Quinn, Male, 41

	- Narrator, project manager, father of Tera

	- 6'0, beige skin, 190lbs, wavy blonde-brown hair a few inches long

Tera, Female, 15

	- High School Freshman, daughter of Quinn

	- 5'7, pale-beige skin, 135lbs, shoulder-length bright copper-red hair

Becky, Female, mid-40s

	- Woman staying at homeless shelter, mother of Juliet

	- 5'5, medium-beige skin, 150lbs, shoulder-length dirty-blonde hair

Juliet (Jules), Female, 17

	- Teen staying at homeless shelter, daughter of Becky

	- 5'8, pale-beige skin, 135lbs, very short curly hair on top, shaved sides

Day 1.017

I hated the man I saw in the mirror the next day. The way I'd treated Shelly was unforgivable. Even knowing that she had reset to never having had that experience, it was all too vivid in my mind. I hated myself for it. She'd deserved respect, and instead, I'd treated her like garbage.

I needed to do something kind that night, find goodness in my soul again, and after ensuring that Curt wasn't coming, I held Tera and said quietly, “feeling like crap?”

She groaned against my chest, “yeah...”

“Me too... I was thinking. Let's go do something nice tonight. There's a soup kitchen downtown, feel like going with me to do something nice for a change?”

“Not really... just want to go to bed.”

“Come on... it will make you feel better.”

“Sorry, not feeling it, Dad.”

Tera went up the stairs. I was determined to go anyway.

St. Paul's was a Catholic Church which operated a shelter and free kitchen near one of the poorer neighborhoods in town. Homelessness was a big problem in the area. I'd wanted to get involved for years, just never seemed to have the time.

I certainly had all the time in the world, now.

- - -

“Need an extra hand tonight?”

The man in the suit and apron eyed me a moment, shrugged, said, “sure. What are wanting to do?”

“Anything you need. I just want to help.”

He nodded, pointed toward an office near the back, and headed up to the front of the building where they were in the middle of serving dinner.

I knocked and poked my head inside. The man at the desk looked up, could have been brothers with the guy in the apron. “Hey, I was pointed back here to offer my time tonight.”

“Fill this out,” he said, handing me a clipboard. “Take it up to Vanessa up front when you're done.”

Vanessa was a tall dark-haired woman in her early-50s. She was slender, small breasts, pleasantly-wide hips. The woman wore a yellow apron over her long, dark-blue conservative dress. I introduced myself, handed her the form. She eyed it, nodded, said, “ok. Uh... Wash up over there, I'll get you an apron and hairnet... and one for your beard. I could use someone helping on the stew.”

In moments I was dishing out beef and vegetable stew alongside four others ladling mashed potatoes, squash, broccoli casserole, and toast. There were dozens of people in the dining hall. They didn't look like what I expected soup kitchen people to look like. There were a few in ratty, dusty jackets with matted hair and vacant looks, sure, but if I'd witnessed most of the others walking down the street, I would never figured them for needing to get a hand out.

There were a few teens and smaller children, several groups which appeared to be families, dressed simply and cleanly, for the most part. Most of the men were clean-shaven, many of the women wearing attractive makeup. It could have been a cafeteria hall in pretty much any place in the country.

I spooned out a serving of stew and smiled at the short man before me. He gave me a tight grin and moved down the line. A teen girl, probably sixteen or seventeen, shook her head when I offered the stew, opting instead for the casserole nearby. I watched her a moment. She looked tired but otherwise healthy. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a loose braid. Her small, braless breasts were just shadowy mounds under her t-shirt.

I caught myself staring at the girl's body too long and shook myself away from the thought. I was there to help people, not make them feel uncomfortable.

A couple of hours later, the line died down. I stood talking politely with a couple of the other people serving. Both were regulars and suggested I talk to a few of the people eating in the hall to get to know them, get a glimpse of their lives, and begin to understand why they were there. They pointed out a couple specific ones they knew enjoyed the company, and turned back to start cleaning up the kitchen.

I leaned over a table where a young man sat alone. He smiled when I approached. “Hi, new here?”

I nodded, “I am. First night.”

“Welcome. I'm Thomas.”

“Quinn. Nice to meet you. Mind if I sit?”

