Ahead of the Curve
Chapter 28: Jealousy

Copyright© 2017 by Chase Shivers

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 28: Jealousy - Ahead of the Curve is a redemptive romance between a retired, older man and a fifteen-year old young woman who find themselves drawn together in the middle of a difficult situation. The story features heartbreak and hope, a path which won't always be easily followed, and an introspective journey by two people who are challenged at every step in their relationship.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction   Tear Jerker   Anal Sex   Cream Pie   First   Oral Sex   Menstrual Play  

Chapter Cast:

Darren, Male, 54
- Narrator, retired, father of Gwen and Victoria (Vic)
- 5’11, beige skin, 195lbs, cropped greying brown hair
Audrey, Female, 16
- High school senior, daughter of Duncan and Theresa
- 5’9, pale skin, 140lbs, light-green eyes, straight auburn hair over her shoulders
Gwen, Female, 16
- High school sophomore, daughter of Darren, sister of Victoria
- 5’6, beige skin, 135lbs, shoulder-length wavy black hair
Victoria (Vic), Female, 15
- High school freshman, daughter of Darren, sister of Gwen
- 5’4, beige skin, 120lbs, wavy neck-length light-brown hair

Jealousy is a powerful and complex emotion. It has aspects of fear and doubt, selfishness and envy, both irrational and natural at the same time. Jealousy has destroyed many things: careers, diplomatic relations, emotional bonds. I’d felt jealous of many things in my life, and in my fifties, I thought I should have already conquered the emotion to the point where I could easily rationalize my way away from it whenever it flared up.

I’d felt jealousy a few times regarding Audrey, not the least of which was just knowing she and Travis were together during the months of our separation. But that had been a raw, slowly-burning sort, not the visceral, nasty type which had exploded in me over Audrey’s use of showers and changing rooms with her male teammates.

I suppose it was obvious that a lot of that jealousy was bound up in my own insecurities. My age, my relative health, my lack of anything I could call my own beyond my own daughters. I felt like a lump, living only for the moments when my children or my girlfriend decided to spend time with me, and that often only soothed the self-confidence issues as long as I was not alone. I spent many lonely hours between those periods, waiting for Audrey or Gwen or Vic to finish school or practice or times with friends. I’d wasted so much time that I felt empty if none of them were around me.

And so, for a couple of days after Audrey had stormed out of Barney’s, angry and upset, I’d stewed in my jealousy, unable to let it go, unable to even send my girlfriend a text message. I don’t know why it is so hard to let that emotion bleed away. It was unhealthy, in my experiences, rarely, if ever, yielding positive results. Sure, I knew there were probably healthy times to be jealous, but what those might be, I couldn’t be certain. For those couple of days, my relationship with Audrey hung out in limbo, waiting for one of us to break the silence and try to figure out what we did next.

I wasn’t wholly soothed in my fears and self-conscious doubts when on Wednesday, an unexpected message came to my phone and started me in the right direction. It was Tracy, the girl, now a woman near my age, who I’d teased in high school, the one I’d reached out to in order to apologize days earlier.

Hello, Darren. Of course, I remember you. And I remember well those days. They were very difficult for me. But I got by as best I could. I had no choice. Thank you for your apology. I suppose I will accept it. What else can I do? It is just words, really, and I’ve learned the hard way that words can be both harmful and helpful. I suppose it is nicer to get the helpful sort. – Tracy

I felt my stomach sink to have her acknowledge that I’d hurt her. I don’t know what else I expected, but to have her tell me, in just a few words, that it was so made me feel like shit. I deserved worse, I knew, for being such a jerk to her. I was getting off easy, and I knew it. So did she. I wrote her back immediately.

Tracy, I’m glad to hear back. If you don’t wish me to reply, please say so or don’t respond. I don’t wish to bring up bad times or make your life any worse. Just the opposite. I suppose I’m doing this to soothe my own guilt, selfishly. But I hope, too, that it might give you some small hope that people like me can change. I’d go back and undo the hurt I caused if I had that power, but I cannot.

I hope your life is better than it was then. I hope you’ve found people in your life to give you strength and support and love. What I did made you feel alone and broken. I hope, in my own small way, I can offer mere words which might do something of the opposite now. I’m very sorry, Tracy. If I can do anything to make amends, please say so. I don’t want to patronize or throw salt in old wounds. Sincerely, Darren

I pressed send and felt my heart fluttering in nervous anxiety. I really hoped that this wasn’t just making things worse for the woman. That was never my intent, but as I admitted to her, I wasn’t reaching out wholly to provide the woman comfort, I was seeking my own salve as much as hers.

She replied an hour later.

