Anani in the Pool

It wasn't right what I did. I still feel guilty about it 30 years later. How could I have been such an asshole? I need to write the story down just to get it out of my head so I can fucking sleep at night. Here you go.

The Carlsons were a Godsend to me. They lived a couple of houses up the street. Samantha was almost literally the girl next door. Her twin brother, Jacob, was one of my best friends. To be honest, he was just about my only friend.

My homelife was pretty fucked up. I'm not going to bore you with the details. The last time I told my story, I was at one of those group therapy thingees. The truth is, it wasn't

that

bad. My parents didn't hit me or anything like that. It's not what you're thinking—I fucking guarantee that.

Okay. Let me give you an inkling since you're so fucking curious. Here's a little tease of my homelife: if you asked me, I couldn't tell you whether or not my parents were actually married or not. They had been married at one time—that was for sure. But were they married when I was in high school? No idea. I think they got divorced somewhere in the time between when I was thirteen and eighteen. But it didn't matter because they still lived together. They still slept in the same bed. But their actual, honest-to-God, legal relationship? No fucking clue. Further, affiant sayeth not.

During high school, I spent a lot of time in my room and a lot of time over at Jake's. I didn't need to study much; I've never needed to study much. I can't remember a time when I wasn't about the smartest kid in my class. So what? It turns out that you can be really smart and still have a miserable, lonely, life.

Now I'm going to tell you about Jake and his family—the family that became my surrogate family for most of high school. The Carlsons.

Jake's dad was a VP at IBM when it was not a great time to be a VP at IBM because Microsoft was kicking their fucking ass and eating their lunch in the nascent tech marketplace. IBM was fast becoming a joke and everybody knew it. Jake's dad—whose name was John—was a tall, heavy, guy quickly going bald. He drove a Corvette and he had a badass stereo system in the living room. He was a large man, a former college football player twenty-five or so years before. He was pale, though I couldn't tell you if his skin color came from being in the office all the time or because he was born and raised in the Midwest. He had a nice house with a nice pool; he had a sportscar; he had a beautiful wife and two children. He was fucking living the American dream—and I think he knew it. But like many Americans in the 80's, his dream was on borrowed time. It wasn't going to last much longer.

Samantha—Jake's twin sister—was A Problem for me. Most every guy in high school wanted her, but she wasn't doing much of the dating thing. I couldn't tell you why. It was—and still is—a fucking mystery why somebody like her didn't have a serious boyfriend. I would have been her boyfriend but we weren't even close to being compatible. Not that I realized the situation at the time. I kept flirting with her every time I saw her, but she was Just Not Interested. I was so desperate to be with her that I kept trying despite receiving clear and consistent "not interested." Let's say I got an "A" for effort but a "D Minus" for actual results.

Jake was on the high school football team. He wasn't particularly good, but that didn't matter all that much because he was On the Team. I didn't play football. I didn't play shit. I was a fucking nerd and I still am a nerd. Nerds may be cool now but they most certainly were not cool at that time. Still, Jake tolerated me. We were friends and had been for years. He let me come over and hang out. We played CDs and talked about music as if that was An Important Topic of Conversation. Looking back, we didn't know shit about music—but we enjoyed listening to rock and the stuff that suburban white teens listened to at that time. I recall that Guns 'N' Roses were big for us, though we never made it to a concert.

Jake's parents were cool to me. I don't know why. Maybe they knew my family situation and took pity on me. Maybe I played a role in their own family dynamics—like the graphite rods that damp down nuclear fission reactions before they get out of control. I have no idea why they let me come over three or four times a week (after dinner), hang out with them, and watch TV with them in their TV room. It was a regular thing throughout most of high school: Jake and Samantha sat on the sofa next to their mom. Jake's dad sat on a chair, a beer in his hand. I sat on the floor, my back against the sofa. That was the scene, three or four times a week.

I have no idea why they let me come over and swim in their pool almost every weekend. I Do Not Know and it drives me crazy when I think about it. How could one family graciously open their home to a teenager—one who was so obviously smitten with their daughter? I have wondered about that mystery for 30 years, without finding any answers.

