My daughter in law

“Does he treat you well?”

“Yes,” she whispered, but I could see a flash of insecurity in her expressive doe eyes. So, I leaned even closer. So close that I could hear her erratic heart beats.

“Let me rephrase that. Does he satisfy you, Bambi?”

Her lack of answer told me what I needed to know.

“You’re too good for him,” I murmured. Her hair felt so soft against the tip of my nose, and her scent made me crave her more than ever. I needed her. But most of all, I needed to show her how such a beautiful goddess should be treated.

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

“Oh, Aaron.”

Silent whimpers coated my ear channels as I pushed inside her. She was wet. No, she was fucking soaked.

“Ahh, yeah,” she hissed through clenched teeth, and she combed her nails through my hair and pulled when I started moving. A perky, firm ass filled my palms as I rocked us both in a steady rhythm, and she moaned when I pushed her up against the wall and lifted her, so her legs wrapped around my hips. I was already breathing hard. The familiar tension was starting to build up, but I held back. We had to stay silent and make it quick so we wouldn’t get caught, but I took pride in making her cum first. Most of all because I loved the sensation of a pulsating pussy clenching around my cock.

“Oh, my God,” she moaned, and I could hear it in her voice that it wouldn’t take long.

“Are you cumming, Allison?”

Instead of answering, she swallowed and nodded. Then she let out a loud moan that made me place my hand over her mouth.

“Shh... Keep it low,” I murmured and smiled. I loved watching when she panted against my hand. It made me feel powerful in a way. And even more so the times where she allowed me to squeeze her throat. Kinky, I know, but whatever to spice up an otherwise uneventful life, right?

Being single wasn’t as fun as when I was a teen. Now I was in the beginning of my forties, divorced and officially done with women for anything else but occasional hookups. And the past year I had mostly been fucking Allison, the staff leader at our local gym, ‘Fit for all’. She was a goddamn sexy little thing, but her whiny and clinging personality made it easy not to want something more.

Allison started chanting my name, and I felt her lips move against my palm. It was best that way. Then I didn’t have to kiss her, which was how I preferred it. It excluded the intimacy I’d sworn to stay away from, and it was less personal. It was perfect.

“Cum for me,” I demanded, knowing that usually was enough to tip her over the edge. Lowering my voice to a deep whisper directly into her ear was another. And when I did both and gave her a few rough thrusts, she arched her back and squeezed her eyes shut. Then finally, I allowed myself to get my release too.

I grunted and squeezed her ass hard when I pumped the condom full inside her, and she whimpered into my neck. I changed my grip to make her stand, and grabbed around my dick as I pulled out, while I made sure the condom was still intact. No way was I gonna knock her up and fuck my life up together with it. I already had a son. A grown one who was gonna get married in a couple of weeks. That was more than enough.

“Fuck,” I mumbled, and gave Allison a quick kiss on the cheek. She turned her head a little so I could kiss her on the lips, but I dodged her attempt and made it seem like I didn’t notice what she was trying to do. Cruel perhaps, but necessary. Then I disposed the condom and tucked myself back in my pants.

“So, do you have any plans for later?” she asked, and fixed her tits to make sure they were back in her sports bra. They were still way too exposed to be considered public acceptable, and her erect nipples were showing through, but that wasn’t my problem. Her tights were. They were hugging her thighs and ass perfectly, and made her look even more fit than she already was. Literally all the muscles were at display, teasing the fabric for each time they vibrated and flexed under her skin. You could see everything, even the vague contours of her pussy lips when she stood a certain way, which was the reason why we started fucking in the first place. The temptation was simply too big. And lifting weights with a half hard in your sweatpants was kind of revealing, and highly inappropriate and embarrassing. Lucky for me, she was horny enough to give me the relief I craved.

“Uhm... Yeah. I’m having visitors over. Family,” I said, but it was probably just a mumble. I didn’t care if she believed me or not, but at least it wasn’t a complete lie. My son and his fiancé were coming from New York this summer, and were staying for a few weeks to celebrate their wedding. I didn’t know if they’d arrived or not, though. They were staying at my ex’s house anyway, which probably was for the best, but Allison didn’t need to know that.

“Oh. Okay. So...” she said awkwardly and reminded me of how much I hated this part. The after sex. The small talk you had to do because it was expected of you, even though you didn’t have anything in common.

“So... See you around, then?”

“Yeah. See ya’,” she replied, sounding slightly disappointed. I didn’t care. She knew what she’d signed up for, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise. I didn’t want a girlfriend. Period. Everybody knew that.

I left the gym, heading for the grocery store, with the pleasant aftermath of having some of the gnawing sexual tension relieved. I knew it wouldn’t last long, but I did have hands, although fucking my fist while watching porn far from the real deal. But being sexually frustrated was okay compared to having a witch from hell haunting you every living hour, yelling at you because every single thing you did wasn’t good enough according to her insane standards. No, fuck all that. I’d been a loner ever since the divorce, and that’s how it was gonna stay.

Now it was time for dinner, and my bored mind was growling louder than my hungry stomach. It was the same fucking question every day. Chicken? Had it yesterday. Fish? Nah. Didn’t bother to decide which kind. Burger? No. If so, I would have bought it elsewhere and not the kind you have to make yourself. Soup? Hell no...

“Oh! I’m sorry!”

