Disclaimer:
All the usual, all the people portrayed herein are at least 18 years of age at the time of portrayed sexual congress, blah blah blah bling bling blah. If you're looking for something younger, you're using the wrong interwebz. Scram.
Chapter 1- It Took This Long
Cait always had been like a daughter to me, it was a strange thing. I'd met who through my roommates, one of whom she was dating when we first got to know one another. She was funny and free-spirited, with strawberry-blonde hair, dancing blue eyes and an attractive figure. She was crazy about my bent sense of humour and within three hours of meeting one another had said I was without question one of her 'favouritest people in the whole universe'.
Pretty sure there'd always been an underlying attraction between us. She'd just turned 18 when we met, I was twice her age. She constantly made mention of the fact that I looked a good ten years younger than I was, a decided ego boost for me and perhaps one of her justifications for engaging in some of the shenanigans we got up to.
Cait was, as I had said, funny and free-spirited. Bisexual by declaration and not inclined to modesty, she had lifted her sweater and exposed her bra to me the first time we met.
"Boobs!" she had yelled, getting in my line of sight, lifting her top and showing off her frilly purple bra, in which were nestled two rather impressive breasts. I played it cool and laughed, but those lovely adornments were in my thoughts for days after. It hadn't bothered her one whit that our living room was fully of people for a party or that her boyfriend was standing nearby. He didn't seem terribly fazed by the incident, so I assumed it was a somewhat regular occurrence when Cait got alcohol in her.
And as I got to know her, she really began to grow on me. I don't just mean sexual attraction, although there was an underlying aspect of that, but I genuinely liked Cait. She was becoming a theatre major at the local university and eloquent when called upon to be so. We had great games of improv, bringing people to fits of laughter when we teamed up.
We also talked a lot, just the two of us, about anything that came to mind. She was very sympathetic about my marriage that had so recently failed (hence my having roomies) and I dispensed sage, almost fatherly advice to her about subjects troubling her. I became rather protective of her, not in a sexual jealousy sort of way, but as a surrogate dad or at least a very imposing older brother.
She eventually broke up with my roomie, although it was mostly amicable and she started seeing some other guy who was an idiot. This didn't keep her from messing around with other guys or girls as she saw fit, and we maintained our perverted humour together.
Cait had this funny (and sometimes near-fatal) habit of trying to smother people with her boobs. She would often quickly stuff someone's head under her shirt and bear-hug them, their face squished into her bra, if she was wearing one, and often wrestle to keep them there until they nearly stopped struggling from lock of oxygen.
She tried this on me during a party we were hosting and everyone laughed as tiny Cait stuffed my enormous head under her sweater and tried to smother me. This particular night she was not wearing a bra, but I already knew this since she had flashed me randomly earlier. I loved this girl's breasts, they were full and perky, pale with tiny pink nipples that begged to be kissed.
Right at that moment, though, I was struggling to breathe. Admittedly, there would have been worse ways to die that smothered between those soft, kissable pillows, but I had no intention of dying just yet, having escaped my marriage mostly intact.
I couldn't stand up straight without tearing her shirt, so I was thrashing side-to-side while she clung ferociously to me, everyone laughing. She pushed me to one side and we bumped into the couch, which she promptly tried to pull me over. She half-succeeded, our bodies toppling so our legs were thrashing in the air over the back. She laughed and held on while oxygen was replaced by the lovely scent of her skin and exertions.
So I bit her.
Not hard, but I firmly clamped down on the swell of her boob. She gasped and struggled, but I wrapped my arms around her and held her tightly, determined to not let her get away. No one else knew what was happening and she thankfully didn't shriek, but she started slowly letting me go as a gesture of good will. I reciprocated, releasing my grip around her torso and finally removing my jaws from her breast.
We sunk over the couch with me beneath her and she panted wearily, people laughing since her eyes were spiralling from what they could only assume was a titanic struggle to keep me locked in her cleavage. I turned my head to the side, breathing heavily beneath her top, thankful for air in my lungs. She crawled until my head popped out from beneath her, my face red and sweating. People laughed and welcomed me back from the brink of death. At least three other people at this party had been nearly assassinated like this before.
She was with me later in the kitchen while everyone else was cheering some people playing Rock Band loudly in the living room. She slapped my arm and scowled at me.
"You nearly bit my tit off, you big hairy jerk!" she groused, looking very offended, like she'd brought none of this on herself.
"And you tried to kill me, so I'd say you got off lucky." I replied, sipping at my glass of water.
"Well, I didn't get off, but it felt better than I'd admit to anyone out there," she said in a softer voice, to make sure no one heard us. She then lifted her top and pointed at my bite mark on her breast. "Lookit what you did! Fuckin' ow, you meanie! Kiss it better."
