Chapter 3

To end a marriage; I have sex with a teenage girl.

A couple of days after they’d slept together, my wife was out for an early dinner with Marty. I was in the salon when a teenage girl came in; she had stunning long chestnut hair, big dark eyes, and pale skin. A bit on the short side, slightly heavy with very large breasts. I was finishing up with someone else, but I kept one eye on the girl; she had amazing hair, the kind I loved to get my fingers into. Then I recognized her, she was the drunken teenager Luisa and I drove home that time. She was staring at the big poster on the end wall.

“Hi.” I said with a smile when I was free, “How can I help you?”

She seemed hesitant. I really wanted to get my fingers into that hair of hers. It’s not a sexual thing; or maybe it is, a little. Mainly it’s artistic and professional, it’s just great to work with such excellent material.

“Can you really make my hair look like that?” she asked, indicating the poster.

“I can.” I told her, “That’s my work. It’s actually my partner, Luisa. That’s from about fifteen years ago.”

“Really? Wow, she was really beautiful.”

“She still is.” I said, “We’ve met, haven’t we?”

“Yes.” She said, embarrassed. “I don’t remember much. My mom said I should come here to have my hair cut. Usually she does it, but she can’t now.”

“Well take a chair.” I said, my fingers tingling with excitement. Her hair did need attention, it was frayed and unkempt.

We talked while I shampooed her, snipped away split ends, conditioned, and dried her.

Her name was Tara; she lived alone with her mother, who had MS and was weakening. She had never been drunk before, and after what nearly happened to her, she hadn’t been drunk again either [she claimed]. Everything started spilling out of her; her absent father, her dying mother, her childish peers at school who couldn’t begin to understand her stress and grief.

It was after 5, and no other customers came in. I took my time, going through her thick strands several times. She clearly needed to talk, and I was enjoying her company.

Luisa called; she said she was going to a social thing with Marty and would be back late.

“Ok, but do you remember that girl we took home from the bar last month?” I asked her, “She’s here right now, she wanted to meet you.”

“That was Luisa.” I said, “She isn’t coming back in this evening.”

“She’s not your girlfriend?” Tara asked.

“No, not any more. We still work together though.” I said.

“That must be weird.” Tara remarked. “You both date other people?”

“That’s right. So what happens with your mother now? Do you have some insurance to cover the financials at least?”

“Not really. We still have cover from her last job, and my dad is paying a little.”

I took the hand mirror so she could see her new hairstyle. She looked slightly shocked.

“Oh my god! It’s gorgeous!” she said, standing up.

I reached out and ran my fingers through, letting the long smooth strands fall around her cute face. She shook her head slightly, and it moved and a gleaming wave around her shoulders.

“It’s like one of those shampoo commercials.” She said, slightly in awe.

“You have fantastic hair.” I agreed, “Irresistible.”

She spun around and grinned up at me, her big clear eyes shining in delight. I felt a twinge of pride, and another lower down.

“Really?” she beamed, obviously pleased at my compliment.

“You look stunning.” I said, enjoying our little flirtation. It seemed pretty harmless at the time. “You look better than the poster.”

The girl turned back to face the big mirror; her joy might not last long, but I was truly glad that I’d been able to give her this little boost.

She tossed her head again and smiled at me through the glass.

I noticed a few cut strands on her neck, so I pulled her hair to one side so I could brush them away.

I swear I don’t know if it was her moving back or me moving forward; but she was suddenly leaning against me, her round bottom against my upper thighs and my nose just above her head. My hands landed on her shoulders, holding her steady. But what was really affecting me was the look in her eyes, the expression on her face.

Those big young eyes were staring into mine, wide and clear. She was radiating desire, excitement, hope.

My fingers tightened of their own accord; my cock was swelling and my brain seemed to switch into auto-mode as I pulled her against myself, bending to kiss her ear lightly.

Some part of me was screaming; she’s a child! She doesn’t understand her own emotion yet, she’s too young to make this choice. I’m too old for her; a boy her own age can be as foolish as she is and they can do as they like, but I have to be adult. I can’t fool around with this poor girl, she has enough trouble.

She spun around and put her arms around my neck, her angelic face beaming up at me, her big breasts pressing against my chest. My hands refused to obey me, and were tight on the small of her back. Hormones were ruling us both; a little kiss, just a taste ... that couldn’t harm either of us, could it? She was just a kid, fooling around, experimenting with her own emotions and feelings. She didn’t really want anything with a man my age, just some reassurance, to know she was desirable.

Then we kissed; a sixteen year old girl and a 45 year old man, each desperate in their own way. We kissed, sharing our saliva and our need for affection.

She was a child with adult worries. She needed a man, not a boy.

Her mouth opened and my tongue slipped in, meeting her tongue for a hot wet dance. My cock was a steel rod, pressing against her belly. She had something I needed too; her desire for me. Her hot teenage lust was the cure for my self loathing. Her eager kiss, her curvy body pressed tight against me seemed to open a long forgotten valve in my belly, releasing my imprisoned ego.

I was being a fool, my logical brain told me, imagining this could be anything but disaster. But it felt so good, so powerful; like the rush of a powerful drug, I was hooked. I’d do anything for more, risk my life, my future, my reputation.

After an eternity, we broke apart.

“I’d better go.” She said unconvincingly.

“Yes; I have an appointment coming in soon.” I lied.

The next day I saw her outside, looking in at me through the front window. I left Luisa in charge and took Tara to lunch.

We only talked; I guess we both had a lot to say. This was harmless I thought; but I was wrong. Talking is an intercourse that can be more intimate that the sexual kind. We had a third date; I kissed her when I dropped her off at her mother’s house, just a quick peck. But on our fourth rendezvous, things heated up.

