Pam and I had been dating for about three months when it all began. But, let me step back a bit to provide some background.
My name is Peter McPherson. I am currently married to Pam, so the story obviously has a happy ending. We have two wonderful kids. Katie, our oldest, is a twenty-year-old knockout university student who rivals her mom in beauty and all-around sexiness. Sandy-blond haired like her dad, with toned, lithe curves on a five-foot-six frame and the brightest mind you could hope to find, Katie is forthright, honest, extremely loyal and a joy to be around. Then there is Jake, our eighteen-year-old athlete and scholar with a head screwed on so straight he often seems much older and wiser than one would expect of someone of his years. He typically hangs out at home in just shorts, and while I have tried hard to stay in shape there is no hope for a forty something like me to compare to his six-foot tall muscled body, sleek limbs and rippling, flat stomach. A finer daughter and son we couldn't even imagine.
My wife Pam was, is and always shall be the love of my life for so many reasons. To me she looks exactly as she did when we met in high school. She dresses very simply being fond of jeans, cotton tops, comfy sweaters and the like. If given the chance she will don a pair of sweatpants, even in the height of summer. Thick, wavy auburn hair worn to the shoulder frames her oval face featuring crystalline, soul-mirror emerald eyes. Her body is lush and alluring, even now after two kids. She has large, soft breasts the cup size of which I don't know because I've never cared nor asked. Her five-foot-six, classic hour-glass shaped figure has left me drooling for over two decades.
For myself, I am a fairly successful small business owner. What I do is unimportant for the story, other than it has allowed my family to live in relative comfort. I stand a bit over six-foot-two, and there is no way I am going to state my weight, but my stomach has remained mostly flat. I fight the daily battle against middle age spread, thus far avoiding the spare-tire around my mid-section. My work is mostly office and computer based, so I have to exercise a ton to keep ahead of the aging process. I am in the lead, so far.
Our family has been fortunate enough to have spent a very happy life together. Sure, we've had problems and troubles, but we've always worked through them together, coming out the other side stronger and closer.
The past few days have seen a pretty significant change in our family dynamic. On Friday afternoon, while Jake and I were hanging out by the pool, he asked me how I lost my virginity. Instead of the actual story, I told him about my first time with his mom. Both stories are arguably just as potentially weird and shocking, but I chose the story of how I first has sex with Pam. Why I chose that day and time to tell the salacious tale I can't say for certain. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the Magic Cock, as Pam's dad had labeled it. While I have never truly believed in the legend that my dick has magical properties, Pam, and her dad, swear by it. I must admit that I had noticed Jake sneaking peeks at the bulge in my swim trunks on more than one occasion that day. I really don't know. But, tell him I did. Events began happening quickly in our family after that. But, that was the first story. This story is the one I told my son about how I lost my virginity, even though I wasn't a virgin when it happened. This story gave Jake a such an aching hard-on that steamy summer day, that I had to suck his hard cock until he emptied a huge load of teenaged semen in my mouth. Twice.
So, let's get started.
I pulled up to Pam's house at around six o'clock the evening of the Homecoming football game and dance. I was lucky I wasn't walking. The previous Spring, I was fortunate in landing a job at a local-owned car repair shop. I was always good at tearing things apart and putting them back together; partly because I liked it and partly because my Uncle Dave was the same way and he taught me a bunch of stuff. I loved learning how things worked, so that drive of mine and my learned skills helped impress the man who owned the place. Working at the car repair business opened the opportunity for me to save some money so I could later buy an old, dysfunctional and, most importantly, cheap car to fix up. The Homecoming date was the first one that I felt my car was worthy of Pam. Everything worked; it was painted and clean. It even smelled nice. Not new-car-smell nice, I would have had to replace all the carpeting, linings and upholstery to come even close to that wonderful fragrance, but it smelled nice just the same. Very piney, I would say.
I walked up to Pam's unassuming two-story home and tapped on the door. We'd been dating for a few months so I wasn't really nervous, but it was a bit different being in one of my dad's old suits since this was our first formal dance. I had the corsage cupped protectively in my hands, that actually were, come to remember it, a bit moist.
Mr. Tarrant answered the door with his typical even keeled attitude. All eighteen-year-old boys are nervous meeting their girlfriend's dad, which was true for me when I first met Mr. Tarrant. Typically, however, the unease would diminish over time, but with Pam's dad, it was different. He showed little to no emotion. He wasn't robotic, just very subdued, very business-like. I had never been able to get a handle on him. Did he like me. Was he going to murder me for molesting his daughter. I never could tell.
He ushered me in through the entry way to the open family room and kitchen. I said hello to Mrs. Tarrant.
"Oh, don't you look handsome Peter!" she gushed. Mrs. Tarrant is an exuberant, shapely soccer-mom type. "We'll have to take so many pictures! I'll go check on Pam." She added scurrying upstairs.
She was probably an inch shorter than Pam with around ten pounds more weight. She carried the extra bulk age had gifted her well, though. Her figure was full, just the right amount of full. There was a great deal of jiggle with Mrs. Tarrant especially at that moment as I pretended not to watch her ass undulating nicely as she ascended the stairs. It might have moved south over the years, but it was still very inviting.
I steeled myself for the inevitable awkwardness of waiting alone with Mr. Tarrant when he shocked me with: "Peter, can I have a word with you in my office?"
Electric, confused fear flowed down my spine. Was he going to kill me. Was he going to give me life advice. Who knew.
"Uh, sure," I said almost like a question.
"Come along, then," he said.
I followed Mr. Tarrant out through a sliding glass door onto a raised deck leading down to their pool. We crossed the pool deck out to the back lawn where a shed-sized cottage, for the lack of a better word, stood. Mr. Tarrant held the door for me as I stepped into what really was an office. The majority of the space was taken up by a large desk with a chair and credenza behind it. In front of the desk were two padded chairs. Along one side of the one-room little house was a counter with a sink, a small dish-washer and a mini-fridge. Along the other was a soft-worn sofa of rich leather. The office was cozy, a word I'd heretofore not associated with Pam's dad.
Mr. Tarrant indicated one of the chairs as he moved behind the desk and sat.
I was a little over six-foot tall at the time. Mr. Tarrant couldn't have been any taller, in fact he might have been a bit shorter, but he was an intimidating man. He was broad shouldered, muscled and firm. Pam had told me he worked in construction as a project manager, not a tradesman, but apparently there was enough physical labor in the work that left him quite bulked-up. While I might be a bit taller, he had probably twenty pounds of hard muscle on me. I meekly sat trying not to visibly sweat.
"So, Pete, I can tell you like my daughter quite a bit," he said.
Again, with Mr. Tarrant it was difficult to tell emotions or what he wanted. Was that a question or just a statement.
"Uh, yes," I said to simply fill the silence he left by not say anything further. "Very much," I added.
"Yes," he said.
The silence descended again. I just let it lay there since I had nothing to go on.
"Yes, I thought so."
