A Warm Welcome 10

A warm welcome

(c) 2024, by P.D. Vile

Story tags: MF, implied Mf, implied Ff, cons

Dedicated to AMM, the most wonderful, most caring, and most understanding woman I have ever met. A special thanks to L, E, M, and Z, for proofreading draft versions of this story and providing your feedback to make it even better.

1. Arrival

I heard the sound of a car on the driveway. One look at the clock confirmed what I already suspected. Three o'clock, sharp. Exactly as Beth had predicted.

"He'll be so afraid of being late that he'll be here early. But he doesn't want to seem too eager, so he will wait somewhere, or just drive in circles for a while, and be here at three exactly."

She had been right. Of course.

I smiled as I got up from my chair to answer the door. Excited to finally lay eyes on my daughter's friend.

"Oh?"

I noticed a look of surprise and slight disappointment on his face. No wonder.

"I hope I'm at the right place. Is this the Miller household?"

I didn't reply immediately. I took my time to look him up and down. His face matched the pictures Beth had shown. Deep brown eyes, mirrors into what at first sight definitely looked to be a very kind soul, slightly obscured by his rimless glasses. His dark hair trimmed just a few millimeters short, shorter than his graying beard. A beard that looked good on him, and helped him look more like his age. If I hadn't known him to be 58, I would have estimated him in his early fifties. But only thanks to the beard. Without it, I would have been off by at least five more years.

He was about the same length as my husband Dean, but less muscular. His belly was chubby. Not much, but still enough that even his very loose fitting button-down shirt didn't hide it fully. Below his shirt, he wore jeans and an equally casual pair of black shoes.

My gaze went up again to find his eyes locked on my face. At first sight, he seemed to be patiently awaiting my reply. But I noticed the small twitches in his face, the nervous little movements of his fingertips. He had suffered long enough.

"Yes, it is. You must be Mister Kirkland?"

"Yes. Nice to meet you, Miss Miller."

"Oh, please call me Michelle."

"Of course. And I am Hugh."

He extended a hand. When I took it, he surprised me by turning his hand downward, then bowing forward to very lightly touch the back of my hand with his lips.

"Why, a true gentleman! Thank you, Hugh."

"My pleasure. Though I must admit that I am surprised to see you, Michelle. Beth had given me the impression that she would be home alone."

I smiled.

"I'm sorry. She'll be home later. It's just me now. I hope you are not too disappointed?"

Instead of answering, he now let his gaze go up and down over my body. I stood silent and let him inspect me, the same way I had inspected him. And just as he had done when I did that, I now intently watched his face, to see his response to my looks.

I knew what he saw. My face a bit fuller than I want it, but Dean and Beth always insist that it makes me look like the friendly woman I am. My long, brown hair, flowing freely over my shoulders, that were bare except for the two narrow shoulder straps of my dark orange dress. A dress that left enough cleavage to show off how my cup C boobs still stood proudly upright, without a bra to support them, even after feeding two children. And my other proud asset, my long legs, was also on full display.

I could see, in Hugh's facial expression, that he liked what he saw. A pleasant surprise for me. After all, I knew exactly why he was here: for Beth. I would not have been surprised if he had considered me too old. So I was happy to notice how his gaze lingered a bit longer at my breasts, then again at my flat tummy, and once more at my firm thighs and legs.

But then his gaze returned to my face, and he nodded approvingly.

"Of course I am not disappointed, Michelle. I always thought Beth exaggerated when she told me how stunning you look. But I see I was wrong. You look even better than I expected."

"Not just a gentleman, but a charmer too!"

"Just calling it as I see it, Michelle."

This was weird. I know that I look good. Men turn their heads when I walk by. Look at my body, then quickly avert their gaze when they see that I notice. Or that their wife notices. But coming from this man, I felt strangely warm inside. I was sure I was blushing like a high-school girl. I hoped, but doubted, that it didn't show. At least he didn't comment on it

I quickly changed the subject: "Can I help you with your luggage, Hugh?"

He lifted the weekend bag he held in his right hand.

"This is all I have, Michelle. Where do you want me to put it?"

"I'll show you the guest room. Although," I chuckled, "I doubt you'll spend any time there."

I liked his warm smile.

"That depends entirely on Beth. She has not actually seen me before. She can still change her mind."

