Love Me... Love My Dogs

The relationship between Christie and John continues.

All characters are over the age of eighteen, and consenting adults.

Please, cast your votes and send me your thoughts when you're done reading.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A tongue woke me up.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking, but no. That tongue was hours away, in her dorm room, probably asleep. This tongue had four feet, and didn't understand why his new favourite human, the pretty one that gave great hugs, wasn't here today.

"Okay Baron, that's enough," I grumbled to him as he stood over me on the bed. "I miss Christie too, but we're going to have to do without her until Christmas, I guess." It was less than a month away, but having had her in my bed quite often lately...daily, in fact...it was something of a cold turkey withdrawal. That month was going to seem awfully long. Phone sex was just a painful reminder of how much better she was in person.

Little did I know that events were conspiring that might make our separation even longer.

I settled back into my routine, which I thought was pretty much the norm. You know... wake, work, home, eat, sleep, repeat. Sprinkle in dealing with two beagles, but other than that, totally normal.

Well, there is just one other thing. The sexy goddess, thirty years younger than me, daughter of my next door neighbours, who likes to fuck me unconscious. She also likes phone sex, naked selfies, and testing my sanity with suggestive texts. I would respond to them in kind, but with my technological expertise, I'd probably send it to everyone on my contact list, most of whom are not really interested in what my hard dick looks like.

The weekend after Christie went back to school...only three weeks to go, wahoo!...I was out in my backyard, when I heard a voice from over the fence.

"Hello? John? Are you outside?" Angela asked.

"Yes, Angela. What can I do for you?" I called back.

"Do you have a minute? I need to talk to you, in private," she said. "Can I come over?"

"Yes, of course, neighbour. Come over whenever you want," I said. This wasn't the first time she had come over to chat, but there was something about her choice of words that made this visit more unnerving.

'Need to talk' is sinister

.

***

"Do you have something you want to tell me, John?" Angela asked, once the small talk and pleasantries were dispensed with.

"I don't think so," I replied, wondering what she was fishing for. "Nothing new to report."

"You're sure? Nothing to do with my daughter?"

Her eyes gave nothing away. She had quite the poker face. Still, she could just be yanking my chain, to see what I coughed up. Maybe if I gave her something, she'd stop probing.

"Well, if it's about her using the pool, I told her she could use it as much as she wanted," I said, trying not to look nervous.

"That's fine, but it's not what I'm asking." She leveled her gaze at me again. "John?"

"I'm sorry, Angela. I don't follow you," I laughed, hoping I could throw her off by appearing casual. It didn't work.

"I know Christie was here last week," she said bluntly, "and I want to know why."

Okay, she didn't say she

knew

why, I thought. She's still fishing, but she must suspect something is going on. Maybe she heard Christie screaming that day, when the doors were open? No, that can't be it. If she heard that, there could be no doubt what was going on, and I'm sure she wouldn't have waited ten days to bring it up. Did she see us leaving together in the car? No. Christie was hidden before I even opened the garage door. How the hell did she know anything?

"Of course she was here," I said, misdirecting again. "She was home for Thanksgiving. She came over to use the pool every night."

Please, please, please. Let it go

.

"Yes she was...from Wednesday night on. So why was she here on

Tuesday

?"

"Shouldn't you be asking your daughter these questions?" I asked, desperation kicking in. I know it wasn't very gallant, but I was panicking a bit. My worst nightmare was rearing its head.

"Yes, and I will, but I'm asking you right now." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and giving me a serious stare. It also gave me a serious peek down her top, but I tried not to look. Well, not to get caught looking, anyway.

"John, what's going on between you and Christie? Please tell me," she demanded.

"What makes you think she was here Tuesday?" I asked, unwilling to concede that we were busted.

Angela reached into her pocket, and pulled out her cell phone. She tapped the screen a few times, then turned it to face me. It said 'FamTrack'.

Oh. Shit.

"When we got Christie her new phone, before she went to school, I installed this app on my phone. It tracks her location. See the dot?" she asked. It clearly showed she was at school. "I just wanted to keep an eye on her, I don't like her being so far away, all alone. Anyway, when the application installed its latest update, it added a new feature." She tapped the screen, and when she turned it for me to see, the single dot had been replaced by a line of dots.