Anyway, Jake was chill and friendly, even though he was on the football team; Samantha was hot but Not Available—a constant source of sexual tension (which was 100% one-sided). Dad—John—was a VP at a quickly declining company but he had a cool Corvette.

And mom? What about Kanani? Yeah. That's what the rest of this little confession is about.

*****

Kanani and John, Jake and Samantha's parents. There was a story there and I'm not sure I ever knew the entire thing.

Kanani was Hawaiian. Literally born and raised on one of the islands. She looked like it: skin the color between brown and gold, raven black hair that fell to her shoulders. Large dark eyes—irises colored somewhere between warm brown and chocolate black. Full red lips. She was about five foot six or seven and, despite having twins, she was slender. Legs that went on for miles. Almost willowy, I would say now, looking back on my memory's picture of her. Smallish breasts but not too small. Proportional, I would say. She moved smoothly: she looked as if she could break into a Hula dance at any minute.

Somewhere back in the dawn of time, John and Kanani had met. Did they meet in Hawaii or at college, or where? I never knew. But they met. From what I gathered, Kanani had at least two serious boyfriends before John came along and wooed her away. I need to be clear: she was seeing at least two guys

at the same time

before she met John. There was some kind of competition between the (at least) three guys. John won. His prize: Kanani.

The description seems accurate. Looking back, I believe she was a trophy wife—only, unlike most trophy wives, she was John's first wife. I'm thinking he found his trophy wife and claimed her when he first saw her. He was not a dumb man by any means. He was well-off, successful, and he took care of his family. He probably seemed to be a good catch to a young woman looking for security.

But I also know now that Kanani wasn't happy with her marriage. There were signs—signs that I mostly missed because I was a stupid high school nerd who sat on the floor in somebody else's house, my attention focused on "Friends" and "Seinfeld" instead of watching the people around me.

My Emotional IQ in high school was measured in negative numbers.

There were signs of problems, even if they never really registered with me. For instance, John sat in a chair separated from the rest of his family. For instance, they let me hang out with them, made me a part of their family. I think me being there gave John and Kanani an excuse for not showing overt affection to each other. Another for instance: Kanani's dark eyes could flash with anger—and they did sometimes, when she looked at her husband. To the best of my memory, I never saw her eyes flash with love or affection when she looked at him.

For the final piece of evidence—People's Exhibit Four, Your Honor, May It Please the Court: Bates Numbers A-0103 through A-0113—they told their kids they were getting a divorce literally on the day their children graduated from high school. I shit you not. They were all at the graduation together—apparently a proud, loving family. Then they came home and made The Big Announcement. Their family shattered into pieces after that: the kids both went off to college and the parents split. The house was sold well before the end of the kids' first semester at UCLA.

So, take my word for it when I say that Kanani was done with being John's trophy wife.

What happened? I have no clue. I can tell you John was getting old and fat. The football player physique was slipping away quickly, much like the position of IBM as a leader in the tech industry. And that Corvette? You

know

he had to be compensating for something else, something he no longer had. He was a middle-aged former college football player starting to see the end of his career and his family and, inevitably, his life. Yet he didn't seem upset or miserable. He seemed to be in good spirits whenever we spoke. I wonder now if he had some side-action going on? I wouldn't be surprised.

As the three kids entered their final year of high school, Kanani studied, took a test, and became a realtor. I don't know if she was a

successful

realtor, but I know she put in a lot of hours doing the real estate gig. I'm pretty sure she was successful enough at real estate to give her the financial independence to split from him. Which she did, just as soon as her twins were done with high school.

Kanani and John were distant from each other; the appearance of being a loving couple was a complete sham. They lived together and shared the same bed, but they weren't a Real Couple. I bet they didn't even fuck each other anymore. I bet they hadn't had sex with each other for years.

Shit!

It just hit me—right now as I'm typing this story—that the two of them weren't all that different from

my

parents.

Fuck!

I'm too old to be having these psychological revelations about my fucking childhood. I know my therapist is going to smile like a smart-ass clown when I share

this

little tidbit with him at our next session.

