Danielle and I

Danielle and I -- A Story of Forbidden Love

For nearly the past four years I've been having an intimate relationship with a young woman who is almost half my age. I'm 47, she's 27 -- and I'll call her Danielle. I've known Danielle for fourteen years, ever since she was a thirteen year-old girl in junior high school.

Danielle is stunningly attractive. Her biological father is a tall, thin, dark-haired man, and her mother Susan is of Mediterranean decent -- Susan's mother and father are originally from Crete, if I remember correctly. Danielle is raven-haired, with luscious, full lips, and shockingly beautiful sapphire-blue eyes. She's 5' 10", slender, long-legged, and very busty.

Danielle's mother and father divorced when she was 12, and I believe it broke her heart. Danielle was "Daddy's Girl", and when he left, she became somewhat of a wild child -- a couple of minor arrests for marijuana possession and underage drinking, some mediocre grades in school, a steady procession of loser boyfriends, and lastly, an abortion. Her mother and new stepfather persuaded Danielle to straighten up and fly right by promising her a new automobile upon graduation from high school -- which she got, and promptly totaled two months later.

She's never had a close relationship with her stepfather Kenny -- he didn't abuse her either mentally, physically or sexually, they just didn't bond. I think Kenny viewed Danielle as a disruptive force in the relationship he was trying to forge with Susan, and he didn't have the patience necessary to deal with her behavior. Kenny and Susan both were glad when Danielle decided in the early autumn after high school graduation to move to Seattle, live with her biological father, and go to college in the spring.

Serious problems with the SEC and the IRS caused Daddy to go to Federal prison for an extended stay shortly before Danielle's final year of college. Rather than return home, Danielle decided to stay in Seattle, work, and finish school. She did some modeling -- automotive magazines, swimsuit catalogs, lingerie for full-bosomed women -- and also worked as a waitress at the "Hoot Owl" restaurant, to help pay for college, but Danielle never wanted to make a career off of her body.

She is sharp, quick-witted, and intelligent, and after graduation from college, Danielle started work at an entry-level managerial position in the purchasing department of a major aeronautical corporation in Seattle. Since I travel constantly, Susan asked me if I would mind checking in on Danielle when I happened to be in the Puget Sound area -- which I told her wouldn't be a problem, I'd be more than happy to.

The first few times I visited Danielle she was happy to see me, and our time together was amicable and enjoyable -- we'd go to dinner, maybe go have a few drinks at a club, maybe go to a movie, maybe do some shopping or some sightseeing, maybe just sit at Danielle's apartment and talk about what was happening "back home". Sometimes her roommate/girlfriend Kimberly or one of her co-workers would join us for dinner, other times it was just the two of us.

One Saturday night in mid-October of 2007, we'd both had a few too many cocktails at a nearby karaoke bar with some of Danielle's friends. Since neither Danielle or I were in any shape to drive I offered to pay for a taxi, but Danielle suggested that she should stay the night at my hotel room -- it would be easier for her to get her Mini Cooper in the morning. One thing led to another, and that's when it all began.

We weren't stumbling drunk, just a little too buzzed to drive safely or legally. We went back to my hotel room, where I gave Danielle a T-shirt of mine to sleep in. I offered to sleep on the couch, but she insisted that we share the king-sized bed -- it was more than big enough for two people. Danielle changed clothes in the bathroom while I put on the gym shorts I sleep in.

We watched television for a bit while lying in bed, then I told her I was going to sleep. Danielle asked me if I was going to kiss her goodnight, so I leaned over and kissed the top of her head. She called me an "old fuddy-duddy", and bopped me with her pillow, whereupon I jokingly warned her "Don't start anything!"

She whacked me with her pillow again, said, "Bring it on!" -- and it was war! A pillow fight of epic proportions ensued, which I was winning until Danielle cheated and started using two pillows -- one in each hand. (To this day Danielle swears that she was kicking my ass throughout the pillow fight -- there seems to be a slight lingering discrepancy as to who actually was winning the battle!)

After she knocked my pillow out of my hands and to the floor, I cried "Uncle", and fell back on the bed laughing. Danielle quickly clamored on top of me, sat on my stomach, raised her hands victoriously over her head and began singing "We Are The Champions". When she got to the verse about "...no time for losers", I bucked her off of my stomach and onto her back, and quickly pinned her to the bed.