Thank you, Darren. I can tell that you are sincere, and I do appreciate that. I won’t pretend that high school was a good time for me, but things got a little better once I left that school and eventually started a job at the grocery store. I got a uniform and that at least made it feel like I was normal, unlike in high school. My mom and dad both died when I was in my twenties, not long after I had my first daughter. My husband died in an oil rig accident a couple years after my second was born. It was a very difficult period in my life, much harder than just dealing with mean boys in high school.

I’m not sure why I’m telling you all this, but I suppose you asked if you could help, and letting me tell you all my sorry stories is helping me. I had a heart attack at thirty-one and had to move my kids and me to live with an uncle. A kind man, thankfully, but poor, just like us. I got some help from the government, but just enough to get by. I married again when I was thirty-eight, but he left me a year later. I still struggle to make ends meet, but I’ve taught myself to be a decent writer, and I make some money selling pulp detective stories to magazines and websites. I’m rather proud of that, honestly. I just wish I could catch a break. I’ve got almost a dozen full novels that I can’t seem to sell. People who read them think they’re really good, but no publisher will bite.

Anyway ... I’ve got a couple of grandkids now, another on the way. My eldest daughter moved overseas when her husband, a Navy officer, got transferred, and my youngest is about four months along now. She’s not married, by the way, but that’s okay. We’re still in the Houston area. I’ve been dating a nice man ... older, but kind to us all. He’s probably the best partner I’ve ever had. Gets disability, which helps us out a bit, so we’re not in as bad a state as my parents were in with me.

Anyway ... I’m rambling. I suppose this is good for me. I hope I’m not just dumping a sob story on you. I really appreciate you reaching out, Darren. I doubt few people like you ever do so. It does make me feel better about the world to know you’ve changed and I hope you and your daughters are having a nice life and that you’ve taught them to be good to other kids. It’s so hard being different and poor in school. I hope they know not to kick people when they’re down.

Feel free to message me if you wish. I’m not sure what else to say. – Tracy

I had an idea.

Tracy, I’m so sorry to hear about the difficulties you’ve fought through, but your persistence, especially in protecting and supporting your children, is very admirable. I lost my parents and my wife many years ago, so I do understand some of what you describe. I know you know how hard it is to recover from those losses, but it sounds like you’ve found a situation where you can ensure you daughters, and grandchildren, can have a better life.

I have an idea. I can’t promise anything, but I actually went to school with a woman who works now at Yates-Parker, the big publishing house in New York. I’m not sure what she does, and I haven’t chatted with her in a couple of years, but I’d certainly be willing to try to set up a meeting or something if you are interested. Like I said, I can’t promise anything, but it might be worth a shot. Let me know! – Darren

Tracy went offline according to the message app and didn’t reply.

It got me thinking about Audrey and the souring distance currently between us. Like with Tracy, it was all my fault. Audrey had done nothing wrong. Even though I was uncomfortable with knowing she might be nude in front of her teammates, and vice-versa, that was my problem, not hers. She’s said it was her body, and she was absolutely right. I didn’t own her, I didn’t control her. I was the lucky son-a-bitch she’d chosen to spend time with. Even if, one day, Audrey realized that I was too old, too out of shape, too whatever for her, right now, she wanted to be a part of my life, and I was ruining what should be the highlight of all my years.

I tried calling Audrey’s phone and got no reply. She might still be at practice. I knew the team had the first game of their season coming up Friday night, and they were well into preparing with late-running practices. So, I sent her a text message.

I love you, Audrey. I’m sorry. You’re right, and I was an ass. Please ... I hope we can talk. I miss you and I’m sorry and I love you ... Darren

I knew we might be taking chances when we texted so openly, that someone else might see her phone and figure out who I was, but I also knew that Audrey was no dummy, that she locked her phone and ensured our messages were not seen over her shoulder. I couldn’t avoid sending her my love in the clear.


Gwen came home with Vic right behind her. “Hey, Dad,” my eldest called out. I knew she’d been at a dance practice and would be picking up her sister once Vic was done with softball.

“Hey. If you’re hungry, I made spaghetti and meatballs. And be sure you get salad, too. Don’t just eat pasta and meat!”

Vic shook her head looking into the living room, “Don’t have to tell me, Dad. The salad’s the best part.”

Gwen giggled, “Duh. Lesbians don’t eat meat, anyway.”

Vic punched her in the arm, but it was mostly playful, my youngest laughing, “Do too. Girls have meat, you know!”

I cringed, “Tee-emm-eye,” I told her. “Please don’t make me start visualizing that, Victoria.”

She shrugged and the girls disappeared down the hall, soon one in the bathroom and the shower running. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and hoped to hear from Audrey.


