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From: "Don Ellis" <dee@onramp.net>
Subject: (ASS) Sugar Daddy (MF Rom)
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SUGAR DADDY

I had not seen Laura in two years, not since her marriage to a young
man she believed she loved.  I had missed her everyday, hurting
terribly at first from her absence, but, now, suffering only a dull
ache once or twice a day when she floated from the closets in my mind
to flit across my consciousness like a ghost.

As I walked into the mall, I wondered why that particular Saturday I
was compelled to shop for something I really did not need.  I had not
been to the mall in six months, but, here I was, wandering towards the
bookstore when I saw her.

Now twenty-two, she was more beautiful than ever as she pushed the
baby carriage through the mall, stopping to look at the dresses on
sale in the windows. Her hair was brown again, not the brassy blonde
she dyed it in high school.   It went well with her coloring and her
big brown eyes.  Her figure was even better than I remembered, full,
lush, yet tight with a narrow waist, shapely calves continuing from
skirted thighs. 

"Laura!  Honey, how are you?"

"Jack? Jack! Oh, Jack. I am so happy so see you!"

She turned red as if embarrassed but her eyes were shiny.  As we
hugged she held on for dear life which was fine by me. I would be
happy if we never stopped. When I kept her hand in mine as we
separated, she seemed to enjoy it.

"You daughter is beautiful, Laura. I know you and Bob must be proud."

A tear came to her eye as she looked away.

"Something wrong?"

"Bob and I are divorced, Jack. It was final last week."

"Oh. Laura, I am so sorry for you. What happened?"

Her eyes locked on to me, questioning, searching, wondering whether to
tell me the truth. 

"It's a long story."

"I have all the time in the world.  Let me buy you lunch. You can tell
me then."

Again, a long and desperate silence as she tried to decide.  She
squeezed my hand before letting it drop.

"I would like that."

We went to one of the quieter, full service restaurants in the mall,
sitting in a far corner.  Laura parked the stroller and held her baby
close to her as she fished in the big tote bag for a bottle.

"I have been nursing, but, in public..."

"Don't worry about me. I think nursing is great."

She gave me a delightful grin. It was the first real smile from her I
had seen today.  She had a beautiful, warm, innocent but very sexy
smile.  She needed to do it more frequently. We ordered lunch as she
slipped the bottle in the baby's mouth.  Jennifer closed her little
eyes, her fists clenched in tiny balls, as she sucked mightily on the
cold rubber substitute for her mother's own warm teat. 

"Okay, what are you thinking,"  Laura said, eyeing me suspiciously.  I
know I blushed.  "Tell me."  "Just an old joke.  Jennifer nursing
reminder me of it."  "I need a good laugh.   Good lord, Jack. We know
each other well enough to tell dirty jokes."  

I told her.  The old one about why mother's milk is so much better to
take on picnics.  Stays fresh. Better for you. Comes in such a cute
container. She laughed politely.  It was not that good a joke to begin
with but it broke the silence so heavy around us.  

"Okay, tell me your story."   

Again, there was a long pause as she stared at me as if hoping to find
the answer to all her problems in my face.

"I feel a compulsion to be totally honest with you. I am trying to
think through why I feel that way."

"I know why."

"Why?"

"Because you know how special... how important...  you are to me. You
know you can trust me totally."

And, she could.  Laura was my daughter's best friend. Over the years,
she and I had developed a very close, friendly, warm, but non-sexual
relationship. It was more than father-daughter, more than
teacher-student. Less than lovers, although in some ways it was more
meaningful, certainly more meaningful than a one night stand or short
affair which was solely passion driven.  It was a very special
relationship to me, and, I hoped, to her. Often, she had come to me
for advise, finding a sympathetic voice and a non- judgmental ear.
After my divorce, she came to comfort and council me.  When she became
engaged, we quit talking to each other.  I really felt the loss of her
company more than she knew;  perhaps, more than even I knew before I
saw her again today.  

"Jack... Jack, I committed adultery." 

Tears began to fall. She struggled to hold the baby and the bottle in
one hand as she searched for a tissue. I gave her mine. She smiled
wanly, dabbing a quickly reddening eyes with the soft tip of the
rolled paper.

"Laura, I did not mean to pry."

"No. I want to tell you! You see, he asked me to do it. I thought I
was making him happy.  Oh, Jack, was I so horrible?"

In a torrent of words punctuated by sobs, the story began to flow out
of her, a story like many others, of a woman trying to please her man
by giving him complete control of her sexuality, of her man not
knowing what he wanted of her or himself, of his intoxication with the
power her love and submission gave him, of setting limits beyond what
was desired, of limits tested and surpassed.     Knowledge gained of
what actually was wanted... but, that knowledge coming too late to
prevent events which shatter the trust...  the foundation... of a
marriage.  Yes, she said they both loved it.  She liked the attention
of different men. She was being so honest with me... so honest.  She
was afraid she would drive me away but more afraid not to unburden her
soul. 

