Lydia

This story had been sitting on my computer for nearly four years, until the characters demanded their story be told. It another deep exploration into the mind and heart of a man whose problems of the past keep interfering with his joy in the future. Sex is not a major part of this story, so if that's why you are hear, you might want to look elsewhere. Please let me know if you enjoy it!

I must have been dozing in front of the TV when the strange sound occurred. I wasn't sure what I had just heard, but I chalked it up to the sound of the trees in front of the house blowing in the wind. I was about to close my eyes again when I heard it a second time - this time it was distinctive, the sound of three light taps on the front door. It was 9:45 in the evening, and I certainly wasn't dressed for company, since I was just wearing a pair of ragged shorts and an old T-shirt as the baseball game played on the television in front of me.

I stood up and headed toward the door. It was pitch black outside as I looked through the decorative windows on the top, so I reached for the porch light switch next to the door frame. The light did little to make it any brighter outside, but I knew when I opened the door, it would illuminate whoever was knocking at this time of night. Slowly I pulled the door open, somewhat curious to see who was there.

She couldn't have been more than eighteen, with short, stringy blond hair and an emaciated-looking body that could have used a few cheeseburgers. Her eyes were hollow, which was probably exaggerated by the dim light in which she stood. She was wearing a light jacket over a pair of shabby jeans. If she had a shirt underneath, I couldn't see it. A pair of canvas shoes covered white ankle socks, and she had what appeared to be a ratty old backpack on, completing her outfit.

She looked somewhat familiar, but since I didn't have anything to do with any girl that might be underage, I was certain I had not seen her before. Because of this fact, I was hesitant to let her in, especially since I lived alone, and had for the past twenty years.

I peered at this waif of a girl through the narrow opening I had created and said, "Can I help you?"

I couldn't tell if she was tired, or was like this all the time, but it took an effort just to answer my question. "Are you Darrin Masters?"

She knew my name - certainly not what I expected to hear, since I had never seen this girl in my life. I contemplated how I was going to answer her question, although I'm not sure why. If she knew who I was, it wouldn't be totally unthinkable that she could find where I live - after all, the town where I lived wasn't that big, and I suppose my address is associated with my name somewhere on the internet.

I also had to admit to more than a little curiosity about who this girl was and how she knew me. So, I answered by saying, "Yes - who wants to know?"

The girl's face brightened a bit, although not enough to remove the gaunt appearance. She looked down at her feet as she replied, "I've come a long way to see you - can I please come in?"

I knew that unless she was hiding a gun somewhere, she wouldn't be able to hurt me, and as long as I didn't leave her alone, I really wasn't worried about her robbing me. I pulled the door open wider, and she cautiously made her way inside. As she entered, I realized that she likely had more of which to be afraid of than me, since I was much bigger than she was, leaving her vulnerable to an aggressive attack.

I pointed over to the couch, but instead of sitting, she looked at me and said, "I hate to be forward, but I've been on the bus for two straight days with no money and nothing to eat. Could you find something to help a poor starving girl?"

Maybe that explained her gaunt look. I waved her into the kitchen with me. "You're in luck - I happened to grill a few chicken breasts tonight, and I'm pretty sure I have a couple of bags of steamer veggies I can pop in the microwave. Does that sound good?"

The girl allowed a small smile to creep across her face. "Actually, I'd probably eat the plastic bag the veggies came in if that was all that was available. The chicken sounds wonderful."

I got busy preparing dinner for my mystery guest. As I warmed things up, she sat quietly, placing her backpack on the floor next to her chair, and I was wondering if she was casing my house to make a getaway with something valuable when I wasn't looking. Of course, that was assuming I had anything valuable, which I knew was laughable. I didn't spend any of my hard-earned money on things I didn't need just to say I had them.

When the timer on the microwave beeped, I took the package out and set it on the counter. I set two of the grilled breasts on a plate and put them in the microwave to heat. When it sounded again, I took the breasts out and opened the veggies, dumping them on the plate next to the chicken. I got a knife and fork out of the drawer and carried the plate to the table, and then watched as my guest dug in.

