to them. Her brown hair looked like some kind of pixie cut that had grown out. She’d gathered it into two pigtails that dropped to just below her shoulders.
Her tight top showed me that her breasts were nowhere near average. But strangely enough, something about her and the way she carried herself made those bee-sting like swellings seem sexy.
Her tight tummy wasn’t the lined and muscular midriff of an athlete. She hadn’t earned that taut waist by doing thousands of crunches. Her midline told me one thing. It said, “I’m too young and healthy to be fat.”
Her ass told another story though. It was too big for her body, it made no sense. It did make me wonder what the fuck they were putting in the kids’ cereals these days.
That ass belonged on a much bigger girl. As she turned to look at one of the guys, I got the full effect of it and my dick nearly ripped through my shorts.
She bent over slightly to look into the ape-like eyes of one of the guys and I caught a glimpse of that ass hanging out of the bottom of her shorts.
Young girls were simply crazy. She obviously had no idea what a sight like that could do to a man.
Her ass jiggled with her every movement. Somehow, that ass perched atop two extremely long, coltish legs. Those legs seemed too thin to support that ass. But somehow they fit on that slim body. The term bubble butt suddenly made sense.
That ass was like a bubble in the middle of an otherwise slim body.
One of the apes suddenly recognized me. “Hey, you went around AGAIN?” he gushed. “Holy Shit!”
“That guy can run,” said another of the apes. Then everything went into slow motion.
She was bent over showing that ass to the world as she leaned in talking to one of the apes. Her head turned and those huge, wide spaced brown eyes, locked onto mine.
Recognition flared in her eyes and her face broke into a smile. She quickly straightened up and flounced towards me. Flounced is the only appropriate word to describe her manner of locomotion.
Her long ungainly, yet somehow too sexy legs carried her body towards me in a cacophony of motion that seemed designed more towards swinging her ass from side to side than moving forward.
At the same time her arms stretched outwards with each hand extended out to the sides, almost as if they were wings.
“Uncle Buck!” she shrieked in what seemed like genuine joy. My spider senses immediately tingling along with every nerve in my nether region.
There was no avoiding the contact. She literally threw herself at me, which after watching her movements made me wonder whether the act was more of a hug or just a way to avoid falling.
Maybe it was just the mood I was in but I was immediately suspicious. She’d called me Uncle Buck. As far as I knew I had only one niece, Pamela, and she’d died with her parents in a plane crash three years before.
My deceitful, soon to be ex-wife also had, to my knowledge, no siblings who’d borne any children. That made the girl’s emotional invocation at least suspicious and as mentioned ... Buck, aka Buckwalter Bartholomew Shotz, was not in the mood to be trusting duplicitous bitches.
She pressed that enticing yet incongruous body against me and parts of me that shouldn’t react to a family member announced their presence with authority.
The only sign I got that she felt it was her smile got bigger. I got the feeling that this girl was nowhere near as dopey as she seemed or as innocent as she was trying to pretend to be.
I gently pushed her away from me to a more ... appropriate distance.
As I looked at her, I guess something in my expression gave me away.
“You don’t recognize me do you?” she asked. I shook my head.
“Well it HAS been a few years since we saw each other,” she smiled. “You do remember your niece Pammie?”
I nodded my head and my expression darkened. There was no way this bitch was my dead niece resurrected.
“Pammie WAS my best friend,” she gushed. “Until my Mom lost her job and we had to move away. Remember the summer that we spent a month at your lake house?”
Even as my brain responded to her words, my eyes looked for confirmation. The comparison between this lanky sex goddess and the tiny, nerdy girl with braces, giant glasses, and freakishly frizzy hair seemed impossible. But there was something about her face...
“Clarissa... ?” I said questioningly.
“I go by Clary, now,” she said reaching for me affectionately. “I’m all grown up now,” she gushed.
It was a really awkward moment. She beamed at me as if she’d just found buried treasure. I on the other hand tried my ass off to keep my eyes away from the nipples that had sprung up from her tiny breasts or those shorts of hers that were barely more substantial than a pair of panties.
