Nothing You Havent Seen Before

I got this idea from a meme and went with it. Hey. What can I say? We can't all be Solzhenytsin. Not every story comes from pain and angst; some just come from memes.

Keith and his sisters are mentioned in other things I've written, and he made his first serious appearance in my "Shaking it Off." This one can serve as a loose prequel to that, but only in the sense that it happens a couple years prior. The two stories are completely unconnected, other than using the same lead character. Enjoy!

* * *

We lay in the comfortable afterglow of a nice fuck, her hair spread across my chest, her smell in my nostrils, and just for a moment I congratulated myself on what I'd achieved. I'd gotten into a great grad program, with a teaching assistantship that actually paid a little extra. I had no debt from undergrad. I had an amazing girlfriend, compatible with me in so many ways, and just now? After I'd cum?

She'd told me she loved me.

I'd dated other women before, obviously, and some of them had even used those three magic words. But never before had they sounded so pure, so right. So honest. And, when I'd said them in return, as the last of my load still trickled into Daisy's pussy?

I'd meant it.

So I was feeling pretty fucking good as I lay there in her narrow bed, sweaty and empty-balled and fulfilled. Her finger made circles around my nipples. "What are you thinking about, Keith?" she whispered.

I kissed her forehead, her hips undulating against me in response. God, she was hot. Perfectly shaped, with that added air of innocence about her that drove me crazy with lust... "You."

She chuckled. "I... you're not scared? That I said it?"

I felt a sudden swell of tenderness in my heart. And my penis. "I said it too, Daisy." She gasped a little when she felt me twitch, but by this time she was used to how I could recover. We often went three or four times a night, each time seeking that glorious but elusive thing, an orgasm from Daisy. I smiled in the dark. "I love you, Daisy Duke." I often called her that. It made her roommate gag when she heard it. But then, her roommate wasn't here. So fuck her.

"I love you too." Her leg rose up along the front of my thighs, both of us still rank and sticky with the sex we'd just had, and I couldn't help it: I was half-hard already and rapidly on my way up. "I think he likes it when I say that," she murmured in my ear, her hand trailing from my nipple to my cockhead. She was fond of personifying my dick. I'm sure it had something to do with the psychology program she was in. "He's very eager tonight."

"You're very hot tonight," I replied, my head sinking deeper into her pillow. I was sleepy. I felt like just lying here, my hips sluggishly protesting the notion of fucking her once more. "I wonder what he tastes like..."

"I could find out," she giggled: Daisy Schott was almost always happy to suck cock, and now she scrambled out of my embrace and down the mattress, her hair brushing along my torso, tickling my navel as she bent low with her tongue out. I felt it, a thrilling glide along my shaft. "Tastes like me."

I laughed and wound my fingers into her long hair. Sure. I'd happily take a blowjob. Daisy was not the best lover I'd ever had, by far, but she more than made up for her lack of expertise with enthusiasm, eagerness, and emotion: I

did

love this girl. So I did enjoy her body, in every way I could. So what if she couldn't deep-throat? So what if she sometimes let her teeth graze my cockhead? She dipped low now, with that fetching smile of hers, her lips closing hot and tight around my shaft.

I lay there in comfort, feeling the familiar comfort of her tongue on my flesh. She always tended to start the same way, right at that spot underneath the head where my helmet has that little peak leading up to my piss-hole, the spot with the tendon that shoots straight back down the underside of my dick. She loved it there, giving it little kisses and nibbles, enthralled by how it looked. And then she'd run her tongue lovingly down the ridges where my head became my shaft, slow and wet, just tasting me.

My mind cast back, as it tended to do, to the other women who'd sampled my cock before. I'm hardly a Romeo, and at twenty-three I was in the low double-digits for poon.

Very

low double digits: it's hard for me to just fall into bed with a woman. I've got to at least be interested, or care, or be amused, or something. Most, frankly, had been better cocksuckers than Daisy, but I'd had worse too.

She was engulfing me now, lips locked tight about halfway down while her tongue flicked rapidly around my tip. This was her signature move, and she could keep it up for ten or twelve minutes, my hand stroking her long fine hair, the two of us charging up to get ready to fuck, because for us? Oral meant foreplay.

