Chapter 1: Intro Duction
Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1: Intro Duction - College student Kayla meets the man of her dreams, the married man next door.
I pull to the curb in my used dark blue Toyota Corolla that my parents bought me when
I graduated high school eight months ago. The driveway is for my parents' cars. No big deal. I don't care. I am just happy to have my very own car like any girl would!
Awesome! I shut off the engine, set the parking brake, unbuckle my seat belt, gather up my book bag from the passenger seat, and open the door.
My second semester at Cloud River Community College started two weeks ago. It's the first week in February now. I'm a good student, mostly A's and B's. I arranged my spring schedule so all my classes are before noon so I can enjoy our fine Southern
California afternoons. Of course it doesn't do me much good. I've always been somewhat of a loner. It's not that I don't like people. I do like people. Very much.
I had my high school girlfriends but no one who I consider a close friend that I shared my deep thoughts with and so only a short time after graduating I don't see any of them.
There's a few people from my high school that I see at Cloud River including this one cute guy, Caleb, who I've never talked to and that hasn't changed at college. I don't have him in any of my classes anyway.
I walk toward the front door of my house.
"Hey!" a male voice calls out. "Hey!"
I turn my head. It is the neighbor guy.
"Hey, beautiful!" he says.
I know it's not a good habit but I don't think I'm that pretty so I look behind me to see who he might be talking to.
"You," he says. "The beautiful girl before my adoring eyes. Could you help me a second? I would really appreciate it."
I shrug and head his way. He is Mr. Grimes and he and his wife moved in about six years ago when I was twelve if I remember right. I am pretty sure I am right.
"Kayla, right?" he says once I am over.
"Yes," I answer.
Yes, my name is Kayla. It isn't a cool name like Samantha that can be shortened to
Sam or Sami or the dozen ways you can spell Sammie and each way is cool. Kayla?
You can shorten it to Kay which sounds like an 85-year old woman or worse yet a letter of the alphabet and you can shorten it to La which sounds stupid and even more so after I watched The Sound of Music. Do-re-mi-fa-so-LA-ti-do. Gag! All the cool girls are named Samantha and of course there were about five of them in my senior class and maybe like twelve or more in the entire high school. I tried not to get to know the freshmen since that's what seniors do. College only makes it worse. There are even
MORE Samanthas. My history class has three of them and none of them are from my high school and they are all popular girls. Of course!
"Can you help me with this garden project? I need a woman's eye."
"Okay," I spoke softly.
"Great! It's in the back yard."
I follow him into his house. I instantly recognize it is the same as my house except mirrored. His kitchen is on the right, mine is on the left, our stairs lead right, his goes left, and so forth.
"My wife is away on business travel so I can't ask her. Her new job requires her to travel a lot. Besides we're not getting along so I'd rather ask someone nice to help me with my project."
He rambles on about being out of work and something else about how he and his wife Amy fight all the time and that he's thinking about divorcing her. I won't bore you with the details.
"My name is Ryan by the way." He flashes a nice smile. He has brown eyes to go with his short brown hair.
"Hi," I respond. I guess his age is mid-30's so kind of old as you know.
"It's so great to have a woman in the house that I can have a simple conversation with. I'm tired of arguing as you can imagine."
I like that he talks to me like I am an adult woman. That makes me feel good.
"Yea," I agree. It would be tiring arguing with someone constantly. That was me and my older sister by three years until she moved away. Things are so much better now that I rarely talk to her.
"And so beautiful too. Did I say that already? Well even if I have I will say it again.
You're a really beautiful woman."
My face feels warm. Am I blushing? No guy or boy or man ever said such nice things about me. I simply don't feel beautiful and it is magnified by the fact no guy has ever said such things to me - ever!
We are standing in his backyard now but I forget why I am here. The compliments took me away to a happy place.
"Here's what I need your help with," Ryan says. "I want to plant these five flowers but
I don't know the best way to put them in a row."
The flowers are pansies, three yellow and two blue.