She took my arm and trapped it between her boob and her left arm and steered me in the direction I’d already been walking in.
“Clariss ... Clary ... uhm what about your friends?” I asked.
“I don’t know those assholes,” she spat. “I hate guys with beards. In fact I hate that whole hipster, fake anachronistic vibe. They’re probably fags. I just needed a ride back to campus and one of them was wearing a Wayne State sweat shirt.”
I was floored. If I had any doubts that Clarissa had grown up, they faded as I listened to her talk.
“Uncle Buck, do you have Pammie’s number?” she asked suddenly.
“Uhm ... Pam, my brother and his wife were killed in a plane crash a few years ago,” I said.
She yanked on my arm and threw herself against me again. “I’m so sorry,” she said. Even as she spoke she pressed herself against me again.
“This is so cool running into you,” she said. “When I was a kid, I swore I was going to marry you someday ... Remember?”
She wasn’t lying. It was one of those hot summer nights when it was too hot to sleep inside of the cabin since it had no air conditioning. Clarissa and Pam were sleeping in sleeping bags on the beach while Betty and I lay in lounge chairs.
We heard the girls whispering, while they were supposedly going to sleep. “I’m gonna marry your uncle someday,” Clarissa had whispered.
I think she had a crush on me because I’d seen how awkward and unattractive she was back then and I’d taken pains to tell her how cute she was and how I thought she was going to be beautiful when she grew up.
Betty and I had both heard her. Later on that night, after the girls had actually gone to sleep, Betty had elbowed me.
“Never gonna happen,” she said.
“What?” I asked.
“Clarissa is never gonna get you,” she said. “For two reasons...”
“Betty, she’s a little girl...” I said. “She’s like twelve. She has a little crush on me because I’m nice to her. Get a grip. By the time she’s old enough to get married she won’t even remember me.”
“Men are so stupid,” she spat. “She’s thirteen. In some cultures they marry off girls her age to help the family out.”
“Yeah but this isn’t that culture,” I laughed.
“Just stay away from that little bitch,” she hissed. “If I have to I’ll beat the shit out of her little ass.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s where her shit comes...” I began before I saw the look in her eyes.
For a while neither of us said anything then she took my hand and led me into the house. “Let me show you a few things that little bitch can’t do,” she said.
With only the moonlight streaming in through the windows in the darkened house, she guided me to the ratty old sofa. She pushed me down onto it and yanked my shorts down around my ankles.
She slowly licked the bottom and both sides of my dick which inflated it like a balloon. She opened her mouth and plunged it down taking my length to the back of her throat and then stared at me before beginning to bob her head up and down.
Betty gave the best blow jobs of any woman I had ever been with. She really seemed to enjoy it too. She swirled her tongue masterfully over my dick as she sucked it until I couldn’t take it.
I pushed her away gently but firmly and she smiled at me. “Bet that little bitch can’t do that,” she smirked. “Bet she doesn’t have these either.” She lifted her shirt over her head and the moonlight shining through the window illuminated her breasts.
Betty is a short, slightly chunky woman. While she is nowhere near fat, she’s never going to be called skinny.
I’ve always loved her body. Women are supposed to have curves. I loved her big soft ass and those large succulent hanging boobs of hers.
She turned and bent over the back of the ratty sofa. No other invitation was necessary. We knew each other’s bodies so well that finding my target; even in the dark was easy.
I thrust forward into her softness while reaching around her to squeeze her low hanging fruit. The slap-slap sounds we made with each thrust only spurred me on to push harder and faster.
Betty wasn’t exactly a shrinking violet. She pushed her ass back at me just as hard, and spread her legs to allow me even deeper penetration.
She reached behind her to grab my legs as if she could pull me even deeper inside of her. When she started that whimpering sound that she makes before she climaxes, I instinctively clamped my hand over her mouth.
Less than a minute later, my balls let go. At the same time I felt a huge rush of air from Betty’s mouth as my hand absorbed and silenced the ear splitting scream she would have let out.
I collapsed onto her, breathing like I’d just done a set of wind sprints.