"Now it logs her location every six hours, as well as her current position, for the last ten days," she said, touching the screen again, to zoom in, "and this dot says she was here Tuesday."

Fucking technology!

I cursed inside.

You mean to tell me we got fingered by some 99¢ application on a cell phone, that just happened to update at the worst time possible? If it had waited a day, it would have started logging on Wednesday, and we'd be clear

.

"Is Christie having trouble at school? Was she hiding out here, to avoid telling us why she was home early?" Angela's face conveyed motherly concern. I prayed mine didn't show the shocked relief that I was feeling at her misinterpretation of the information.

"I promised her I wouldn't say anything," I said, which was true, although for different reasons. "Yes, she was here, but you'd better get the whole story from her. All I can tell you is that she's not in trouble, and not to worry."

"Well, thank you for that, but I can't really confront her with this," Angela said quietly. "She doesn't know that I'm tracking her phone. I'm sure she'd have a fit, and it's not that I don't trust her...it's just that she's my baby, and I worry. Mom stuff. You don't have kids, do you John?"

"No, I don't," I answered, breathing easier. The little lie was less damning than the big truth would be. "I can understand how you feel, though. My dogs have chips in them, just in case."

"Now

there's

an idea!" she laughed, putting her phone away. "I wonder if I could get one of those for her?" She stood up and started to walk toward the back gate. "Thanks, John. I feel better."

You and me both

, I thought. I doubt it would be the case if you knew what we were really doing.

"No problem, Angela. Nice talking to you," I said, as she closed the gate behind her. I exhaled, a long, slow release of pressure.

That was too fucking close

.

I rested for a few minutes, letting my pulse drop below hummingbird levels, then went inside, and picked up my phone. My hands were still shaking a bit, but I managed to quell the quivering digits and get my words across.

Were your ears just burning?

I typed into my phone,

because your mother just grilled me about your whereabouts last Tuesday

.

There was a delay, then a reply.

WHAT!? OMG!

Another pause, then

How could she know?

, followed rapidly by

What did you tell her?

Relax baby. We're cool. I'll tell you all about it tonight when you call. Just thought you should know. Don't worry.

I replied, wondering why I sent the message in the first place. I had just scared the shit out of her for no reason. There was nothing she could do from where she was.

***

Our conversation that night was understandably tense. Christie was worried, as was I, and she was also a little pissed that her Mom had bugged her phone.

"I know it's only because she loves me, but it's an invasion of privacy," she grumbled. "And I can't even be mad at her about it, or she'll know you told me, and wonder how much we've been talking, and what we're talking about. I don't know anything, officially."

"That about covers it," I said. "If she does ask, what are you going to tell her? Just so we're on the same page, if she corners me."

"I don't know, but I'll let you know if she does. Until then, your silence is appreciated," she said quietly.

"Hey, I'm saving my own ass, too," I laughed. "Who do you think they'd kill first? Their own daughter...so pure and innocent, and six hours away...or the dirty old man right next door?"

"Pure and innocent, huh?" she giggled. "What are you wearing?"

That's my girl. Even in the face of adversity, she can still make my dick twitch

.

"The same as you, I assume. Absolutely nothing," I whispered.

"Ooooooo, goodie! Now, tell me what you want to do to me, my love..." she breathed.

***

I opened the front door, and was surprised to see Angela. Also terrified.

Twice in two days, this couldn't be good

.

"So, John, I've been thinking a lot about our conversation yesterday," she said, walking straight in. I closed the door and followed her. She stopped in the kitchen, and sat at the table. I sat down, too.

"It occurs to me that my daughter seems to have taken quite the interest in your dogs and your pool," she said, staring at me again. "That could be nothing, or it could be the real reason is something else entirely. It could be she's taken an interest in something else here. I know she's an incorrigible flirt..."

I could feel the blood draining from my face. She was on the right trail this time, and I didn't know if I could take too much interrogation before I cracked.

"John?" she asked.

"Yes Angela?" I said. My voice croaked a bit.

