I didn't mean to screw my wife's best friend's daughter. I really, really didn't. It just happened, a serendipitous encounter, unplanned and unexpected.
But I've somehow jumped to the conclusion of the story, and without some background all of this wouldn't make any sense.
Carrie and I have been married 15 years, or 10 of the best years of my life as I like to joke. Seriously, it's been a good marriage, we're still in love, and I'd never strayed from our wedding vows. I have to admit I like to look at women...what guy doesn't? Heck, I even innocently flirt a little.
That's where Carrie's best friend and our neighbor Constance comes in, as the two are close like sisters, basically inseparable. They have hit it off for years, and because of that we've spent countless family dinners together, alternated cookouts in summer and for a while even shared several condos on family vacations.
Constance's husband Ralph was, well, a little different, a big mouth know it all. He hated paying taxes, hated his job, hated everything it seems. He was always contrary, the glass was always half empty and never half full. One day Ralph just hit the road, never to return, leaving Constance and her children without a father. It was a sad state of affairs, but it was reality.
Over the years what was left of our two families watched the kids grow up, and I especially watched a young girl grow into a woman. Subject in point? Tara, as in the oldest daughter of Constance. Young Tara had blossomed into a 19-year-old woman right before my eyes. Tara and I spoke all of the time; I'd help her with this or that, met several of her boyfriends, helped with schoolwork and taught her to drive. With a runaway dad, I became the male figure in her life, providing advice and counsel on numerous occasions.
Last summer I spent a lot of time with Tara, tutoring her on clinical psychology, a sore subject for her in her sophomore year at State. Involved in this was a great deal of role-playing, and we bantered about several scenarios, play acting our way through various problems and such.
It was in one of these scenarios I, as a subject, mentioned that my fictitious wife and I were having various troubles in the bedroom. It started as a real topic from her workbook, but soon I started pushing the envelope by entering some details of my own marriage to make it interesting. And, yes, it was a little flirty conversation too, as my young "counselor," Tara, went with the flow, eliciting private data from me under the guise of background. It started as innocent fun, but after a bit I stretched the envelope by adding risqué details.
Along the way in the conversation I mentioned that Carrie, uh, I mean the fictitious "Mary", my make believe wife, hadn't given me oral sex in five years. In fact, my wife Carrie hadn't gone down on me in that five-year span, saying it wasn't proper or womanly. Of course, when we were dating, and through the first couple years of marriage, Carrie would polish my knob several times a week. That number began to dwindle over the years until in year 10 she came to the conclusion it was degrading for a woman to perform fellatio.
I explained all of this to Tara, my budding young counselor, of course masking my real world under the guise of being a disgruntled husband seeing help. Dr. Jones, as I called her, was a sympathizing listener.
Tara listened to my tale, and nodded at the appropriate times. I could swear she even had a slight smile while listening, and I wondered what was going through her mind as she obviously read past my story and knew it was really me and my life I was describing. In any event, like any good psychologist, she merely took notes, asked a few probing questions, then looked at her watch and said we'd pick up the conversation at our next session.
Over the next several role-playing sessions, which extended most of the summer, more and more intimate details were shared. It was extremely hot talking sex with the girl, all under the guise of it being "schoolwork" help. I hated to see the sessions end when she went back to school, but received great news several months later when she aced her class and sent me a thank you note.
Nothing much changed in my love life in those months, but there were other happenings. I lost my job when my company went out of business, and had to rely on Carrie's dad to help with our finances. Once re-employed, things were still tight as the new position paid less than the last. That made things a little rough around the house, as Carrie constantly reminded me how her dad had to help us along.
Things didn't get better with me back in the work grind, as Carrie began to question and comment on nearly everything we did. It was as if she blamed me for having to ask her father for help...and heck, I was repaying the man on a monthly basis even when he told me to forget about the "loan".
My love life with Carrie became nearly non-existent, a fact which made me sizzle inside. I wanted more than a roll in the hay for my birthday or anniversary. But I figured in time things would get back to normal.
Days before Christmas I made my annual trek to the mall, attempting to gather a few last minute gifts. It was a long afternoon, hustling and bumping with the mob of shoppers, all with the same intentions as me. Passing Abercrombie's, I noticed a mannequin dressed in a preppy beige blouse and short pleated skirt in the window.
My mind wandered as I gazed at the display. The outfit was hot, something I wish my wife would wear for me. Of course, it wasn't a proper outfit and I knew it was only fantasy that she'd dress up for me, but it was a great thought. Lost in the fantasy, I looked again at the outfit, only to have my eyes re-directed to the girl looking at the same outfit from inside the store.
It was Tara.
I don't know which of us was more surprised, but we both gave a sort of wave at each other. I stood as Tara came bounding out of the store and gave me a hug.
"Oh, Mr. Roberts, it's so good to see you! I was hoping to catch up with you on my holiday break. I just got in last night!" said the exciting girl with a smile. "In fact I was going to have mom invite you guys over for dinner next week!"
We exchanged pleasantries, and I invited her to Starbucks near the food court for a coffee and conversation.
We talked about school, her classes, boyfriends and such, about my new job, vacation plans and various and sundry small talk. From time to time I'd stare at the girl, sitting pretty across from me in a modest knee-length black skirt and preppy tartan top.
"You know, I just have to thank you again for all your help with Psychology, there's no doubt in my mind you helped me get over the hump and get an "A". When I did role-playing in class I just imagined it was you I was speaking with and it was a breeze," said the gleeful girl. "There would be some geek across from me asking questions, and I'd imagine your soothing smile on his face. I know all your worked helped me."
Of course I told her she did all the work, that I didn't take any of the tests and that she earned her grade.
Minutes turned into an hour and I wondered where the time went. We walked through the mall, she helped me purchase a couple gifts for my wife, and then asked if she could bum a ride home with me.
We walked to the parking garage, taking the elevator to the fourth floor.
Walking toward my car, and totally out of left field, Tara began to giggle.
"What's so funny?" I questioned.
"Nothing, oh nothing...Uh, Mr. Smith," she asked, using my fake name from our role-playing sessions, "have you been getting more intimate with your wife...uh, what was her name, Mary?"
I had to laugh. I shook my head, opening the car door and gazing at the long legs of the pretty girl, then stepped around to the driver's side. Inside, I looked at the young woman, rolled my eyes, and replied. "No, Mrs. Smith and I aren't having, well, sexual relations in any way."
The young 19-year-old college girl smiled as she looked into my eyes. "Why, Mr. Smith, no relations at all? You mean you aren't engaging in any kind of sex?" she asked in a clinical manner "No intercourse? No fellatio? You mean she doesn't even masturbate you?"
I shook my head no.
"That's quite sad." She moved closer and slipped her hand onto my thigh. "That's very sad, especially because you are such a nice, caring man."
Her naughty talk sparked a heat wave in my pants, resulting in a bit of tenting.
Tara removed her hand, but not before gazing at my obvious erection.
