“Now, Janet, are you sure you don’t need anything else?” Gwen asked. I winced, anticipating our daughter’s answer.
“Honestly, Mom!” The dorm room was going to be Janet’s space -- well, it would belong to her and the roommate who still hadn’t materialized. It wasn’t going to be Gwen’s space, and that probably made Janet as happy as anything else about starting college.
“I think we’ve outstayed our welcome, Gwen,” I said. When she didn’t take my hint, I took her hand and led her out.
“Honestly, Paul,” Gwen said while we were going down the stairs. “She’s my last child,” she said as we were driving away.
“Well,” I pointed out, “she’s my last child, too. Anyway, Kent comes home for Christmas and the summer, and Drake makes Christmas.” If he was as serious about this latest girl, Lianne, as he made it sound, that might not remain true. Still, this wasn’t the time to borrow trouble.
The drive back took us nearly three hours, and Gwen sniffled through two of them. Finally, she turned on the radio. She changed the station, turning the dial to find the sort of music she liked.
“Y’know,” I said when she had relaxed back and the DJ was between songs, “you could listen to that station anytime you’re in the car.” I pulled out the closest knob to set the station.
“That knob was WFMT, the station that Janet always plays.” Well, it had been.
“Yeah. It’s not her family car any more. It’s our car, our choices, our life.” Gwen smiled at that.
“I’m going to miss her.”
“So will I, and she’ll miss you.” For one thing, neither of them would ever find another person that got on her nerves as readily. The next song came on. When had “Yellow Submarine” become a golden oldie? Gwen was humming along, now. By the time we got home, her tears were only something that had messed up her mascara. While she repaired the damage in the upstairs john, I emptied my bladder in the downstairs one. She came down in more comfortable shoes and went into the kitchen.
“What do you want for dinner?” she asked.
“How about starting with a kiss for an appetizer?” She came into my arms willingly enough, her tongue meeting mine. She merely glanced sideways out of habit when I squeezed her ass. When my hands pushed up her blouse, though, she stepped back.
“We do have a bedroom.”
“We have a whole house. Who’s going to interrupt us?” Not only were our children gone, but their friends knew that they were gone. She stood thinking about that for a moment. When she realized the truth of my comment, she relaxed. I opened her blouse before moving in for another kiss. During that, I reached for her bra. I fumbled unsnapping it, and she gave me absolutely no help. She was laughing by the time I got it. She started to remove her blouse, and I stepped back to give her room.
“You’re out of practice,” she said. I was. I’d often helped her from in back, but it had been years since I’d taken the lead in undressing her.
With her blouse and bra on a kitchen chair, she turned around and backed towards me. I kissed ear and neck and shoulder. Meanwhile, my hands roamed over her breasts and tweaked her nipples.
“Don’t start anything you can’t finish.”
“What makes you think I can’t finish it?” I pulled her back so she could feel my erection against her ass. She turned around, and I began kissing her breast. I lifted it so I could tongue her nipple. I sucked there while my hands went to her waistband.
“Hey!” Her hands pushed at mine, but she didn’t grab her slacks as they fell. “You really are serious.” I pushed her pantyhose down to mid-thigh, and then pushed her panties down to join them. “That’s not going to help unless you feel like Rhett Butler.” I didn’t plan to carry her up the stairs; I didn’t plan to go upstairs at all.
I moved over to the other breast. I stood mostly to her side while my left hand played with her bush and my right hand squeezed her ass. Then I moved both hands inward. I rubbed her labia together with my right hand before parting them with my left to reach her clit. She’d been surprised when I started, and rather dry. Soon, though, she got in the mood. She rested one arm on my shoulder while I played with her moistening cunt. She rested her other hand on a kitchen chair, allowing her to sway without having to worry about her balance. She couldn’t take real steps, but she sort of shuffled in a circle allowing me to reach different parts.
“Paul.” She used a ‘don’t do that’ tone, but she wasn’t pushing me away. When I got to licking the back of her ear while teasing both clit and nipple, she sagged back against me.
“Paul.” This time her tone was inviting.