"I really, don't want to ask this question. My daughter is a grown woman, and she's never been one to make decisions lightly. What she does and who she does it with is her own affair..." I cringed inside at her choice of words, "...but, I need to ask you, anyway."

I held my breath. This was not the way I pictured this going. I thought my darling was going to divulge this information, when she was ready. At the very least, I thought she'd be present

.

"Are you having sex with my daughter?" she asked, straight up, no more pussy footing around.

So this is what a stroke feels like

. I said nothing, just looked at her silently. I promised Christie I wouldn't tell anyone, and I was going to keep that promise.

"Oh my god. You are!" she gasped, sitting back in her chair, her hand over her mouth in shock. "You bastard!"

She stood up abruptly and walked over to the window by the sink, her back to me. I was suddenly happy that all my kitchen knives were in a drawer, not out on the counter in a block, where they could be easily accessed and plunged into my chest.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I shouldn't have called you that. I shouldn't have even asked you the question in the first place, and now I wish I hadn't even installed that stupid app on my phone. I liked it better when I was ignorant of my daughter's love life."

"Would it help to know that it is exactly that?" I broke my silence. "A love life, not just a sex life?"

"Really?" she asked, turning to face me again. There was some relief on her face, but also concern. "I'm glad, but it brings up new problems."

"Yes, I know. I've had that conversation with Christie, but she doesn't care about age," I replied. "Apparently, she has a role model." I didn't point at her, but my gaze never wavered.

"Me?" she gasped. "Well, yes but...I mean, Ed's not that much...um...dammit! Dammit! Fucking dammit!" She drooped her head, defeated. "Son of a fucking bitch!"

She stood there, looking at my kitchen floor for a minute, breathing quietly. I didn't say a word.

"You love her?" she asked, barely audible, despite the silence in the room.

"Yes," I replied. My voice was steady. I was no longer nervous, and I wanted her to know I was serious. "I don't have to tell you what a remarkable young woman you've raised. You should be proud."

"I am, I am," she whispered. "She loves you, too?"

"I have to take her at her word, so yes," I answered.

"Okay then," she said, looking at me again. "We never had this conversation. I don't know anything, and I won't even ask about that mysterious Tuesday before Thanksgiving. What the two of you do is up to you, but please don't let my husband find out. For a while, at least. I don't know how he'll take it." She pushed off the counter and started to walk out, then paused.

"It goes without saying..." she warned.

"Yes Ma'am," I laughed, before getting serious. "No pregnancies, and never hurt your little girl."

"Fair enough," she said, and left. I heard the door open, then close.

Oh boy. Tonight's phone call was going to be a doozy.

***

"She WHAT?!" Christie gasped.

"You heard me," I said. "I think it's good news, honey. She trusts your judgement. Maybe she can even be of help when the time comes to tell your Dad."

"Like how?" she asked, still exasperated. "Get him wasted, and keep him that way for thirty years?"

"I hadn't thought of that," I asked, laughing, "but yes, if need be." There was a pause on the other end.

"Do you love me, baby?" she asked quietly.

"Of course, honey. With all my heart," I assured her.

"Even though it's complicated?"

"Since when is love anything but complicated," I laughed again. "Yes, baby. I Love You."

***

The Christmas Carol is titled the 'Twelve Days of Christmas', but I only received eleven days. Eleven presents, all the same...her presence. I doubted that meant I'd be getting to bed my luscious lover every day, as Ed might start to notice that his daughter was doing an awful lot of swimming. Then again, I didn't want to underestimate her ingenuity.

Christmas break was even longer than Thanksgiving, and Christie had been giving our potential schedule some thought in her absence. She arrived with a whole list of possible scenarios that might work. Between the pool bit, sneaking out when her parents were asleep, dog visitation and meeting me away from home, we'd probably be pretty busy.

First, though, there was the little matter of a face to face between mother and daughter. I wasn't invited, but I got the recap from Christie after the fact.

"Mom and I have never kept secrets from each other before," she said, while she snuggled against me that night. "I think that bothers her more than anything, but she says she understands why I didn't tell her right away. She's going to stay quiet, but I promised to answer any questions she asks from here on."

"Any questions? What if she asks about, um, specifics?" I asked.