“Not at all. What brought you down here to volunteer tonight, Quinn?”

Instead of asking him why he was there, he was asking me that very question.

I shrugged, “no reason... just felt like the right thing to do tonight.” I looked back at the serving line. “It's not much, but I had to start somewhere. Feel like I've been letting people down lately,” meaning everyone, really. “Just wanted to help.”

Thomas smiled again, and then told me his story. He'd been working as a dispatcher for the county, lost the job and all the benefits, and when he couldn't pay his rent, he slept on couches whenever someone agreed to let him crash. His parents were no longer around, he had no siblings. I grew sadder the longer he talked.

He said he stayed at the shelter next door, making a little money on some of the small jobs that came around from time to time. “I'm saving a little at a time. I just need to keep this going about four more months and I should be golden.”

I didn't really know what to say. He caught that look on my face, grinned, “I know, I'm a downer sometimes. But that's why I'm here. Not too proud to get help when I need it.”

“Nothing to be ashamed of, it could happen to any of us.”

Thomas looked down at his food bowl, said, “well, I need to go, have a few hands of spades to play with some friends. Nice to meet you, Quinn. Hope to see you again soon.”

I shook his hand and stood. Despite the sadness of the situation, Thomas had a great outlook. I felt pangs of frustration when I understood that he'd always be homeless in this strange time loop.

I saw two women sitting together near the back of the room. A friendly-faced motherly-looking woman with dirty-blonde hair sat across from a younger woman with black hair shaved around her neck and up the sides of her head, leaving the hair on top short and curly. A steel bar piercing ran through one side of the younger woman's lower lip.

The older woman had been pointed out to me, so I approached the table, introduced myself. They offered me a seat and I sat across from the punk chick. The dirty-blonde said, “I'm Becky, this is my daughter, Juliet.”

While her mother smiled at me with a warm face, Juliet offered a quick half-smile and stared at her half-eaten food. I explained that I was new that night and had been told that they might enjoy some conversation with dinner.

Becky opened up quickly about their situation. Juliet's father, Becky's ex, had taken everything in a divorce, and within months, Becky lost her job and Juliet needed a major surgery. They'd lived for the last two weeks at the shelter in one of the family rooms. Becky's face began to droop as she talked, the bubbly, friendly tones giving way to more melancholy ones.

“Don't really know what we're going to do. No one is hiring and we can't make enough here to get by anywhere else. Thank God that Juliet is still in high school. It keeps her from being stuck here like I am.”

I shook my head, said, “I'm so sorry...”

“No,” Juliet spoke up for the first time. “Don't feel sorry for us! I hate that.” She stood, her black t-shirt catching briefly on the table. When Juliet swatted to free it, the shirt flipped up, and for a long second, I saw the teen's pierced right nipple. It was gone in an instant and Juliet said, “I'm going to the bathroom,” and strode off towards the side of the room.

Becky looked sympathetic, said softly. “She's seventeen, having a hard time. Had to change schools, never sees her friends. She tries to look and act tough, but she's a sweet girl, and her heart breaks easily. “

“I have a daughter of my own, fifteen. She's a softy, herself.”

“Married?”

“Me? Divorced. Over two years ago. Just me and Tera now. We do ok.”

Becky's leg shifted and brushed against mine. Maybe I imagined it, but it felt like she held it there much longer than necessary before crossing her legs again.

“It's been hard on both of us, really,” Becky told me, “gets kinda lonely. You'd think with all these people here, that wouldn't be so, but it is lonely. Really kinda isolating. There's only one other girl staying in the shelter that is Juliet's age, but she just keeps to herself. As for me... I dunno. There's a lot of turnover here, people coming and going all the time. And we're still really new.”

She turned her body towards me, smiled, “really appreciate you coming over to talk, Quinn. Guess I had a lot to say.”

I returned the expression. “My pleasure...” Becky was staring into my eyes. I had a hard time trying to figure out if she was being attentive or perhaps something more.

Juliet returned a moment later, looking flushed and a bit sweaty. Her mom's eyes narrowed, then she returned to her pleasant expression. Juliet's eyes met mine for a second then slipped away. Her pupils were dilated.

Becky gave her daughter a look that showed silent caution. Juliet blushed and quickly sped back in the direction of the bathroom. Before she left, I caught a whiff of wet pussy. I groaned inwardly, tried to remember why I was there that night.