"So what do you think? What does your woman's eye say?"
"You just want them in a row?"
"Yes, right here in this section."
I notice he already has the holes dug for them. They are definitely going to be in a row.
"What about yellow, blue, yellow, blue, yellow?"
"Okay, hold on. What was that? Yellow first?"
"Then blue and..."
"Let me put the first yellow in. Let's do it one at a time." Ryan plants each one into the ground. " ... and the last yellow one." He gently presses the dirt around it. "Can you grab the watering can over there?"
"Sure," I say.
Ryan waters the flowers then stands back. "Beautiful! Thank you so much, Kayla. I couldn't have done it without you."
He can't figure yellow, blue, yellow, blue, yellow? Really?
"They're almost as beautiful as you are." He takes my hand in his and for a second I think he is going to raise it up to his lips which would be completely weird and awkward and I can suddenly feel it in my body but he simply gives it a little squeeze. "Thank you."
"Sure." I am glad I could help even though I didn't do much of anything. My body relaxes and I feel a little silly for getting anxious.
"Can I call you or text you if I need more help? My wife is gone a lot like I said and I'd rather have help from someone nice like you. I'm not sure how much Amy would help me even if she is home."
What help can I be? I feel sorry for Ryan. He is a nice guy and he has an awful wife.
"Sure," I still say.
"Oh, wonderful. You are such an amazing woman."
We exchange phone numbers.
In my bedroom, I change out of the clothes I wore to school. I could dress down like everyone else but I still hold out hopes of attracting a cute guy by dressing nicer.
Nothing fancy, just a blouse and nice jeans but it is better than the tank top and shorts
I am about to change into. By all means I dress comfortable in my bedroom.
Before I redress I stand naked in front of the mirror mounted on the back side of my bedroom door. It is a ritual I do. I look at my naked self.
I touch my boobs. They are the only thing I have going for me. They're 36C so a good normal size. My brunette hair is okay also. It's straight and is just past my shoulders now. What I really, really don't like about my body is that I never developed a waist or hips - whichever. You know, that hourglass figure every girl is supposed to develop during puberty. I got the boobs. They are nice but the rest of my body is straight up and down. I am five foot six and 145 pounds with a little pooch of a tummy but even a lot of skinny girls have that. Yes, I could stand to lose 5 or 10 pounds. It's just so fucking hard to do! And I have no hips. It's no fair!
No one is ever going to love me. It's the cold hard facts.
Sometimes I get emotional and cry but not so much this time. I wipe away a solitary tear from my eye.
I put on the same panties and bra then dress in my tank top and shorts.
I eat lunch and watch afternoon TV.
I start my homework around 4:00 pm. My phone goes off at 4:30 with a text message alert. The text is from Ryan.
"Can you come over at 5? I need help."
I want to know why but instead I only reply, "ok : )". Maybe it will be purple, white, purple, white, purple ... lol!
I ring his doorbell exactly at five.
It takes a few seconds then the door swings open.
"Come in! Come in!" he says. He sounds eager.
Ryan closes the door. "Kayla! I'm so glad you could come over again." And then he surprises me. He hugs me. All I can think is "why is he hugging me" and then I realize that is just his way of expressing appreciation and so I just let it happen. Truth be told it feels nice since I kind of said to my parents that I didn't want that anymore from them during my high school years and it's not like I have a boyfriend or will have one anytime soon. Ryan is about 5' 10 and in good physical shape, maybe 180 lbs so little bigger than I am.
He pulls back but still has his strong hands on my upper arms. "Thank you for coming over on short notice," he says genuinely. "I don't know what I would do without you."
"What's the problem?" I ask. It sounds like it might be a big problem.
We go to his kitchen.
"I'm so embarrassed," he says sounding it. "I've only been eating out while my bitch of a wife is gone." I am shocked that he called his wife a bitch but from the little that he said about her, I'm sure it's accurate. "But I'm tired of it so I planned to make myself dinner and I can't understand the simplest of directions. I feel so stupid."