I woke in the night, somehow undisturbed by my daughters that evening. It was nearing two in the morning. I checked my phone, but there was no response from Audrey. Concerned, not sure if she was ignoring my message or maybe something worse was wrong, I opened the door and checked the house beside mine. Audrey’s car was in the drive. She’d driven it to school, so it seemed the former issue was what was going on.

My heart sinking, I slunk to bed, defeated and wondering if maybe the wonderland of our relationship had started fading away for good, all because I was too stupid to reign in my jealousy.


I was up by five the next morning, not sleeping well at all. I looked out to see that Audrey’s car was still in the drive. Concerned and uncertain what to do, I made coffee and sat out front on my porch, restless and worried that maybe my days with Audrey had already ended and that I just didn’t know it yet.

I saw lights on next door and I hesitantly walked over. I knocked gently, not wanting to wake anyone still asleep. The door opened, and Audrey stood there, already dressed for school. She didn’t say anything, looking at me with a measured expression on her face, lips drawn tight as if ready to tell me a horrible truth but waiting for me to ask first.

“Audrey ... uh ... Hey ... Did you get my message last night.”

She shook her head. “My phone completely died yesterday...”

I felt mild relief. It was a third possibility I’d not considered, and at least it left open the chance that Audrey hadn’t ended our relationship for good. “I ... I sent you an apology. I ... I’m sorry, Audrey. Really sorry. I was wrong, just so wrong. I was an ass, and ... I miss you so much...”

She watched me a moment, “Yeah ... you were...”

I nodded, “I was. I know. I’m so sorry ... Please ... Give me a chance to work on this, okay? I don’t want to lose you over me being stupid. Please...”

Her lips parted and a small smile appeared. “Of course...”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you.”

Her arms were like those of a comforting goddess, warm and tight and filling me with hope again. I pressed my lips to hers and felt her desire for me radiating. It seemed she missed me, too. “I’m so, so sorry...” I told her again.

“I know. Stop apologizing ... I forgive you, Darren. I love you.”

We kissed again. “I was just worried,” I said, “when you didn’t reply ... I thought maybe ... maybe...”

“That I’d broken up with you?” she asked.

“Yeah...”

“It crossed my mind ... once ... that night. But,” she said, running her fingers through my hair, “I figured you’d come around ... I know you were just jealous ... and I guess I kind of understood. I suppose I should have told you, at least.”

“You did nothing wrong,” I assured her.

“No, I mean ... I thought about if you were, you know, playing adult baseball or something, and if you changed in front of women or saw them changing ... I’d be jealous ... So ... I kind of understood ... and ... I realized I should have said something. Just to let you know...”

“I appreciate that, but really, I shouldn’t have let it get to me like that.”

She smiled and kissed my lips, “You are a passionate guy, Darren ... uh ... I suppose we shouldn’t do this where neighbors might see ... Want to come in? I’ve got a bit until I need to leave...”

“Sure...”

She poured me a cup of coffee and one for herself. “Joyce and Herman are still asleep, so we should be quiet ... feel like coming to my room with me?”

“God, yes...”

I felt like a kid again. Well, like a horny teenager who’d just survived a breakup and now was about to have makeup sex with a real crush. Only, it was more than a crush, what I felt for Audrey. I was deeply, madly in love with her. I desperately wanted her to feel that love right then.

I followed her to her room and she closed us inside, immediately turning and wrapping her arms around me, the two of us kissing and touching each other with urgency.

It was a blur of fingers and tongues and kisses and insistent caresses. Our clothes were off in seconds, Audrey on her back on the bed, knees drawn up. I tasted her clean flesh, savoring her body from lips to thighs, her passion matched by my own. I danced my tongue through her flesh, tasting her, drawing out her sighs, making her trembling and writhe, soon licking Audrey to orgasm.

She pulled me over her and her body consumed me. “Oh, Darren...” she moaned. We rutted urgently, my flesh hard inside her, her legs wrapping and stroking my back, her hands all over me, tickling, teasing, caressing everywhere she could reach.

A fire burned below as we mated, no thought in my head but letting each probe of my erection into her slippery, velvety folds tell her how much I needed her, how sorry I was for ever doubting or questioning her. She came again and I felt her clenching in orgasm around my length, her fingers clawing at my back as we moved together as one. Her eyes on mine, I saw her love, her desire. I’d missed her so much that my passionate thrusts brought on her third orgasm and then, my first, my seed overflowing her opening, spilling out around where my penetration throbbed and her silky vagina swallowed the apologetic love I shot inside.

We held together, me over her, my flesh slowly growing soft, but no wholly, staying inside her, her lovely young body sweaty and holding me tight as we rolled and kissed. “God, I love you, Audrey...”

