Part of a summer day with Molly...
School was over now. As the usual rounds of summer work began, though, I couldn't stop thinking about that final day with Molly. The phenomenal blowjob that left me in a stupor on her father's bed. The feeling of her body in the pool. The sensuous gyrations of her hips as she rode me. Most recently, the explosive throbbing of my orgasm as I pumped myself into her from behind. Every moment had been spectacular, and I had left exhausted, impressed, and immensely happy.
The problem was, I wanted more. When I was fixing things around the house, I thought of Molly. When I went out with friends on the boat, I imagined Molly sunbathing on the deck. When I made love to my wife, I closed my eyes and imagined it was my former student underneath me. Like any middle-aged man lucky enough to be having sex with a 19-year old woman, it was all I could think about!
What's more, I knew Molly wanted more as well. We had gone long past Molly expressing her gratitude for my support during high school, or my brilliant teaching. Over the course of two visits, we had developed an intensely satisfying sexual dynamic, and Molly wanted it to continue as much as I did. She had kissed me in the doorway of her father's house a few weeks before. Standing in front of me wrapped only in a bedsheet, she told me her father would be gone until August, the house would be empty, and she only worked four days a week. Mondays, Tuesdays, and Fridays were wide open.
As she nestled against my chest for one last kiss, she pulled back for a moment. "I want you to come back...is that bad? I still don't want you to leave your wife and marry me or anything, but I feel so good when I'm with you, and I want to keep feeling that way."
"No, it's not a bad thing," I reassured her. "I feel the same...we'll figure it out."
With that thought and a final peck, I drove home ruminating on the possibilities.
For the next two weeks, life was the usual rounds of summer. The kids went to camp, the wife went to work, and I tackled a series of home repair and renovation projects. In between, I spent some time fishing or running errands.
It was one of these errands that led to my inspiration. I had been looking for a new anchor, and the local marine store was happy to sell me one, but for $240. I was grinding my teeth over spending that kind of money for a lump of metal, so I looked on Craigslist. Lo and behold, there was the answer to both my issues! Forty miles down the coast-only 10 past Molly's house-was the perfect anchor for $60. My heart started pounding, and I realized how much I was wanting to see her again, to feel her young body against mine.
Quickly, I arranged the sale online. I said I could be there in two days-a Tuesday, so Molly would be free as well. He said any time was fine, so I said mid-afternoon, figuring that would give me the most time down there. After dinner, I told my wife I was going to stop by school for a meeting, then pick up the anchor. She nodded absently and went back to her reading. She even agreed to leave early and pick the kids up, then take them over to the beach for a while. I thanked her gratefully, wondering why my conscience was so easy to ignore.
Late that night, I texted Molly one of the pictures she had sent me weeks before: the patio of her father's house. I included the word "Tuesday?" and a grinning smiley face. Her answer came quickly-a single emoji that looked excited. That was followed by an even more exciting response-she said she would be spending Monday night there, and that I could just show up and wake her up. With a smile, I deleted the thread and went to bed.
Monday crawled by. Tuesday morning, I shaved most carefully and dressed for school in my finest business casual. Explaining that I wanted to beat the traffic, I left as early as possible for my "meeting." As I made my way south along the coast, my mind was filled with the idea of crawling into bed beside a sleeping Molly, nestling into her warmth, and waking her up to make love over and over again.
It was strange to open the door all alone. I closed it quietly behind me. It was even stranger to walk quietly down the hallway to the master bedroom in another man's house. This door was open, and enough sunlight filtered through the curtains that I could see Molly asleep under a thick comforter. I quietly stepped out of my shoes, then stripped off the rest of my clothes. Trembling with anticipation, I tiptoed to the side of the bed. Then, just as I had imagined, I lifted the edge of the covers and sat gently on the edge. Molly's deep, slow breathing never changed.
As I slid my legs under the covers, I was captivated by the sight stretched out beside me. The swelling curves of Molly's shoulders and hips, the long lines of her back and thighs, and the peaceful profile of her face against the pillow were enough to make me stop and stare even as I was getting into bed with her. My heart pounding, I stretched my six feet out behind her and settled the comforter over me.