The waitress gave me a nasty look as she asked Laura if she wanted
anything.  "Should I call security, ma'am?" she asked, concerned over
Laura's obvious sorrow.  Laura shook her head no as she blotted tears.
She continued her story around bites of salad as we ate the meal
without tasting it, having it as a reason to sit and talk to each
other.  As we talked, I am sure it was evident to her how much I
cared, if any evidence was needed after the years of our relationship.  

"How can I help you?"

Her eyes burned into me, searching, probing, questioning eyes.  There
was such a great message in them, a message she was afraid to covert
to words. When her eyes finally dropped from mine, we sat in
uncomfortable silence.  There was so much I wanted to say, too, but, I
wrestled my own fears, fighting for the substance... for the sheer
guts...  to say what I so desperately wished to say.

"What are you going to do now?" I asked.

"I do not know.  I am living with my mother, but... "

"You need a sugar daddy," blurted out of me. 

My mind was racing and I felt like an idiot.  In my gut, I knew I
could not let her get away although I not the slightest idea how to go
forward.

"Oh?" Her eyebrows arched quizzically, her lips twitched in a
restrained grin.

"Yes. You need to find a generous, considerate older man who would
treat such a wonderful young woman with all the kindness she deserves.
He is madly in love..."

My heart was pounding. I knew I had turned bright red because I had no
intention of saying that. It just popped out and I was mortified. 

"Laura, I..."

She started laughing: a deep, rich, hearty laugh with her eyes
watering, that caused others in the restaurant to turn and stare at
her. Soon, her gasping for air punctuated the little giggles as she
fought to restrain herself.  The waitress returned, again eyeing me
suspiciously. I think she would have assaulted me at the slightest
provocation. 

"And, where would I find such a loving older man?" she asked, still
fighting back the giggles.

"Oh, Laura... I was not trying to come on to you.  I just... well..."
I sat in silence, unable to say what I wanted to say.  Isn't the human
mind an amazing complex of emotions, juxtapositioned to stifle what
should be easy communication for fear of saying the wrong thing.  I
was holding tight to one level of a relationship, fearful of jumping
to the next level, even though my desire to make that jump was so
great the words had leapt from my subconscious, revealing what my
conscious feared to show. 

She put her hand over mine, squeezing gently to reassure me.  She
handed me her pocket appointment calendar, the little book so many
people now use to organize their lives. 

"The divorce was final on the fourteenth. Look under that date."

Her eyes were bright and alive as I looked. The notation said:
"Divorce final. Quit putting it off. You know he is the one. Call
him!"  Him was underlined three times.

Puzzled, I gave the calendar back but she pushed it to me.

"Keep looking back."

Each day had a notation, "call him," and it was sometimes emphasized
with underlines or smiley faces.  Back and back through the days, I
went.  Finally, I reached the page she wanted me to see.

"Call Jack Williams. 555-1234."

"Me?  I am honored but... why?"

"I am crazy about you, too.  I thought about you many times when I was
married to Bob. I am afraid he suffered in the comparison.  Sometime
after Bob and I separated, I realized you returned over and over to my
thoughts.  Those thoughts were good thoughts, Jack...  loving
thoughts... caring thoughts.  I decided to wait until the divorce was
final.  Then... I have picked up the phone countless times to call
you. I just didn't know how to...."

We held hands across the table, lost in each other, relishing the
silence of and the touch as lovers have done since men and women were
created, seeing each other in new ways, creating fantasies, one for
the other, built on a hope of our own desires for the future.
Jennifer's cry broke our reverie, allowing me to find my voice.

"You have not seen the changes I made to the house since you were last
there.  Why don't you come over, perhaps tonight. We could have
dinner."

I got that fabulous smile of hers again: that so sexy, so warm and
honest, yet, so innocent smile.

"Just dinner?"  

Could I even hope?"

"I have some etchings to show you."

"How wonderful! I love etchings. I have wanted to see your etchings
for a long time, Jack."

The waitress appeared, seeming to be convinced I was not a monster and
her customer was safe with me.  Or, perhaps, she just realized I was
paying and wished to encourage a larger tip. It made no difference as
I over tipped substantially.  I held Jennifer as Laura repacked the
stroller.  

I was at that awkward age: still wanting children; too young for
grandchildren; my own already grown. I saw Laura watching me out of
the corner of her eye.

"I want more children. One or two, anyway."  It was said so softly I
could have ignored it had I chosen. But, I looked at her and smiled.
We held hands as I walked her to her car, loaded the baby...
Jennifer... into the car seat and held the door for Laura.  Again,
silence surrounded us as we searched each other's faces again.  We
kissed... a long, loving, kiss. She flashed that warm, sexy, wonderful
smile at me again as she sat down.

"See you at seven, sugar daddy," she giggled.

I was a nervous wreck at seven.  If I had been a drinking man, I would
have been drunk as I sought courage from a bottle.  But, instead, I
was fidgeting man. Every piece of furniture and knick knack had been
moved twice.  The cold boiled shrimp on the hor d'ourve platter had
been rearranged so many times they were bruised.  The clock was almost
worn out just from me checking it to see if it had failed or time was
simply stopped.  If the door bell had rung a minute later, I would
have gone mad.  I threw open the door.