We laughed for a bit, but when I looked into her deep blue eyes, suddenly she didn't seem like Danielle - the little girl I'd known since junior high school. Something had changed, something was different - she was now Danielle, a very attractive and very desirable young woman! I gently kissed her on the lips, and she kissed me back. I kissed her again, and within a few seconds we were French-kissing and fondling each other. I ran my hands down her sides, over her legs, and back up to her firm, round rump as I kissed her and heard her sigh with pleasure.

Danielle asked me to wait, and then she got out of bed and slightly parted the window curtains so a soft luminescence from the moonlight shone through. She turned off the lights in the room, came back to the bed, then removed her panties and the T-shirt. Danielle lay back down in bed, snuggled up next to me, and looked at me with a mixture of desire and nervous anticipation in her beautiful sapphire eyes. Any second thoughts or misgivings I had for what was about to happen next melted away faster than an ice cube in the Phoenix summer sun.

My hands roamed over her soft and voluptuous body, committing every delightful inch of it to memory. We kissed and groped like two oversexed teenagers in the back seat of a car at the drive-in movie. I found the center of her femininity, and gently masturbated her to orgasm while nuzzling the nape of her neck and nursing on her impressive breasts.

We were both too aroused to wait any longer. Danielle gently pushed me onto my back, climbed astride me, and took control. The memories of the next several moments will live with me until I pass away -- the divine sensation as I penetrated her and felt her warm and wet tightness engulf my penis for the first time, the lithe and limber way Danielle's body gracefully moved on top of mine, the soft moonlight reflecting off the thin film of sweat on her smooth, light tan skin and making her seem to shine with brilliance.

I remember the way Danielle's long, coal black hair framed her pretty face as she concentrated on what she was doing, how her hands pressed on my chest as she supported herself, the fluid way her hips rolled and flexed as she ground herself onto me. The lush feel of her body -- her legs, her waist, her torso, her abdomen, her arms and shoulders, her back. The subtle fragrance of her perfume mixed with the pungent aroma of sex.

I'll never forget the way her hair tickled my face as she leaned forward so I could caress her ample breasts and suck on her nipples. And the sounds -- the sound of her breasts gently slapping together as she bounced up and down on me, the faint squishy sounds emanating from where our two bodies were joined, and the moans and groans from the both of us as we breathtakingly climax.

We made love twice more that night, and I fell asleep with Danielle nestled securely in my arms, feeling more relaxed and contented than I had in a long time. We had meshed together perfectly like the transmission gears in a well-built German automobile -- how could something that felt so right possibly be wrong?

However, the next morning I felt rather guilty about what had transpired, and Danielle could tell. She confessed that she'd had a crush on me since high school, and she was glad that what happened between us had happened. We spent that Sunday together -- but didn't make love again -- and I left the following day, still a little uneasy about what we'd done, and wondering where this would lead us.

I saw Danielle three more times that winter, once late in November, again in early January, and again in early March. Our time together began to take on a familiar routine -- dinner, some evening entertainment, then back to my hotel for some torrid casual sex.

Sometime in mid-April, I returned to the Northwest, called Danielle, and asked to meet her somewhere besides the hotel -- I intended to try to take our relationship back to where it was before we became intimate. We had fun together, but we didn't need to be in a sexual relationship -- I am married, and I felt Danielle should be with men more her age. Also, I was beginning to have feelings towards Danielle that were somewhat uncomfortable for me to acknowledge or deal with.

She meets me at a nearby coffee shop, and I'm shocked -- Danielle looks like death warmed over! She sounds horrible, her eyes are watery, her nose is running, and she's coughing up yellowish-green crud. I put my hand on her forehead, and she's burning up. I tell Danielle that she needs to see a doctor, but she tells me in a raspy voice that she's fine - Kimberly is in a lot worse shape than she is.

