"Hi, kids! Hi, Mr. Anderson!" Lizzie was zooming up the street into our driveway on wheels. She had no idea how intense my roller skating fetish was.
"Hi, Lizzie!" Sarah and Marco ran to meet our babysitter as she braked to a stop.
"Look what I got, Sarah? New skates just like you!"
Lizzie was the curvier of the two Johnson girls, but her older sister, Jen, was taller and prettier. Lizzie had put on a few pounds since I saw her last, but she wore them well. It was all a matter of preference, and I liked the bounce of Lizzie's body.
Especially on roller skates.
"Are we going skating today?" Sarah was beyond excited, and so Marco started jumping up and down. He did everything possible to mimic Sarah; she was his hero.
"Maybe. Should we teach Marco how to skate?" Lizzie had her full attention on the kids, which gave me a quick moment to enjoy the scene. Her long, white t-shirt and spandex shorts were doing nothing to quell my mischievous thoughts.
"Dad, didn't you say it was going to rain today?" My trance was broken when I heard my name.
"Yep. My phone says it will be raining in an hour." The thought of Lizzie in a wet shirt got my cock stirring a bit more than it already was.
"We could always go to the roller rink, but I don't have a car today." Lizzie was home from college and didn't take a full-time job so she could babysit four days per week for me. Life was hard since my wife died six months ago, and the Johnson family was beyond compassionate and helpful since we found out she had cancer.
Becoming a single parent at 40 is not a task I would wish on anyone, especially with an 11-year-old daughter. I was not well-equipped to teach her what it was like to become a teenage girl. I was counting on Heather for that, but God had a different plan.
Sarah handled her mother's death much better than Marco did. Maybe it was because she was eight when Heather was diagnosed and Marco was only four. Maybe it was because even at 11, she handled everything with the grace and confidence of an adult. Maybe it was because of people like Lizzie and Jen taking her under their wing. It's hard to tell.
"I can drop you off at the roller rink if you need me to. I can work from home today and come pick you up when you want to leave. I don't have a lot to do today." I tried to make things easy for Lizzie and Jen when they watched my kids. It's the least I could do.
"That sounds great, Mr. Anderson! Thanks so much!" I felt good knowing they would get to do what they wanted, but I was unprepared for the question Lizzie was about to ask.
"Why don't you come skate with us?"
First, I hadn't been on roller skates since high school. The physical results of skating could be catastrophic. Single fathers and broken bones are not friends.
Second, I'm not sure I could handle watching Lizzie and others gliding around the rink without pitching a painful tent. I had never taken Sarah to the roller rink, and Heather never knew why I asked her to take our daughter the few times she asked to go. I was too embarrassed to share my fetish with Heather, and I was afraid she would have thought I was weird or perverted. I thought it was best left hidden from the outside world. Looking back, I wish I had taken the chance by revealing it to her.
I panicked. "I have a lot of work to do today, Lizzie. I'll just drop you and the kids off and come back home." I forgot that I just told her I didn't have much to do.
"You just said you didn't have much to do today, silly!" Shit. She remembered.
Panic response #2. "Ok, you win. I'll come with, but I can't stay long." What just came out of my mouth?
The kids cheered and I stood there with a dumb look on my face.
"Great! I just have to run home to get my shoes, and then I'll walk back here so we can go. The rink won't let me enter wearing skates." Lizzie's smile was one of her best features. Her blonde hair framed her face perfectly, and her smile could light up a room. Or a driveway.
"Why don't we all get in my car, and we can stop at your house so you can change footwear? Then, we can just go straight to the rink. Let me run upstairs and change clothes." The gym shorts I was wearing would not be able to contain the bulge that I knew would arrive very soon.
I walked into my bedroom and stared directly at a picture of Heather. What the hell am I doing? I just agreed to go to a roller rink with my 21-year-old babysitter and my kids, and I most certainly will be aroused more than any time since Heather died. She said she wanted me to do whatever I needed to keep me happy after she died, but she certainly didn't have this in mind.
"Calm down, Paul," I said aloud to myself. "You are just taking the kids to the roller rink."
I quickly changed into two pairs of boxer-briefs, thinking that would act as an additional layer of erection suppression. I threw on some cargo shorts and grabbed my Yankees hat. The Johnsons had taken the kids to a game a few weeks ago and Sarah bought me a hat with money she had saved up from working in the neighborhood yards. Naturally, I bawled when she gave it to me.
