*Note: This story is not a quick, to-the-point, ten minute read. If you don't have the time to invest in reading it, please select something less involved.
Stepping out onto the front porch of his renovated colonial home, dating back to the late-1800's, Garrett sunk his hand deep into the right pocket of his black, tailored suit blazer. He found his house key tucked under a small, thick piece of paper, waived off as a possible receipt from the day before. Hearing the click of the deadbolt lock, Garrett made his way to his truck, climbed in and backed out of the driveway. Only two years ago there were only two cars in his household. Years seemed to pass in such a short breath, as he found himself thinking of days gone by, merging onto the interstate toward work.
Two years ago, he bought his daughter her first car; a sporty little red convertible. One of those cars you only see pretty women and men going through a mid-life crisis driving. Garrett swam deep into his thoughts, thinking maybe he was headed toward that crisis, himself.
Garrett could bring up the day he handed the keys to his daughter like it was on a Rolodex. Two years ago in the mild stages of spring, Makayla blew out the candles on her eighteenth birthday cake. The very breath that she breathed was his breath; his refection of him, in a more beautiful form. That very breath she exhaled over eighteen candles was the day he felt himself, for the first time, feeling old. Garrett would be forty on his upcoming birthday, by no means ancient. But his daughters' declaration of youthful independence became his silent resolution of aging. And he was having trouble admitting it. It seemed like only a few, short years ago, he was driving his first car. His mind dove deeper into his past memories as he took his exit to the office.
He had given up his spot in the two-car garage to his daughters' car. It seemed ridiculous to have a convertible car sitting outside in the elements and his fifteen year old Chevy Silverado had seen better days. Plus, a gentleman always made sure he cared for the women in his life. The other garage bay belonged to his beloved wife of twenty years, Rebecca. Makayla had definitely benefited from her mothers' beauty.
Rebecca and Garrett had gotten off to a rocky marriage, in their first few years. From the normal "settling in" phase to various arguments, it took them many years to straighten out their problems with each other. But after the newness wore off, their understanding for each other grew.
Garrett had tried so hard to keep the peace with his wife; something easier said then done. He knew when he met her that she would be hard to handle. Women as beautiful as her don't come around often, and he was surprised when she agreed to a first date with him. He knew what he had. But he also knew it would take him controlling his temper to keep her. He tried as hard as he could to make his marriage with Rebecca work.
Garrett had never admitted he was a saint, by any means. During their first few years of marriage, he had secretly met several young women on the internet. He felt imprisoned and even tortured by his new marriage. The constant fighting and threats of divorce threw him over the edge and the only distraction from that was in the safety of the anonymous interest of another woman. A woman he had no ties or resentment toward. He even met a few of the young women in person. Some would be only for brief talks, leading to more, but most were simply for his sexual frustrations. He never let his temptations take him all the way. Even if what he did was wrong, he vowed to himself never to have intercourse with any woman other then his wife.
It's not that he wasn't sexually attracted to his new wife, back then. My God, she was gorgeous. Tall and sleek, she had the body of a seductress. Her breasts perked high in her tight, little tops. Garrett always loved the cuteness of a smaller-chested woman. They just always gave him a warm, sweet feeling; making him smile in satisfaction. Her legs were something to be worshiped; long and tone, always silky smooth and tan. She had one of those asses that you would imagine a sexy heiress to the families fortune having. Tight, round, almost giving off a conceited vibe, like it was actually saying, "I'm better than you".
She had that nice, deep line running from the small of her back up between her shoulders and slender arms and fingers. Her hands and feet were dainty, something Garrett always loved about her. Her hair was long and dark, absolute perfection and her eyes matched it in color and luster. With full, pouty lips and a small, up-turned nose, she was constantly viewed by other people as stuck-up, vein or a bitch. Rebecca had everything and Garrett knew it. But after their wedding, her looks became horribly skewed as he realized her mood swings, controlling attitude and just a general idea that he would wait on her, hand and foot, took its toll on his attraction to her. He found himself actually making excuses not to have sex with her and he knew, this happening this early in a marriage was not a good thing.
Rebecca was only a year younger then him. He found younger women more open to his intentions. Rebecca was the only exception. He had never dated a woman that made him wait for sex. She was a virgin and intended on staying that way until marriage.
But usually women from eighteen to his age, twenty, were more sexually open to chance encounters with men whom they knew little about. It was the age they learned of themselves, testing men with their sexuality, tempting them with their new-found curves. Once, in a chat room, Garrett started talking to an eighteen year old girl and three hours later she was draining his frustrations down her throat. It was that easy, usually. Most of the girls he met only once, and oddly enough, they were perfectly fine with that.
One girl in particular, he met more than once. At twenty-one years old, slightly thick, with 38DD's that were spilling over her bra, she was definitely something he never had. Petite girls had always been his thing. The first night he met her, they talked and laughed, something he hadn't done in a while. He constantly admired her breasts. Almost like an expensive piece of chocolate he slowly peeled her tight shirt upward, his excitement building with every inch of her enormous breasts coming into view. His intentions were hers as well; they had discussed it beforehand.
"Yes, I'll let you play with my boobs," seemed to echo in his mind on his way to meet her. Her bra forced the top of her breasts out over the edge. She smiled at his overwhelming interest as she unhooked her bra, squeezing her massive tits together, with her arms, as she let the straps fall from her shoulders. Slowly she pulled the cups away and relaxed her arms back to their resting position, The result was her gorgeous round globes swaying and knocking together like a desk novelty. Garrett gasped at the sight.
He took his time with something he had never experienced, a well-endowed rack. Light touches and strong squeezes excited him more then he knew possible. Pressing them together, letting them sway, light licks turned to lustful sucking. He could feel her chest heaving, her breathing becoming louder, stronger. Then a thought quickly came to him, something he had never experienced before.
"Would you mind if I titty-fucked you? I've never done that before," he asked, looking up at her from between her cupped breasts.
"Sure," she panted. "It looks like you're having a lot of fun. Who am I to deny you, plus, this feels really good!"