I smiled as I, very demonstratively, let my gaze once more slide up and down his body.

"No worries, Hugh. That won't happen. She loves you, and you are exactly her type to boot."

"It's still going to be her call. I expect nothing, except a hug and perhaps a meal. Everything else is just a bonus."

2. Guest room

I smiled again, as I turned around to lead the way. The man was every bit as friendly as Beth had told us. I felt pride at having a daughter with such good judgment.

I could not resist a slight extra sway of my hips as I climbed the stairs. But looking down, I saw no response. Hugh carefully held his face horizontal, resisting the temptation that I knew he had to have to look up, and check under my dress. His loss. I'm sure he would have liked the surprise.

I opened the door to the guest room. Beth had already prepared it yesterday, and my inspection this morning showed that it was completely ready for Hugh. I led the way, gesturing towards the closet.

"If you want to unpack, you can put your clothes there. And as you see," I gestured towards the bed, "the bed is a double, so you and Beth can sleep here as well. Though she will probably prefer her own room, where she has all her stuff. She has a double bed too, so I'd expect you to stay there."

"I'm still surprised at how casually you deal with this. Most parents would freak out if their daughter invites a man my age to visit. Especially when it is clear that she wants to..."

He hesitated, and I smiled at his cute awkwardness.

"... fuck his brains out?"

"I was going to say make love to me, but I guess your words are not wrong."

I was impressed how he remained calm, despite my blunt attempt to shock him.

"Here's the thing. We've always told her that consent is everything. That it's her body, that if she says no, it means no. But then she pointed out that this should also mean that she can say yes if she wants to, because it's her body. We really couldn't argue that."

Hugh had started to unpack his bag and put his clothes on neatly folded stacks in the closet.

"And Dean and I never kept it secret that, for us, sex isn't limited to a committed relationship. That we both allow and even encourage each other to have sex with others, as often as we want. Because sex is fun."

"So you realized you really had no good arguments to tell her that she could not have sex when she wanted to."

"We had no arguments, but we didn't want them."

I smiled, as I recalled her first attempts with Dean, and later with me.

"We fully supported her, once she was old enough. And we had no reason to complain, since she did her first experiments with the safest people she knew. Us."

"And now she meets other people too."

"Of course. Just like Dean and I always have done."

Hugh took the last clothes out of his bag, two button-down shirts, and hung them on hangers in the closet, then zipped up and stowed the bag.

"I expect Dean in perhaps two hours, with our daughter. I can imagine you might want to take a shower, to wash off the dust from the trip?"

"Yes, I was just going to ask if I could use your bathroom."

"No need, you have a private bathroom here."

I opened the door and showed Hugh the guest bathroom, with the large walk-in shower.

"As you see, the shower is large enough for me to lend a hand."

He chuckled.

"Do you think I need help showering?"

"No, not at all. But perhaps I can convince you that you

want

me to help you?"

And with those words, I pulled the straps on my shoulders to the side and let go, allowing my dress to fall down, revealing all of me to his gaze.

A short and very surprised look. But I was amazed how fast he caught himself. His look of surprise changed into a smile, and then he let out an appreciative whistle as he checked out my firm round breasts, and then my perfectly bald pussy, without any attempts to hide his gaze.

"Those are some very compelling arguments indeed, Michelle. I can only repeat what I already said before: you look absolutely stunning."

"Thanks, Hugh. So, do you want me to join you in the shower?"

I stepped up and started to unbutton his shirt, but stopped when he laid his warm hand on mine.

"Or am I perhaps too old for you? No worries, I totally understand, Beth already told us that you prefer younger women."

His soft finger on my lips stopped the flow of my words.

"Listen, Michelle. You are an incredible sexy woman. Under almost any circumstances, I would jump at your invitation. But I love Beth. I am here for her. If I allow you to help me out of my clothes, and then join me in that shower, we both know what will happen. And that would feel wrong, because I am here for Beth. I cannot and will not betray her trust. So, please, put your dress back on and wait for me in the living room. Okay?"

"I see," I responded, as I stooped to pick up my dress. But, instead of putting it on, I picked my phone out of the pocket, unlocked it, and handed it to Hugh.

"Please press play?"

He looked questioningly, but obliged. The screen lit up with the face of my eldest.

3. The recording

"Hey Hugh! Beth here!"

