A Fresh Start - Cover

A Fresh Start

Copyright© 2011 by rlfj

Prologue

Do-Over Sex Story: Prologue - Aladdin's Lamp sends me back to my teenage years. Will I make the same mistakes, or new ones, and can I reclaim my life? Note: Some codes apply to future chapters. The sex in the story develops slowly.

Caution: This Do-Over Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Historical   Military   School   Rags To Riches   DoOver   Time Travel   Anal Sex   Exhibitionism   First   Oral Sex   Voyeurism  

Thursday, July 14, 2022

“Mom, can I have the keys to the car?” Elsie’s yell reverberated around the house.

I glanced over at Elspeth’s mother, my daughter-in-law Janine. “She’s driving?”

Janine simply rolled her eyes. “Yeah, she’s driving me crazy!” We were standing in her kitchen, with me leaning against the counter watching as she rolled out a pie crust. Every once in a while, I would try to sneak a little cherry pie filling, but she would wave her rolling pin at me and shoo me away. “And you’re not helping me either!”

Elsie and her thirteen-year-old sister, Gwynneth, came bounding into the kitchen. “Mom, did you hear me? I need the car keys.”

Janine looked at her eldest daughter in a very unsympathetic way. “Since when do you get to drive by yourself? You only have a learner’s permit...”

Elsie, all of sixteen and full of teenage angst, simply rolled her eyes. “Mom, I know how to drive!” she whined.

“ ... And you know you have to have someone with you until you get your license.”

“I can go with her!” piped up Gwynnie.

“Someone with a license,” finished Janine.

“Mom!” complained my granddaughter. I just smiled at her mother. I love my grandkids dearly, but the girls were a handful. “Well, you can go.”

Janine groaned. “I’m busy. I’m cooking.”

“But Mom, I have to go!” The whining was getting overwhelming.

Janine wasn’t buying any of it. “Uh, huh. I’m making pies for your cheerleading bake sale, so I suppose I can always throw them away...”

I gave a horrified look at this - Janine makes a mean pie! - but Elsie immediately protested that she needed her mother to do both. Janine simply shrugged and gave a look of total disinterest.

“I can go with the girls.” I interjected. They all looked at me. “Hey, I’ve still got my license.”

“Yes!” cried Elsie. She ran off to her bedroom.

“Shotgun!” screamed Gwynnie. She took off to her bedroom. “Shotgun!”

Janine gave an exasperated sigh and shook her head over at me. “You are too good with those two.”

I just laughed. “I’m the grandpa. My job is to be easy. Load ‘em up on sugar and give ‘em back to the owners, remember,” I said, reminding her of one of Marilyn’s and my favorite sayings about our grandchildren. The other, ‘grandchildren are a grandparent’s revenge.’ was equally appropriate. “When do we need to be home by?” I asked.

She glanced at the clock over the stove. “If you are back by five, Parker will be home by then, and we can have dinner by six.”

I nodded. I had already seen her putting chicken parts in a marinade. My son Parker was currently working a day shift at the power plant. After twenty years as a nuclear power plant operator in the Navy, he had taken retirement and was now a nuclear power plant operator at the Ginna plant outside of Rochester.

“I’d better get ready myself.” Upstairs I could hear the girls rampaging through the bathroom.

Janine simply snorted. “Sucker!”

I headed down the basement stairs to the small apartment I rented. I changed into a clean shirt and put a pair of socks on before slipping into my loafers. Then I grabbed my cane and a windbreaker, pulled my fedora on, and climbed back up the stairs. The girls were already out the door and waiting for me impatiently. As soon as they saw me, they scrambled into the driver and passenger seats. I simply shook my head and walked up to where Gwynnie was sitting in the front passenger seat. I stood at the door and pointedly hooked my thumb towards the back seat.

Gwynnie opened the door and whined. “I called shotgun!”

“If I am the adult licensed driver, I have to be up here.” I stepped back to let her out.

She climbed out with undisguised ill grace. “This is so not fair!” I just shooed her towards the rear and climbed into the front seat.

Elsie laughed. “I know where I’m sitting, anyway!” She already had the key in the ignition.

Gwynnie made an unprintable comment, although she did have the good grace to look at me guiltily afterwards. I decided to let it slide. I focused on being the responsible adult, and made sure both girls were buckled in. “So, what’s the plan?”

“We’re going to the mall!” Elsie moved to turn the key in the ignition, and I stopped her.

“Hold it. More detail. How are you getting there? What roads? Where are you going to park?” I peppered her with a few more questions related to the drive over.

Elsie gave a very exasperated sigh and answered before I would allow her to continue, even though her kid sister kept urging her to ‘Go!’ After a minute, I relented and allowed her to go, although I insisted we go by a slightly different route. I wanted her to practice a little more before she took me out on the highway. It wasn’t that she was a bad driver. She was a typical sixteen-year-old female driver, otherwise known as an accident in the making. More than once she and Gwynnie got so wrapped up in their conversation I had to rap my cane against the dashboard to get her to pay attention.

I hadn’t expected my life to end up this way. Marilyn and I had our own home, and our oldest girl, Alison, had lived with us. But then, two years ago, Marilyn had dropped dead of a heart attack. She was only sixty-six at the time, but she always swore she would outlive me. I had known better; she never took decent care of herself, and was far too heavy, heavier even than me, and I’m not small. Worse was last year when Alison died of congestive heart failure. Both Marilyn and I had been expecting this. Alison had Williams Syndrome, and in addition to the mild retardation (which was why she lived with us still) she also had the typical heart problems involved. The average Williams Syndrome patient dies of heart disease in their fifties, but Alison was only forty-two.

Chapter 1 »

 

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