Note to the reader: The daughter in this story, Rachel, is 18 years old.
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I think that every woman eventually reaches a point in her life where she realizes that the dependable and motivated man is much more desirable than the good-looking, vacuous, douche bag. Unfortunately for me during high school, I was the nerdy and reclusive type. Still very athletic—I could run a 4:30 mile and bench press more than my own weight—but getting a girl my age to notice me was impossible. They were too busy letting themselves be chased and fucked by those great looking douche bags that would never amount to anything. I told myself that high school just wasn't my time, and that I'd have to wait until girls—no women—found me attractive for what I was. Fortunately for me, an older woman found me in my teenage years and I've been lusting after them ever since, but that is another story altogether. At any rate, as I graduated from college and then grad school shortly thereafter, my career took off and women started to take notice of me—at client sites, conferences, even out with friends—and that's how I met Lauren.
We were both in Las Vegas; she was with a bachelorette party and I was with some old college friends living it up. I saw her from across the craps table we had joined (because inevitably a group of males in Las Vegas will seek out a bachelorette party). At only 5 feet 2 inches with 34D-25-35 measurements, any man would be staring. But it was also her deep, Latin brown eyes that could almost smile at you themselves that drew me in. It was her turn to throw the dice, and I quickly saw my chance. I put down several hundred dollars after her first roll (much more than a 25 year old paying back grad school loans should put down) in hopes that luck was on my side. After 44 consecutive rolls (indeed a hot streak), I was up several thousand dollars—and the noise from the table and those around us was incredible. After her last roll, a seven and out, the cheers died down but my friends understood my motive had nothing to do with money. I pocketed my winnings and walked over to her with a 500 dollar chip in my hand and said "I believe you've earned this." She smiled shyly at me—which I found almost unbelievable as most insanely beautiful women are anything but shy—and told me she couldn't accept it. After a bit of bantering back and forth I said 'May I at least buy you a drink?'
And that's when we found a quiet place at the hotel bar, just the two of us, and talked for hours. I discovered the reason for her shyness—she had been hurt too many times by men and always found that she ended up with the wrong one. Little did she know that at 33 and completely drop dead gorgeous, she was exactly my type and that I was exactly the type she was looking for—the stable and ambitious man who would finally take care of her as a partner—an equal. After several more drinks and sharing things about one another, she told me, in detail, about one of her high school relationships that ended badly—this one more notable than the others in that she became pregnant and soon thereafter a single mother. She looked at me to see my reaction, stating 'this is usually the part where you run away while you still can.' I smiled, and let my eyes drift over her gorgeous body—her long black hair flowing down to her neck, her luscious round 34D tits almost pouring out of a dress a size too small (she must have obviously borrowed from a friend). 'I'm not going anywhere,' I replied.
All trips to Las Vegas do come to an end and it turned out that Lauren lived in Miami. Not ideal as I was in New York at the time, but I did ask for her number and we talked several times over the phone and finally I worked up the courage to lie to her and say 'I'm actually going to be in Miami for work—we should get together.' She hesitated, but as I pressed her as to why not, knowing she wanted to see me, she explained that her teenage daughter never approved of men she dated and that she was certain that her daughter would an interpret a guy that she met in Vegas as the same caliber. 'Why don't you let me worry about that?' I said confidently.
By Friday of that same week I was I checked into a hotel not far from Miami Beach. As I was getting ready for my first date with Lauren, she called and asked me to meet her at the restaurant. I quickly realized that she hadn't told her daughter, but I decided that when the time was right, Lauren would be the one make the introduction. We ate, drank, laughed, and talked through the night and didn't even notice it was getting closer to 1am. Lauren, with her eyes wide, exclaimed that she must get going. I knew exactly why—past curfew, as far as being a responsible adult and role model to a teenage daughter who was left at home awaiting Lauren's arrival by midnight. We jumped in a cab and instead of dropping me at my hotel, I insisted that I would see her home. After all, I wasn't going to miss out on a first kiss. We pulled up to her house and I told the cab driver to wait. I walked Lauren up her side walk, thanked her for the wonderful evening, wrapped my arms around her tiny waist and planted an ever so soft kiss on her lips—feeling them gently part and her body slowly melt. I pulled away, perfect gentlemen that I was, and said goodnight. As I turned to head back to the cab, I couldn't help notice the one upstairs bedroom light on and blinds quickly closing as I looked up. This sneaking around Lauren's daughter wasn't a good start....
The next morning I called to see if Lauren wanted to get together, maybe go to the beach. I was dying to see her little body in a bikini; and there was no better place than Miami. Again, sounding hesitant on the phone and dropping her voice—'Rachel knows about last night. She doesn't know much about you, but she is upset—worried that I'm getting myself into yet another mess with some guy I just met in Las Vegas.' I told her I was coming over, and after her initial protest I assured her that I wanted a relationship with her—and that the only way that could happen was by at least introducing myself to her daughter and hopefully striking up a friendship with her. I hung up the phone, intent on winning over Lauren's daughter, but having no clue how to do so.
Arriving at her front door, I took a deep breath, and knocked. Any nervousness I had melted away as Lauren answered the door already attired for the beach—a light, low cut, button down shirt squeezed her amazing tits together with absolutely no bikini to be seen. My mind raced with thoughts of what could be underneath, by my eyes roamed over her luscious globes noticing the subtle blue veins towards the surface of her skin. In an instant I pictured the throbbing veins on my cock as I pressed it between her tits. I quickly remarked how gorgeous she looked—a playful glance from her letting me it was okay to look as she took my hand and led me into her house. Walking behind her I could not help but notice the short, flimsy skirt that she had on that I swear would upend itself at the slightest breeze. Once again I found myself wondering what must lie beneath.