Look, this is the first story in a series about my sex life. It also happens to be true. And with all things that I hold close to myself, I'm going to do this well and on my own time. So, if you're just hear to read about the time I had sex with my boyfriend's dad, then go ahead and skip down to the first time you see the words, "penis" or "dick" or "mouth". That's fine. But once you've read about it, you'll probably want to come back up here and find out how it all happened. So, you might as well stay with me here.
The first thing you need to know is that Mr Dawson, or Marcus as I would eventually know him, wasn't as old as you'd expect. He was my boyfriend's dad but he was still a young man. While all the other dads in our group of friends in high school were in their fifties, Mark was thirty-two. He had become a dad young, accidentally fathering a son in his teens during a house party hook-up. Mark's own traditional father did not give him any leeway and told him that the moment he was legally allowed to do so, he would marry the mother of his child and leave school to get a job and earn for his new family.
The second thing you need to know is that I was one of those supposedly rare things - a pretty bookworm. My entire life I had been the girl in the background, shunned for her intelligence. Whenever I came top of the class, I would brace myself, knowing a barrage of insults was about to come my way. I had always been unremarkable and plain to the point that other students, with whom I had shared a class for years, would occasionally ask me if I was the new girl. But a year before this story takes place, I had suddenly started turning heads. I had noticed the changes happening in me for several months, but to others it was like it had happened over night. I suddenly had attention from popular guys, not just in my year but the year above and from boys who went to college and university. I had all this
feminine power
- if you want to call it that - that I didn't know how to control. This was all a bit too much for me and I went through a crazy phase and ran away from home for a year and a half. I can't go into much detail about everything that happened but the long and short of it is that I was held back two years in school, and found myself - on the cusp of nineteen with two years of adventure behind me - right back where I started: a nerdy quiet girl in school.
That was how I ended up dating Daniel Dawson, a shy introvert, who had also been held back a year. We had actually been childhood friends but as our gender roles took over - he becoming a basketballer and me becoming a nerdy mathlete - our paths diverged. Now, as both the oldest kids in our school, both the only eighteen-year-olds who could go to a pub and get served, our bond rekindled. It was this arbitrary nature of our relationship that quietly signalled to us that we were really only in this to kill time until we could graduate and get on with our lives that had been held back mostly by the will of our parents refusing to let us drop out.
One day, at the start of my final year, after advanced mathematics, Daniel invited me over to study. He didn't even look at me as he asked, but kept his eyes down on his backpack as he packed away his papers and textbook. My heart raced a little. He had looked my way a few times during class. The secretive manner in which he asked made it seem to me that the only explanation was that he had noticed me and wanted to hook up. I said okay a little breathlessly and together we walked along the quiet, leafy suburban streets to Daniel's house. The whole way to his house I could feel my pulse in my neck. I had been so bored since I had returned home to this quiet world that I had never imagined a secret casual hook-up could happen so matter-of-factly here. As we walked, the streets and trees took on a vibrant, magical quality. I felt like I had gone into a new dimension where the boring neighbourhood I had grown up in was suddenly an exciting place full of possibility. I wondered what kind of sex would unfold with Daniel. I imagined him biting my neck, my ribs, grabbing my ass. I could feel a pre-emptive tingle between my legs.
When we got his home, I could barely contain myself. I shut the door hard behind us.
"Where's your bedroom?" I said, looking him in the eyes.
Again, with his cryptic neutrality, avoiding my gaze, he pointed up the stairs, "Up there."
I took his hand and pulled him up the stairs, slammed the door, and just as I was about to pull him onto me against the wall, he said, "So, do you want to just start with chapter one and work our way up from there?"
For a split second, I thought it was an innuendo. But I saw in his eyes he was serious. He didn't see me at all. He thought I was really there to study - me who had always excelled in maths and never had to revise for a test. I felt invisible. I looked at his handsome face, his smooth, strong jaw, the brown curls of his hair that reminded me of an ancient Greek Olympian. He had an athletic frame and the delicate yet sharp features of a male model. But his character and personality seemed to carry none of the gusto that his body implied. I sighed. All the excited energy in my body, that had been whirling around my nipples and between my legs scrunched up into a thick knot and I felt the weight of disappointment in my chest.
"I'm just going to grab a drink from the kitchen," I said. "To cool down."
Daniel nodded and sat at his bedroom desk, opening his mathematics textbook.
I went downstairs, wondering if I should just leave there and then. Pretend I'd had my period or something. But instead, I decided to grab that drink of water. I walked through the beige living room and into the kitchen. There, facing away from me, Mr Dawson, Daniel's father, was doing the dishes. I stopped in my tracks and observed him for a moment.
Mr Dawson had broad shoulders, short dark hair and big forearms, visible from his rolled-up sleeves. He was wearing a thick woolly sweater, at detail I remember because he seemed cosy and like he would have a warm reassuring hug, but it was barely autumn and it seemed an odd yet mature way to dress considering the weather.
As I tip toed towards him, I realised that what I had perceived to be a small kitchen sink was actually normal sized and that Mr Dawson's shoulders were really very broad and sturdy. A floorboard creaked and he turned his head and noticed me.
He smiled immediately, a warm, generous smile. "Oh, hello. You must be Daniel's friend."
"Hi,' I said, nervously.
He paused washing the dishes for a moment and looked at me. I looked at him. I felt like I could barely breath and realised after a few seconds that I hadn't been breathing at all. I took a breath and giggled awkwardly.
"Do you, uh, need anything?" Mr Dawson said.
"I just came for some water," I said. I wanted so badly to say something witty but I couldn't think anything else to say.
"Of course," he said.
He grabbed a glass and ran it under the tap then handed it to me. The spray of the water shone on his hands and highlighted the size of his knuckles. He had big, thick hands with calluses on the finger tips and palms. I took the glass, feeling the wet brush of his fingers against mine. I looked up at him, his strong jawline that he had passed onto his son, his eyes, much wiser than Daniel's, his smile, more meaningful and natural.
"Aren't you hot in that thing?" I asked, looking over my glass of water as I took a sip of the fresh liquid.
Mr Dawson blushed. "Oh, ha, to be honest, I was working in the shed just before you came. It often gets hot in there so I was topless and when I heard someone coming down the stairs, I just threw on the first thing I saw."
I studied his face. Now I could see the faint sheen of sweat on his brow. Yes, he had been working. He looked younger with the flush of embarrassment in his cheeks. I couldn't imagine what it had been like for him becoming a father so young. He must have been so confused, so lost.
"What kind of work do you do in that shed?" I asked.
"Uh, carpentry," he said, looking down at his hands, looking both proud and surprised that they were his hands.
"That explains why you have such big hands," I said. "And all the calluses."
He looked up at me, probably surprised that I had paid such close attention to his hands. Then almost immediately he looked away, embarrassed again. Suddenly, seeing how shy he seemed to be around me, I felt more confident. I wanted to tell him what he could do with those hands. I wanted to tell him he could grab me with them, hold me hard, or grab a fistful of my ass. Maybe he could even pin me down with them or clutch my neck. I watched him as he got more fidgety.
He sighed and said, "So, you must be Daniel's...study buddy?"
"Is that all he said about me?" I asked. "He had me fooled that he was going to ask me out."
