Author's note: This is just a fun little fantasy I wrote down over the course of a couple of days. Hopefully it's enjoyable.
*
My wife Melissa and I have always been like the "Neighborhood Parents," if you will. We've lived on the same block in our little suburb in Northern Los Angeles for 12 years, where we purchased our first home with savings and the proceeds from her parent's house after they passed. I wasn't sure what our relationship to the neighbors would be when we moved in—our previous neighborhood had been a lot more working class, whereas this area was in a gated community with the average car being a Mercedes, but the house was perfect for us, and it cut my wife's commute down from over an hour each way to about 15 minutes, so the decision was easy. The kids were somewhat sad to leave their school district and friends, but the new schools were top notch, and they quickly made new friends, with our house frequently becoming the after school spot.
While we're probably one of the "poorer" and less ostentatious couples on the block, we were happy to make the frequent trips to Costco and stock our fridge to the brim as we had both come from large families, and it seemed only normal to have our three kids "supplemented" by their friends coming over to play video games, hang out, and stay for dinner.
One of the kids who was a regular feature from the early going was Eric, who I wasn't particularly fond of when he first came around. He seemed like a typical little skater punk, with his lip ring and died hair, and I correctly sniffed him out as being primarily interested in trying to sleep with our middle daughter Candace. However, after she failed to show any interest whatsoever (she was pretty, thin, and a popular girl with no shortage of boys vying for her attention), he became friends with our oldest Annabelle, which greatly relieved me.
Whereas Candace took after the women on my side, Annabelle was built like her mother, a "thicker" girl who had been playing forward on the basketball team and field hockey since she was 10. She was a little curvy, which Eric no doubt saw as bigger than he was attracted to, and while Candace was no wilting violet, Annabelle was assertive, loud, and even pushy. I took secret glee in watching her give him shit, and their bond became a brother-sister type relationship which cracked me up, and gave me the chance to get to know a young man who I would later learn was actually very bright, but troubled.
Eric began to open up to me, and I found out that his parents were divorced, his dad somewhat engaged but only from a distance, with a new wife and three daughters from the new model, a bit of a drinking problem, plus he lived in Connecticut. Mom was a hairdresser, and they lived at one of the few apartment complexes that took state assistance in Newbury Park. Most of his classmates were the sons and daughters of professionals and corporate types whose parents bought them cars when they got their license, while Eric had a skateboard and his mom drove an ancient Jetta.
Having grown up in meager conditions myself, I tried to take it on myself to mentor the kid a bit. When he confessed to me that he had a problem with abusing painkillers, was also selling them to support his habit, and had tried street drugs, I got him some help—I had quit drinking when Candace was 2 and my wife had found out she was pregnant with our son John. I shared my experiences with him and told him that even though I hadn't gotten in a lot of trouble or made things too horrible at home, my life had already started to derail a bit, and I knew that it wouldn't get back on track until I did something about this problem, but that there was a better life on the other side of all of this. I helped him get into a treatment program to kick, and then took him to some meetings with me, and I even introduced him to a young man I sponsored in AA named Rob.
Despite an age difference of nearly a decade, they hit it off immediately and Rob became his sponsor. And so Eric slowly became one of the kids as well, at our house almost as much as his own. I watched him grow up, graduate High School, do an Associate's degree at the Community College, and eventually he moved back to Connecticut to be nearer his kid sisters and try to see if he could help out his dad.
Over the next two years, I'd hear from him intermittently, usually a phone call every few months. He seemed to be doing okay, but occasionally seemed sad. The job he had moved there to take had gone belly up, and he was just getting by working a subsistence gig at a shop that sold e-cigarettes and other related "supplies" (read: head shop). He lamented that he felt a bit isolated in a smaller community and hadn't made a lot of friends, and his studies and education didn't seem to get him in the door anywhere—his degree was in overall health, though he wanted to eventually get a master's in addiction studies.
The only thing he said was going great was his relationship, as he had rekindled a flame with a woman he had briefly dated as a freshman in high school before she moved back to the East Coast to live with her dad. Fate or whatever had put them in towns that were less than 30 minutes apart, and she had found him on facebook. He'd talk about her almost constantly, saying "Kaitlyn this, Kaitlyn that, Kaitlyn and I...", and I'd grin in amusement.
When Annabelle was 22, she got engaged, to a good guy I really liked. Eric came out for the wedding, and when we took photos, we had him in with the rest of the kids, which were most of the wedding party. I finally got the chance to meet Kaitlyn at the reception, and I was both a bit surprised by her appearance and a bit confused about what to make of her.
When he introduced me to her, she was quiet, reserved, and spoke very softly. She was ashy blonde, with shoulder length hair and one of the most striking faces I've seen in a long time, high cheekbones, gigantic green eyes, and an almost feline quality to her face. I knew from Eric that her mother was Czech, and had I been asked to describe her appearance in one word, I would have said "captivating." She was wearing a rather puffy and loose dress, so I couldn't make out her physique, but I could tell she was rather tall, as I'm 6' even, and she was only a couple inches shorter than me in flats.
I had always known Eric to date short, hardbody girls with obnoxious personalities, which I attributed to a somewhat shallow streak in him based on his age and maturity level. Perhaps, I thought, our little boy is finally growing up a bit. But, to be honest, I had little time to talk to her or even give her much thought other than a stolen glance or two as I bustled around the wedding, making sure everything went off well for my daughter.
Later that night, Melissa and I were lying in bed, preparing to bed down, when she looked up from her tablet and asked me, "So, what did you think of Kaitlyn?"
"I don't know. Not much to base any opinion on, really. She seems nice enough. Quiet."
"She's a little shy. It takes her a minute to open up."
"I didn't get a chance to talk to her much, honestly."
"I did. We had a couple glasses of wine at the reception. She's very sweet. Smart as a whip, too."
"Huh, interesting."
"Why do you say that?" she asked.
"Because usually Eric dates bimbos. He likes them dumber than him and hardbodied. I just assumed maybe she was just uncomfortable around all the new people."
"Probably. But she's not a bimbo. She's a graphic designer and webmaster."
"No shit? If she lived here I'd get her a gig, I could use her." My company ran software and platforms for a large number of colleges, and I always needed talented people.
"I don't know if I could handle that. I'm used to your colleagues having bald spots and being paunchy. Not sure I want a young 20-something with that body traipsing around the office, getting you hard all the time." She started tracing my cock lightly through my shorts, and I started to react almost immediately. She loved to tease me like this, and I was only too happy to be on the receiving end.
"You're worried about that?" I asked jokingly, as she slowly pulled my shorts back to reach in and stroke my stiffening member.