Even after forty years, all of which was spent living with women since
I had a mother, two sisters, a wife and a daughter, I am still amazed
how a woman can combine clothes, accessories, makeup and attitude to
provide a limitless number of messages to be sent to those who see
her.  

Laura was wearing a simple white blouse with long, puffed sleeves,
five buttons of which two were not fastened, a simple gold chain with
a small diamond around her neck and matching ear drops.  She wore a
tight, mid-thigh black skirt, nude stockings and pumps with three inch
heels, discreet, lightly applied makeup with light pastel nail
coloring.  Her hair was soft on her shoulders.  The message was "I am
a beautiful and highly sexual woman but off limits to all men... but
one."

She took my breath away.  As I stood, rudely taking her in rather than
inviting her in, she gave me a wicked smile and slowly turned.  "Do I
look good enough to be invited in?" She had that smile again. 

"Forgive me. I just enjoyed seeing you so much."  I recovered
adequately to be a good host. We visited, sipping a light drink,
spending precious time being together again.  It was she who changed
the nature of our discussions. She gave me a wicked, wanton, "I want
to be fucked" smile as she took my hand in hers.  She raised my palm
to her lips and kissed it.  

"I have never had a sugar daddy before," she teased. "What is a girl
suppose to do?"  

"The girl is doing just fine," I replied as I pulled her to me.  In
that instant before our lips met, as she was moving towards me, a
picture flashed from my subconscious.  It was the only time our
relationship had crossed that line from special friends into a sexual
realm.   She was almost seventeen.  We had been talking but I could
not remember about what.  Suddenly, she leapt into me, her arms around
my neck, her firm, young body pressed hard against mine. Before I
could stop her (not that I would have), her tongue was down my throat,
kissing me with all the passion for which a man could wish.   It had
frightened and embarrassed us both and never occurred again.  

Until now. Now, she was against me again.  This time she was
twenty-two and we both were single.  She giggled.  Leaning back, she
turned a light red and giggled again.   "What?" I asked.  "Remember
when..."  She, too, dredged that memory from her mind, telling me for
the first time how she would have willingly gone to my bed then if
only I had asked.  

"I am glad we waited, Laura.  Now, it will mean we can do this a
lifetime without guilt."  

"Let's get started."

"No.  You can wait," I replied.  Her eyes flared with lust as she
squirmed her body against me, forcing her skirt up around her waist,
revealing bright pink thong panties.

"Going to make me wait? I have waited a long time for you, Jack."  She
kissed me lustily, driving me back onto the couch as she squirming on
me.  "Going to make me beg for it?" she gasped between kisses. She sat
up, rubbing her pantied pussy against my too bound cock as she began
to unbutton my shirt with haste. 

"Tell me what you are going to do to me, Jack?  Going to hold me
down?"  She ripped my unbuttoned shirt out of my pants, groaning as
she fell to suck my nipple. Up again, she yanked at my belt, ripping
it open. She growled as she yanked my trousers off me, shoes and socks
flying with them.

"Now, what are you going to do to me, Jack?  Are you going to make me
suck your cock!" 
 She yanked my boxers down.  Greedily, she fell on my cock, taking it
into her mouth. I wrapped my hand in her hair and began pulling until
she released the suction and lunged up on me.  I rolled her over
trapping her hands under her. She was surprised, her mouth forming a
little O, her eyes wide. Then, she squirmed again.

"What are you going to do to me, Jack?" she whispered. "All of those
things and more," I said, kissing her as I began to remove her he
clothes.  I freed a pair of gorgeous breasts.   When I sucked her
nipple, I tasted her milk: hot, sweet, thick.  I began kneading her
breast forcing the milk into my mouth, aiding the suction applied to
strongly. It was something I had not done since my own daughter, her
friend, Becky, was a babe in arms. 

"Migod, Jack, please, I need you in me," she moaned, trying to get her
arms from under her, trying to hurry me. I kept her pinned as I
suckled, enjoying her squirming, the heat radiating from her, the
thick, yellow-white milk I consumed from her breast. "Jack, oh, Jesus,
Jack, I.. I... ohhhhh..."  I felt her relax.  "Wow," she murmured.
"That has never happened before."

"See. We sugar daddies know what we are doing."  

What can be said.  Hours later in the quiet of my bedroom, she lay
against me as we cooled, sweat covered and sticky, happy and depleted.
She was more magnificent than even my fertile imagination conceived,
too wonderful for me to describe.  

"Yes, Jack. I will," she said in my ear, as she readjusted her
position, her leg over my cock, her breasts on my chest.  "Will what?"
I replied, kissing her softly. "Will marry you.  Didn't I hear you
ask?"

I rolled her over, crushing her into the bed.  "Laura, I need to say a
few things first." Suddenly, her whole attitude changed. She appeared
very frightened.  "What?" she gasped.  

"You will never have another man."  "Yes, sir," she grinned.  "We will
have children." "Yes, sir.  Anything else?"

"I will fuck your ass on our wedding night."  She gasped, squirming as
if she had been shocked. Then, she smiled wantonly.

"Yes, sir.  I would love doing anything with you, Jack... as long as
you love you."

"You know I do, and, I have for years.  Now, I will ask.  Will you
marry me?"



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