Chapter 68: An Unwilling Compliment

Friday, December 20, 1985

My Computer Architecture final was even easier than I expected it to be. With it done, my semester was, too. The next time I attended a class at A&M, I would be engaged. It was a surprisingly daunting thought. Warm and happy — even joyous — but daunting.

Less than two weeks from now, I would drop to one knee, look up at Jasmine, and ask her to commit to sharing this life with me until death do us part. And, really, I would be asking for ‘beyond,’ if ‘beyond’ was an option. We didn’t know, but we were nearly certain there was a beyond.

Angie would do the same, right next to me. That was also daunting. Not because Paige was a girl, and not because of our parents, but because it would be doubly nervous. A ‘no’ would crush my beloved sister. It would also break two relationships I had come to see as fundamental to our lives: mine and Jasmine’s with Paige. How could either of us continue with Paige if Angie did not?

Oh, the odds of this were, almost certainly, as close to zero as made no difference. But, as a wise man once opined, ‘Never tell me the odds!’ It wasn’t about the odds, it was about the significance of the moment.

And all of that was only half of why it was daunting. I was a divorcé and a veteran of a long and painful marriage. I had gone into that marriage with hope and optimism. My wedding day had truly been one of the best days of my first life.

Within two days, my hopes for smooth sailing had been crushed by our first post-wedding fight. The fights came and went, but there had been so many, over so many years, that it sometimes seemed implausible that I was going to do this again.

Yet I was, and eagerly. Living a new life and being nineteen again certainly was part of that, but it wasn’t the whole thing. Jasmine being worlds apart (figuratively, but also literally) from my ex-wife was part of that, too. But some of it was a shift in me, a shift I could have made at roughly sixty (the age I perhaps ‘should be’ right now). Would I have? Who could tell?

It would all be fine. I was certain of that. Yet I would be nervous day in and day out until the fateful hour came. It could hardly be otherwise.

I dropped by Hullabaloo Cafe long enough to tell Amy about the house and wish her Happy Holidays again. She was happy about the house, thought it would be nice to get to know Cammie and Mel, and was very happy to get one more round of holiday greetings.

I also dropped off her present. That floored her. She clearly wasn’t expecting me to get her anything, and I don’t think she knew how to proceed. I made sure she knew that there was no obligation to find me a gift, and explained some of our gift-giving philosophy. Nevertheless, I wouldn’t be surprised if something turned up. Whatever it was, I would cherish it.

Candice and Sherry left just after I got home. They weren’t entirely thrilled with their holiday plans, but it would be ‘good enough.’ They would be switching between parents’ houses, and neither set of parents would let them sleep in the same room.

Yes, that was closing the barn door with the horse very, very long gone, but I understood it. Even if they hadn’t maintained the fiction that they had a two-bedroom apartment, parents are parents. Ours were all surprisingly cool, but Mom and Dad only allowed it based on our promises to follow their rules. Paige had broken Tony and Jean in years ago, and Camille and Francis had seen nothing wrong with their teenage daughter doing whatever she wanted in her bedroom — with whomever she wanted.

It would be interesting to see how Mom and Dad’s rules changed. Would an engagement make the difference, or would we need to wait for marriage? There was no question that we slept together at home, day in and day out. No one had said that we had sex, but Mom was no fool. Of course we did.

On the other hand, I was certain Mom believed we had never crossed the line in their home — and we hadn’t. That probably worked in our favor.

Even if Mom gave us the green light, we might still wait for marriage, honestly. Both of us had a house in Houston where sex was more than fine, and we could easily go a night or two without. Trading that for Mom being happy with things was entirely fair.

It was her home. We not only could respect that, we should respect that. I had nothing against Mom and Dad being religious and living their beliefs.

I’d been thinking, and I wrote up a set of instructions for Darla.

The first was, ‘Visit someplace you like. The mall, the library, whatever. Pick a restroom. Give yourself at least two. Do your best to stay quiet, but no cheating with any sort of gag.’

The second was, ‘Try for five in a row, at home, in bed. Put a cloth in your mouth if you need to. And I want you to need to.’