We go to their apartment, and it's obvious that Danielle and Kimberly are both sick as dogs. I insist that they go to a doctor, and they reluctantly agree. I take them to a nearby local clinic, where the physician ascertains they both have severe upper respiratory infections -- very bad cases of viral pneumonia. The doctor wants to hospitalize them both, but after listening to them vigorously protest, she relents and says they can go home if I'll agree to look after them. The M.D. writes a handful of prescriptions for each of them, gives them each a couple of shots, and she says they need at least 72 hours bed rest.

I take Danielle and Kimberly back to their apartment, put them to bed, and get busy. Over the next three days I clean their apartment, vacuum, dust, and do the dishes. I wash some of their laundry, feed their cat, empty out the litterbox, and take out the trash. I do some minor handyman tasks -- replace burnt-out light bulbs, tighten loose screws, oil squeaky door hinges, repair the constantly running toilet. I run errands for them -- I have their prescriptions filled, I take Danielle's Mini Cooper in for service, I pickup their dry-cleaning, and I buy groceries.

I sleep on their couch and nursemaid them both back to health. I cook some of Danielle's favorite foods for them -- homemade shrimp gumbo, chicken and dumplings, etouffee, red beans and rice with andouille sausage. Danielle and Kimberly both eat a little food and watch a little bit of television, but mostly all they do is sleep. Early in the afternoon of fourth day, Danielle says she feels much better -- she and Kimberly both look and sound a whole lot better - and later that afternoon they each ravenously devour two full helpings of smothered pork chops and rice with mushroom gravy, creamed corn, butter beans, and jalapeňo cornbread.

They've weathered the storm and they're going to be fine, so I kiss Danielle goodbye and tell her I'll see her next time. I found out later after I left, that Kimberly -- who had previously been somewhat aloof and chilly towards me - told Danielle that she wished she could find a man who took care of her like I did for Danielle, a man who treated her half as good as I treat Danielle, and now she understood why Danielle and I spent time together. According to Kimberly, I was a "keeper". Unbeknownst to me, the combination of what Kimberly said, and what I'd done for them, had made a very deep impression on Danielle's psyche.

Seven weeks later at Memorial Day weekend, I returned to Emerald City. I had called Danielle and told her I would be there mid-day Thursday, and asked if she wanted to meet me somewhere. Danielle said she'd call me back, but she never did. Late Thursday morning I got a text message from Danielle telling me that there would be an envelope for me at the truckstop, and I should read the letter inside. I arrived at the truckstop early that afternoon expecting the worst, got the envelope, and began to read Danielle's letter to me.

I'm not going to repeat what Danielle wrote in her letter to me, it's private and it's way too personal. Just know this -- when a woman pours her heart out to you in a seventeen page handwritten letter that has blotches on the paper where her teardrops fell... you'd have to be one stone-cold and heartless son-of-a-bitch not to be emotionally affected by it.

I caught the shuttle bus to Bellevue, and re-read her letter on the way to the hotel. After checking into the hotel I called Danielle, but she wouldn't answer her cellphone. I text messaged her and asked her to meet me at the hotel, she replied she'd be there at 7:30. I showered, changed clothes, fixed myself a double scotch, and for the next two hours I did nothing but sit and stare out the window, think, and read Danielle's letter to me over and over again. Finally, I decided the current situation was intolerable and it had to end. For better or worse, the status quo was going to change, and it was going to change tonight!

At precisely 7:30, there was a soft knock on my door. I opened it, and Danielle was standing there, wearing a pretty floral print summer dress, and looking gorgeous as always. I asked her in, fixed her a drink from the mini-bar, and we took seats at the little dining table by the plate glass window. I could tell Danielle had been crying, and she looked at me with a sad and resigned look on her pretty face -- much like someone whose company is having layoffs and they get called into their supervisor's office -- just give me the bad news and let's get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible.

Danielle thanked me for what I did for her and Kimberly when they were sick, she and Kimberly both deeply appreciated it. I replied that it was my pleasure, and that a man is supposed to take care of the women he loves. A quick look of surprise flashed across Danielle's lovely face, followed by a faint gasp -- she'd never heard me use the "L-word" before.

I got up and knelt in front of Danielle, took both her hands in mine, stared into her deep sapphire eyes, and bared my soul to her. I told her that I'd always loved her like a daughter, and it wasn't until last October when we first made love, that I saw her as Danielle - the beautiful and desirable young woman she had become. I confessed that the memories of the passionate moments we'd shared would last me for a lifetime, and that she was the most physically attractive and sexually appealing woman I'd ever had an intimate relation with.