It was clear that she was telling the truth - at least the part about being hungry. As she ate, I got a cup from the cabinet and filled it with ice water, but she didn't take a single drink until her plate was clean. Even if I had wanted to talk to her, she didn't stop eating long enough to say a word, so I didn't try and get any information from her until she was finished.

I took her empty plate and sat it in the sink. Turning, I motioned her to join me back in the living room. Grabbing her glass of ice water, she followed me, and eventually ended up on the couch where I had intended her to sit earlier. With her seated, I took my place in my recliner which was to the left of the couch.

We looked at each other for a few seconds before I broke the silence. "Okay, so you know who I am. Do I get the privilege of at least knowing your name?"

She smiled and said, "My name is Lydia."

Lydia - the same name as my grandmother, the same name I was going to name my first daughter, although that hadn't happened to this point. Hearing the name Lydia brought flashes of wonderful memories from when I was a kid and would spend a couple of weeks each summer at my grandparents' farm, and my grandma Lydia would do all that she could to spoil me.

Those happy flashes turned sour, however, as I remembered the woman I assumed would bear my children, including my first daughter that would be named Lydia. The memories were sour because before we could have any children, my now ex-wife had cheated on me, and the way I found out still sickened me. I had spent twenty years trying to erase that ugly memory from my mind, but this young stranger had caused it to come rushing back to the front.

I tried to blot those memories out as I turned back to my visitor and asked, "Why did you travel this long distance without eating just to see me?"

She looked down at her knees as she sat on the couch. "Well, this isn't easy to talk about, because I feel like I'm getting into some history here that may cause you to get upset. Please don't be upset with me - I had nothing to do with this."

I had no idea what she was talking about, but I could see that she was troubled by whatever it was she was about to tell me.

"Darrin, were you married to a woman named Lisa? Her maiden name was Lisa Simpson."

I suddenly got tense. She had just told me the name of my ex-wife, the woman who shattered my dream of a perfect life with one act of infidelity. Suddenly the scene played out in my mind. My wife had come home after a long day of work, and even though she was tired, she still looked as beautiful as if she had just gotten up for the day. I was all prepared to take her out for dinner, but a swell of lust came over me, and I found myself kissing her and massaging her breasts through her blouse. She put up what resembled a modest protest, but I had ignored it, and half carried/half dragged her to the bedroom.

Fortunately, she had worn a skirt to work that day, so I would get quick access to my intended target. I tossed her onto the bed, and then had to catch her as she scrambled to get off. She called out, "Stop it, Darrin - I'm too tired for this!" But we had played this game before, and since I thought we were playing again, my cock was hard and eagerly anticipating getting deep inside her sexy pussy.

I grabbed her and turned her over on her back. Her heels came off easily, and I tossed them aside, still holding her down as she tried to get away. Lisa was a tiny woman - nearly a foot shorter than my full six-foot height, with a small body to go along with her short frame. It wasn't any problem holding her down, since I was still in pretty good shape, having run track in high school and college.

With her shoes now out of the way, I pushed her skirt up to her waist, and in the same motion grabbed the elastic waistband of her panties and tugged them off with one swift pull, tossing them off the end of the bed. I struggled with my own pants since I was still using one hand to hold Lisa down as we played our game. The only trouble was that Lisa was farther into the "helpless damsel in distress" act than ever before. By the time I got my pants and underwear down and was facing her with my hard cock, she was in tears, begging me to stop.

"Please, Darrin - let me give you a blow job instead. I'm really tired, and I don't think I can stand up to one of your powerful fucks tonight."

This was unusual - we had fucked before when she had come home late, so why was tonight any different? I released her and she sat up, closing her legs as she opened her mouth and leaned forward to lick me. It was at that moment that I realized my wife was hiding something. Until that point, I had always trusted her completely, so the thought that she had been unfaithful to me had never crossed my mind. But seeing her panic as I was about to fuck her pushed me into a suspicious state. As she licked the underside of my cock, I stepped back and turned around, looking for the discarded panties.

