I’d reached my late 40s, single & childless after having gone through a divorce about seven years ago. I hadn’t hooked up with anyone since. I’d lost the appetite for the chase, the work involved, the complications that develop in most women my age, which had partly led to the end of my marriage in the first place.
I was still waiting for my desire for young girls to transform into an appetite for women closer to my own age—does that ever happen?
My best friend had settled down 25 years ago. Had a couple of kids.
I was round at theirs often. I didn’t live too far away, although it was a drive. Would visit on special occasions. Sometimes I stayed over so I could have a drink.
The daughter, Kate, had now reached the age of 20 and was starting her second year at university. She was bright, studying phycology. I’d obviously watched her grow up from year zero. Seen her first appear with make-up, met her first boyfriend, seen her go through her ‘goth’ phase, witness her start drinking, but all from a very disconnected distance – she was just a kid.
Things started changing a couple of years ago. I couldn’t pinpoint when exactly. Suddenly, she started being able to hold a conversation with me. Suddenly, I would start noticing her bare feet in the house when I visited. She started showing me pictures on her phone of nights out she had had with her friends. My eyes would linger a few seconds longer on her newly painted nails. I paid more attention to her physical interactions with her current boyfriend Sam while they sat on the sofa or at the dinner table.
I was round at the family home for dinner. She had got a tattoo just after her 18th birthday.
“Do you want to see it, Jamie?” she said to me innocently in the kitchen, turning her attention away from making herself a drink.
“Sure. Where is it?” I replied.
I stood next to her 5’2’’ frame as she proceeded to pull up the right side of her grey sweater. I felt the air get sucked out of the room. I’d seen some pictures of her online of her on holiday in a bikini before, but this was the first time I’d seen anything resembling ‘skin’ in person, beyond her legs in a pair of shorts, at least since she had been of legal age.
My eyes instantly went from her small black and white flower she had had drawn on her side, on her upper rib cage, to her flawless pale stomach. I felt frozen to the spot seeing her belly button, a hint of white bra beneath her rolled-up sweater, and beautiful midriff.
Kate’s body was mouthwatering. She was not skinny and still had some teenage ‘puppy’ fat lingering around her middle and face, but she was toned and healthy with what looked like plump little breasts that didn’t seem to need the bra she was obviously wearing today.
I wanted to reach out and touch her stomach so much, to feel its smoothness and warmth. To run my fingers across the small of her back. I wanted to touch her belly button. The thought of how close I was to her 18-year-old nipples and pubic mound entered my head as I stared at her. I mentally threw a glass of water over my face to bring me back to reality.
“Very nice,” I commented. “Did it hurt?”
“Only a little.” She smiled back at me. Her bright ocean blue eyes were looking right at me.
“Let me take a picture,” I said innocently, taking my phone out of my pocket quickly before she could object or her parents came into the kitchen. I instinctively knew the significance that picture was going to have before I even took it.
“It’s lovely, Kate,” I said, angling the shot to get as much of her stomach and belly button in the shot as possible. Sickeningly enjoying that the double meaning went over her head.
She dropped her sweater back down and reached out and grabbed my arm and gave it a tiny squeeze before going back to the kitchen counter to finish making her drink.
A picture of me fucking her, face down on a bed entered my head. The sounds of her grunting with each thrust I made into her as I held her head down into a pillow filled my consciousness. WTF?!?! Where was this coming from? What had gotten into me?
I can’t remember how long it was before I got to drive home from her house that day, but I was rock hard the whole way back. I drove with that picture of her on my phone on the dashboard, trying to imagine what her stomach felt like to touch, what her skin smelt like, what her underwear looked like. My dick was so painful, trapped inside my jeans.
I climbed right into bed when I got home and masturbated so hard, lusting after her tummy and midriff. Tugging my dick furiously, looking at that picture. Yearning to shoot my cum all over her teenage belly.
From that point on, any restraint on the thoughts I was having about her that I was trying to impose on myself felt futile. She became my regular jerk-off material.
I remember fantasising when she excused herself one night when I was staying over, saying she was going to retire and go to take a shower before bed. I heard the shower running.
When I got home the following day, I went for an afternoon nap and started imagining her in the bathroom that past night. Her hands running through her strawberry blonde, shoulder-length hair. Pulling it up tight into a ponytail and tying it back with a small pink bobble.
She had gone upstairs in a pair of grey sweatpants and a white T-shirt. I envisioned her pulling the T-shirt up over her head, exposing her mouthful-sized breasts. I dreamt I entered the bathroom after her and walked up to her from behind, in front of the double sink and wide mirror that was already starting to steam up from the shower that she had started running over the bath. The bathroom was all white with gold taps and furnishings. There was a blue striped shower curtain over the bath, and a blue bath rug that she was standing on.
I put my hands on her bare waist and squeezed the flesh at her hips. Then dragged them up and down her sides, feathering my fingernails across her young skin. I looked down at her bare feet and brilliant white toenail polish on her perfectly cut, straight toenails. Her feet were tiny and beautiful. I imagined them, then crossed and entangled around my waist.