That was typical for me. I'd only had one woman who'd ever made me shoot it in her mouth, a sassy older chick named Evie, and I smiled at the memory. She'd been fun. A

lot

of fun. I'm ashamed to say that my cock surged a bit in Daisy's mouth now as I recalled Evie, who'd been completely uninhibited as well as overtly sexual in every way.

That

woman could suck a dick. She'd let me do almost anything I'd wanted. I'd almost been able to cum in Angela's mouth too, all those years ago before college, but she'd always been too impatient. She'd wanted it in her pussy.

I groaned, blissful, wanting to encourage Daisy and realizing that I could do that now, in the ultimate way, confidently and without baggage. "I love you," I whispered into the darkness of her tiny off-campus room, and she hummed a moan of happiness that I could feel in my balls, her hand convulsing on my thigh. And I was content.

I wasn't overjoyed. But I was definitely content.

And as I flipped her onto her back and prepared once more to try to coax an orgasm out of her sweet little body, I knew I might be in for a long night of it. But that was okay. We were in love; we had all the time in the world.

* * *

Well. Not really. I had to get up early the next morning, for class.

So far, a year into my grad program, that was the big difference from undergrad: up here, you actually

did

have to go to class. I had taken the advice of Professor Winkler

: it's easy to become the world's leading expert in something. Just pick a topic nobody else has ever studied.

So I was trying, in my low-key way, to become the "world's leading expert" in the Renaissance stylings of Zhondar Fekete, a 15

th

century epic poet from the wild Slavic hinterlands of early modern Europe.

It was killing me. But nobody had ever done it before, and I'd already committed to read a paper at the Renaissance Scholarship Symposium in December, so it would go on killing me.

I was looking forward to this afternoon, after classes, when Daisy had decided on the spur of that magical

I love you

moment to take me home to meet her mom. "She hasn't been all that happy since the divorce was finalized. We'll come back early Monday morning."

"That's the whole weekend!" My paper needed attention.

"You can take me out to dinner on the way," she'd called from her shower.

"Yeah? An actual date?" I'd been leaning on the counter in her tiny kitchen, sneaking peeks at her roommate Nicole as she puttered around getting ready for her day. She was interning at a CPA firm, which meant skirts. And I'm a sucker for skirts. But I was trying to be careful, because apart from not wanting Daisy to catch me leering at her roommate, I had the distinct sense that Nicole didn't like me.

But I liked her.

I felt the usual stir in my balls now as she whirled through the living room, her face awash in tasteful makeup, looking so different from my Daisy. "You stayed over?" Everything she said to me sounded like a challenge to a match in the Thunderdome. She was forever giving me these quick glances, trying to catch me looking at her tits. Which was fair, I supposed.

"Yep. We're going to her mom's for the weekend, apparently."

"So I don't have to deal with your disgusting saccharine fumblings for a couple days, at least?" She smiled. "Maybe I'll bring some friends over and have an orgy or something."

Might loosen you up, you stuck-up bitch

, I reflected. Whenever I thought of Nicole sexually, which was often, I always seemed to picture really pounding her hard, degrading her. Lots of spit and bruises and dirty talk. And she'd love it...

Great. Now I'd given myself a hard-on.

"Sounds great," I said instead. She gave me a veiled glance in reply, the kind that was impossible to read: she either wanted to fuck me or kill me, or both. She swept out to her car without another word, leaving me to finish my coffee and adjust my boxers.

By the time we hopped into the car for the short ride to Daisy's mom's house, I was in a great mood. Fridays were always nice, and I liked getting away from the squalor of my own little apartment over by St Bede's. She'd told me to dress nicely for dinner, so I'd picked my cleanest khakis and an untucked Tommy Bahama shirt. "You look hot," she purred when she saw me.

"Turn around and bend over; I'll show you hot." Daisy had picked out a nice short dress, showing off legs honed by years of dance classes, and the boner I got from it was swift and demanding. She blushed when she saw it lumping my pants.

"We might need to sleep in separate rooms at my mom's," she said as she pulled out of the parking lot, "but we can still find places to fool around. It's a big house."

"We'll need to be quiet though, right?"

"You can gag me with your dick," she suggested, still blushing. I felt another surge from my penis: damn, that innocence of hers! It made me want to corrupt her. "So you're taking me to North Beach Fishery tonight," she grinned.

"I went there once." I watched as the beach whipped past out my window, down at the bottom of the bluff. Crowded today, despite the cool weather. "All I could afford was a Pepsi and a calamari appetizer."