Becky gave me a knowing smile, said nothing.

“Everything ok?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Jules has some... habits... that aren't always appropriate. No problems. You have a teenage girl, I'm sure you understand.”

I wasn't sure that I did. I wondered if the aroused genitals I'd smelled had been the teen's, unable to keep myself from inhaling again, trying in vain to recapture her scent.

“So, Quinn... shot in the dark... Can I show you around the shelter? You said you wanted to see what it was like. You should come over and let me give you the tour.”

I shrugged, said, “sure.”

We waited until Juliet came back, left the girl to finish her supper. Becky ushered me through a hallway which connected the buildings and into a small lobby. I had to sign in as the woman's guest. Becky took me around the ground floor, where there were workshops and supply rooms and administrative offices, as well as bunk rooms for overnight drop-ins. She guided me up to the second floor, told me that the residential units were there and down one wing to a door near the end. She used her key to open it and showed me her room.

It really was just a room, only a small shower stall and toilet walled off near the back. There was a small sink, two small tables, a storage chest with a lock, and a simple box spring and mattress on a very short frame.

“Not much, but for now, this is home.”

“Wow.”

“I know, right? I went from middle-class comfort to this. I shouldn't complain, though, it gives Jules and me a safe place to sleep. Gets a little crowded sometimes, but...” she eyed me a moment, hesitated. “Look, I'm not supposed to have alcohol here, but I've always enjoyed wine. Can I share a bottle with you? I'd really like that.”

I nodded, “I'd be honored.”

She grabbed the bottle from where she'd hidden it beneath the mattress and used a loose corkscrew to remove the stopper. Becky poured into two small paper cups, and we toasted to having something rather than nothing.

She sat on the side of the mattress, and I did the same. Becky took a long swallow of wine before continuing. “So you're not married and you came down to volunteer to feed people on a Friday night. Don't mean to pry, but is it safe to say you're single, Quinn?”

“I am. Haven't had a relationship in over two years, since my ex.”

“Bummer. Unless that's what you wanted.”

“I dunno. Sorta.” I leaned back on one arm. “Just never found someone I wanted to date. I protected myself, I guess. Didn't want to get hurt, and didn't want to get Tera mixed up in another bad relationship with me.”

“Understandable. Relationship meaning...committed?”

“Uh...” I thought about Bobbi and Shelly. “Right, committed.”

“Gotcha. Everyone needs a fling sometimes.”

It was then that I realized that Becky was hitting on me. Her eyes were cast softly on my face, and her expression was thoughtful, kind. She swallowed her wine and sat her cup down beside the bed. She leaned forward, pursed her lips, said, “Quinn, look. It's been a long time for me. Know what I mean?”

I nodded slowly, said nothing.

“I'm a Christian woman, I've got a teenage daughter, and I've got desires like everyone else. Would you be with me a while? It would mean a lot...”

I hesitated, debated telling her no, that that wasn't why I'd come out that night. But she looked at me, hopefully. I could see the desires of which she spoke in her face. It was a soft face, a kind face, and I felt like, if just for a short time, I could make her feel good again.

I leaned in and brought my lips to hers. They were warm, trembling a bit. My tongue found hers and I laid her back, my hands running to her neck and cheek. She tucked one arm over my shoulder and started to rub my back. I pulled off her shirt, fondled her moderately-sized covered tits, then reached behind her to unsnap the bra.

Large, pink-brown areolae topped heavy breasts, and I sucked while caressing them. Becky moaned, her pent-up sexual frustration being released with each shudder. One of my hands trailed down to her waist. I unzipped her slacks and slid my hand inside, petting her panty-covered genitals. Her flesh was warm through the fabric, slightly damp.

I kissed down her body, unbuttoned her pants and pulled them off, and then removed Becky's panties. I smelled her arousal, and I second guessed whether it had been Juliet I'd smelled earlier that night. The aroma was rich and sharp, almost tangy. Spicy. Her light-brown bush was full, the woman's fleshly labia dark reddish-brown. I inhaled again, let Becky's aroma fill me, and slid my tongue through her cunt.

