Copyright© George Watersmann. All rights reserved. Reposting prohibited.
Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - George is a widower and he is home alone in the cold Danish autumn. Out of the blue, or out of the creek more like, Melissa - his oldest daughter Emma's friend - shows up. Melissa has been invited to spend the week studying with Emma while her parents are out of the country. Only Emma isn't there - she's on holidays with her siblings visiting relatives. What is George to do?
It was autumn. Definitely so. The October holidays can be lovely in Denmark - a bit like Canada's 'Indian Summers'. This year it looked none too good.
It was Saturday early afternoon and I was home alone. I had just returned from dropping my daughters and their little brother off at the station (a train ride was an added excitement for my son) to go on holidays at my brother's place on the mainland. I had to work.
Had to? Well, let's just say I worked. Since the shocking and unexpected loss of my wife a year ago, that was what I did - work - when I wasn't looking after my kids. My daughters - 18 and nearly 16 - had been urging me to start dating, but I just couldn't get my heart behind it. I reckoned you only get what I'd had once. I mean, do you known of anyone that kept playing Lotto after winning the big one?
So I had thrown myself into more work and been remarkably successful, even though it brought me little joy. Right now we were on the verge of closing a very big deal, which is why the 'had to work' bit wasn't completely off the mark. It involved a few more meetings here and a final meeting in London, followed by a party to celebrate the deal. I dreaded that one - there was this predatory woman in the consortium. She had been actively pursuing me for a while. Some prize idiot at work had let on that I was single and she had made crude and very direct overtures on several occasions. It could turn embarrassing quickly, and I had no idea what to do.
I realized my eyes were straining to see the keyboard - 2 PM, and it was pitch dark. Now that's unusual even for here - I got up to switch on the light. The rain was pelting down and suddenly there was a flash of lightning. Lightning in October?? I don't think it could get any nastier. I did a hasty backup of my documents and was about to make a cup of tea when the door bell rang.
I opened the door and was rewarded with a gust of icy cold rain laden wind. Outside was a young person whom I knew very well - a rather timid girl called Melissa. She is a friend and class mate of my oldest daughter Emma - they'd known each other since they started school, although they had only been in the same class for the first year and again now for senior high. But I had known her for 12 years and liked her a lot. She was bright, if not shining, one of those pretty girls whose shyness and lack of confidence had somehow left her behind in the dating game. Emma said Melissa had never had a serious boyfriend and that she felt it very acutely. It was strange that she and Emma should be such good friends; Emma was very comfortable in her own skin, had found a great boyfriend at 15 and was still with him. But she was also a very good and loyal friend to the girls she knew and liked.
Saying that Melissa was merely 'wet' would be an understatement. I frankly don't think she could have wetter, had she fallen into the creek. She was holding a small handbag in one hand and a larger soft sided 'weekend' bag in the other. Her bike helmet was still on her head, holding her soaked hair in place. She was a sorry sight. "Melissa!" I exclaimed. "Do come in!"
I stepped aside to let her in and darted to the bathroom for a towel while she took the helmet off. She grabbed the towel gratefully and dried her face. Or tried to. At least she stopped dripping, but she was thoroughly soaked. "Better get that wet coat off," I said. "There will be tea in a moment. What brings you here?"
She had nodded at my suggestion and brightened up a bit at the prospect of something warm, but now she looked at me confused. "Em' didn't tell you?" she asked.
"Tell me what?" Now it was my turn to be confused. Emma had told me nothing.
"Where is Em'?" Melissa asked.
"Why, Emma and Lydia and Ryan have just left for a week in Jutland," I said.
Melissa's face fell. "You're kidding!" She looked really worried now. "Em' didn't tell you that I was coming to stay?"
"Stay?" I asked - this was strange.
"Yes, stay. Mom and Dad and my brother have just flown off to Crete. I really needed to work on my Final Year Project, so I couldn't go. Em' invited me to stay the week."
After a brief uncomfortable silence, I recovered. "So you stay." This was so unlike Emma, and I was - for once - sure it wasn't just me that had things wrong. OK, I could easily have said 'yeah, whatever' if one of the kids wanted a friend to stay over and promptly forgotten, but this was different, I mean, they were on holidays and I was alone. "Simple as that, you stay," I repeated.
"Are you sure?" Melissa asked, sounding uncertain "I mean, won't I be in your way? I could try to phone Gran."
"I don't know what Emma was thinking of, but you are always welcome - you know that," I said warmly. "It won't be much fun with Emma not here, but you were going to work anyway, and feeding you and housing you is not a problem. You can even have a choice of beds now!"