We lay there for a while, letting our heartbeats return to normal. We wallowed in our combined sweat and fluids until she turned around to face me with a satisfied smile on her face.
“Somebody made a mess inside of me,” she said.
I put the memory away as I realized that Clary was talking to me.
“I asked you how your wife was doing?” she smiled.
“Oh ... Sorry,” I said. “We’re gonna be divorced soon.”
“You don’t seem too broken up about it,” she said. I noticed a smile on her face.
“I’m still in shock about it,” I said. “Maybe it hasn’t really hit me yet.”
“Don’t expect me to be all broken up about it either,” she said. “She didn’t like me very much.”
Her eyes got huge as she saw where we were walking. “Is that YOUR car?” she asked.
“Yep,” I said.
“Betcha I can name your favorite movies,” she smirked. “You like Batman and those Fast & Furious movies don’t cha?”
I was a bit hurt.
“Seriously Uncle Buck can this car be any more black?” she asked. “I mean... , it’s a beautiful car, but it needs another color. Shit ... Just put some stripes on it. How the hell do you find it in the dark?”
I just stared at her. I was glad that she wasn’t really my niece. I was about ready to get into my car and leave her standing there with her tongue flapping in her big ass mouth and her big ass hanging out of her tiny shorts. I think she sensed that she had fucked up though because she changed the subject pretty quickly.
“Maybe it’s a guy thing,” she said. “My dream car is a white Volkswagen Beetle convertible; so what do I know about cars?”
The frown on my face lessened. “Those turd boys sure are staring at your car though,” she smiled.
I was sure they were staring at her ass but I didn’t say anything about that. “Why are they turd boys?” I asked. “What exactly is a turd boy?”
“A guy who’s just totally full of shit,” she said. “They were all bragging about how fast they were and how they made it all the way around the park, until you showed up. Like I said ... I was just putting up with their shit to get a ride home.”
“Well since you just walked off and left them ... How are you going to get home now?” I asked. It was good to let a bit of my inner asshole out.
She clearly wasn’t buying it. “You’re taking me,” she said as surely as if I’d already agreed to it.
“But what are you doing today Uncle Buck?” she asked.
“Nothing special,” I said. “A little bit of this, a little bit of that. I have to call my lawyer. Do some yard work ... Maybe start packing some of Betty’s shit.”
“Good ... I can help you with that,” she said.
“So you wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen in the Fast and Furious Bat mobile?” I asked.
“Uncle Buck, don’t take me seriously,” she said. “Sometimes my mouth gets going before my brain does. I guess I was just jealous of your car. It always seems like everyone else has such nice things and I don’t have shit.”
I was taken aback at the level of emotion she showed in that last sentence. I opened the passenger door and held it for her.
“Clary, you’re a beautiful young woman with her whole life ahead of her,” I said. “You have the whole world on a string.”
Her sarcastic laughter filled the car as I started down the road. I wondered why she was so negative already at an age where most girls were looking forward to a bright future.
“Uncle Buck ... You don’t know shit about me,” she said. “All of the best memories of my life are the two summers that I spent with Pammie and her family. I have nothing of my own. You’re my favorite Uncle and you’re not really my uncle.
I was an ugly child. I had frizzy hair, boney legs, no butt, buck teeth; giant glasses ... the whole nine. But somehow you always made me feel special. I think I missed you more than I missed Pammie.
Maybe having you back in my life is a sign that things are going to turn around for me.”
It was my turn to laugh then.
“Clary, I think it’s all in your head,” I said. “You’re not that little girl any more. I mean ... look at you. You’re beautiful.”
She snorted. “Uncle Buck, you’re crazy and you’re blind,” she laughed. “I’m still the same little girl. My hair is a perm. I can’t let it grow any longer than this or it still frizzes up like yarn. My eyes are so bad that I’m probably legally blind. I wear contacts.
I have almost no tits; I just have swells, with nipples that stand up like erasers when I get hot. And that’s what I am ... Hot! I’m not pretty, Uncle Buck, I’m hot. Men want to fuck me ... They don’t want to marry me. They don’t want a relationship with me. They don’t even want to be my God damned friend.”