I told Danielle she was too young to become romantically involved with an older man like me, and that she needed to find someone closer to her own age. I said that there was no reason why a young and pretty woman such as herself would want to become embroiled in a relationship with a married man twice her age -- especially me! I told Danielle it was ridiculous, it was irrational, and she would be ruining her life. I said there were a thousand good reasons why we shouldn't, and not one good reason why we should.

Danielle looked at me with tears streaming down her cheeks, and her lower lip quivered as I continued. I said that I had read and re-read her letter to me, and that it had forced me to confront the truth and acknowledge something that I hadn't wanted to admit to myself. I hadn't planned it to be like this, I didn't mean for it to happen, but there was no denying the way I felt about her. I told Danielle that this was going to be complicated, it was going to be dangerous, and we had to be very, very careful. It was absolutely crazy, but if she truly wanted to have a romantic relationship with me, I was more than willing to give it a try and see where it led us to, because I was falling in love as well... I was in love with her.

Tears were streaming down both of our faces, and I got up and went to get us some tissues. As I came back to the table, Danielle stood up, walked over to me, and hugged me tightly while she sobbed on my chest. I held her close to me, and after a minute or two she looked up at me with her beautiful sapphire eyes shining wetly, and smiled a smile that was equal parts joy and relief. Then, for the first time, Danielle spoke the three words that have changed our lives forever -- "I love you!"

That's the moment our relationship became a lot more intense. It wasn't just about sex anymore - Danielle and I were lovers!

She's spontaneous, she's adventurous, she's uninhibited, and she loves me with all her heart and soul. Danielle says I make her laugh, I make her feel truly loved, and I'm not judgmental about what she does, nor do I try to force my viewpoints and beliefs upon her -- in other words, I accept her for who she is. I treat her like the princess she is - I put her on a pedestal, and I worship the ground she walks on. I get her to listen to Blue Öyster Cult, she turns me on to Lady Gaga. I acquaint her with Carmenère, Danielle persuades me to drink Red Bull and vodka. I show her the joys of leisurely, unhurried sex, she French-kisses me after I ejaculate in her mouth so I can taste myself.

I spend time with this young minx, knowing that at anytime, anyplace, she just might get the urge to have sex with me -- and if she does, I'm almost powerless to resist. She stimulates me beyond belief, she teases me until I'm about ready to explode, and then she satisfies my sinful carnal desires again, and again, and again. When we make love, it's so satisfying, so fulfilling, that it makes my heart ache for the rest of the world - no one else has it as good as we do!

Danielle and I went to a major department store in the Emerald City a while back, and I bought her a dark-golden silk dress. With her black hair and olive-skin complexion, she looks like a Roman goddess in it. We go to Victoria's Secret to buy her some lingerie, but it just ends up as an excuse for Danielle to tease me as she models the lingerie for me - and for me to excite and stimulate Danielle by quickly fondling her sexy body and caressing her D-cup breasts while the store clerk isn't looking.

On a cold and rainy late autumn weekend, a couple of months after I bought her the dress, I had a three-day layover in Seattle. I called Danielle, told her what hotel I was staying at, and asked her if she wanted to get together for dinner and a movie. She immediately accepted my invitation, and said she'd be over a little after six.

When Danielle came to my hotel room that evening, she was wearing the dark-golden dress, but she seemed to be somewhat distant, maybe a little reserved, or demure -- a soft hug and a light kiss as a greeting. I knew she was being deliberately coy, and I wondered where this little game would lead. I didn't have long to wait, for when we got on the elevator to go to the lobby, she passionately French-kissed me and pressed her lush body against me. Taking my hands, she placed them inside her overcoat, on her luscious J.Lo-type derriere. As I rubbed her shapely, round bottom, Danielle lifted up the back of her dress so that I could squeeze the firm, taut cheeks of her tushy, and also feel that she wasn't wearing any panties.

All through dinner, Danielle kept giving me these long, smoldering, sexy looks -- like she's about to climb over the table and have wild, steamy sex with me right there in the restaurant.