May December 2

I have been a single parent for four years due to the untimely death of the love of my life in a car accident. Our daughter was 12 at the time of the accident. We both took it pretty hard, but we had each other and a good therapist. At least money was not a concern as the trucking company paid a large sum for the negligence of their driver who was uninjured and under the influence of OTC energizers. A Peterbilt truck versus a Prius was no match.

Roger Compton is my name and my daughter is Pamela, not Pam. She did not want to be identified with a spray for greasing pans. I admit with my knowledge of my daughter's suffering at the loss of her mother, I was reluctant to exercise 'tough love' tactics to counter Pamela's teenage histrionics. She was prone to use the 'my mother was killed' excuse for making bad decisions. Mostly, though, she was a typical teenager. That's plenty to provide a drama on a daily basis.

Speaking of drama, I loved the theater. I was not a good actor, so I supported the actors by becoming a makeup artist. I got a good reputation and soon was in demand for prom and wedding makeovers as well as local theater productions. I got to be with some very pretty girls and women often with revealing clothing on. Of course, I got teased by other guys about being gay, but it was worth it. Besides ogling scantily clad girls, I met my future wife by getting her ready for her senior prom.

Angela and I did not date until college. I was a mechanical engineering major and she was in architecture school. The buildings where engineering and architecture held most of their classes were next to each other. We saw each other frequently and began sharing lunch M-W-F. Then we dated. We got jobs within a few months of each other. Soon after, we got married.

Angela and I decided to have kids after three years of marriage. Pamela was a difficult birth and we agreed to stop at one. Several years later Angela had uterine problems and had to have a complete hysterectomy. Angela said she was glad she didn't have to take the pill anymore. Her figure improved after rehabilitation and being off the pill. I thought she was prettier than ever. We had a happy life for many years. Not enough years but many.

Then the day came. I got a phone call at work asking if I was the husband of Angela Compton. The feeling of dread was immediate. "Accident" and "dead" were the only words I heard before breaking down crying. My secretary screamed for help as I fell down in a fetal position. Once it was figured out what happened, my secretary took me to the hospital. One or more of my co-workers stayed with me. Twelve-year-old Pamela was brought to the hospital by her soccer coach whose husband was the Emergency Room doctor.

Everyone was sorry. Many offered condolences. Brandon was my former roommate from college and was now my lawyer. He went after the trucking company with a vengeance. He refused to take any money for his trouble. Pamela and I went for counseling, both privately and together. It took six months before we had a day without one of us crying.

We did pretty well until the first anniversary of the accident. In the midst of our grieving, we decided we couldn't, shouldn't do that again year after year. We decided to 'celebrate' Angela's life each year instead. It turned out to be a good idea.

When Pamela turned 16 and began going on dates with boys, she started on me. "Why don't you date, Dad? Surely there is some woman who agrees with you on how to torture teenagers." She ignored my expressed lack of interest and used both subtle and unsubtle measures to hook me up. She usually chose women older than me. Sometimes I wondered if she were looking more for a mother for her than a wife for me.

On the other hand, Pamela provided me with an abundance of young women to stimulate my lust gland. I was a big attraction for a lot of her friends for several reasons. I was a fit man and not too bad looking. I was the man to go to for cosmetic makeovers. I was the Dad who was willing to host parties for teenagers. I was the parent with a swimming pool with a tall privacy fence. I had the money to buy the latest, bestest goodies to snack on. As a result, I got to know a lot of young girls and see a lot of young girls' bodies. I never knew when they would decide to work on a full body tan. I learned to look away. Well, maybe not as quickly as I should have.

One girl in particular got my attention early on. Cindy was the daughter of a neighbor five houses down from ours. The wife of the family and my wife were great friends. After Angela's death, Pamela went to Nancy for a lot of the advice only a mother-figure can give. Pamela and Cindy were close friends until high school.

After noticing Cindy was not among the girls Pamela tended to invite over, I asked her why. "Cindy is such a geek. She's always studying. When we talk about boys, she just blushes or says, 'I could never do that.' No one likes her. If you look at how she dresses and doesn't use makeup, I don't think she likes herself either. At that moment I told Pamela she could not have another party at our house without inviting Cindy. She pouted but did as I asked.

