Sam held many reservations about broaching the topic to his host, but he simply had to. Though it had only been since the mix-up with his hotel reservations, the torture of his potential daughter-in-law, parading around in the shortest shorts, surely wasn’t worth it. He took his daughter’s offer to stay during his visit but couldn’t believe his eyes.

Well, mainly due to her terrible taste in years gone by. It transcended looks, because her previous girlfriends were beautiful, yes, but their red flags bled if you wrung them.  No dire negatives came up with her current girlfriend, Sunita, except for the crime of stirring Sam’s loins unnecessarily. And that was his issue, not hers in any form or fashion. Plus, he was at her place of abode. He held no power to dictate spit, so obviously, tact was of high importance during their discussion.

So why did he still feel slight unease after it concluded? Jill busted his chops a bit, but in the end, she agreed to talk with Sunita and appreciated her father’s maturity. Her “giving him a tough time” shtick reminded him so much of her mother.

Thirty minutes later, Jill and Sunita audibly engaged in playful, out-of-sight banter, and then she waved goodbye to her dad after appearing.

“Where’re you off to?” Sam asked.

“Going to the mall. It’s my therapy,” Jill said with a hair flick, which gave her old man a snicker.

“Oh puh-lease, I’m surprised you even said the word, furthermore made a metaphor out of it.”

“Gosh, no faith at all. People can change, you know, Father.” Her address rang aristocratic in tone and poise. She lifted her chin and harrumphed for added effect. Fewer people cracked Sam up more than his blonde spitting image.

Then Sunita entered the room in long, form-fitting jeans and a plain white midriff. Her navel ring gleamed when she hit certain angles, standing with her hands behind her and swaying her torso.

“I can’t believe you don’t think I can do it,” Sunita said, providing a smile that heated up the room and parched Sam’s throat.

“I really don’t think you can, luuurve,” Jill said, leaning forward, pouting, and Sunita linking her halfway. Honestly, Sam believed it the cutest thing ever.

“You all be safe, hear me,” Sam said, breaking out of his reverie. The young ladies blew kisses at him and exited.

That easy, huh?

Talk about luck. Jill getting through to Sunita with such precision alarmed him. Her utilising the old reverse psychology did him in further. Not much to do that wove the path of constructive, now that he was alone, so he took the opportunity to spread out on the couch and count sheep.

With a yawn and stretch, he arose from his afternoon slumber and confirmed he’d been asleep for close to ninety minutes. He lumbered to the front window, and the empty driveway signaled his unchanged solitude. Thankful he didn’t forsake rest for the consumption of a throwaway movie, he unlocked his phone and scanned through his bookmarked photos on his Google account. Most were of hot women, all shapes, sizes, legal ages, races and ethnicities. He never succumbed to sticking to a specific type. Once you could manifest some brand or distinction of beauty and sex appeal, it was all gravy as far as he was concerned. Lately, however, his addictions fell into the category of younger women in wedgied shorts. He couldn’t resist. No matter how much he preferred Sunita discontinue strutting about in similar fashion, the thirst-trap photos beckoned him. He barked in laughter sometimes at the captions ladies left below their pictures, which clearly existed to show off their juicy butts, but always veered into philosophical realms and reflective rhetoric. More power to them.

Sometimes he’d even get some baby oil, lubricate down under and palm himself, using the sexy photos as fuel. He never allowed himself to finish, not wanting to soil his offspring’s living space. Consideration was key.

He was too lazy to walk to his suitcase, way over in another room, just to get baby oil for some pole whacking. It’s not like he was running to finish the race. Dry edging never killed anyone.

The fly of his checkered boxers, he unbuttoned, and then freed his willy, moaning softly at pictures of a young, black woman. Her locs sat shorter than Sunita’s, and she bit her little finger while peering over her shoulder. The main reason he bookmarked this picture was her bubble butt, of which seventy percent gleamed and poked out from her lower back in defiance of her slight build.

More and more pictures from his saved tab, aligning with this common theme, stimulated his masturbation. All wouldn’t resemble Sunita as convincingly as the first woman, but the slim, youthful, cheeky appeal got his gears going.