I stood back and drank in her bare back. She had strong shoulders and very defined shoulder blades. I placed the palms of my hands on them and caressed her, running my fingers up and down her back.
I moved my head into her ponytail and breathed in the smell of her hair. I could sense an almost camomile and tropical scent. I rubbed her left ear with my cheek by moving my head down the side of her head and looking down at her chest from above.
My hands were back on her stomach, pulling and groping at her skin above her sweatpants that were riding low on her hips as I became resentful at the thought of the boys that had done this before me and in reality, not just in a fantasy. She felt so fresh and cool with no marks at all on her skin. She had a small blue stud in her belly button that I had seen before on the rare occasion when she had been wearing a crop top and casually exposed it.
I brought one hand up to her throat and started rubbing my fingers around it, squeezing it and releasing gently.
“Bad boy,” she purred.
I was still fully clothed, but pushed my rock-hard cock into her lower back through my blue jeans. I made eye contact with her in the mirror for the first time. Her mouth hung open with the tip of her tongue hanging on the corner of her mouth. Her lips were both full and thick. I hated girls with thin, sharp lips. I imagined running my tongue over them and biting her bottom lip. She had white, perfect teeth.
Her face was covered in the most lightest freckles I had ever seen. Sometimes you couldn’t even see them, but if you were up close, as I was imagining I was now, you could make them out across her straight, slightly upturned nose.
I moved my hips in small circles into her back to make sure she could feel how hard I was as I moved my left hand to very lightly touch her left breast. I circled her nipple with my middle finger without touching it directly. I could feel pre-cum leaking onto my boxer shorts. “Ahh…” she breathed.
“I’m so hard for you, Kate,” I hissed quietly into her left ear as I moved my right hand up to intertwine it into her ponytail and pull her head back, which made her chest jut out and her two baseball-sized tits stand up firm and proud with a little bounce.
I grabbed her left tit firmly with my hand and clamped down on it hard. My fingers dug in aggressively.
“Fuck…” she gasped.
My eyes wandered to the sink and bathroom desk in front of me. I took in the body cream, soap, bath salts, toothpaste, razor, and baby oil she had laid out on it. My mind raced and fast-forwarded through everything I could do to her in here over the sink, in the shower, in the bath, with the creams and scents on display. I wondered if she had fucked in here before with any of those younger, inexperienced, and overly eager boyfriends I had heard about from her teenage years.
What was that baby oil for? What would her tits look like dripping with passion fruit bubble bath? How would it feel rubbing that Lancôme Nutrix into her ass and pushing it with my fingers into her asshole? Sharing the taste of it between us afterwards. Knowing I’d almost never be able to dip my tongue into her anus almost made me well up every time I thought about it since.
I pushed my crotch even harder into her lower back, bending my knees and grinding into that space just above her arse. Trying to soothe my hard-on.
She closed her eyes and reached round with her right hand to grab my side. I felt her fingernails dig into my waist through my t-shirt.
I pulled my head back from her neck and caught sight of the toilet to our right, which she had clearly used before I came in and was unflushed just as she whispered to me,
“I want to suck you, Jamie. I want to smell your cock.”
Unfortunately, I came so hard lying in my bed at this point that my cum shot up towards my chest and nearly hit my neck, and my fantasy came to a premature end.
I hadn’t even imagined taking her sweatpants off. What did her pussy look like? Was she freshly shaven, did she have any hair at all? What would it feel like to grab her ass and run my hands between her cheeks? Her ass remained a mystery to me as she would always wear baggy sweatpants or pyjamas when I was over at the house, or baggy cargo pants as she was going out or coming back home. I’d been prevented from seeing her in anything that revealed too much about her exact shape and firmness of her 20-year-old butt, but I could just tell it was peachy as she had slightly wider hips than you would expect for her size, and it certainly wasn’t flat.
I longed to touch the wetness between her legs for the first time and rub the fluid between my fingers. I ached to breathe in deeply between her legs and inhale her day-old scent before she stepped into the shower. God, what did her cunt smell like?
Two minutes later, I was getting hard again and started daydreaming about her in that shower again. I didn’t get any further before I came again about five minutes after the first time, crying out to myself in my bedroom… “Oh God…ahhh, Kate…”
How was I going to deal with this? Was this going to develop into a more serious obsession? I started thinking of ways to invite myself back over to her house just to see her. Trying to make up ways that might give me an opportunity to find a pair of her underwear, to confirm her bra size, did she wear French knickers, or g-strings? Thongs or panties?
Could I make up a reason for her to stay over at mine, even with her boyfriend Sam if need be; at least I might be able to hear them fucking in my spare room? I started viewing her Instagram and other social media with more frequency. Any excuse I could think of to fuel my fantasies of her.
It felt like trouble was coming. I became consumed trying to fabricate ways to accelerate its arrival.