"You're not shy, are you?," she laughed. "I promised. Anything she asks. I told her when I lost my virginity...which was very disappointing, by the way...so why not now?"

I tried not to dwell on the prospect of my love and her mother discussing the dimensions and effectiveness of my dick

.

Once things were settled between Christie and Angela, my girl was free to put her dirty little mind to work on our pleasure.

She met me at the mall, for some last minute shopping, lunch, and a backseat quickie.

I met her at the theatre, for a movie, snuggle, and a restroom blowjob.

She came over one afternoon to visit the dogs. Then we went to bed, and finished with me fucking her doggy style, and filling her with cum from behind.

We had sex each of the five times she came over to use the pool, and she paid me a few surreptitious midnight visits to satisfy her needs. It was paradise, having her back for this long. In some ways, Angela was actually being helpful. We didn't need to hide from her, just Ed, and she didn't want him to find out yet, so she was running some unofficial interference on our behalf to avoid him finding out.

***

Christie's Christmas break was coming to an end, and she would be heading back to school tomorrow morning.

There was a gentle knock on my outside bedroom door, and my darling girl stepped in quietly. It was later than usual, but she wasn't using the pool ruse tonight. This was a pure booty call, and she snuck out while her parents were asleep to meet her lover, who just happened to bear a striking resemblance to me. She dropped her robe, and slid silently in beside me.

Her body was so warm, soft and welcoming. Having her in my arms was such a completing act, it made her absence even more empty. I kissed her softly, and she snuggled deeper into my embrace.

"This feels weird, knowing that my Mother knows about us," she whispered. "I get these funny looks from her every once in a while. She knows that I know that she knows, but she can't say anything when anyone else is around, so she just gives me this little smile. It must be hard for her."

"I suppose," I laughed. "Still, you get to leave tomorrow morning, and I get the funky looks while you're away."

"Well, perhaps I could do something to make up for the inconvenience that will cause," she giggled, easing under the sheets further.

If this was my compensation, I say she could inconvenience me some more. A wet, slurpy sound came up from under the sheets, but the speed of sound is slower than the speed of cocksucking, so I already knew she was gobbling my dick before I heard it. Once she had the beast fully awake, she laid back, and let me make love to her.

It was a slow, gentle coupling, meant to hold us over for a few months. There was no rush, no frenzy, no demanding urges...just nearly two hours of loving embraces, kisses, and smooth, deep stroking. We shifted positions silently, giving and taking, to and from each other as necessary, and slowing our pace when fatigue called for a respite.

It was just after 3:30, when we reached our final zenith together. Laying on our sides, I was spooning her from behind, thrusting slowly into her smooth wetness. She had quaked through several quiet, but obviously enjoyable orgasms already, and I was nearing my own.

When I was younger, I liked nothing better than just pounding my partner into oblivion, fucking her hard, unconcerned with her wants. As long as she got to cum, I felt like I had done my job. The hubris of youth.

Time, experience and a failed marriage had taught me otherwise. Now I knew that sometimes, the fast and hard approach was just what the doctor ordered. Sometimes, a woman wants to be objectified, and treated like a possession, but most times, she wants to be treated like a treasure, worshipped with reverence and respect.

I had found, to my own surprise, that the orgasms I experienced after one of these long, sensual sessions, were the best I'd ever had, leaving me gasping for air and totally satiated. Do unto others...who knew the Golden Rule applied to sex, too?

"Will you cum with me darling?" I whispered softly into her ear. My hands were cupping her big, soft breasts, fondling them gently, and she put her hands over mine, squeezing tighter.

"Mmmm hmmm," she nodded. "I'm close, my love. Fill my pussy with your warm syrup, and I'm sure I'll cum again."

Within thirty seconds, I was spewing into her vagina, and she was pushing back against me, shuddering softly in my embrace. I kissed the side of her neck.

"Oh my god, honey...that was so intense," she hissed. "Thank you."

I was seeing stars, but I hugged her closer in response.

"I Love You."

***

My phone rang...the house phone, not my cell, so I knew it wasn't Christie. I had been zonked out since she left to go home, about 4 am. The visits were great, but I missed waking with her here.