I'm way older compared to my wife, Faye, who is only 45 years old. I'm about to turn 63, but I still have the libido of a lion. As for us, both of our jobs dug our marriage into a hole. For the past twenty years, I've worked my way up to becoming a general manager of a chocolate confection plant. In the beginning, I was a weary, lost mechanic of the machines within the plant, and then after five years, I was finally tossed an omnipotent bone. After staying home with our beautiful daughter, Charlotte, for the first eight years of her life, Faye decided to get her CDL and become a transit bus driver for the state as our income became a shortcoming entity each month.
When Faye would be getting up at 4AM for her shift, I would be walking through the front door from mine. The scheduling fiasco and frustrations from work drove us so far apart that we don't even sleep in the same bed anymore. Faye has the master bedroom across the hall from our daughter's bedroom upstairs while I sleep on a cramped foldaway bed in the humid basement. I haven't touched my wife in six years and the tension only escalates.
The shouting, yelling, and constant tears accompanied with a slammed door are reoccurring events to my mind so much so that I'm desensitized to it. The malice from both my wife and daughter, whom secluded themselves from me, is too much to bear. It's as if I'm an intruder in my own home. However, we all get along when no words are said. One question can initiate a war with these two women. The only time my daughter spends time with me is when she's forcing herself onto me or sobbing about her mother and I. If I could travel in time and revisit myself thirty years ago to warn myself about the future, I don't think I would even believe my own self.
"Daddy," Charlotte whispered, biting her thin cherry lips. "Why don't you want me? I can satisfy your urges."
Never in a million years would I have pictured my eighteen year old daughter tugging on the zipper of my dress pants. As she continued fighting against my refusal, her ice blue eyes sheepishly peered up at mine. A thin frown lined her face with disappointment. Charlotte is everything her mother used to be. Her body is thin and short, but tastefully muscular. She was slipping off her tight denim short shorts while her sun kissed breasts strained against her restrictive bra straps. I sat there with disbelief after I had just gotten off of work and my teenaged daughter was trying to rip off my blue dress shirt and leather belt. Nothing else covered her body as Charlotte spread her model legs across her messy full size bed. My favorite part of my damsel of a daughter is her hair. Her long pure blonde curls bounced in delight as she persisted with her pleading. Some of the golden corkscrews were tiny while the accompanying ones were thick and spilled over her girly shoulders and delicious breasts...
I, on the other hand, am a businessman, so I carry myself with some class too. I've been balding for more than half of my life, so I shaved all of my hair off when I was 50. However, the rest of my body is coated with hair, which surprisingly, my Charlotte loves. Age and stress has gotten the best of my wife and I. Our hardened, round stomachs can tell the stories. I am well endowed, which was very useful for when Faye and I were active lovers. I'm about 5'8 and a bit gruff looking with my thin, silver rimmed glasses.
"Arlo," Her childhood nickname nervously rolled off my tongue, struggling to push her dainty fingers away from my crotch. "You're my daughter and that is not your job! How sickening! I want you to save yourself for a man who will become your own. Don't feel guilty by what's going on between me and your mother. You're only eighteen!"
Charlotte's mouth was agape with rage. She snatched my bulge up tight and I let out a pain filled howl. "So whose job is it? One of those whores down at Untouchables or The Glitter Haus? I know you've been faithful to Mom all of these years, but you need someone to touch you, to love you, to WANT you for the man you ARE, not who you were. I can't stand to see you like this, all excited about your accomplishments at work, yet miserable when you walk through your own door. I want you, Daddy."
Before I could choke out a response, I realized that Charlotte already tugged my pants and boxers down. She was twirling me in her soft, warm mouth like a lollipop. A sense of apprehension and wickedness surged through my head as she took me deeper. As Charlotte did her work, raspy moans and grunting could be heard over her slurping. But, then, as fast as it began, it ended. Just as I regained my vision from my sedated state and stumbled to my feet, I was harshly thrown back onto the hot sheets. My dress pants and socks were feverishly ripped from my legs as I dizzily stared at the ceiling.
"Whoa!" Charlotte growled, struggling to mount me. "Where do you think you're going? We're not done yet!"