As I hurried downstairs, I thought one last time about where this little trip could lead to. I caught a glimpse of Lizzie out the window and decided to just go with it. After all, it wasn't every day that a 21-year-old blonde with a great body roller skated into my driveway.
Heather and I were married for 15 years. We met in college, and though she graduated a year before me, we continued our relationship without interruption. She was tall with beautiful brown hair and the most magnetic personality. What she saw in my frumpy ass was beyond me. Her parents loved me and her siblings treated me like part of the family immediately. It was too good to be true.
Then, the diagnosis. The cancer wasn't localized to her breast. It had spread to her lungs. At 37 years old, she had a death sentence, and we had no idea when her number would be called. Doctors said she had a 20% chance to make it five years; she lived for three. We had as much fun as we could in the first year, but the last two were pure hell.
Prior to her illness, our sex life was good. On several nights when my in-laws wanted to take the kids, we had long, passionate sessions of love. It wasn't sex anymore. It was an artistic appreciation of each other. It was beautiful.
We both had our flaws, like everyone else. She didn't like the little bit of belly fat that stayed with her after the kids were born. I didn't like the little bit of belly fat that I had carried since I was 14. We were in love, and we decided long ago to look past the imperfections.
About a year after she was diagnosed, she didn't have the power or stamina to have sex anymore. Given the situation, it certainly didn't make me look at her any differently, but she felt awful for me. She told me to go out and find a sex partner if I wanted to, but of course, I never did. I quit my job and got my real estate license so I could make my own schedule. I was fortunate to be able to be there for her final few years.
The Johnsons were also a tremendous help. We moved into the neighborhood about the same time as Larry and Kathy, and so we bonded immediately. They had two daughters, Jen and Lizzie, and always told us that if we had kids, their girls would love to be babysitters. They were right; both girls loved my kids from the minute they were born.
Kathy would cook for us at least once every week, and Larry would take me golfing or fishing every so often just to take my mind off the impending doom. The girls would take my kids on adventures that their mother used to love, and Heather adored seeing the pictures of their journeys, while dying inside that she couldn't be the one watching them hike or play mini golf. Kathy was a little aloof at times, but they were more than generous with their time and talent.
I snapped out of my reminiscent daze and went outside.
Fortunately, Lizzie had already taken her skates off and was standing barefoot ready to get in my car. She had small feet, and her toenails were painted green, my favorite color. She and the kids piled in, and we drove down the street to the Johnsons' home. Lizzie jumped out, opened the garage door, and grabbed a pair of flip-flops.
Mikey's Rollerama had been a staple of the social scene in our town for several generations. It was small, but grade school and high school kids would go there to learn how to skate or just hang out and listen to music. With Lizzie carrying her bright blue skates, we walked in to discover that the rink wasn't at all how I remember it. Granted, it was 9:30am on a Wednesday, but the place looked like a mortuary. There were maybe 20 people in the entire place, and all but two of them were old enough to be my parents.
The sign in the front window said they had open skating from 9:00am-1:00pm on Wednesdays, but I thought I would ask.
"Can we get out there?" The girl behind the desk looked to be about Lizzie's age, and this was likely her summer job.
"Absolutely! It's just four bucks per person. How old is the little guy?" She smiled and waved at Marco.
"He's seven. He doesn't know how to skate, so we are going to help him." I still couldn't believe I was here.
"Great! I'll let him in for free. Take these tickets and go over to the skate gate to get your skates!" She obviously liked her job.
Then, she leaned over to me and said, "Be careful out there. The old-timers don't always check their mirrors." I laughed out loud, and we headed for the gate.
As the kids were putting on their skates, I asked if the rink had anything to help Marco. They gave me a contraption that looked like a walker on wheels. It looked like something that everyone else in the building used in their daily lives.
Lizzie bent down to tie her skates, and when her hair flipped up, I noticed that she had a small tattoo of a rose on the back of her neck. I asked her about it, and she looked up at me with a bit of an uncomfortable gaze.
"Let's talk about that later, ok?" I had no idea what nerve I hit, but it was clear she was bothered, so I backed off.
I laced up my brown rentals that looked like clown shoes with wheels and stood up. Surprisingly, I wasn't shaky as we slowly made our way to the floor. Lizzie seemed to notice that I was relieved that I hadn't hit the ground yet.
"You are doing great, Mr. Anderson! It's just like riding a bike!" She touched my arm and smiles, which sent chills down my spine and a little blood to my cock.