She moaned loudly, slapped a hand over her mouth. Thin walls were probably surrounding us as she trembled with each touch. I lapped her sharp, tart cream, her labia meaty and slick. I tongued Becky's vagina, drug it flatly along her slit and up over her clitoris.

Becky moaned into her hand. I flicked her clit back and forth quickly, first the top, then the underside, then swirled around it in circles, drooling saliva over and down her genitals. Her body jerked, jerked, I felt her clit harden, withdraw, harden again, and Becky came on my face, a long muffled moan barely caught by her fingers.

I licked her slower as her moans faded and her skin glistened with sweat, her climax filling her with tingling euphoria. I cleaned away the thin juices which drooled from her vagina, washed them over her clit as it shrank and filled again. I slipped a finger into her pussy, then a second, a third. I pushed them in and out, my tongue teasing the tip of her nub.

Becky built quickly again, moaning into her palm, her other hand pinching her own nipple. I rubbed the rough patch along the top of her vagina while lapping her clit. Her channel clamped down hard, tried to squeeze me out. I circled her G-spot intensely, her clit throbbing against my tongue.

Becky's ass clenched, rose up from the bed. Her thighs tightened and strained, and ejaculate fired out of her cunt and over my chin and fingers. Again and again, she cried out against her hand as clear fluids squirted out of her hairy crotch. I licked the juices from my fingers and from Becky's trembling labia.

She fell back, out of breath. I laid down on my side next to her, kissing her breasts, her neck, and then her lips. Before she had completely recovered, she pushed me onto my back and pulled down my pants.

My cock was sticking straight up, a drop of precum at the tip. Becky stroked me a few times.

I remembered Shelly. “I... I don't have a condom.”

Becky hesitated. She asked, “do you want me to stop?”

“Only if you do.”

She answered that by moving a leg over my hips and sliding her wet, sticky pussy down my length. Becky buried me inside her, put her hands on my shoulders, and rode my cock like a champ.

Her vagina wasn't tight, especially after a three-finger squirting orgasm, but she was hot inside, slick. I loved the way I could feel her fleshy labia hugging my shaft as she moved up and down.

I pulled her to me and kissed her a few seconds, then brought her tits to my face. I sucked on one nipple then the other, Becky covering her mouth again. I kissed her ample cleavage, licked her boobs all over.

Becky pounded down several times, an intense look on her face, and came again. I felt her tighten and loosen, tighten and loosen as the orgasm broke in waves over her. I wished I could have heard the woman without the muffling hand, but her moans were still incredibly arousing.

She shook her head back and forth, then looked at me, her hips still moving rapidly, fucking me with urgency. Becky stared at me a moment. “Want to cum inside me?”

I was too wrapped up in trying to hold back I didn't answer her.

“You can't... mmm... get... me... mmm... pregnant...”

I let go, felt my orgasm pound into my body as everything stiffened. I groaned, tried to be quiet, pulsed semen into Becky's pussy.

“Oh... yeah... oh... fuck...” I filled Becky with several long spurts of cum, flooding her, the sperm coating my shaft and her labia as it ran out quickly.

Becky moaned in a guttural tone, her eyes closed, her body milking my penis, working every last drop into her vagina.

She finally slowed when my cock shrank enough for it to slip out suddenly, a small queef and a squishing stream of semen following it.

The door opened.

Before Becky could climb off me, I heard, “Oh, God. Mom!” Juliet stood in the open doorway, staring between my legs to where I knew a spermy mess covered her mother's crotch and mine.

“Oh, no!” Becky scrambled over me and threw herself under the covers. “Jules! You know the rules. I follow them for you, knock!”

I couldn't move so fast, took a few seconds to sit up and scramble for my pants. Juliet's eyes never left my genitals.

“Sorry... didn't know you.. you know... hooked up.”

“Well... usually, I don't!”

“That's why I didn't knock.”

“Well... I might have been... in here by myself. God knows I've walked in on you taking a walk through the garden enough times.”

I found my underwear, slipped them on, finally covering myself from Juliet's view. She looked up. It wasn't a look of hatred or embarrassment or anger, but curiosity. Juliet turned back to her mother as I grabbed my jeans.

“I'll come back later.”

The door closed and Becky and I were left alone again. The woman started laughing. “The look on her face!”