Anyway, when I was eighteen Kanani let me fuck her.

*****

As time passed, I wanted Samantha less and Kanani more. Or maybe I was just being a teenage boy: I wanted to get laid and I wasn't choosy about who it would be. By the time I was a Senior, I was no long a virgin. I had done the deed twice, with two different girls (all after I turned eighteen, to be clear for the Literotica gatekeepers.)

I was terrible in bed.

So, because this is Literotica and they have rules here, I have to explain things to you. First thing: I turned eighteen before the end of my first semester as a high school Senior. I really did. I had a birthday that was less than one week beyond the school admission cut-off date. My parents decided not to petition for admittance so I was "held back" in pre-school entered school pretty much a year late. Because of that, I was a year older than everybody else in my class. When I turned sixteen and got a driver's license, they were all still fifteen. I was driving—legally—but nobody believed it. They thought I stole my parent's car when I was borrowing it. Nobody would ride with me; they thought they would get arrested. The point here is that I was eighteen early, compared to Jake and Samantha. I was eighteen almost ten months before they turned eighteen.

Attention all readers and Literotica gatekeepers:

I was eighteen and not a virgin when Kanani let me fuck her.

Clear? Can I publish this story now, please?

Second critical point, a repeat here because, apparently, the point bears repeating:

When I did lose my virginity, I was also eighteen. So were my partners.

So, in full compliance with all Literotica content rules, I will now proceed to tell you the story of Kanani Carlson and me. I will tell you about how the Carlson's opened their house to me, treated me like a part of their family ... and how I repaid that generosity by fucking Kanani.

*****

As I said, I eventually became aware that Samantha was not ever going to be attainable. At this point, I had known her and her brother for six or seven years. We had gone to middle-school together, even been in some of the same classes. By high school, we didn't have any classes together. I was in Honors and AP classes, and they were in the "regular" classes. No offense, but I was a helluva lot smarter than either of them. At least intellectually. As far as emotional stuff,

yeah.

I already admitted I was Pretty Fucked-Up emotionally. That situation lasted until well after high school was over. Some—like my wife—would say it's still the situation. Asperger's, anyone?

Samantha was not attainable but maybe—just maybe—Kanani was. Or maybe I

wanted

Kanani to be attainable. We have already established that I was an 18-year-old teenage boy and I would have fucked a four-leaf clover if it spread its legs open for me. Regardless, as time passed, as Jake and Samantha and I approached the end of high school and Kanani approached the end of her marriage, I got the sense she wasn't opposed to a little bit of subtle flirting with me.

I think it started in their pool. Kanani loved that pool. She swam laps nearly every day, wearing a modest bikini. Yes, a bikini. Even after having twins nearly eighteen years before, she still looked good in a bikini. She looked Really Good.

She swam laps and sometimes I just sat on the side of the pool, watching her. I watched her swim and I fantasized about taking that bikini off her dark-skinned body and exploring that same body with my fingers and my tongue. While she swam freestyle, I fantasized about that little gap between her inner thighs. I fantasized about fucking her. In my fantasy, I lasted longer than one minute. That was my goal: I wanted to last at least one minute before I came. I hadn't achieved that goal during my first two attempts.

I watched Kanani swim and I fantasized about her, about us. I'm pretty fucking sure she knew what I was thinking when I watched her swim. I'm pretty damn sure she knew—and I believe she liked it. She liked the thought that her approaching-forty mother's body turned me on. I have to believe she liked it, because why else would she flirt with me?

The best flirt went like this:

I left something over at the Carlson's house one night. I forget what it was. Let's just say it was a jacket. Anyway, I called their house the next afternoon to make sure they were home, so I could pick it up. Kanani answered.

"Yes, you can come pick it up, but I'm just about to jump into the shower," she told me. "Give me at least thirty minutes, then I'll be dressed. You can get your jacket then."

You can bet my mind went right into that shower along with her.

I looked at the clock. I made a plan. I wasn't going to wait thirty minutes—no fucking way! I was going to ring their doorbell while she was still in the shower. She was going to come down in a towel. She was going to open the door wearing just a towel and nothing else. That was my cunning plan.