She threw a kiss at the camera.

"I told mom she'd need this and she didn't believe me. So can you tell her 'neener neener' on my behalf? But listen to this first, please. You know how I am. You know I love sex, and you know I am not exclusive. There is no way I would ever ask you to do what I would not do. So if mom tries to seduce you..."

She halted, then giggled.

"Or better,

when

mom tries to seduce you, just go for it. I know that she is hot as fuck. Sorry, mom, I'll put a dollar in the swear jar, but it's worth it because it's the truth. She

is

hot as fuck. So when she makes a pass at you, go for it. Enjoy it. And don't feel bad because you think I'll be jealous. I won't be jealous. I'll be happy for you and happy for mom. And I'll be home soon enough, and then you will only last longer for me. So, everyone wins."

She threw another kiss.

"Bye, Hugh! Love you and see you soon. And... enjoy mom!"

And then she let the camera pan down, past her bare breasts, shutting off just before her crotch came into view.

"So, there you are Hugh. Now you know how Beth feels about it. So, what do you say?"

"What do I say? Well, 'neener neener', I guess?"

I laughed.

"Yeah, I guess I earned that. I overestimated my abilities. Or underestimated your chivalry."

"I think stubbornness and perhaps even stupidity describe me better," Hugh corrected, while smiling to indicate he didn't mean it too seriously.

But then he straightened his back and stood upright before me.

"Ma'am, I believe you were busy with my shirt. Please continue."

I chuckled as my hands found the top button of Hugh's shirt again. This time he did not stop me.

Part of me wanted to tear his shirt open. Wanted to rip the clothes off his body, press my body against his, force him inside me and take him. But another part of me wanted to prolong the sweet desire, wanted to postpone fulfillment. And so I took the time to undo his buttons, one by one. My fingers gliding over his chest as they traced the seam, down to the next button, feeling his warm skin and his chest hairs. After a few buttons, soft and hairy skin over strong bone made way for smooth and even softer skin over his chubby belly.

I saw a slightly embarrassed look on his face as I lightly brushed over his stomach.

"I'm sorry, I am not..."

"Shhh," I said, then put my lips on his, leaving him no choice.

We kissed for a few minutes, then I let go.

"Men have this strange idea that their body matters more to us than who, how, and what they are. And this other strange idea that we hate having a nice pillow to rest our heads on. Hugh, darling, you are perfect as you are."

I deliberately stroked his warm belly with those words, then moved my hands up towards his curly chest, on to his shoulders, and then I moved them over his arms, so that the unbuttoned sides of his shirt opened, and it fell behind him, still attached to his pants, like a rather silly looking man skirt.

My first view of his now naked upper body. His indeed quite chubby belly, but also a strong chest with small hairs, and two nice red circles with cute nipples, little buttons, waiting to be kissed.

I leaned forward, but he put a hand against my forehead to stop me.

"Sir?"

"Please, Michelle. I drove for four hours. With an AC that wasn't quite as good as the rental office promised. Let me shower first, okay?"

"I don't mind."

"But I do."

"Okay, Hugh. But then at least let me hug you."

And before he could even object, I wrapped my arms around his neck, closed my mouth on his, and pulled his indeed rather sweaty body hard against mine.

As I felt my breasts press against his chest, as my hands wandered over his back, and as his hands hesitantly started to respond in kind, I parted my lips. He got the hint, and his tongue entered my mouth, conquering it, marking it as his. His to enjoy and use in any way. The first of my entrances, but it would not be the last.

His tongue immediately took control, guided mine as we danced the tango of love in my mouth. He decided the speed, I followed his lead. He decided when he retracted his tongue, inviting me to push mine forward, to lick his teeth and twirl around his tip, until he pushed me back into my own mouth again.

And his hands worked wonders. One stroking my hairs. The other caressing my back, the small of my back, then my buttocks, massaging them, playfully tracing a finger across my crack, but then his hand moved back up.

I felt how my cunt started to drip, felt how ready it was, and how ready

I

was, for more. For his dick, his hardness, deep inside me, pumping me, conquering me, making me fully his.

I felt him press his hips against mine. Felt the rough fabric of his jeans press against my mons, and felt, as I moved my hips a bit to savor the sensation, the lump, still locked up in its textile prison.