Tara came by the shop just as I was about to lock up. Luisa was out with Marty, we were alone. It was good to be able to talk in private, without feeling self conscious about what others might be thinking.

The girl told me about her life, trying to get decent marks in school as her mother weakened at home.

“It must be pretty tough.” I said, “I’ve been renovating upstairs just to have a place to live.”

“That’s so cool.” She said, “You’ll live over your shop? Then you don’t have any commute.”

“That’s true.” I said, “Do you want to see it?”

I immediately regretted asking; teenage girls are not interested in construction projects.

“Sure!” she said.

I locked the front and we went up.

“I’ve only finished the bedroom.” I told her, “There’s still no kitchen or bathroom.”

I opened the bedroom door for her.

“Wow!” she said, “It’s nice, you even have a bed already.”

Yes, there are already cameras embedding in the ceilings, and I was hoping to watch my wife fuck her boyfriend in it soon I didn’t say.

“The view is really good from here.” I said, “You can see right down the street to the park from the bed.”

She jumped up to take a look.

Jesus; there was a sixteen year old in my bed. The doors were locked, we were alone. We locked eyes for a very awkward second, then she looked out of the window. She stayed on the bed, lying on her back with her legs crossed and her hands on her belly; her magnificent hair spilled over the pale bedcover.

Slowly, the light dawned; she wanted it. Right here, right now. How far could a girl go to let an idiot like me know?

My mouth went a bit dry; what should a middle aged man do? Call her mother, drive her home? Dial 911?

I remembered that night, those two guys. Was I the same as them? On the other hand, wouldn’t it hurt her if I rejected her?

My cock pulsed dangerously and my ego cried for this chance to be a man again. A real man would just do it; take her, have his way with the willing young beauty. This wasn’t a chance to be missed, unless I was a pussy-whipped queer.

Which was getting to be a distinct possibility.

I got into the bed, lying next to her. We were silent for a few seconds. It was up to me; she had gone as far as she would go by herself.

My hand slid over, and I put a finger on the back of her small hand. I slowly stroked between her knuckles to her wrist, then lifted the finger up an inch. She could pull her hand away, or...

She turned her hand over, so it was palm up. My finger dropped to her wrist again, caressing her. She made no move, she just lay silent and still as my finger stroked her young softness. I took her palm between my thumb and forefinger, squeezing gently, then releasing her. I rolled onto my side to face her, so I could see her as I ran my finger up her young smooth arm, sliding a little way under her tee-shirt to her shoulder.

She turned her head to face me. She was excited and afraid; she made no move to leave. She didn’t move closer to me or lift her hand to touch me either.

“You’re very beautiful.” I told her.

“I’m short and fat.” she said.

“Who told you that?” I asked her.

“I have eyes.” She said neutrally.

“Well to me you’re a beautiful young woman.” I said, still running my finger up and down her naked arm.

After a couple of more minutes, I moved closer, bring my face near her face. I stopped an inch away; I could feel her breath, her desire, her fear. It was exhilarating.

I’d never been with a virgin [not that I knew she was one]. When I was her age, I’d been seduced by Monica, twenty years my senior. After that, I’d had a secession of older lovers until I’d gotten together with Luisa.

Tara moved her head, closing the final gap, and we kissed.

Touching only at our mouths and fingers, we toyed with each other. My cock was very uncomfortable, trapped under my jeans, but I ignored it.

I was hiding it better, but I was just as afraid as she was. Even if things went well, there could be trouble; but mainly I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to give her the sex she deserved. She was young and gorgeous ... how could I hope to control myself if I slid my uncontrollable dick into that hot young body?

I’d been doing ok with Monica. But that was different, she was old. The truth was, I didn’t find her all that attractive. Was I doomed to only be able to make love to women I didn’t actually want?

Tara and I embraced, her big firm breasts pressing against me, pushing forgotten buttons.

I’d had a big titted girl once, long ago. Anna had been so hot when she was in her late twenties [and I was still in my teens], but now those big breasts were low hanging empty bags [people should really be more circumspect about the photos they put on facebook]. What a tragedy.

Luisa had never had tits until recently. She developed them when she was thirty. Marty probably had his old hands on them at that very moment.

I kissed the girl passionately, wondering how far we were going to go. If she decided to get up and go home, I wouldn’t have been bitter at all. A guy in his forties can be happy if a girl like Tara just smiles at him.

My hands slipped under her tee-shirt and slid up her back. She stiffened a little, writhing slightly, pressing herself tighter against me. God, she was hot for it. I became aware of small hands trying to open my belt.

I pulled away. Her great chest heaved with her breathing.

This was what every man dreamed of; yet I was hesitant. Should I do this? I was a fraud, a useless little shit of a man. I watched my wife fuck other men, I let an old woman do me in the ass with a strap-on. How could I take the cherry of this innocent girl? I would only disappoint her, she deserved better for her first time.

“Take your shirt off for me.” I suggested quietly, while my conscience screamed NO behind me.

“Ok.” She agreed happily.

As I unhooked her bra, I wondered if this could possibly be ok.

I was forty-five, she was sixteen. Other than that, it seemed reasonable. So what’s with the age difference? When is it exploitation?

When I was her age, I lost it to a woman my age, and never regretted it in the slightest. There was one big difference though; Monica was good in bed. I wasn’t.

Was that a game stopper? Was it immoral to have poor sex, but perfectly fine to have good sex with a teenager? If she was a virgin, then how would she know? Maybe she would think I was great.

I ran my hands over her big firm breasts; I’d never been into big tits the way some guys were, but these were really superb.