I looked at the clock. How to time this? Ten minutes in the shower? Fifteen? Who knew? I decided on twenty minutes. Plausible deniability, right? Early enough to be an honest mistake. As I said, it was a cunning plan. For a teenager.

Exactly twenty minutes after I hung up the phone, I rang the Carlson's doorbell. A long minute later, Kanani opened the front door.

"Oh!" she said. "You're early!"

I didn't hear what she said because she was wearing a damp housecoat, a thin cottony pale orange thing whose wet spots showed she hadn't fully dried off yet. The housecoat covered her down to her knees and it had buttons down the front. When Kanani opened the door, not all the buttons had been done. I looked down to her legs because the coat was wide open from just below her crotch to her knees. I didn't just look.

I stared.

She slowly reached down and closed those open buttons. Did I mention she closed her coat

slowly?

So fucking slowly! It was like a strip-tease in reverse.

"Do you know where your jacket is?" she asked after all the buttons were done.

"Huh? What?"

"Your jacket!" she said. But she didn't say it in a mean voice. Looking back, I'm 99% sure she was amused. She might have been smiling. I wouldn't know, because I was still staring at those lower buttons.

"Uh, yeah. I left it in the—"

"Well, why don't you get it? I have to finish getting ready. I've got to meet some new clients. Okay, Jim?"

"Um, yeah. Sure. Okay."

She shook her head and walked up the stairs to her bedroom. I wanted to follow her. I wanted to follow her so fucking much! But I didn't. I got my jacket and got the hell out of there.

Those legs! Those thighs! The shadows that were hinted at, between the half-open housecoat and her skin! I wanted.... Well, the truth is that I didn't know what I wanted. I wanted to fuck her, sure. But I didn't know what else that might entail. Eat her pussy? Yes! But how could that happen? Suck on her delectable breasts and nipples? Most definitely. But how to go from naked under a housecoat to sticking my hard dick into her willing pussy? I had no idea. No fucking clue.

Which is almost certainly why I'd had sex twice before with two different girls, but no repeat performances. I was so bad that even the ones who desperately wanted to get laid didn't ask me for a second date.

Kanani was different. I didn't understand then what made her different, but she was. She knew me better than anybody else, even her children. After all, we'd spent many nights together, watching TV. She'd spoken with me more than anybody else had, except for Jake. She knew me and, still, she flirted with me.

*****

She was swimming laps the next time I visited the Carlsons. She was alone—her husband and the twins were at the annual SC-UCLA game. The rivalry was a Big Deal in their house, but Konani didn't seem to care about football as much as rest of her family did. They took off early to get a good parking spot at the Colisseum; she was left alone to swim laps and do whatever else she wanted to do.

I walked around the house, into the backyard. I heard her swimming long before I saw her. I walked up to the pool, took off my shoes and socks, and let my feet hang in the water while I watched her swim. At some point she saw me and smiled, letting me watch her and fantasize about her—as I always did. She swam her laps; when she was done, she was breathing hard.

"Can you turn on the jacuzzi?" she asked me. I nodded and did as she asked. The hot tub jets kicked on. She slowly, languidly, swam a few more laps, waiting for the jacuzzi to warm up. After a few more minutes she got up and walked over the hot tub.

"Join me?" she asked.

I gestured at my T-shirt and shorts. She looked and I'm pretty sure she saw that I was sporting an erection. She smiled once again.

"It's just us here," she said. I didn't need any more encouragement than that.

Soon we were sitting next to each other in the jacuzzi, leaning back. She was wearing her bikini and I was wearing my undies. My undies were tented out because my dick was as hard as it had ever been.

Slowly Kanani reached down and let her fingers caress my cock. She touched me for a minute or two before she sighed. Then she moved her hand up and took off the top of her bikini.

Kanani's breasts were gorgeous. Fucking gorgeous. They were a bit on the small side, but perfect for her willowy figure. Her skin was honey-brown, her areolae walnut-colored and not very wide. Her small nipples peaked up. I wanted to suck on her breasts so much!

I reached out a trembling hand, and she let me touch them!