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A Wider Middle Path | 
A Wider Middle Path
What initially struck me about him was how he walked into a room and immediately assessed you from
head to toe in a way that dripped machismo and sexism. I am sure this behavior
is explained in great detail in some policy manual as harassment of some kind.
And worse, he would follow his assessment by patting your shoulder. He
did it in a way that left you never doubting he genuinely cared for your mind,
your person. For quite awhile I was never sure if he wanted to fuck me or be my
father-figure. Or both. Either way the confidence he exuded was a heady
aphrodisiac.
Men my age never acted like this. They were too fearful of
being sued-- or worse to even attempt to pull off this level of confidence. In
an effort for equality as a gender, we have trained each other through the
threat of lawsuit to white-wash their baser emotions and instincts. Sometimes I
wonder if we've taught them to treat us as objects of fear instead of objects of
desire. Though both emotions are great motivators, being feared only leads to
lonely nights.
I wasn't in the market for a father figure but that
tangible manliness just dripped off of him. You could almost touch it and taste
it. He was a big man, barrel-chested the way men some men are at his age. He
worked out like he was my age and it showed. My role was eager impatience in our
love-making. His role was steady, methodical and patient. As opposites, we
pushed each other.
Late one afternoon last January, the college shut
down due to inclement weather. The snow was already piled up and the wind chill
was 30 below zero. I was sitting in my tiny little car trying to turn over a
battery that died in the cold.
I tried beating the steering wheel and
crying. Neither of which worked. Tears streamed down my face while I yanked on
the hood, frozen shut. I banged on it with my mittened fists trying to crack the
ice. The wind was a real bitch on my wet cheeks. But this is where he found me
when he came out to his truck, not parked all that far away.
"What the
hell are you doing?" He asked me.
"It... wo...won't .. stt... start." I
answered. My teeth chattered through my answer. I am an excellent teeth
chatterer. It's a talent. And I think on that day the tears really added an
extra edge.
"That's apparent. Is it your battery?" He asked.
"I... don't know..." I answered. I wiped my face and cried out at the
frozen scratchy yarn of my mittens on my face. "God. Damn. IT." I smacked the
hood again and started for the driver side door as the tears started to really
well up. I couldn't stay with my car, but I didn't want to break down in front
of him.
"Now where are you going in a car that won't start?" He asked as
followed me to the door.
"Noooo... wh.. wh...where!" I managed to get
out before I sobbed. He smiled a little and pulled me away from the door.
"Let's get your backpack and I'll take you home," he said and opened the
door of my little car.
He handed over my backpack. "The pay...pay....
papers," I reminded him.
"Oh yes. We can't forget that, not can we?" he
said.
He reached in and grabbed my bag that I kept all my student's
stuff in, my associate instructor bag. Besides being piss poor, being a part
time instructor at a big university meant carrying around all your grad school
crap on top of the crap from the classes you helped teach. And, if I was going
to be snowed in for a couple days, I wanted the chance to catch up on at least
one thing.
He locked my car and led me to his truck, carrying my AI bag.
"Here, hop in. We can figure out what to do with you while the truck warms up."
He said and held the passenger door open.
I climbed in and he got in
from his side and turned the truck on, blasting the heat. I shivered when the
first cold blasts from the heater hit me. I was calming down a little, but my
teeth still chattered.
The windows around us were white with frost and
snow. He adjusted the heat to work on them, as well as us. It was actually
smart. I'd cracked my windshield the year before by going straight to chipping
away at the ice.
"After my truck warms up, I'll drive you home," he
said. "You can call someone to come out after the snow breaks. No one is going
to come out before then whatever you say."
I nodded and looked away and
started to cry again. There was no way I could pay for fixing my car at that
time.
"What? You want me to leave you here?" he asked when I started to
cry.
"Nnnoooo!" I said. "I just... It's just not my week." I didn't want
to admit how poor I was. It was no secret to him what they paid us but still.
"Aw hey. Come here," he said. He pushed the divider up and scooted over
a little on the seat. He patted the area next to him.
I looked at him
through tears and then at the empty area beside him, considering. No one could
see us because the windows were iced over. I moved closer to him.
He put
his arm around my shoulder and pulled my head down to his shoulder with his
other hand. "Alright, you go ahead and cry," he whispered.
And I did. I
cried about my car and my classes and about just everything. I hugged him back,
curling into him, buring my face in his shoulder. He told me that things were
going to be okay and stroked my hair.