She realized what I was looking for, and she shrieked, "No, Darrin, wait - please don't do it!" But it was too late. I had spotted them at the foot of the dresser across from our bed. Walking over to them, I knew that I was about to determine the fate of my marriage based upon what I found. Being careful to grab them by the waistband, it was clear that the crotch was soaked, and the telltale signs of another man's cum leaking out of my wife's pussy was grossly evident. My suspicions were confirmed - my wife had fucked another man before she came home to me.

To her credit, she didn't try to deny it. Right away, she started sobbing as she cried out, "I'm so sorry, Darrin - it was a stupid thing to do, and as soon as I started, I knew I hated it and wished it had never happened. Please, Darrin - please believe me that I'm sorry! Please let me show you how much I love you! Please give me a chance to show you how sorry I am!"

The mix of emotions that were going through my heart included rage, grief, and incredible sadness. I knew I had to get out, immediately, and I knew I wasn't going to be spending the night with her ever again. I went into our closet and dug out a suitcase and hanging bag. I grabbed a few sets of work clothes and stuffed them into the bag. Next, I hit the dresser and found underwear, a couple of pairs of jeans, some T-shirts and socks and piled them into the suitcase. I went into the bathroom to grab the toiletry items I would need, and threw them into an old, zippered bag we stored under the sink. If I needed anything else, I would just have to buy it, and I knew it would wait until after I had left and found a motel for the night.

Lisa had stayed on the bed, sobbing, and begging for another chance as I had packed. When she saw that I was done and ready to leave, she quickly got up and came over to me, putting her arms around me, trying to prevent me from leaving. At that moment, all I could see in my mind was her lover's cum still leaking out of her cheating pussy, tainting her body to me forever. I didn't want to hurt her, but the last thing I wanted was her touching me so soon after fucking another man.

"Lisa, stop touching me! I can't stand knowing another man has been inside you and left his calling card! Stay away from me!"

She shrieked and sobbed even harder, falling on the floor next to me as I turned and walked out of our bedroom. I stopped to get my keys and wallet and my company cell phone (we had just gotten them a couple of months before, and they were extremely basic - a single line LED screen that showed you the number you were calling was about the only feature it had). I turned back and looked down the hall, where Lisa was now slowly crawling out towards me, begging me to stay and give her another chance.

"Lisa, I don't see how I can get past this, but I will call you in a few days and we can see what my feelings are. You've made yours quite clear, so don't try to find me, and don't bother my job looking for me, or trying to come and see me. When it's time, we'll talk. Until then, give me my space."

The image of her lying on the floor was almost as powerful as the image of the crotch of her panties being soaked with another man's sperm. As I drove, looking for a decent motel with a "vacancy" sign, the expected questions dominated my thoughts. Why had she cheated on me? Was I not a good enough lover? Had I neglected her to the point where she took solace in the arms of another man? Was it her first time, or had she been cheating on me before? Was this someone she worked with, or perhaps an old boyfriend who had paid her a surprise visit? Or was it just a random one-night stand with a stranger she had never met? Why had she not at least used protection, instead of letting someone else stain her for me?

I shuddered at how close I had come to fucking her with her lover's remnants inside. I didn't know who he was or where they had fucked, but it was obviously a place where she didn't have an opportunity to clean up when she was done. I'm sure she wasn't expecting to be attacked when she got home, and I certainly could understand her panic when she thought I was going to find out what she had done when I realized I was fucking her pussy immediately after someone else had just done the same thing.

I never went back into that house unless she wasn't there, and only then it was to get the rest of my clothes and some of my personal possessions. I found an apartment and tried living there for a while, but every time I saw her on the street, I would get a sick feeling in my stomach. If we tried to talk, it always ended up with her sobbing and begging me for another chance. I didn't see an end to that kind of behavior, so I made plans to move somewhere else. When that day came, I talked to her for the last time, and made it clear that we were finished, and if she really loved me, she would never bother me again.