“Nice,” Sunita said from his six. Sam almost threw his phone away in fright and fumbled, stuffing his fully chambered erection into his fly. Took a few agonizing seconds, but he succeeded to Sunita’s disappointment. “Oh no, you didn’t get to finish. I’m so sorry.”

Sam finally looked around at Sunita, and there she stood, wearing his favourite pair of shorts – pink with a white outline at the hem. The massive pudenda left him with the belief that it could form a fist of its own and punch him for just staring.

“How are you here?” Sam asked. “The car’s still gone.”

“Jill brought me home and screeched out of here like a bat outta heck,” Sunita said, raising her hand. “She couldn’t wait to get rid of me, let me tell ya.” She flicked her wrist down and giggled in her cute, adorable way.

“Sunita, I am so sorry.” Sam clasped his hands in prayer as if begging for forgiveness from Goddess Sunita, queen of the booty shorts.

“Aw, it’s fine. Rather me than Jill.” They both shivered, and Sam dry heaved, making Sunita cackle.

“Seriously though, I’m really sorry.”

Sunita padded toward the couch, then bent over and hugged him. Awkwardly at first, Sam didn’t budge, but he eventually reciprocated. “This is nice, isn’t it?”

“Am… I guess it is.” Sam patted her back tentatively.

“Sorry my tight little booty gets you so turned on, you gotta jack off to girls wearing pants like mine.” She pecked his jaw, then stood, putting her hands behind her as if she did something naughty, but felt no shame regarding it.

“Aww, you think I’m a creep.” Sam shut his eyes and cringed into a facepalm, and Sunita ruffled his hair.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. I mean, yes, this is our place, and I can dress however I want, but you still have to consider people’s feelings towards things… sometimes.”

“Yeah, just maybe, sometimes.” Sam pinched the air in front of his face, and they shared a chuckle.

Sunita’s expression relaxed into a more serious, but resting pose. “Should I change?”

“No.”

No seconds wasted pondering. On one end, she reserved the right to freedom in her home, but on the other, her body drove him crazy. Regardless, the answer already left and changing it would appear like a poor attempt at backtracking. Best to accept whatever accountability came.

“Okay,” Sunita said, her voice deepened and sultry. “I won’t.” She jumped an eyebrow and tilted her chin closer to Sam.

“I’m glad.” Sam stood. “You should be comfortable where you live.”

“I agree.” Her stare sensed his lewd thoughts, he imagined. Even if he kept it at eye level, her features alone stirred wickedness inside his soul. Her smile returned. “Want me to fix you a sandwich?” She spun on her heels and skipped to the fridge. “You weren’t satisfied one way, so you may as well another.” She opened the fridge, looking over her shoulder at him with a quick lip fold and release.

“Goodness, no.” Sam stepped toward her, and they both peered at each other, while the fridge door remained open. “You tending to me doesn’t feel right. I’m a grown man; I can fix myself a sandwich.”

“Maybe the hunger you have can’t be quelled by just a sandwich.” She leaned forward into the fridge, piercing his lustful gaze. “Well, I’m hungry, so I’ll make them, all the same. You can have yours later if anything.”

“You really don’t have to go out of your way for me.” Sam posed, fists akimbo, praying internally that his loins didn’t engage.

“It’s fine. I get it. You’re not in the mood for something stuffed between two slices of bread.” She bent down until she resembled 6:25 on an analogue clock.

“What am I in the mood for, you reckon?” Sam stared at her round little ass that pointed up and stretched her shorts perfectly. The wedgie efficiently split her glutes, which shone and ran smoothly to the eye. A few stretch marks, which Sam loved, and a slight wobble as she rummaged through the crisper for vegetables.

“Mmm, I figure you more for a buns guy.” Sunita looked up from the crisper, moving her locs away from her face and over the other side. She fixated neutrally with every feature but her eyes. They said, “I dare you.”