I raised an eyebrow. "Here?"
She rolled her eyes and took me by the hand, leading me over to the basement stairs off the back-door landing. No one was likely to be back this way for any reason and she sat me on the stairs down to the basement before plunking down on my lap.
"Now," she said, pouting as she lifted her shirt again. "Kiss it and make it better!"
Knowing better than to say no, I pulled her to me and pressed my lips against the teeth marks I'd left on her, kissing it gently and even affectionately. She giggled and clasped my head, squirming her boobs against my face before pulling it up to rub her nose against mine.
"I like you," she said in a stupidly cute voice. "You're my favourite."
"I'm rather partial to you too, squirt," I replied. "You're one of my favourite people in this batshit crazy country of yours."
Sher lowered her shirt and led me back upstairs by the hand, walking me through the kitchen like some sort of giant pet. One of the girls saw us coming from the back and raised an eyebrow. "And what were you two doing?"
"Oh, Michael raped me in the basement." Cait said cheerfully.
The girl looked up at me. "You raped her? You were only gone for three minutes. You raped her?"
"Does she look torn in half to you?" I countered, causing our friend to consider and then drop the subject while Cait laughed and dragged me off to play Rock Band.
***
She was a regular fixture over at our place, always fun and entertaining to have around. Regardless of who she might have been seeing, she usually sat on my lap when she visited, if for no other reason than to confuse people and apparently make my life difficult by having to keep telling people we were
not
an item.
"Good," my roomie said. "Because even if you look ten years younger than you are and have that whole Viking thing going on, you're still twice her age and that's weird."
Cait often defended me if she heard people say these things, loudly announcing that if she were into cougars she would be all over me.
Thanks, I think.
Roomies eventually vacated over the months or year that followed and the house was left with me as the sole tenant for some time. I had a couple of regular visitors, one of whom, of course, was Cait. She would come over and just hang, snuggling in my lap while we watched movies or played games. Sometimes she would even crash out next to me on my bed. I normally sleep naked, but when she was staying over I would wear boxers of pajama bottoms. She would curl up next to me, her arm across my chest or her leg slung over my thigh.
We didn't kiss, at least not romantically. I'd kiss her somewhere on her head or face and she'd give me pecks on the cheek. She was not shy about lounging around my place wearing no shirt but just clad in a bra and flimsy shorts. Cuddling with her on the long couch and a hand across her breast was not uncommon. Our hugs? They were close enough, and it wasn't unknown for us to give one another's butts a squeeze through our pants.
Our friendship fell outside the parameters of whatever relationship she was in, she said she didn't mention me to her boyfriend. She teasingly asked if I was jealous and I replied that it wasn't my place to be jealous no matter how much I adored her. I was more protective than anything.
"Is it because I date boys?" she asked, straddling herself into my lap and smiling down at me with her hands around my neck. "I could date girls too. I am bi, you know. D'you think I'm bi?"
I considered for a moment. "I think you're bi for fun."
She frowned, wondering what I meant. "So you think I'm just bi because it's chic?"
"No, I think you love having fun, sexually, with the female body, but you are interested in relationships with boys."
She thought about what I'd said and then nodded. "There might be something to that. I love boobs, but it's guys I'm always trying to be with, isn't it?"
"My life'd be easier if you dated girls, it's true." I laughed.
"Well, don't worry, I'll always have time for you, Ludo," she cooed, booping me on the nose. "'cuz you're muh favourite!"
She gently eased my face between her breasts and held me there, hugging me. After a long and stressful day, it was a perfect way to wind down.
***
Eventually I acquired another roomie, not the five or six I'd managed to get rid of, but a single person so that the house didn't feel so damn crowded. Anita was a decided change from everyone before for several reasons, some of which were good, others were a bit of a trial. But she could hold a job and pay rent, which is what mattered to me. I loved my privacy and having the place to myself, but it was four bedrooms and a basement, so maybe one other person wouldn't be so bad.
Anita was a scenegirl, you know the type- lots of long, dyed black hair, pale skin, a few tats, snakebite lip-rings, horrible taste in music... but she was also rather pretty and sexy. She had a slim build with long legs and nicely-sized boobs. She liked to drink and have fun, when she wasn't having an emo breakdown and crying fit.
It wasn't long before she and I were having sex. I wouldn't say we were lovers, because that implies a somewhat deep emotional attachment, but we liked one another well enough to be roomies and this evolved into fuck buddies. We rarely kissed, unless it was in the heat of a sweaty fuck session and almost never slept in one another's beds, since we had out own. But we would probably have sex at least once a day if we were both in the house at the same time, since every guy likes to orgasm and she was DTF, to quote her.