I wondered exactly what her mother saw, because the look I saw showed an awful lot of interest in my sexual parts.

She leaned toward where I'd finished putting my shoes back on. “Listen, sorry for that at the end. But... thank you... that was... exactly what I needed. I was starting to feel... undesirable.”

I kissed her lips, stroked her hair, “believe me, Becky,” I said, being honest, “you are very desirable. Beautiful. Look... I can't promise... commitment... but, I'd like to see you again, maybe have a real date?”

Her eyes lit up. “Of course, I'd love that. No expectations, just get out of here for a night.”

We kissed a while before I told her that I needed to get home and check on my daughter, she thanked me again, and I drove back home feeling light and much better about myself than I had the night before. Even though I knew there would never be a date with Becky, leaving her with that hope, that anticipation of good times, felt like a kind way to say goodbye.

- - -

“Hungry, Sweetheart?” I said after knocking on Tera's door. I'd showered and rinsed off the smells of sex with Becky, put on my boxers and robe. I wasn't sure my daughter was awake, so I rapped and spoke softly. “Gonna make a pizza.”

“Ok. Be down in a few.”

The pizza was ready by the time Tera came down in a long white t-shirt. Her nipples were easily visible underneath. I tried hard not to look.

“Go to the soup kitchen?”

“I did,” I said, as I cut slices in the steaming mozzarella and spinach pizza. “Really learned a lot about the people there. Met a couple of really nice folks.” Nice having more than one meaning.

“You look happier.”

I let out a breath, felt happier. “I am. Made me feel good to do something good.”

I flipped on the television and we sat next to each other on the couch. I told Tera about Thomas, then Becky and Juliet. I left out the part about fucking the woman.

“Her mom let her get a piercing?” I'd told her about the one in Juliet's lip. “I want a piercing.”

“You have three in each ear.”

“I don't want it in my ear,” she said, drawing her feet up under her, causing her shirt to ride up to her thighs. I resisted looking to where I might catch a peek of my daughter's crotch.

“Where, then?”

“My clit, Dad. I want to pierce my clit.”

I raised an eyebrow and she laughed.

“Ok, not there... I dunno, I just like piercings. Lip would be cool.”

“I'll think about it,” I replied, already decided that, even if time returned to normal, my daughter was not getting a piercing in her lip.

She leaned into me, “what about my nipples?”

“I can see them through your shirt.”

Tera feigned embarrassment by showing me her shocked face and crossing an arm across her chest. Her shirt rode up another inch. I barely stopped myself again. She countered, “what I meant was, what if I wanted them pierced?”

“Not happening.”

She swung one leg out so that she could shake her torso, laughing, she said, “I'd let you watch.” I pushed her playfully, my eyes darting on their own to where her thighs were partially spread. Fiery copper pubes flashed in my vision just a second before she shifted again and hid them from my sight.

Tera stared at me a second. I wasn't sure if she'd caught me looking. She said nothing about it though.

I managed to stammer a reply. “Your nipples are fine without two inches of steel driven through them.”

She laughed, “great. My dad just complimented my nipples. Shoot me now.”

I laughed with her. Tera relaxed a bit, curled up against me. She was warm. My skin flushed as I tried to ignore how much I enjoyed the sensation.

“Maybe I'll go with you next time. Suppose it doesn't sound too bad.”

“I'd like that.”

I kissed her forehead and we sat together like that until I heard her snoring softly. I kissed her again, said gently, “time for bed, Sweetheart.”

She sat up slowly, rolled off the couch with deliberate effort. On her knees briefly, her backside to me, I stared into where the shirt was too short to cover my daughter's genitals. Bright red pubes surrounded thin, light pink labia, her lips pressed tightly together around a thin slit. It took all my willpower not to lean in for a sniff.

It passed too quickly and Tera hugged me after I stood up. I felt her hard nipples against me, fought to keep my erection from pressing against her stomach. “Goodnight, Dad.”

“Sweet dreams, Tera. I love you.”

“Love you.”

So many triggers for my dark thoughts. So many temptations. I'd have never touched her, I told myself, I had that much control, that much respect for Tera. But when I masturbated furiously moments later in my bed, it was Tera's virgin pussy I saw over and over in my head until I splattered cum all over my stomach.