That was twenty years ago, and she had apparently honored that request, because I hadn't received as much as a phone call or email from her in all that time. I thought about her occasionally. In a way, I would never stop loving her, because before she cheated, we were a perfect couple, at least in my mind, and the thought of spending the rest of my life growing old with her as we enjoyed our kids and grandkids seemed idyllic. But once I saw those soaked panties, the fairy tale was over, and for the last twenty years, I'd been trying to forget that horrible day.

So now this strange girl had stirred up all those emotions again, just by uttering my ex-wife's name. I needed to get to the reason she was here, so I said, "How do you know that name, and why are you here to say it to me now?"

She lifted her eyes to mine, and after searching carefully for the right words to say, she said, "Because my name is Lydia Simpson - Lisa is my mother."

I sat back in my recliner, confused. So Lisa had a kid after I left, maybe even gotten pregnant the night she cheated on me - why did she need to come and see me? Why would I care about what Lisa had done after our divorce? I guess I wasn't surprised that she hadn't tried to tell me - after all, I had made it clear that she was to leave me alone. She knew there was no way I would care if she had ten kids after I left. It was the life she chose - it was a life without me, created the instant she opened her legs for another man.

With that mindset firmly planted, I replied, "So why are you here? I'm sorry I didn't know your mother got pregnant after I left, but I don't see what I can do for you. What is the purpose of this long bus ride to see me?"

She looked back down, as if she was afraid to tell me something that I didn't want to hear. Even though I didn't know her, I could tell that whatever she was going to tell me was going to be difficult, and I felt sorry for the pain she must be experiencing. I tried to calm her by saying, "Lydia, it's okay - I'm not going to hurt you, or be mad at you, no matter what you say. I'm really a nice guy!"

She didn't look up, but with conviction, she said, "I'm here because I'm 99 percent certain that you are my father, and I need your help."

I realized that I should have figured this out on my own, but the thought that I had fathered a child never entered my mind. I was stunned, just thinking about the possibility. If she was indeed my child, why had I not been told? I stood up and paced the room as my thoughts began to twist and clutter with words that I was not able to say. Me, a father?

I looked back on that terrible evening when I discovered my wife's infidelity. It wasn't my cum in her pussy - it was that of another man. I had stopped before inserting my own cock into that mess, so how was it that Lydia thought I was her father, and not her mother's lover?

What added to the confusion was that Lisa had named her Lydia - the name we had settled on together if our first child was a girl. Was this another way of getting even with me abandoning her and moving far away? Would she know that I would find out she had a daughter, and be able to laugh when she named her with the name the two of us had picked for our own child?

I turned back to Lydia, who was warily watching me, as if she expected my temper to get out of control, putting her in harm's way. For some reason, I immediately felt sorry for her, because she was caught up in a horrible situation over which she had no control, and certainly did not ask to be a part of. I was dealing with a firestorm of my own emotions at the moment, but I could still see how difficult this must be for her.

I had no desire to hurt her feelings, but I knew she needed to know a little about what had happened between her mother and me, especially since she was so sure I was her father. I walked over to her slowly to seem non-threatening and took a seat on the couch next to her. She was still tense, but I could tell that her fear of what I might do to her had dissipated somewhat.

"Lydia, I think you need to know what happened that caused me to leave your mother and move..."

"I know the entire story - at least what she has told me. She was very frank and honest with me a few years ago, when she thought I was old enough to know the truth. Before that, she had always skirted the issue when I would ask her about my father. But when I turned 16, she sat me down and told me the whole story. She's never forgiven herself for what she did to you, and how she destroyed what seemed to be the perfect family until she cheated."

I guess I wasn't surprised to hear that Lisa had told her about me. Until she had cheated on me, I didn't think Lisa had ever lied to me, or ever deceived me, so I wouldn't expect her to keep Lydia in the dark forever. But if Lydia knew, what had kept them from trying to find me before now? Maybe they had tried and had not been successful before. I purposely left few clues as to where I had relocated, thinking that only my parents knew, and I didn't think they would tell Lisa where I was, since I had made it painfully clear that I never wanted to see her again.