Melissa nodded agreement and resumed getting her coat and boots off. It became obvious that she was soaked to the skin. "Better find something dry," I said.
Again Melissa nodded and opened her large bag. It was full of clothes. Damp clothes; the torrential rain had gone through everything. She looked up at me hopelessly.
"Cheer up," I said. "We'll raid Emma's and Lydia's wardrobes presently, and get your stuff in the drier. And you yourself must be chilled to the bone. We don't want you to catch a cold, do we? Can I suggest you have a warm bath?"
"That would be nice," she said.
I went back to bathroom, plugged the tub and started filling it. "Like lavender?" I asked.
"Shall I add some lavender to your bath?" I asked.
"Yes, please. That will be nice. We don't have a tub at home." She blushed. I wondered why, but added the stuff.
"You stay here while I get you some fresh towels - I'll be right back."
She had started to undress when I returned with the towels, but she was still in tee-shirt and panties. She blushed profusely.
"Sorry," I said, trying not to look her over too overtly. But the tee-shirt certainly was wet. "I grabbed a dry tee-shirt and a pair of panties from Emma's room. Feel free to look for other clothes once you're done. Use my dressing gown if you like." I nodded in its direction.
"Thanks," she said. "I will."
"Enjoy your bath. There will be tea and scones when you're ready." I left, closing the door behind me.
I took Melissa's bag down to the laundry and emptied it out. Nothing was really soaked, but everything was either wet or damp apart from a plastic bag full of school books and notes - they were perfectly dry; thank God for that. I threw more or less all of the clothes in the drier and activated the automatic program. Her bras and panties were plain and un-alluring. 'Oh, well - it's what you put in them that counts, ' I thought to myself. Her bras were small B-cups. She had looked bigger through her wet tee-shirt a moment ago. Possibly she was just one of those countless women that go through life with the wrong bra size. Strange. I shook myself back to the present. 'Not your business', I chided myself.
On the way back up the stairs I heard the phone and just exactly made it. It was Melissa's mother Helen on her cell phone with airport noises in the background. "We're at the gate and will leave in a few moments. I just wanted to make sure Melissa made it safely out to your place. The weather didn't look very nice."
"You can say that again," I replied. "She was drenched. So were her spare clothes. Right now she is having a warm bath to thaw out, and she will wear some of Emma's clothes until her own are dry."
"That's sweet of you. It was a pity she had to stay behind, but Senior Year is so tough, isn't it? I really appreciate she can stay with you. Obviously she is old enough to look after herself, but she can get so much more done on her project when she doesn't have to run a household at the same time and..." Helen went on. I like her and her husband Steve a lot. Steve is very quiet. For a reason. Helen sure can talk!
Before I got a chance to tell her that the arrangements were somewhat different from what Melissa had thought, Helen cut herself off. "Oh, we're being called to board now. Gotta go. Give Melissa my love. Bye"
"Bye," I said into the silent telephone.
Melissa came out of the bathroom wearing my dressing gown and with a towel around her hair. "Have you got a hair drier?" she called.
"Sure, there is one in our bedroom," I replied automatically, and then corrected myself with a sigh "That is to say, my bedroom."
A look of compassion came over Melissa's face. "You still haven't gotten used to it, have you?" she asked softly and then suddenly blushed again realising perhaps that she might have gotten too close or betrayed something Emma had told her.
"No, sweetheart," I said heavily. "It takes time."
The master bedroom is also on the ground floor. Melissa fled there and I heard her busy herself with the hair drier while I got the tea and scones ready. She came out of the bedroom a few minutes later. Her dark blond hair was softly hugging her face making her look absolutely gorgeous "I feel much more human now," she said.
I smiled. "Do you want to have the tea now, or shall we explore Emma's and Lydia's wardrobes first?"
She hesitated. "Tea would be nice. You're sure you don't mind?" indicating the dressing gown with a gesture. I shook my head and hunger won the argument.
Mind? I sure didn't. She looked very very nice just in my dressing gown. Particularly when she sat down opposite me at the dining table and the gown started to open at the top. Perhaps she was only a B, but then it was a large and very firm B.
We enjoyed the tea and scones, chatting freely about this and that and gradually moving towards more personal subjects. "Do you think you will ever remarry?" she asked, this time not blushing or looking awkward - the rapport between us having established her leave to ask.