“Sliced bread’s great, but you’re right, buns are better.” Sunita smirked and wiggled her bum whilst she gathered the necessary materials, then eyed Sam during her stroll toward the counter. Eventually, she focused on the immediate task, and Sam exhaled for what seemed to be the first time in minutes.

She got to slicing and dicing onions and sweet peppers, and then completing the ham sandwiches with hot sauce for an added kick. Sam felt guilty that Sunita went above her duty to craft the snack, but he felt shittier about not eating it after the effort she put in. He picked it up, and she observed him while sitting on the bar stool at the counter, chomping in between bites of her sandwich. Pepper sauce trickled from the corner of her mouth, so she scooped it with her index finger and sucked it off. Her cheeks hollowed, and she stared over at Sam, slowly blinking and moaning. After a few bites, the poor man stood, barely causing a dent in his sandwich, while recollecting her showcase.

“It isn’t good?” she asked, resetting to a more casual display.

“No, um, I mean yes,” he said, cracking himself and her up. “Yes, of course, it’s great. Thanks, Sunita.”

“You’re very welcome.” Sunita pushed the stool away from the bar counter, while sitting on it, which meant that the view must’ve been immaculate from behind. Fuck, the poor guy’s thoughts swirled around her arched spine, skin gloss and brown globes, devouring her shorts. Goodness, what smackable flesh!

Afterward, they ate in silence, and Sunita washed up, insisting on doing Sam’s plate. Sweat tickled his brow, once again, in observance of her beautiful frame as she cleared the sink of dirty dishes and utensils.

“I’m going to rest for a bit,” Sam said.

“Sure you’ll be able to?” Sunita asked, drying off wares, then tiptoeing to put them up in the cupboards. Her buttocks filled his view once again.

“Absolutely.”

“Not good to lie down after eating, you know.” Sunita turned only her head at first, making her resemble a badass movie poster, only in sexier and revealing clothing – sexier main star too.

“Ah, flub those old wives’ tales.” Sam plopped onto the couch, which had been his bed for the past couple of nights.

“You’re too young for them anyways.” She sauntered over to the rear of the seat and bent over, propping on her forearms, looking into the windows of Sam’s soul, who lay flat. Her closed-mouth smile and lip twitching triggered something within him.

“Oh?” Sam interlocked his digits behind his head and tried to no-sell her coquettish influence, but the time for that had long skedaddled.

“Yeah, are you even forty-five?”

“So forty-five’s old now?” Sam popped up, nearly making Sunita hop to a standing position, but she lowered to her forearms again, mere inches from his face.

“For me it is.” Sunita’s voice lowered and a stare affixed to Sam’s. “Or way older than me, at least.”

“I still have two years before I’m considered that then.”

They continued staring until, as if telepathically inclined, drew their mouths together for a slow, sensual kiss. Sam pulled Sunita into him, and her fresh strawberry scent made it nearly impossible to let go – not that he wanted to.

“This is wrong,” murmured Sam.

“And so right.” Sunita’s eyes glazed over, and she leaned in for more, but Sam retreated and sprang to his feet.

“Dammit, what am I doing? Shit.”

“Sam, wait.”

“We need to nip this in the bud before this escalates any further.”

Sunita rested her hands in front of her and glanced down, then up, lips folded, eyeing Sam’s erection bouncing as he made his point. He turned away, cussing himself again, but when he repivoted, Sunita parked directly before him, still in a fig leaf position and gaze tilted up. What in Christ’s name happened? Did she teleport? How could someone be so quick, quiet and smooth?

“This…” Sunita grabbed hold of Sam’s cock, and he groaned, “… is the bud that needs to be nipped.” She continued stroking him over the filter of his boxers. “This needs care.” She pursed her lips. “Desperately in need of draining.”  She cupped his balls and rolled them in her palm.

“Oh God,” Sam pleaded. “No, wait.” He moaned and rocked his head back, immersing himself into further ecstasy. Why stop if it felt so good? Nobody else handled these affairs for him anyway. He and Jill’s mother split before Jill had her first girlfriend, and lately, his desire for casual encounters had taken a dip. Online dating was a dud, and his desire to cold approach anyone disappeared after he and Jill’s mom met.