The third was, ‘If you can, find some secluded place where you might have played with boys as a kid. Make sure no one is around. At least two, right there, and be thinking about those boys and what they might have done that a tomboy who turned out to be a naughty good girl would have enjoyed. If there’s no safe place to try that, enjoy the same fantasy at home.’

The fourth, and last, was, ‘Pamper yourself as much as reasonably possible. Bubble bath, shampoo, whatever seems good. Then take yourself to bed and try for at least four. Slow, gentle, not rushing.’

That felt like a good mix of mostly naughty but with a sweet chaser. I expected her to flip out a bit at the third one, but probably more good than bad.

Each went in an envelope with the numbers 1-4 on them. They were an extra Christmas present for Darla — one she had better not share! Clara would not be happy.

I headed off to Krueger around six to meet up with Darla. As with last weekend, Jas’s and my bedroom was ours if we wanted it. She and Monique were in the basement guest room again. I was nearly certain Darla would want it. This weekend had to hold us for at least three weeks, anyway.

We caught up on finals over dinner at Hullabaloo Cafe. The place was nearly deserted with the flood of students leaving already well underway.

We caught up on her feelings, too. Her intent was to share nothing much new with Clara. It was becoming increasingly hard to balance ‘I’m not dating anyone that will be Mister Right’ and ‘Things are progressing and I’m trying new things,’ and that’s where the conversation would be. Trying to claim she was just talking about a friend was a dodge, but we both knew Clara wasn’t stupid. Nor was Darla all that great of an actress, really.

In some ways, she really wanted to somehow spill the beans. A married or engaged paramour, but one where she knew it wasn’t cheating? That would be ‘truthful enough,’ and it appeared that Clara could handle the (near) truth. After Thanksgiving, she was much more confident that a mother-daughter talk would be productive — as long as it didn’t veer too far into questions about Darla’s choice as to a romantic partner.

Darla was also planning on spending some time talking with Linda in person. That would likely be just full of things I didn’t want to think about. Honestly, I was rather happy that Linda had a steady boyfriend. She was hot, and we’d had a great time, but we didn’t need to rekindle anything, and I had a feeling Darla would sell things so much that Linda might well want to.

Tonight was an interesting balance between things getting ‘stale’ and ‘comfortable.’ We knew our roles, we knew what each other liked, and we had an agreement to not add anything much to them until January.

Since, right now, one of the things Darla really liked was adding new things, it was perhaps interesting that we weren’t, though.

We compromised a bit, though, which is why I found myself with a naked Darla over my fully clothed lap, my hand falling on her ass in little bursts.

“Oh ... my ... gah!” Darla panted out, crying. “I know ... I said ... harder ... but... fuck!”

“It’s barely even red,” I said. That wasn’t true. It was a pretty rosy red. No damage done, but she wasn’t going to be sitting entirely comfortably on the drive to Houston tomorrow.

Since this whole thing started with, ‘Wouldn’t it be naughty of me if I drove down to Houston with my ass and pussy both sore from my Wolf’s aggressions? Sore enough that I couldn’t really sit still and had to keep squirming around?’, it seemed entirely like the right thing to do.

I was trying to balance things. A bit of squirming, but recognition that she would then be sitting around with Clara, who might notice that Darla seemed to be having a bit of trouble keeping still.

Still, it was a pretty shade of red, and I was pretty sure this wasn’t the last time I was going to get her ass this color. It did seem to be a favorite.

“Gah!” she said as the next set landed. “Oh ... my ... God! I ... I...”

I tugged her ponytail, forcing her to look at me.

“Say it, Little Red.”

“I want you to fuck me so much! Please!”

“No.”

She shuddered really hard.

“Pleeeeeease!”

“No.”

“But...” she said.

“I’m not going to fuck you, Little Red. Not this time. You are going to climb into my lap and show me exactly how you want to be fucked, so I know what you want the next time.”

“OhmyGod!” she said.