"I love their scampi." She passed a minivan. "You're going to get me scampi."

"I will," I nodded, turning to face her, "because I love you."

Her face melted into her sweet, lustrous smile when she turned to me, and for a moment I was afraid she would cry. "I love you too, Keithie." Our hands found each other across the center console as we sped north.

The Fishery was a delightful place, the kind of restaurant that serves really great food without getting all pretentious about it. Upscale student organizations, like sororities, often had functions there even though it was almost half an hour out of town. Daisy had made us reservations at a nice, quiet little table in the corner by the windows, with actual candles (a sure sign of a swanky place, in my experience), and I began to wonder about my credit card. "This place is amazing."

"I know. I've been coming here since I was a kid." She barely even glanced at the menu. "Everything's good. But you'd like the herbed haddock."

"Then the herbed haddock I shall get!" I cried, starting an amazing dinner with the kind of great service and sparkling conversation that takes a merely "good date" and turns it into an all-timer. I let Daisy order the wine, then she let me do the dessert; I told the waiter I'd like a crème brulee.

"We're offering rosewater tonight, sir."

"Perfect." I squeezed Daisy's hand across the table. "I'm going to go pee, Daisy Duke. You okay here on your own?"

"I'll be counting the minutes until you get back, Keithie." She flushed. "I love you."

"I love you too." The novelty was still there, and as I got up and piloted my way among the tables and back to the bathrooms I was smiling that silly, goofy smile you only see on people who are convinced they'll never be happier. The restrooms matched the rest of the restaurant, complete with little warm hand towels in baskets by the sinks, and I was whistling Marshall Crenshaw's "Someday Someway" as I sauntered out of the bathroom and swerved behind the wait station.

An older woman stood there, her back to me, studying a clipboard roped to the counter. She wore the house uniform, white shirt and black trousers, and was shorter than me (though that's not saying a whole lot), with thick brown hair gathered into a vibrant ponytail. My eyes traced down her back, mostly because I'm a guy, and stopped at the sight of a truly stupendous butt: symmetrical, full, grippable, overall just peachy in the tight pants. It begged to be looked at, even smacked.

And... was it oddly familiar?

I flicked my eyes back up quickly, just in time to catch her turning with a familiar bewitching smile as she sensed me behind her. "Excuse me, sir, let me get out of your way," she chirped, and yep, her voice was familiar too, and by that time I was stopping short with wide eyes and a dawning smile of my own. She cocked her head, a brief spasm of confusion crossing her face before the whole thing lit up.

Yes. Big brown eyes? Familiar. Neck? Familiar. The big, smoothly rounded tits that pushed her sweater out?

Very

familiar. We both grinned big then, recognizing each other at the same moment. "Oh my god!" I burst out. "Evie?"

"Keith!" There she stood in that busy restaurant, the clipboard still in her hand, and I looked into those well-remembered eyes and knew, right away, that she was having to hold herself back from leaning in for a big, tight hug. She looked the same as she had two years ago, when she'd been a

very

worldly woman having titillating fun with my 21-year-old body. And I'd played along, willingly, eagerly, letting her have her way with me. She'd been over forty then, I'd guessed, although I'd never asked.

It had never mattered. She'd been an incredible, luscious, horny woman with a few willing holes for me to fill, and I'd been a college senior with a permanent hard-on. So? We'd had our fun. And as I stood in the service corridor of that high-end restaurant in North Beach, I found a lot of memories coming back.

To both of us. I could tell.

I cleared my throat. "You're, like, not managing the coffeeshop anymore?"

"I've moved up in the world," she shrugged, still grinning. "This place is fantastic. Fuck, Keith, if I'd have known you were here, I'd have come out to say hi..."

"No, no, it's fine."

To say hi?

Right... Evie and I had been wildly, recklessly attracted to each other for about a month there before we'd just, well, stopped. It gnawed at me that I'd been the one who'd stopped calling.

But none of that mattered now, because she was standing there with those eyes and that mouth and those memories, and I was getting hard in my khakis. "You'd have done more than say hi, Evie."

She nodded. "You were always a very perceptive young man," she winked, her eyes falling to my crotch. She tutted, shaking her head. "Still? With no control over your penis?" She laughed. She'd always shaken her head at how quickly I could get it up, but since she benefitted from it she'd never minded. She snickered.