The next thing I knew she was crying her eyes out. I stopped the car and hugged her while she cried.
“Clary ... Maybe you were right, Honey,” I said. “Today I got the worst news of my life, but for some reason it didn’t shatter me. Maybe it was because this is gonna be a new start for both of us. How about if I take you home with me and we can talk. If you’re not doing anything today, you can spend the day with me and I’ll take you home this evening.”
She just nodded, with her eyes still full of tears.
I took her home with me. “Okay Clary, make us breakfast,” I said. “I have to make a phone call.”
I left Clary in the kitchen while I called Mark. I told him that I needed his services. He was almost too eager to help me. He even told me how to email him a photo of a check that could serve as a retainer.
He was a lot less happy when he discovered that I wanted him as my lawyer in a divorce against Betty. I filled him in on all of the details including the fact that I hadn’t told Betty yet.
He started giving me the standard lawyer’s speech about trying to do everything we could to save the marriage. He told me that we should consider divorce our last option. I told him to start on the papers and reminded him that everything we were doing came under the whole attorney/client confidentiality rules. That meant if he called Betty or anyone else and alerted her to my plans that I was just motherfucker enough to report him to the bar association and cost him his license.
Surprisingly enough Clary had made a decent breakfast and she seemed to be in a better mood as well.
We talked as we worked in the yard. We talked about my upcoming divorce without me going into too much detail. I just told her that we had drifted apart. She countered with how even as a child she never thought that Betty and I fit.
We talked about how she was on her own. Her family had always struggled and she’d received a hardship scholarship to attend college. Her mother’s latest boyfriend had wanted her to cash the scholarship in and use the money for other things.
When she refused he’d thrown her out of the house and her mother had taken his side.
As the day went on we each revealed more. She told me of her dire financial issues and I told her about Betty cheating on me.
We ended up spending the entire day together. I was ready to take her home at dinner time, but she didn’t seem to be ready to go. She kept reminding me of things we did when she was younger.
“Remember how we used to get pizza and you’d let Pammie and me pick a movie,” she whined. “Can we do that?”
To tell the truth, I was beginning to feel a mixture of anger and sadness over what my cheating wife was doing. I was pretty sure that she was in Earl’s fucking bed ... Or maybe it was Earl’s bed fucking at that very moment.
So maybe I wasn’t exactly ready to be alone either.
“Sure, Honey,” I said. “What do you want on your pizza ... Pepperoni, ham, ground beef and green olives ... right?” I have no idea how I remembered that, but it wasn’t lost on her.
“You ... you remembered,” she said.
“Yep,” I said. “Go find us a movie.” As she skipped out of the room happily, I caught yet another glimpse of her ass. She actually adjusted her shorts as she walked down the hall. All of the blood in my body shifted into my dick again.
For most of the day I’d been perving on her and attempting to look away. For a second I allowed myself the luxury of just looking at something that I would never have.
Mostly because in my youth girls like her ... Girls that were built like her didn’t exist. It has to have something to do with the food. Maybe it’s GMOs or the additives to the crops or hormones in the animal feed, but girls who are as slim as Clary did not have asses like that, especially not white girls.
And if there were girls like that around, they certainly didn’t dress the way Clary did to show it off. And it wasn’t just the girls. We didn’t have three hundred pound football players who ran the forty like sprinters and hit like fucking freight trains. That’s why there were so many sports injuries. The human body wasn’t designed to take that kind of punishment.
“I thought you were ordering food,” she said. Her smirk told me that I’d been caught.
“I thought you were finding a movie,” I said.
“I’ll meet you on the sofa,” she said. I stood there watching her go. She walked away with a smile on her face, but her walk was slower ... much slower.
I looked in on her a few moments later. She was scanning every movie on our pay per view system. I have no idea what she was looking for but she read the synopsis of several movies while she narrowed her choices down.
In a perfect world I’d be doing this with Betty and none of the past twelve hours would have happened. Another crack appeared in my emotional wall then. A solitary tear rolled down my cheek.