Recognizing what she was planning to do, I attempted to throw her naked body off of my hard on. However, Charlotte dug her light pink nails into my biceps causing my train of thought to derail and my muscles to flinch. With two wild thrusts, I ended up inside of my daughter's tight, hot pink pussy. I almost couldn't contain myself when she started riding my cock like she was milking a cow. Her little pussy was delicately shaved while my monster was barbarically lined with thick brown hair. A wicked smile came across her face as Charlotte howled her thankfulness to me and my "huge fucking dick." Then, with a calm sigh, she rolled off of me and went on all fours. Not breaking my wide eyed stare with the ceiling fan, I started stroking myself so I didn't lose my excitement.
"Why did you get off?" I asked in a desperate tone, still stroking myself. "Did I gross you out?"
"Of course not!" she laughed, shaking her butt at me. "I want you to screw me as hard as you can. You must have so much amped up energy in you for not having sex in half a decade."
"Don't rub it in," I groaned, racing toward her vulnerable body for a desperate release.
I wish it didn't have to stoop to that level for so long: defiling my daughter while her mother was away at work for my own selfish release. However, Charlotte wanted me to do it, so it wasn't as bad as it seemed. After we collapse on the mattress and start gasping for breath, she always talked about how Faye and I needed to fix our relationship and how it broke her heart seeing her parents not enjoy being in one another's presence. Whenever she spoke about it, Charlotte broke down with tears in my arms, damning our jobs, our differences, and the world. I would wrap my arms around her and reassure her that it was our own fault that we drifted apart.
***
On a Tuesday afternoon in August, I was able to have two days off to finally relax. No more running after mechanics, scolding line workers, or overseeing production. Until Thursday, it was just me and my old Labrador, Elwood, laying our old, fat bodies in the hot August sun on the rickety above-ground pool deck. Our suburban neighborhood remained oddly quiet until the slamming of a car door woke the dog and I from our comatose state. As I continued to stare the sun down, Elwood looked up at me and let out a whine. From the backyard, you can see the street in the front of our house. Within seconds, the old dog was on his feet, anxious and on guard. Then I realized, my wife came home. She came around from the driveway to the backyard to stand there and watch me, holding her work pack in one hand and grocery bags in the other.
Faye was a copy of Charlotte, except a ballooned version with shorter hair. Like I said, age and low metabolism got the better of us. However, this was the first straw of our tension. Man...Faye and I both used to be smoking hot together. My muscles used to be tight to my bones as abs ran down to my center. I used to love caressing her curvaceous hips and planting hot kisses on her belly. Faye still is beautiful and attractive, but she's allowing her insecurities to get in the way of our physical relationship. On a rare occasion, Faye scurries in the basement like a puppy that just ate someone's sandwich off of the table. In the darkness, I can tell it ’ s her pushing her way into my cramped bed. Then, we have almost silent, emotionless sex under the covers. There's no kissing, no "I love you," no hugging involved. Only a few empty thrusts and a hushed moan from her when she's satisfied, then she hurries back up the stairs as fast as she came down them.
"Oh, help," Faye rolled her eyes with sarcasm dripping from her fangs. "There's a strange man lounging on my pool deck with a fat, fluffy dog. Oh, help me, somebody."
From the mystery book I was reading, I nonchalantly peered up at her as she made her way up to the back door of the house on the main deck. Seeing her fidgeting with the bags and her crowded key ring, I jumped to my feet and approached the stairs of the pool deck to help her.
"No, no!" Faye snarled, turning toward the pool across the lawn. "I don't need your help! I got it!"
But, it was too late. I already had my fingers on the door handle and slid the glass door open for her. Elwood shakily made his way down the pool deck steps and sat at my side as my wife fumed. As she finally gathered her bags and tried to make it through the doorway, I blocked her with my broad shoulders. I leaned down to her left ear as she steamed.
"Ladies first," I whispered into her ear seductively, ensuring she felt my hot breath on her neck.
I roared with laughter as Faye glanced up at me with wide, innocent blue eyes, her mouth agape. Then a scowl twisted her lips as she pushed me aside to enter the kitchen.
"I love you!" I sarcastically called after her, shutting the door. "Come on, Ely."
Elwood, the old, fat, yellow Labrador, slowly trailed behind me back up to the pool deck. When I finally sank my ass into that hard, steaming plastic green deck chair and took a sip of my chilling martini, a sudden realization came to my mind. A booming, austere voice in my head stated very clearly aloud: I miss my wife and I want her back. It did scare the Hell out of me since Faye was momentarily brushed out of my mind. However, I stared back at the briny blue, acidic pool water which threw my mind back into the past.
"Throw me, Davey. Throw me!" Faye would shout at me with pure excitement as we splashed in the pool on Friday nights when I arrived home early from the plant.