“I feel it,” she assured me, kissing my cheek and nibbling on my ear, “I feel it all inside me...”


She’d had to get ready for school, again, moments later, and as much as I wished I could spend the entire day showing Audrey my love, begging her continued forgiveness, I left her house and went back to my own. I waved as her car pulled out a while later and her school day soon to follow, though Audrey had left early to try to get a new phone before classes.

My daughters were about to leave as well. “Where’d you go?” Gwen asked me.

“Oh, uh, next door...”

She grinned, “Morning sex with Audrey?”

I chuckled, “Something like that...” I’d not told my daughters about what had happened that night after they’d left the pizza joint. I’d made some excuse about Audrey being too tired to join us for ice cream, and I’d done my best to hide my jealous misery, not revealing the truth of what was going on. I felt that it was between me and Audrey, not something I needed, nor wanted, to discuss with my girls.

“Coming to Vic’s game tonight?”

“Naturally,” I replied. “Six, right?”

Gwen nodded. “I’ll be there ... and ... uh ... Pete’s going to drop by...”

“Ah,” I knew the Pete thing was still happening, and from the sound of it, Gwen was still considering dating the boy again, if she hadn’t decided already, “does your sister know?”

“Know what?” Victoria said as she stepped into the kitchen, her book bag slung over one shoulder.

“About Pete coming to your game...” Gwen told her, “and yeah, I let her know last night...”

Vic shrugged, “Whatever. I don’t care. I’ll be in the dugout, anyway, so ... if he’s being an asshole, I won’t hear it, at least...”

I raised an eyebrow at her curse word.

She shrugged again. “Fine. A dick. Jerk. Whatever. You know what I mean.”

I shook my head and grinned. “Well ... let’s hope that he’s learned his lesson ... right, Gwen?”

She looked away and frowned a bit, “Yeah ... I think so...”

“So you’ve talked about it with him? What he said that was hurtful?”

Gwen shrugged, “Maybe a little ... not recently...”

“And ... what will you do if he says something this time.”

“Jesus, Dad,” Gwen spat, throwing up her hands in exasperation, “I don’t know. We’re just talking, okay? Just talking. If he’s a jerk ... I’ll just tell him to knock it off.”

“Fine,” I replied, “I’ll be there, of course, Vic, no start for you tonight?”

She shook her head, “Nah. I doubt I’ll start much. I’m pretty bad at fielding right now, so ... I get to pinch hit some, like the first game. Hopefully I’ll get an at bat tonight.”

“And ... things with Simone?”

Vic nodded and smiled, “Good ... can she come over tomorrow and spend the night again? I think ... if you talk to her parents at the game ... they might let her...”

“So, if Dad lies to them and tells them we’re super Christians,” Gwen laughed, “you and your gay girlfriend can do naughty things in your bedroom?”

Victoria punched her playfully, “Shut up!”

“I’ll try my best not to lie,” I replied, “unlike last time ... but ... I suppose I would rather you and Simone have time together somewhere safe than sneak around and risk doing something stupid.”

“What, like getting pregnant?” Victoria giggled. “Don’t worry, Dad. Pretty sure I won’t knock her up.”

I chuckled, “See that you don’t. Sure, I’ll ask her parents tonight. No promises, but I’ll do what I can.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Victoria said, hugging me and pecking my lips, “can’t wait!”

“We should get going,” Gwen told her, “ready?”

Vic nodded.

Gwen gave me a quick hug and I told them goodbye, then settled into the living room with my laptop.


There’d still been no further messages from Tracy, so I spent the next couple of hours figuring out what I needed to do to get myself enrolled for the Fall semester at the university. I tracked down contact information for my previous schools, even reached out to a few former work colleagues who agreed to provide references should I need them.

I bundled it all up and decided that I wanted to get out of the house and hand deliver everything to the admissions office.

The trip down to campus didn’t take long and I waited for the admissions clerk to call my name. There was a small line ahead of me, and it took a few minutes before everyone ahead had been sorted. “Darren Oxley?” the woman called out.

“Hello,” I said, stepping up to the counter and passing over the envelope containing the materials needed for the process.

The woman flipped through the papers and told me, “Alright, looks like the basics are here. Just have a couple of questions for records. Says here you’re seeking a second Master’s degree. Is this for a new career or advancing in a current one?”

“Neither, actually,” I replied, “just personal advancement. I’m retired, have been for a few years, looking for a new challenge.”

“Okay, and your former highest degree was ... let’s see ... Master’s in Applied Technologies?”

I said, “Correct.”

“But you’re looking to join the Master’s program for History?”

“Correct,” I repeated.

“Do you have a background which might help your application?”

 
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