The words were exclaimed simultaneously by myself and the person I crashed into, and our eyes connected barely a second after. She automatically smiled and I saw a blush spread on her cheeks, while brown, doe eyes blinked with embarrassment. She was cute.

“I’m terribly sorry, sir. I didn’t see where I was going,” she said shyly and averted her gaze, and I found myself wanting her to look at me again. She was young, probably late in her teens or around twenty or so, and her hair was like a river of dark caramel flooding over her left shoulder and down her back.

“It’s okay. I didn’t see where I was going, either.”

Her eyes snapped up to mine again at the sound of my voice, and I saw her teeth graze over her bottom lip. Then she mirrored me when I smiled down at her.

“You look familiar. Have we met before?” she asked, but shook her head right after when she saw my questioning face.

“Never mind. You don’t happen to know where I can find vanilla extract, do you?” she asked, and when she coyly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, I spotted a ring on her finger. She was probably either married or engaged. But wasn’t she too young for that?

Like you’re the one to speak? You got married three days after you turned eighteen. Yeah, but that wasn’t really by choice, was it?

“Sure. It’s in the baking section over there,” I said and pointed out the direction, and I chuckled when I heard her groan.

“I can’t believe I walked right past that.”

She smiled at me again, and I found myself taking a liking of the way she bit the corner of her bottom lip.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” I said, and annoyed myself for sounding a bit cocky. I had no business flirting with her. She was way too young. Still, I found myself giving her a second glance before she disappeared down the aisle. And I couldn’t help but to discreetly look around while I was waiting in line to pay. Those eyes...

Bambi.

🌼🌼🌼

I was five minutes late for work the day after. I’d been up playing my guitar, trying to come up with the right bridge for a song I wrote. It didn’t go very well. So now I was tired, annoyed and left with the same loop of wordless lyrics that went on and on in my head.

“Coffee, sir?” Olivia asked, but her smile disappeared as soon as she noticed the dark cloud above my head.

“Sorry I asked.”

She mumbled something more, but I wasn’t even interested in trying to make out what it was. It was probably just crap anyway. She could stick to her job as the secretary she was hired to be, instead of vacuuming the building for gossip to spread like a contagious virus in the cantina during lunch. But that was just typical women.

“What’s on the agenda?” I grumbled, before I slumped down at my drawing board. Being an architect was nice and all, but not when your creativity equaled the same as the one of a spoon. Please someone, give me some inspiration!

“The Dubler’s project.”

I groaned.

“I thought we were done with that? How many more layouts does that guy need?”

“It’s not him, Aaron. He’s just representing their team,” Dom interjected. He was seated right next to me and had been my partner in crime for many years. Now we weren’t just best friends, but also colleagues, after he quit his old job to work here at ‘Unlimited lines inc’.

“Well, he can shove the whole skyscraper up a place where the sun doesn’t shine.”

The sound of a door opening made me stop and listen to the sound of footsteps, until I was met by a pair of steel grey eyes that belonged to my boss.

“You’re late, Mr. Cooper,” he said, his tone quite threatening.

“Again.”

“Yeah. I was busy screwing your wife,” I barked back, and Dom coughed out a laugh. Even Quentin had to laugh. So much for being a disciplinarian boss.

“You’re in a mood,” he commented sarcastically, and made me roll my eyes.

“He’s not been getting any lately. So you better talk to your little wifey,” Dom commented, and I slapped his arm.

“Shut up, and leave Shiloh alone,” Quentin grumbled, and slapped the back of my head, when Olivia chimed in.

“You guys are so physical today, I almost...”

“No, we’re not gonna include you in a foursome,” all of us retorted in unison, and as expected, Olivia gaped in offence.

“That was not what I meant!”

“Sure,” Dom said, and grabbed his pencil and returned to his drawing board. Sure, modern technology had made our job of drawing buildings easier, but sometimes you had to do it the old-fashioned way. And with customers like Dubler, you simply had to try everything.

“What I meant was that if I didn’t know any better, I would think the three of you had something going on.”

Don, Quentin and I stared at her, dead-panned, and she held up her hands in defeat.

“So sorry for interrupting your macho club, assholes,” she muttered sourly, and I sent Dom a certain look. After I was dumb enough to fuck her, the dynamics in the office changed, and in many ways, I’d say it was ruined. But Quentin refused to fire her just because I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants, so that was how it was. Therefore, I always did my best to ignore her.

“Hey, Q?” I asked, and immediately got his attention.

“I was thinking about what you said the other day.”

“You’re starting your own business?” he exclaimed but was instantly relieved when I shook my head.

“No way. Not as long as I can work for you and make you do all the boring paperwork and leave the drawing to me. But I meant that South side company. I know it’s not exactly down our lane, but maybe it would be good for the business to start doing regular houses, too? I know I wouldn’t mind a break from all the huge cases, and I think drawing a little house now and then will boost our creativity.”

Both Dom and Quentin nodded in silence while thinking about it, and even Olivia seemed to agree.

“Sounds like a beer plan,” Quentin said, while he rubbed his cheek. He hadn’t shaved today, either. And I doubted any of us bothered to do it later before we went to this beer plan, which mostly consisted of the three of us hanging out at our usual bar, discussing work topics and women, each of us with a beer or two in our hands.

We looked at each other in a certain way, as if we mentally shook hands over an important deal.

“A beer plan it is.”