It's a simple box mix. The kind where there's a box of pasta and you boil water, put the pasta in, and when the noodles are done then you mix in the packet of sauce. This mix is linguine so a white sauce.
"I can help."
"Oh, thank you, Kayla. You're not only beautiful but you have the kindest heart. It's refreshing to have a true woman in this house."
True woman? Me? That is a really nice thing for him to say.
While I make his dinner, he asks me about school. My classes are the first year basics.
"If you need any help just come on over. I'm not that good in math but I know my history pretty well. Or you could come over anytime you just want to get out of your house to have a different place to study. You couldn't do it when my wife is here. She just wouldn't understand people helping people. You helping me and me helping you is an alien concept to that bitch." This time when he says "bitch" I smile.
"Okay," I say. It might be nice to be over here instead of always being in my room at my parents' house. I would feel independent.
The meal only takes about 30 minutes to make.
"Are you hungry? Have you eaten already? I know it's not much but I would love some company. Please join me for dinner."
My first thought is that I should be getting back but I don't have a lot of homework and it would be nice to eat somewhere else than my parents' dinner table.
I eat with Ryan at his circular table that is just off the kitchen.
Instead of him always asking me questions I ask him questions. Ryan is 36, so he's twice as old as me. I used to think he was so old when I was 12 and he would have been 30 but now I realize that he's not so old after all now that I'm older. It probably helps my thinking that Ryan treats me like an adult and my parents still treat me like a child. I kind of wish I got to know Ryan when I was younger.
"Let's not talk about my wife," he responds when I ask about her. "All you need to know is I don't love her and when the time is right I'm going to divorce her."
"When is the right time?" I have no idea what is the right or wrong time to divorce someone.
"I just need to take care of a few things to make sure she doesn't get anything that she has no right to have. It just takes time."
That explains it. It makes sense.
I ask him about his job. "It's really hard to find a job in this market. Really tough. I just need to keep trying."
I help him put away things and load and start the dishwasher.
"Kayla," he says holding both my hands loosely in his hands as I am at the door about to leave. He looks into my eyes. I didn't notice before how Ryan's brown eyes sparkle.
They are so pretty. "I can't remember when I've had a nicer, more pleasant evening in a long, long time."
"I had a good time too." It is the truth.
"Well, let me say that it was made extra special since I was in the company of such a beautiful and charming woman. You have a wonderful, generous, loving heart. You're a special person. I like Kayla a whole lot."
"Th ... thank you." My head spins. No one ever said such things about me.
Grandparents do NOT count!
Somehow I get home even though my feet don't touch the ground. I float on his compliments.
My school books wait for me on my bed but I ignore them for now. I lie my head on my pillow and stare at the ceiling. Ryan is such a nice guy and he's handsome too.
I never noticed that before but I never talked to him until today. I decide right then what I am going to do tomorrow evening. I am going to study! It wil get me out of the house and it is fun to talk to Ryan, adult-to-adult. Plus he sees beyond my physical shortcomings, a slightly heavy girl who didn't receive any hips from the stupid puberty fairy.
I make dinner for the both of us. I don't mind because he is so appreciative. For Ryan,
I choose to cook.
I didn't get much studying done. Ryan isn't much help and I enjoy just talking with him too much. It feels so pleasant. It is peaceful in my heart.
"You make me happy," he says. "I didn't know if I would ever experience happiness again."
I knew the feeling though I don't tell him. I felt happy these last two days too. Is it really only two days? It feels like we've been talking to each other for a week.
When I return home I feel perplexed when I realize I still don't know hardly anything about him. He is good at turning the questions back to me and so he now knows about my sister and my parents and my hamster, Snowball, that I had when I was 7 years old and how I let it out into the yard to play and he escaped and he was found the next day killed by a neighbor's cat. I can't believe I still get teary over that. Ryan didn't care.
He lets me be me. That's what makes him such a good friend. I had no idea the man living next door would become my best friend. That makes me feel so happy!