"I don't know. I don't rule it out. I just haven't found anyone I fancied. Not until now, anyway," I replied - formulating for the first time what I had been thinking about over the last half year or so, and not finding it strange at all that I was telling this to someone I had known from a child. "And what about you?" I countered. "How come there's no one special in your life?"
"Dunno," she said. "Two years ago I was really desperate about finding a boyfriend - I envied Em' so much." She smiled and carried on. "But Em' is special, and she's been so incredibly lucky with Mark. That's not the norm - I've seen so many of my girl friends having absolute awful times with their boyfriends, so I decided to go for quality or not go at all."
I found that amazingly mature for a high school girl and was just about to say something along those lines when her face softened and she continued "I'm just like you, really. I haven't found anyone I fancy. Until now." There was a slight emphasis on the last two words and the blush returned faintly.
For the first time since sitting down for afternoon tea, there was a slightly tense pause in the conversation. Was I reading too much into those last words? In a determined effort to direct my thoughts away from the fact that I was not only baring my soul but also getting seriously turned on by this scantly dressed girl, I decided to change the subject for now.
"Your mother called while you were in the bath," I said. "She wanted to know if you had gotten here safely."
She made a grimace. "Did you tell her about Em's stuff-up?"
"Never got a chance. Do you mind?" I asked.
"Nope - I'm a big girl now," she replied.
She sure was. At 18 you're legally an adult, even if you still live at home, but that is not what I was thinking about. Perhaps this was not such a good idea after all. Or perhaps it was. I felt happy and giddy and suddenly a lot younger. I made some neutral reply and the conversation continued.
She was chatty again and I really did enjoy her company. The moment had passed and she seemed unaware of the effect she was having on me until she leaned over to reach for the jam, demonstrating just how big a girl she was. Her firm gravity-defying breasts may not have been overly large, but they were topped with remarkably large and dark areolas and her nipples did not resemble the pencil erasers writers of erotica want you to believe. They were dark, large and begging to be played with. I was staring transfixed. She noticed my gaze, looked down and made a very girlish squeal.
"Sorry!" she yelped, turning bright red and frantically closing the dressing gown around her. "I forgot I didn't have the tee-shirt on. I didn't want it to get wet, so I wasn't going to put it on until I had dried my hair, and I never..."
I held up a hand to stop her. "No need for you to apologize," I said. "It was rude of me to ogle you like that. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable in my company."
"Never!" she said. "And I did practically flash my boobs at you."
"I wouldn't put it like that," I said, "but I certainly got an eyeful." I should have stopped there, but some impulse made me take the plunge "You are drop-dead gorgeous. I find your company very stimulating."
"Oh," she said, looking down, but then somehow finding courage to seek eye contact, she looked up again.
"I haven't felt like that around a woman for a long time," I continued, meeting her gaze. 'I might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb, ' I thought.
I studied her face intensely. It might be slightly too wide and her nose a bit too pointed for classical beauty, but she was pretty. Very pretty. At that moment I really did think she was the most gorgeous being on earth. A little drop of sweat was forming on her lip. Her breathing seemed laboured. She studied me back.
The moment dragged on. Neither of us wanted it to end. I so wanted this to go further, but I knew it had to be her making the next move. After what seemed like ages, she did. Without breaking eye contact, she got up slowly and walked around to my side of the table. I turned my chair to the side and held out my arms. She sat down on my lap, facing me. We only broke eye contact when our faces were so close that it became impossible to look at each others eyes. Our lips met. Seconds later we were frantically kissing, tongues darting in and out of each other's mouths. My hands were all over her - and hers over me. When we finally broke for air she looked at me with a hungry expression - part lust, part love. "So you like my little boobs, do you?" she asked huskily and opened the dressing gown.
"And how!" I exclaimed and attacked them with my mouth. She was making little mewing sounds and ground herself against my crotch.
"I can tell!" she said, making a most suggestive movement. "I can tell." All her virginal timidness seemed to have evaporated.
I stood up, lifting her in the process and supporting her light weight by cupping her delicious firm bottom. Never stopping the kissing, I carried her to the bedroom and lowered her to the bed. She shrugged out of the dressing gown revealing all the charms of her slender body with the exception of her crotch which was covered by her, that is to say, Emma's, now soaked panties.
I undressed quickly. I wouldn't say I am proud of my body - I have been a bit overweight for most of my life, but in the last year I had slimmed down and toned up and I didn't feel there was anything to be ashamed of. Melissa was following my undressing with flattering interest. When I stripped my underwear off, revealing my average sized but very erect cock, she made moves to reciprocate. "Wait," I said. "We have all day!"