And then he dislodged. He laid his hands on my shoulders, smiled, and then gently pushed down. Just a bit. But the request was clear, and I was more than happy to oblige, sinking to my knees in front of him.

"Trousers!"

Just this single word, grunted hoarsely. But the command was clear, and I wanted nothing but to serve this man, obey his wishes, service him in every way he desired.

With trembling fingers, I unbuckled his belt, undid his button, opened his fly. And then I grabbed the hem of his jeans and pushed down, stripping him off his blue skin, exposing his white and hairy, but surprisingly strong looking legs.

I looked up, at his black boxer shorts, still hiding his manhood from view. But the very visible bulge confirmed what I already knew, that he was rock hard already.

I rested my hand on the tight fabric and stroked a few times, but then retracted my hand, looked up with a teasing smile, winked, and said:

"Pants are off, Hugh. Any other wishes?"

"Oh, you tease, you! Undress me further Michelle!"

"Yes, Sir! With pleasure!"

And then I grabbed his boxer short, and pulled it down, my eyes glued to his crotch, where his dick sprang free. It was not especially big, but it was surprisingly hard, pointing almost horizontal, straight as an arrow, as if Hugh was still in his thirties. I instantly loved the shape, the slightly wider size at the bottom of the mushroom-shaped glans.

And his foreskin! I'll never understand why so many Americans believe it is better to cut it off. Dean was circumcised, but I am glad he had agreed with me to leave Dean Jr intact, so he can make his own decision.

And Hugh also still had his, perhaps because he's European? Either way, I loved it. I grabbed his dick, peeled the loose skin back to expose his glans, already slightly moist from his precum, then pushed the extra skin back over his dickhead.

As I noticed that I had just, fully unintentionally, licked my lips, I heard Hugh groan with pleasure, so I decided to close my fist a bit tighter and move my hand a few more times.

I did not want to wait any longer. I wanted to taste him. No, I

had

to taste him. And so I leaned in... and once more was held back by Hugh's strong hands.

"No! I will not let you taste my sweaty body. Shower first."

"Spoilsport," I chuckled, but then obediently got up, grabbed Hugh's hand, and pulled him with me.

I realized this perhaps made me look like an eager high school girl. Oh well. I

felt

like an eager high school girl.

4. Shower

I started the shower, but held Hugh back.

"It takes a minute to get warm."

"Hmmm, what to do when you are naked and have a minute to spare?" he wondered, then drew me against him, closed his strong arms around my body, and as his chest pressed against my breasts, his lips met mine and we kissed again.

The water was long since hot, steam already forming on the bathroom mirror, when we finally dislodged, and he allowed me to pull him after me into the large shower.

Hugh reached for the shower gel, but I was faster.

"Oh no, Sir. No self service allowed here. This is full service, I will do this for you."

"Who said I was going to use it on myself?" he asked, but then obediently stood and allowed me to distribute the gel all over his body.

I started at his neck, then worked my way down. I spent some extra time on his strong chest, then moved on towards his belly. I stopped before reaching his groin, and instead worked my way back up, tickled his smooth shaved armpits a bit, then soaped first his right arm, then his left. I rinsed my hands clean, then repeated the same pattern to carefully rinse away all remaining soap.

But then I knelt before him, took some new soap, and instantly went for his hard dick. I closed my hands around it, and stroked it lovingly as I massaged the gel in his skin. I put some gel on his smooth-shaven pubic area as well, but quickly returned to his dick, making sure to keep washing it until I felt it twitch and squirm in my hands.

I quickly stopped. I didn't want to make Hugh cum. I had a different plan. He just didn't know that yet.

And so, I moved on to his legs, applied gel there, then rubbed it off again, and only then returned to his groin to check if there was any foam left and rinsed it off too. His cock was not fully hard anymore, but still slightly swollen, and I loved how it responded by growing and rising a bit, the second I laid hand on it. I fought down the desire to stroke it fully hard again. I had a plan, after all.

"Turn around", I commanded, as I stood up again. And then I once more poured some gel in my hands, this time to clean his back. His shoulder blades first, then I followed his spine, down to the small of his back. And then I moved on to his ass, gently massaging his buttocks first. He flinched a bit as I traced the length of his crack, then pushed in between his buttocks, and pushed my slippery soapy finger to the first knuckle inside his anus.