Cindy came to the next pool party and immediately sought a spot to settle in that was away from most of the action. She was the only one not in a bathing suit. I went over to see her. "Hey, Cindy. Glad you could make it."

"My mother made me. I'm not very social."

"That's a shame. Did you bring a suit?"

"I don't have one."

"You mean you didn't bring one?"

"No, I don't own one. I don't know how to swim. Besides, it's never interested me to get into a 'let's see who can show off the most body parts' contest."

I began to realize inviting a girl who doesn't swim and was insecure about her looks to a swimming party was not a very good idea. Time to punt. "Cindy, how come you've never asked me to do a makeover for you? I'm world famous, you know." I chuckled.

"You have to have a decent canvas to paint something pretty."

Ouch. Talk about a lack of self-confidence. "Don't worry. I have been known to work miracles. Come on to my studio."

Cindy shuffled along behind me. "Won't the kids miss you?"

"Only if they run out of food."

We got to my studio and I told her to go to the bathroom and wash off her makeup. She said she didn't have any on. I recommended she wash her face anyway to get her natural skin oil off. I handed her a smock so I wouldn't get any makeup on her clothes. She came out and sat down. As I figured, she kept on all her clothes whereas many girls took off their blouse rather than wear one under the smock.

I looked at her face. It was symmetrical which was good. What was lacking was a striking feature - a part of her face that could be emphasized as the attention grabber when someone first looked at her. I decided on her eyes. I chose a blue-gray, almost teal color but subtler, for the basic background. Different shades of blue and gray finished the scene. I stepped back and looked. I was pleased. Next, I did the lipstick and blush. Nothing ostentatious. I let her look. She cried.

"I'm sorry. Is it that bad?"

"No, it's . . . it's wonderful. How did you know what to do?"

"Practice, plus you were wrong. You have the perfect canvas."

Cindy grabbed me and kissed me. She jumped back in shock. "I've never kissed any man except my father before. I'm sorry. Please forgive me." She started to cry.

I took her back in my arms. "Don't apologize. I'm honored to be your first." I had no idea how prophetic that statement would become.

"Can you show me how to put the makeup on?"

"On one condition: get blue tinted contact lens. It will make your pretty eyes even more striking."

She waited until she got her contact lens before she wore her makeup to school. She drew stares from many of the boys and envious stares from many of the girls who were afraid there was a new competitor for the boys.

Pamela came home that day and I could tell she was pissed. "Are you the one who got Cindy to start using makeup?"

"Guilty. Did she look good?"

"That's the problem. My boyfriend went all ga-ga over her. I had to smack him to keep him from grinning ear-to-ear."

I laughed which my daughter didn't appreciate. It got worse. Just then, Cindy came in without even knocking. She was excited.

"It was great, Mr. Compton. Boys noticed me. Oh, hi Pamela. What do you think about what your dad taught me about makeup?"

Thankfully, my daughter had drawn in her claws. "You look great Cindy. Why don't we work on your clothes next?"

I looked puzzled at my daughter. I was wondering what she was up to. I found out that she thought if Cindy looked a little better, she might steal other girls' boyfriends and not hers. Whatever the reason, the clothes she helped pick out were perfect, especially the bras.

When I was shown the new Cindy, all I could say was "Wow." I thought she had small breasts, but I was wrong. She had good sized breasts that she had hidden before with baggy clothing. I immediately wondered what she would look like in a bikini.

There was another swim party soon. Cindy did not come. I called her. "I don't have a suit. I'm scared to ask my mom to help me pick one out. She still thinks I need a one-piece with padding."

"What size are you?"

"What?"

"What breast size are you?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"You're about the same size as my late wife. I still have several of her suits that are in style. Tell me your breast size and I'll check to see if some would fit."

She told me 32C and I checked. Angela's breasts were 30B. I thought that was close enough to try. Cindy came in through the front door without the other kids seeing her. We went up to my bedroom. She saw the suits on the bed and became afraid. "I'm scared it will feel weird trying them on knowing they were last worn by your late wife. I'm not sure I can do it."

"Believe me, Angela would be happy to know you were wearing her suits. You know how much your mother has helped Pamela. I'm sure my wife was watching. I know she would approve."