I wiped it away furiously. I refused to cry over that whore. I had done everything she wanted for the entirety of our time together. The bitch wanted for nothing and she still did this to me. What the fuck was love good for if you could give your heart completely to someone only to have them shit all over it?
“Are you crying, Uncle Buck?” she had a habit like most women of just sneaking up on me at the worst possible moment.
“It’s that bitch isn’t it?” she asked angrily.
“I’m not crying, Clary,” I said. “I just got something in my eye.”
“The pizza guy is knocking on the door,” she said. “You’re gonna have to get it. I’m so broke I can’t afford to pay attention.”
I went to the door and paid the pizza guy. I put the box on the coffee table in front of her. She was sitting on the sofa with those long legs tucked under her.
She got up and followed me into the kitchen to see what I was doing. I got a beer for me and a soda for her.
“I don’t always drink beer,” she said. I arched an eyebrow at her.
“Actually the soda is for you,” I said.
“I’m twenty years old,” she whined. “Uncle Buck you have to stop treating me like I’m still your little Clarissa. I’ve already seen, tried and gone through more than you can imagine. I’ve been drunk out of my mind more times than I want to remember. I’ve done every drug you can think of and some you probably have never heard of. I don’t want any fucking soda.”
“Clary!” I said sharply. “I get it. I’m not your father ... Hell; I’m not really even your uncle. But I do care about you. I always have and I’m not going to let you get drunk on my watch. You keep telling me that you’re an adult. So start acting like one.”
I have no idea what she was thinking, but somehow it seemed like she had won that exchange or proven some sort of point.
“Okay Uncle Buck, let’s compromise,” she said softly. “I’ll have one glass of Betty’s wine. One glass won’t get me drunk. It won’t even get me tipsy. But truthfully, I have no one. You’re the only one I have ... Or so you claim. So if I was going to get a little drunk ... Just to let go of some of the shit I’m going through, shouldn’t it be here where I’m safe and with you?”
I reached under the counter and pulled out a bottle, then thought better of it. I got the bottle of Betty’s favorite white wine from the fridge.
“One glass,” I said. She smiled and nodded but she brought the bottle with us. Again I had no idea whether I had won the argument or ... Not. I did notice that although she called me Uncle Buck, she called Betty by her name, as if Betty was no relation to her any more.
We sat down on the sofa to watch the movie she’d chosen.
“There’s nothing Fast, Furious or Super in this movie,” she smirked.
The movie was called Romeo and Juliet and Zombies. And it was as stupid as it sounds. The worst thing about it was that the dialogue was all in Shakespearian English so you had to really pay attention to understand what the fuck was going on.
Clary was constantly shushing me and then asking me what something meant ... As if I was following the stupidity on the screen. The damned movie lasted for more than two fucking hours too. Clary managed to empty the bottle of wine and had made herself comfortable.
By the time the movie was over we were stretched out on the sofa with me spooned behind her. She reached out and grabbed the remote and turned the TV off plunging the room into darkness.
“You ready?” she asked.
“Huh?” I asked. I had no idea what she was talking about.
“The best part of the movie for me was always talking to you about it after we watched it. You always wanted to know what we thought about it and our favorite parts. We had to tell you what we didn’t like about it too. It used to drive Betty crazy. I think she just wanted to get you upstairs so you guys could fuck.”
“Clary!” I said.
“My favorite part was the fact that even when everything went wrong for them, they lived in the moment. They didn’t allow society or their families to dictate the terms of their life. They reached out and took advantage of every second and every opportunity they had because they realized how short life was and that chances to be happy didn’t grow on trees. They didn’t waste any opportunities,” she said. “They lived in the moment.”
“My favorite part was the end,” I said.
“Trust a guy to like the scene where she shows off her big old titties and they realize that their both going to end up Zombies so they do it until they change,” she said. That was when I noticed that Clary had turned around and was facing me. I could feel the breeze from her breath very close to my face.
“Guys are such assholes,” she said. “Titties come in all sizes. A woman doesn’t have to have big ones to be sexy.”
“Clary, when I said the end, I meant the credits,” I said.
“Why ... are you into all of that movie making shit like the key grip and all of that crap?” she asked.