It is challenging to study. I kept thinking about my two days chatting with Ryan.
I don't even bring my books over the next evening. I will study and do my homework when I return home. If I have stay up late to finish then so be it.
When my parents ask where I am going for my third night in a row, I say I am walking over to a friend's house. When they ask for a name I am not ready but only pause for an extra second before I say "Rachel". I don't want my parents freaking out that I am spending time with an older man. They'd think the worst of it like parents always do.
Ryan and I are only talking! They wouldn't understand. Parents never do. It is better to tell them a lie.
This evening I press Ryan and finally find out that he moved here from Peoria, I forget where that is, and he has a younger sister, (I'm a younger sister!), and that his mom remarried after his dad died and he doesn't like her new husband. He's only in contact with his sister and that's not that often. By the way, I couldn't help but laugh out loud when Ryan said his sister's name is Rachel. I then had to explain the whole thing I told my parents about visiting a girlfriend named Rachel. He thought I am very smart and clever in what I said to my parents. Ryan always know the right things to say. That's why I feel so good around him.
"I'm very sad to say that my wife is going to be back tomorrow."
My face drops. I can't hide my sadness but that is only being selfish. I should feel most sad for Ryan having to live with his bitch of a wife again but I really want to come over tomorrow and talk adult woman to adult man.
"I'm sorry the bitch will be back." Yes, I said "bitch"!
"The good news is that it's only three days and then we can be together again."
Three days! How can I possibly last three days? Life just isn't fair sometimes. A lot of the time!
It is hard pulling up to my house after my classes knowing that I can't go over to Ryan's because his awful wife is home again. I can't wait for Monday when I can talk with him again. I feel sorry for Ryan having to live with such a woman but just between you and me, deep down I am more sad for me.
Before 9 pm I receive a text from Ryan. "Thinking of you!"
"Me too!!!" I excitedly reply.
"I miss you."
"I miss you more!!!" I reply.
My heart feels full, like it's going to burst. I would have never imagined receiving a text message from Ryan would make me feel so happy.
He hasn't replied yet so I text to him, "I can't wait to see you again."
"Sorry, I can't talk right now," comes his response.
Now I feel like my heart is breaking. No, that is silly to feel that way. He just can't text right now. I should be happy that he is thoughtful enough to send a message. I am so ungrateful. Why am I so bothered? So I've talked to the neighbor man who is twice my age a few nights in a row. So what? I like talking to him. Is that wrong? No, of course not. So is it okay to wish his wife isn't home so I can talk to Ryan instead? Of course.
He probably isn't talking to her tonight anyway. Poor Ryan. I wish there is some way
I could rescue him.
I don't hear from Ryan at all on Saturday so that is hard and I feel alone again.
On Sunday, he texts "One more day. Can't talk until I see you."
My excitement swells. I have a really, really hard time concentrating on my schoolwork for my Monday classes.
I can tell I did poorly on the math test but I don't care. I get to spend time with Ryan again. You'd think I am in love or something but that's not the case. I just ... I just like him. That's enough. I like having a good friend.
I dump my book bag on my bed. I change into a tank top and shorts without spending anytime looking at myself in the mirror naked. I choose a tank top that I don't wear very much because it shows cleavage. I am an adult woman to Ryan so I can act like one around him. I only have to please myself and not my parents or anyone else. If I showed my boobs more in high school I might have had a few dates! Who am I kidding? I could never do that in high school. It would just be the juvenile boys trying to look down my top. It wouldn't be any of the cute boys.
I am very tempted to just open Ryan's front door and go right in but I am reasonable.
What if his wife isn't gone yet? How would I explain what I am doing in his house? I couldn't say I am here to see Ryan.
I ring the doorbell. It is agonizing seconds until the door opens. And there he is! He is smiling and I am smiling. He is happy to see me too!
I enter and the door is closed behind me then he embraces me in a big hug and I happily embrace him back. It feels good to be in his arms. I feel content. It is something I don't feel very often. I feel cherished. I feel valued. I feel that he cares about me.