Thus satisfied, Cindy went in the bathroom and locked the door. I smiled. By locking the door, she acknowledged I was a man, thus a possible source of lust. After she tried on the first suit, she came out. I tented my pants. She looked great. The first suit was a bit small on her which only gave the impression that her boobs and ass were about to burst out of the suit.

"What do you think?"

"I think the boys would attack you if you wore that to the pool. Maybe one a little larger." She agreed but paused and grinned when she noticed the bulge in my pants. Busted.

The next suit seemed to fit perfectly and wound up being the one Cindy chose to wear out to the pool. Suddenly an ominous, green cloud engulfed the swimming pool area. The green came from the collective jealousy of the girls who noted the attention of their boyfriends and the transmission of their feelings to their middle legs. Each girl went to divert the attention of her boyfriend. The two unattached boys bookended Cindy who seemed to enjoy the attention.

I was chewed out that night by Pamela. She tried to make me feel guilty for letting Cindy use her mother's suit. Then she accused me of being a pervert. She too had noticed the bulge in my pants when Cindy was around me. Eventually, Cindy was accepted into the group of girls but not until she picked a steady boyfriend from outside the herd of boyfriends the group of girls had branded.

From then on, Cindy was a frequent visitor to our house. She came for makeup advice at first but soon asked me to talk about things she was too embarrassed to talk to her parents about. Her parents frequently called to have me send her home. We would forget the time because we had become involved in a discussion or a board game. I enjoyed her company and she seemed to reciprocate. Cindy came over if Pamela was there or not. She began calling me Roger at my insistence.

I was enthralled with Cindy. This formerly shy girl was able to carry on an adult conversation. She was surprisingly mature for her age. I began to get glimpses of similar times with my wife, Angela. Was I becoming infatuated? Was she? Anytime the subject of discussion was related to the difference of our ages, she would say something like, 'bodies age, hearts and minds don't.' Anatomically incorrect, but I understood what she was saying. I didn't disagree too strenuously.

Pamela was blunt in asking me if Cindy and I had a thing going on. I made the mistake of saying without thinking, "So what if we do?" She freaked out.

"Don't you know she's the same age as me? She's been like a sister to me forever. When I see her with you, it's like you're committing incest for God's sake."

"Whoa, young lady. Incest requires sex. We have not had sex."

"Yet." Then she walked away.

My meetings with Cindy soon tapered off. I thought it was a result of her dating some boys at school. I was happy for her but missed our talks.

Cindy came over for senior prom makeup along with Pamela and a couple of her other friends. When I finished, Cindy looked gorgeous. I was so proud of her and envied her date for the night. I wished her a great evening. She gave me a sly smile and said, "That's definitely my plan." I was pretty sure what that meant.

Many of the kids had rooms rented at the hotel where the dance was held. Parents knew that their kids would be drinking and didn't want to risk their child getting in an accident. They also knew but didn't want to say what might go on in the hotel rooms. I knew that Pamela had given up her virginity a year ago. She was 18 and technically an adult. So, I became 'one of those parents.'

I was not expecting Pamela home until morning or later, so I went to sleep at regular time. About 1:00 am, the front doorbell rang. My first thought was a prank. I had a good home security system, so I looked to see if there really was someone on my porch. It was Cindy and she looked very distraught. I bolted down the stairs not realizing I just had my boxers on.

"Cindy, what's the . . . "

Before I could ask, Cindy was in my arms, sobbing her heart out. "Come in and let me get you some coffee." I knew how she liked it.

I held her while she drank coffee and cried in spurts. Finally, she calmed down enough to talk. "After the prom, I went to a room with my date. I was ready to give up my virginity. I'm 18 and I thought it was time to lose it. Jimmy seemed to be as good as any boy to lose it to. We have been dating for three months and he made it very clear he wanted to have sex with me.