"Well, I mean, when you're with a sexy older woman..." We'd fallen straight back into our old patter, the good-natured ribbing about the age difference: when it didn't really matter to either of us, ribbing was all we'd had. I glanced to both sides, then reached down to straighten my dick in my pants.

"I'd have helped you adjust that," she muttered with that sexy burr she was always able to hook onto the edge of her voice. She'd said some very nasty things in that voice, I remembered. "We pride ourselves on our service."

"You're not, like, a waitress here..." She was dressed like one, but she didn't carry herself that way.

"I'm the manager." She hesitated, then shrugged. "Biding my time, Keith. Saving up. I'm going to buy this motherfucking place one day."

I smiled. She'd always been ambitious. "You're all done with Ahab's, then."

"Trying to be." She winked again. "I'm doing okay. You should have kept hooking up with me, boy, you'd be a kept man by now." She looked at my crotch again. "And I'm not sure I would be complaining about it."

I nodded, pleased at the compliment, and risked a confession. "Me neither," I told her softly, and there? Standing with her? Smelling her? Hearing her? My mind marinating in memories of her? I meant it. She smiled at me, a pause lengthening, but then I reminded myself that I was here on a date, and my girlfriend was waiting, and I needed to get back. "Well. Shit. It's great to see you, Evie, but I'm off; I've got my girl waiting, you know."

"Which table?" she asked at once, craning her head around to glance into the restaurant. "I'll comp you."

"Oh, that's not necessary!" I protested, looking over toward my table. My

empty

table, that is, for all of a sudden Daisy's chair wasn't holding her sublime butt, meaning she was loose in the restaurant.

Meaning, she might be watching me pop a boner for the middle-aged manager at the wait station. I took a deep breath, just as the door to the ladies' room opened beside us. We both started, pivoting to face the door, and out stepped my Daisy in that lovely dress, her makeup fresh around eyes that opened dazzlingly wide.

"What are you doing back here?" she demanded. I opened my mouth to answer, but she wasn't looking at me; instead, she was grinning at Evie as the manager leaned in and wrapped her arms around my girlfriend. I felt my jaw go slacker and slacker as they embraced, and then Daisy was backing off and brushing her hair from her face. "I didn't know you were working tonight, Mom!"

I froze as they hugged once more, and this time when Evie's gaze met mine, her eyes were spreading open in slowly rising glee.

Fuck.

* * *

We rode in silence to her mom's house after a really outstanding crème brulee followed by the waiter, announcing with a flourish that the meal was on the house. "Though the gratuity is not included, sir," he made sure to add.

"What were you guys talking about?" she asked.

"Hmm?" Ever since I'd realized Daisy had been in the ladies' room for my whole conversation with Evie, I'd worried about what she might have overheard through the door. My mind trawled back, seeking anything incriminating I might have told her mom, but it was so hard to remember. "Oh, nothing. I just bumped into her when I came out of the bathroom, and I was apologizing."

"She gave me her work schedule, and she was supposed to be off tonight." She yawned. Off to the right stretched the sea, as it had all afternoon, now dark and quiet as the sun went down past Daisy's head. "It's so funny that you were talking to her! Like, you didn't even know she was my mom!"

"Yeah," I agreed, a little weakly, "sure is a weird coincidence." I was staring out toward the ocean, pondering how easily Evie had made me hard. "Has she been working there a long time?" I probed. I was dying to figure out the score here. When I'd been fucking Evie, she'd been nothing but the lady who ran Ahab's Coffee. Now she was my girlfriend's mom, which was a serious promotion. "Like, how long's she been in the restaurant business?"

"Forever. She was always running restaurants." Daisy shrugged, turning us inland; I didn't know this neighborhood at all. Way behind us, the lights of Seaborne glimmered, with our University off in the middle distance. "She and my dad started that Ahab's franchise when I was in middle school, and then..."

"Wait. What?" I swiveled my head toward her. "Your parents own Ahab's Coffee?"

She laughed. "No, just that location. Well, and the one over in Adams, now. But that's mostly my dad; he's trying to buy Mom out." She hesitated. "I guess the divorce is, well, starting to get nasty? She started working at the Fishery, oh, last year." She shrugged. "I think she's hoping to become a partner there once Dad buys her out; I don't know. I try to stay out of it."