He pulls back his head and we stare into each other eyes. What is he thinking?
"I missed you so much, Kayla." It sounds so heartfelt. It sounds like he's in anguish while we are apart. I can relate.
I am about to express that I missed him too when he pulls me close again and this time ... he kisses me!
My entire body became rigid. I hadn't kissed any boy since a middle school dare like when most teens have their first kiss but that's not a genuine kiss. It's just a touching of lips and no one really likes it. It's not a real kiss until you do it with someone you care about and so in a very real sense I never kissed before.
The pressure of his lips, the moisture, the tingly feel it gives me. I evaluate it all in an instance and I decide to kiss him back. My body settles into it and I enjoy my first true kiss and it is not with some stupid high school boy but with a man. I am glad I did not have my first kiss until I am a woman.
I like kissing! I could do this forever! I hear a soft moan escape my lips. I feel so good.
I want a time-stop bubble to trap Ryan and I in this moment.
It is Ryan who decides to break away. It feels like we kissed for a long time and at the same time for only a short time. He takes my hand in his and leads me into the living room. I feel like he is my boyfriend! We sit on the sofa and face each other.
"So tell me all about your weekend, Kayla. Don't leave anything out. I want to know all about you."
It is so wonderful to have a man care so much about me. I have never been happier in my life.
So I talk and he wants me to tell him everything I did from the moment I left his house last time and he asks a lot of questions and of course I can't remember everything I did but his questions do help me remember all the stupid stuff like when I watched TV or just listened to music and so what do I like to listen to and he is interested in all of it so
I happily tell him all. I also notice that sometimes his eyes go to my cleavage and I can tell he tries to hide that he looks but honestly every time he looks gives me a little thrill.
He is interested in me as a woman. So what I did is normally so not me but I turned more toward him and even pulled my top down a little so he could get an even better look at my boobs! It feel a little bit naughty but mostly it feels exciting. A man is interested in my physical body. What a good feeling!
So when I am done talking I ask about his weekend.
"You don't want to hear about it," Ryan says.
"Yes, I do! You have to tell me about your weekend."
"Let me just say that I can't wait until the time is right that I can chuck that bitch into the trash."
"I'm sorry." I now wished I hadn't asked him about his weekend. I made him sad.
"It's alright. It's just always that way with Amy. I so fucking hate her!"
The swear word surprises me but I don't mind it. It is the only way to express your feelings sometimes.
"Is there anything I can do?" I ask. I had no idea what it might be but if there is something I could do then I want to do it."
"You could make me feel better by giving me a kiss."
I smile and my heart thrills. I like being desired.
I lean in and kiss him. I am already addicted to that tingly feeling and now I get a pleasant fluttery feeling in my stomach. Our positions are awkward at first until he moves his legs up onto the sofa and I end up on top of him. It is much easier to kiss now. I love the feel of his hands roaming all over my back. At times I am very aware of my boobs pressing down against his chest. I can also tell that my nipples get hard sometimes. My face feels very warm and my breathing is ragged and that is all from kissing this wonderful man.
I kind of surprise myself because it feels like I can't get enough of his kisses. I want to kiss and kiss and kiss. I am disappointed when he needs a break.
I get off him and the clock says it is time to go.
"Can we kiss more?" I hope.
"You should go. Don't worry. There's more where that came from."
He is right like he always is.
The next two days we talk, then we make out, then we make dinner together, then we make out some more, and finally it is time I should go home.
Thursday is different. We do the same though I notice his hands rub my body more urgently and I notice we press our bodies against each other more.
But there is one important BIG difference.
Before I am about to leave his house Ryan says, "I love you. I want to be with you."
My head swims. Is this the time? Do I even want it? Now and with him?
Ryan says, "I want you right now but I don't want you to answer tonight. My wife returns tomorrow. When we do it I want to wake up in the morning in the same bed as you."
I walk home in a daze. My mind is exploding.