"We got to the room and he ordered me to take off my clothes. Then he ordered me to get on my knees and give him a blow job. I had never done it before, but I was willing to try. As I was giving it my best, he kept yelling names like: "Cocksucker," "Bitch," and "Slut." I felt so degraded. Without warning, he shot off into my mouth. I could not imagine swallowing it, so I ran into the bathroom and spit out or threw up his cum. I was crying quietly as I washed up. I didn't want to go back into the bedroom. Finally, I went in intending to tell my boyfriend I wanted to go home. He was asleep or passed out. I didn't care which. I was afraid to call my parents, so I took a taxi to come here. I need you to hold me, Roger. I need you so much. Please hold me."

My comforting turned into hugging. Our hugging turned into kissing. Then tongues were introduced. As I began to wonder where this was going, Cindy ran her hand up and down my penis which had come out of its slot in my shorts.

"Cindy, are you sure you want to do this? I'm old enough to be your father."

"And I'm old enough to be your lover. You're the one I really wanted to take my virginity. I have been staying away because of Pamela. She said I was spending too much time with you and that was hurting your chances to find a woman your age. But you don't look like you are trying very hard to find one. I hope it is because you want me. I want you so much. Please don't make me beg."

"If you're sure."

"Damn it Roger. Take me or I'll swear I'll rape you!"

I can take a hint. We took off each other's clothes. She was even more beautiful than I imagined. We walked up to my bedroom. Cindy looked perfect. I couldn't believe how lucky I was.

The lovemaking was slow and thorough: Lips, neck, breasts, and vagina. I spent a great deal of time on her breasts, sucking, licking, and flicking her nipples. She had a mild orgasm. At the time I didn't know it was mild, but I found it out later. Once I got between her legs, I marveled at the sight before me. A short patch of hair topped off a glistening set of lower lips. I spread the lips apart and heard Cindy say, "Lick me, Roger. Lick me."

I started with my tongue as extended as possible touching the area between her labia and her anus and rising slowly towards her clit. A loud moan came from Cindy. After repeating that a few times, I concentrated on her clitoris. She jumped in bed. "Oh, my God." Oooos and ahhhhs followed as I hummed and drew the alphabet on her clit with my tongue. Orgasm Two hit definitely harder than Orgasm One. As she built towards Orgasm Three, she was screaming, "Put it in me now. Now, damn it."

I was rock hard but had little confidence in my staying power. Easing into her, I kept checking with her as to her comfort. She kept asking for more until I hit her hymen. I asked her if she was ready. "Hell, yes. Do it." I thrusted forward and felt the barrier as it broke. She cried out, "Ouch" so I stopped and waited. After a couple of minutes, she told me to finish the job.

Her Orgasm Three arrived at the same time as my Climax One -- barely. Before I could explain my need for time to recover, she started on the recovery process. What she lacked in her blowjob technique, she made up for in enthusiasm. I was surprised, pleasantly surprised, to become hard again in record time.

"This time, just fuck me." I did.

Afterwards, we lay in bed snuggling together. Neither of us spoke for a while. Cindy broke the silence. "I love you, Roger. I have loved you for years. Now, I am 18. I am about to graduate from high school. I want to be with you. Lover, wife, fuck buddy, whatever you want as long as you want me. Do you want me?"

"I want you as much as I have ever wanted anyone outside of Angela. I love you too which makes me want to see you do the right thing for yourself. I don't want you to give up the things that are important for your life just to be with me."

Cindy snuggled in closer. "That's what I would expect you to say. Here's an idea. Let's make a plan for the next few years. We can always change our minds on the details as long as we plan to be together." I agreed for us to start planning. Our deal was sealed with our third and last session of the night.

Cindy went home before Pamela got home. She came upstairs and saw the aftermath of my time with Cindy. "It looks like someone got lucky last night besides me. Tell me who was she? My PE teacher, Ms. Fletcher? I hope so. Tell me, please."

"Gentlemen don't kiss and tell."

"I think Dads who fuck should have to tell their daughters. I'll tell you about my night if you tell me about yours."

"TMI, TMI."

I knew I couldn't tell Pamela yet, but I had to figure out a way to tell her soon. She's too smart not to figure it out.

Cindy and I worked out a deal after several weeks. After her and Pamela's graduation, both families took their own vacation to celebrate. According to the plan, Cindy would enroll in the local college to become a teacher. Her main subject was math. There would be no problem in her finding a job. The hard part was where she would live during college. She said if she did not live in the house with me, she would pitch a tent in the back yard.