As the sun set over his driveway, Roger walked wearily toward his front door. It had been another long day at work, and his thirty-five-year-old frame desperately needed a rest. He stopped to gather his thoughts before going inside. In the glass pane of the front window, he eyed his reflection. Honestly, he felt good about the man looking back at him. Even in his mid-thirties he had kept in shape and was within five pounds of his varsity weight, thanks to decent genetics he still could pass for a man in his late twenties. Running his hand through his hair, he noted that there was no grey there, yet, men in his family usually kept their color, and his dark brown locks showed no hint of fading. The face did not show the mileage, and his brown eyes and soft features had invited comparison to a young Dennis Quaid on more than one occasion.
With a brief smile at his vanity, he turned and started fishing for his keys in a pants pocket when the front door opened on its own and his wife of fifteen years stood smiling in the doorway.
"Hey Sweetie, welcome home," said Joan as she leaned up to kiss his cheek.
"Aren't you home early?" asked Roger.
"Yeah, I had to pick up your son, and get this his girlfriend so they could do some homework together."
"Whoa, a girlfriend huh, well I guess fifteen isn't too young to get started on the romance," said Roger with a chuckle.
"Yeah and get this, she's the older woman, a senior and eighteen."
"Well, just like his old man going after the older woman," said Roger with a laugh, making a joke about the ten year age difference between him and his wife.
"Why don't you introduce yourself while I finish getting supper on the table, and be nice," she added as she moved off toward the kitchen.
"Shit, I'm always nice," Roger said grumpily under his breath as his wife walked off.
Roger laid his briefcase and keys on the entryway table and made his way into the living room. There was no sign of his son, but he quickly spotted a strange girl bent over looking into the tropical fish tank they kept in the room.
"You like tropical fish?" he asked to get her attention so he could make his introduction.
As she turned to face him, his voice faltered for a second. He wasn't sure what he expected, but this sure wasn't it. She might have been only eighteen but the girl standing before him was one of the prettiest he had ever seen, and his heart rate kicked up a notch as he surveyed the landscape. Not a big girl indeed, just a shade over five-foot-four he guessed, she was also a bit on the skinny side with thin legs that stuck out of her cargo shorts and into a pair of clunky looking shoes. She couldn't have been more than ninety pounds dripping wet, and carrying a bag of cement. That wasn't what was intriguing about her though. It was her face. Her skin, unlike most teens, was flawless and fair not a mole or a blemish. Her lips were soft looking, full and very light pink and may have been the most kissable looking pair of lips Roger had ever seen. Her nose was cute and upturned over those sweet lips, and she had gorgeous hazel green eyes like a stormy ocean. All of this was enhanced by her wavy platinum blonde hair that fell around her face in gentle folds.
Despite her small stature and apparent lightweight her breasts looked like they might be decent sized. It was hard to say since she was wearing a loose-fitting pink blouse, but there was the definite swell of some soft chest cannons under there. As Roger fought to find his voice, this quiet vision moved quickly across the room her heels making a loud noise on the wood floor. She stopped just in front of him sticking out a hand. Roger reached out to accept the gesture. Her tiny hand vanished in his feeling very warm and very soft.
"Hello, I'm Jennifer, but you can call me Jeni you must be Jack's dad," she said, those sweet pink lips splitting into a brilliant white smile.
"Um, yeah I guess I must be, Roger...please call me Roger, uh...Jeni."
"It's nice to meet you Roger, and if I may be so bold, I can see where your son got his good looks."
Roger felt himself blush like a schoolboy at the compliment, he hated to admit it, but he suddenly wanted this girl to like him very much, though why he even cared what some high school girl thought of him, he couldn't say.
"Thanks, Jeni, that's very nice of you, to make an old man feel better about himself."
"Oh, you don't look so old to me. I might have thought you were Jack's older brother if I hadn't seen your family photo on the wall."
"Watch it, flattery will get you everywhere with me," said Roger with a chuckle.
"Really and exactly where will it get me?" blurted Jeni
To Roger's dismay, her whole look and demeanor seemed to shift from schoolgirl to, well, to sultry temptress as her eyes flashed with mirth. Her lips fell into a strangely sexy smile, sort of a half smirk as if she knew what you were thinking and those thoughts were quite naughty. Roger felt the temperature seemed to climb by a dozen or so degrees in the room and his hands started to shake a bit, enough that he thrust them into his pockets to hide the tremor. For just a second he pictured her body pressed against him, those sweet lips touching his, then his wife's voice sounded from the other room, and the spell broke.
"Hey guy's dinner is ready!" called his wife.
Roger excused himself to the bathroom and washed his hands following with several splashes of cold water as he looked at his face in the mirror. After half a minute he decided he must have imagined the whole thing.
"Why would some girl half his age, his son's girlfriend no less be flirting with him?" he thought to himself.
Roger joined the rest of them to eat. Jeni took a seat right across from him, and he found himself spending a lot of time looking at the table. In spite of what he may have thought in the bathroom every time he dared to look up, it seemed like Jeni was staring at him with those damn gorgeous eyes. His body started to react with his cock swelling in his pants. He tried to distract himself by concentrating on his meal, and thankfully as soon as dinner was over the two kids vanished to Jack's room. Roger was able to focus on watching the ballgame and unwinding with a couple of beers as the night started to drag.
"Hey, how many of those have you had?" asked his wife as she stood in the kitchen doorway.
"Just a couple, maybe three, why?"