It took her roughly five seconds to move from over my lap to into my lap. After that, she realized I was still fully dressed. I watched her face go from slightly flushed with excitement to trying to rival her ass for redness as it sunk in that she was again fully naked and wildly horny while I was fully dressed.

“Dammit! If I didn’t like this so much, I would be upset with you!” she said, trying to get my pants off.

“I ... think that’s a compliment!”

“It is! An unwilling one! Don’t let it go to your head!” she said.

Then she giggled a bit, realizing just how absurd that sounded.

Once she had enough of me naked to work, she put a condom on me, then had me inside of her as fast as possible. She put her arms around my neck, hugged herself to me, then started moving up and down as fast as she could while keeping me seated inside her.

I gave her ponytail a tug and looked into her eyes.

“Oh, I’m letting it go to my head, Little Red. I’ve got a lovely, smart, wonderful little pet tomboy. What wolf wouldn’t be glowing with pride and happiness over such a thing?”

“Godddddd!” she cried out, clamping down on my cock and shaking all over.

Once she recovered, she went right back to moving as quickly as she could.

“Unngh ... that ... was ... unnn ... thank you...” she said, moaning loudly.

“You’re welcome. And thank you, my good little girl.”

“Ohhhhhfuck!”

That didn’t push her over, but it certainly sped her along, I was pretty sure.

I made a half-hearted attempt to hold back, but only that. There would be more, I wasn’t going to last that long no matter how hard I fought it this time, and Darla unquestionably wanted me to let go.

And that ... well.

Next time.

“Soon, Little Red.”

“Yes yes yes yes yessssss!”

I tugged her down against me with her ponytail, pressing up and filling the condom. Her eyes rolled back as she was overtaken by another climax.

When she came back to herself, she snuggled up close, practically purring.

“I love doing that,” she said, giggling and blushing. “And I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She grinned a bit.

“Know something?”

“I’m not sure. Tell me?”

She grinned a bit more, and said, “I think I’m going to feel even naughtier when I’m screwing an engaged guy. Or he’s screwing me. Either way.”

“I’m glad. Assuming that’s a good thing.”

“It’s a verrrrrry good thing,” she said. “It’s ... okay. I really am being good and remembering I need a Mister Right. And that he’s not you. And ... he’s not going to be an engaged guy until I’m an engaged girl, if he’s really Mister Right. But that’s fine. By that point, there’ll be some naughtiness just because I’m with someone new. And ... a lot of other things. I love you, but I promise, I’m not stuck on you.”

“Good girl,” I said, while trying to figure out if that was just her being honest or if there was some level of ‘the lady doth protest too much’ in it. Perhaps both? We both knew there was a risk of Darla becoming overly attached to me. We also both knew I would take steps to curtail that if I needed to, up to and including breaking up with her. It would be a violation of my rules with Jasmine to continue with Darla if it was doing her harm, and she had repeatedly made it clear that ‘keeping her’ too long would do her harm.

She wiggled happily, then kissed me. Just a quick kiss, but it was very sweet.

We cuddled for a bit, and then I did something I probably wouldn’t have done if we weren’t using condoms: ate her pussy until she came four times. Never say never, but ... kisses after were fine. Eating her? Not my favorite, and I thought that was perfectly excusable.

She was very relaxed after all that, as one might expect, but not so relaxed that she didn’t want more. We were still trying to make her sore, after all.

I was pretty sure the next round did that.

But we tried once more in the middle of the night, just to be certain.

Saturday, December 21, 1985

Darla and I didn’t go for another repeat in the morning. Some sweet kissing, hugs, and a lot of caresses, but she was sore in exactly the way she wanted to be.

Breakfast was surprisingly not awkward. Everyone welcomed Darla with open arms and no one teased her any more than we teased each other. Less, really. She started off a bit blushy but ended up having a great time.

No one mentioned how often she was shifting around in her chair. That probably helped.

Once we’d had breakfast, I grabbed her overnight bag, took Darla’s hand, and walked her to my car. The others were going to finish packing and get the house squared away while I was taking Darla back to her dorm.

I parked in the drop-off space, fetched her bag and Darla’s presents (which were in the trunk), and helped her out of the car.