“It feels so good to play with,” Sunita said, ogling it, stretching his boxers. “Let’s get a closer look.” She pulled his boxers below his erection and bit her lip at the up-spring. Sam stepped out of his underwear so Sunita grabbed his meat double-handedly, giggling and caressing it.

“Sunita.” Sam’s voice grew a rasp. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“We’re past that, Sam.” Sunita made eye contact.

As much as shame climbed up his throat, lust punched it down with Kryptonian force. How could he do this to Jill? How could Sunita? He should have inquired, but the truth was, he didn’t want to. Maybe the guilt would eat away at him, but being strong for so long grew tiresome. What a jerk, he thought. Hell would be awaiting him with open arms one day because of this. For egregiously more than this singular sin, but this in particular, he couldn’t come back from, and he’d already accepted that.

“Take your pants off,” Sam said.

“You mean,” Sunita teased, turning slowly and jutting her ass in his direction, “these?” She tucked the waistband below her cleft.

“Uh-huh.” Sam began stroking himself as Sunita seductively rolled her bottoms down, leaving her ass swaying to his masturbatory delight.

When she straightened, Sam rooted directly behind her, grabbing her neck with one hand, and trailing his fingers and palms from the other over her breasts, twiggling her nipples. He traversed her flat stomach and slipped into her pubic area. Fingers found cunt, and moisture laminated tips. A glorious sensation for both, made even better for Sunita when those digits stimulated her clitoris.

“Yes,” Sunita said as she rolled her hips against his prodigious erection, which found temporary boarding between her cheeks. “Don’t stop.”

Sam had no plans to anytime soon. His rapid-fire swishing of fingers against her clit sent Sunita into a tearful stratosphere. Four-letter words barked and sobbed out of her shivering tower, but Sam had her under control.

“You showered since coming home?” Sam whispered into her ear, enduring her writhing within his grip. She nodded. “Bend over on the couch – chin on the backrest.”

“Backshots already?” she asked, lightly covering his hand around her neck, then gently removing his grip and stepping toward his “bed.” His hand fell into hers while she sauntered, then she released it, bent over on a cushion, legs wide and forearms across the backrest. Sunita’s elbows pointed in different directions, and her chin rested on her knuckles. She presented the perfect arch, and he knelt appreciatively and stared her orifices down. Sam held her hips and pecked each butt cheek. She perked up, probably expecting another course of action, and they giggled as he perfected kissing her backside with feathery affection.

Then he went for it. Her asshole and cunt breathed, like separate living organisms. Hell, he swore his cock was another entity outside of himself constantly, and it directed him more than should’ve been allowed. Trying to push those feelings aside, he shoved his face into her femininity and dined. Whimpers, moans and foul language hissed from between Sunita’s wonderful lips. Much more vocal than her southern lips, which packed Sam’s tongue with the appropriate amount of carnal flavouring that he desired.

“Eat it all,” she said in a high-pitched voice. “Fuck me up.”

Sam’s tongue slathered harder and licked her clit faster. His subject began humming, and the more he burrowed his tongue into her cunt and then asshole, while fingering her G-spot, the louder it got. In fact, it grew guttural, and almost frighteningly enticing in Sam’s view. He never heard her sound so aggressive for the few days he’d been there. Sure, she had shown kindness, joy and maybe a sliver of sadness on a rare occasion. But the way she reached back and shoved his mug into her ass and cunt? The grunts and growls that rumbled in her throat? Foreign concepts. In one moment, he backed up from her holes, and when he gazed above, her head was raised, side of her face visible and mouth wide open. Specks of drool settled around her mouth, and her irises disappeared.

“We don’t have time to delay, Sam,” Sunita said within her normal vocal range. “Jill’ll be home in any minute.”

Another pang at Sam’s heart was quickly overshadowed by the pulsing of his cock when he stood, squatted in line with Sunita’s cunt, and eased forward. He breached her slick entrance and groaned. His vocalisations grew more feral the deeper he sank and...