I lay down on top of her kissing her mouth, her face, her throat, her neck. I then paid serious homage to her breasts, rolling one stiff nipple with my hand while sucking hard on the other. She seemed to enjoy that very much, making excited noises. I switched over, feasting on the other breast and wondering what it would be like nursing from her for real. I worked my way further down, trailing my tongue over her skin and eliciting a giggle when it darted into her belly button. The scent from her crotch was intoxicating - the combination of the lavender from her bath and turned on girl sent even more blood to my engorged cock.
"Please," she said, lifting her hips. I pulled her panties off and took in the beauty of her pussy. No doubt she was a genuine blonde. Her sparse pubic hair was only slightly darker than her milky-white skin. I set to work giving her pussy a serious tongue treatment. Her reaction was electric. Within a few moments her moans turned to loud whimpers and when my tongue started circling her clit, they turned to a drawn out low scream of pleasure. One orgasm followed the other. She was calling out my name, then just yelling "yes yes yes," then losing language altogether.
Her secretions were plentiful and very stringy - I guessed she was mid-cycle and close to the peak of her fertility. I moved back up kissing her gently on the mouth then making eye contact. The question was unspoken, but she answered anyway.
"Yes, only I have never done this before," she said.
"I haven't done this for a long long time," I replied. "And never with someone who hadn't done it before."
"That's nice," she said. "We're like two virgins." She smiled. I smiled back.
"I don't think I have any condoms," I said.
"I don't think I care," she replied.
"You mean 'graduate in June and become a mother in July'?" I asked lightly.
"I think I want that," she said gravely. "I think that is exactly what I want."
Who was I to argue? I slid into her easily. If she had a hymen to break, I didn't feel it and she made no sounds of discomfort over my penetration. On the contrary. 12" dicks are found only in bad erotica, not on ordinary men. I established a slow steady rhythm and her response was most gratifying. While I hadn't had sex for a year, I had relieved myself on a regular basis, so I wasn't exactly on a hair trigger. But I could still feel that I would come relatively fast. Luckily so did Melissa. Within a few minutes she started getting very loud again. I could also feel my point of no return approaching fast and said "Last chance - do you want me to pull out, or do you want a baby?"
"I want a babyyyyyyyyy," she wailed as her final orgasm started.
"My pleasure," I grunted as my release started. In bad erotica, the male produces 'ropes and ropes of sticky cum'. I didn't, but I certainly felt a long series of ripples through my dick and had little doubt that I was doing my best to fulfil Melissa's wish.
In the afterglow we were lying closely together looking into each other's eyes.
"I have wanted this for the longest time," she said. "I have loved you like forever."
"Oh, I have loved you for years too," I confessed. "But I swear my feelings weren't sexual until a couple of hours ago."
"What made you want me?" she asked with a mature certainty that what we had just shared was not a one-off momentary lapse of reason.
"It's hard to pin point," I said. "I mean, I really have loved you for a long time, but feeling so totally at ease with you this afternoon made me realize that I could truly be happy again. Provided I was with you."
Her smile could have melted a glacier. She was quiet for a little while. "After today, nothing will ever be the same," she said finally with wonder in her voice. "A few hours ago I was a virgin going out to spend a week with a good friend. Now I find myself in bed with my friend's dad - and I have his seed in my pussy."
"You're not worried?" I asked.
"Oh, there's a lot to worry about," she said with a matter of fact air. "Like the reaction from your kids and my parents and everyone else, for that matter."
"Yes, I suppose that is going to be interesting, but as you pointed out you're a big girl - and I'm a big boy, and we have no other obligations," I said with a lightness I knew was overly optimistic. I mean, the shit was going to hit the fan big time, no doubt about that.
And yet, she was calm - even coy. "You know, my main worry is that I may not be pregnant yet - big boy," she said and she started to play with my flaccid penis.
I am in my mid forties, certainly no spring chicken with the instant recovery of a teenager, but when she replaced her hands with her lips and tongue, my erection returned with a vengeance. Round two was with her on top so I could play with her nipples. It was a long slow ride that gradually got more and more intense. In the beginning it was completely silent apart from little gasps until she suddenly said "It's happening again!" and she became completely wild and loud once more. I didn't think I was anywhere near coming myself, but her reaction was so erotic that I came with her, depositing yet another helping of sperm deep inside her.
She collapsed on top of me, her tits mashed against my chest and her mouth mashed against mine. After a little while she said "I never want to stop doing this, ever!"
"Why should we?" I asked.