I eventually quieted down and
looked up at him. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice was creaky.
"Shhh.. don't
be sorry," he said. He was looking down into my eyes. He wiped a tear away with
his thumb. I felt one of my eyebrows raise up in an involuntary question.
I watched his eyes dart back and forth between mine and then down to my
mouth. Inside my head, my internal voice was screaming that he was going to kiss
me. My tongue darted out over my lips and my head fell back a little. I thought
about kissing him first but wasn't sure that was what he intended.
When
he didn't do anything, my eyes fell away and I noticed the windows were
clearing. I pulled away from him. "Mmmmm.... It looks like your defrost is
working," I said.
He jerked his head and pulled away sharply. Our veil
of safety had passed.
I wiggled back into my seat and pulled the belt
on. "Thank you... " I said. I felt awkward because I had cried and because I had
wanted to kiss him.
"Hey, its no problem," he said. "Where is your
place?"
"Hmmm. Outside of town. It’s kind of a drive," I said.
"That's alright. Happy to do it," he said. He was running the wipers.
"I'm going to brush some of this snow off." He got out and I sighed, glad for a
moment alone.
I pulled down the passenger side visor and found a mirror.
Things did not look good. I had dark mascara circles and red blotchy cheeks from
both the crying and the cold. No wonder he didn't kiss me. I looked like
something a sasquatch would pass up. Oh well. He was obviously not interested or
he would have taken his shot while he'd had it.
I watched him finish
brushing the snow from the hood of the truck. When he got back in and pulled out
of the faculty lot, he asked me exactly where my place was. When I told him, he
looked sharply at me.
"I am not taking you all the way out there and
leaving you in the middle of a storm with no transportation," he said.
"Well.. well.," I started to reply. I really didn't know what to say.
"You can stay at my place until and tomorrow we can get your car
working," he said.
Part of me thought I should protest but the other part
of me that really wanted him thought what a great chance to get him alone. That
part won.
"Is that okay with you?" He asked since I didn't say anything.
"Ummm. As long as it isn't an imposition?" I said.
"Less of an
imposition than getting both of us stranded in the sticks with this storm headed
in," he said. "The ploughs won't be out that way until at least tomorrow. Why
didn’t you say something? I never would have kept you here."
I was quiet
on the way to his house.
When we got there, we dragged my bags in. His
house was very dark and woodsy. I could see that he hunted and that he probably
had a maid.
I pulled my shoes and coat off.
I asked to take
shower and if he had anything I could hang out in. I got a towel, a pair of long
johns and giant sweatshirt with the college's logo on it. I had a vague memory
of that I wore a similar outfit every day of the winter of my freshman year in
the dorms years earlier.
I padded out to find him on the couch, in front
of a fire with a stack of research papers and a beer.
"Would you like a
beer?" he asked. He looked me up and down.
"I would love one... and some
socks, if you have some. Mine are wet from the snow," I sounded a little weak.
His eyes were on my red toenails. I wiggled them. He looked up at me and
cleared his throat. "Sure."
I grabbed my backpack and AI bag and dragged
them the couch. I sat opposite of where he was and got my glasses out and put
them on. I pulled out a stack of papers from my bag and my grading pen. We
graded papers into the night. Hours later, I'd grown comfortable with him again
since the almost kiss. He's gone out of his way to keep us working. I sat the
papers aside and pulled my glasses off.
As I had graded, I’d turned to
sit with my back against the arm of the couch, the papers on my knees. I yawned
and stretched my legs out over the middle cushion, my feet hitting his thigh.
"Oh, sorry." I said. I pulled one foot back, but he grabbed the other
one and rubbed it in his hands. He put aside his papers and glasses, then he
pulled on my foot dumping me on my back on the couch.
He crawled over
the top of me and kissed me. There was no pretense about it, he just did it. He
settled his weight over me. "You okay?" he whispered to my lips.
"Yeah.
Better than alright." I answered him.
"I've wanted to do this for a long
time." He said, sounding almost apologetic.
"Well it took you long
enough," I answered, then I grinned at him.
He growled and pulled me up
from the couch after him. He lead me to the rug in front of the fireplace. He
pulled the sweatshirt and then the long johns after that. I grasped at his jeans
unbuckling them while I leaned up to kiss him. He made fast work of my bra in
while I fumbled with his buckle.
I sank to my knees in my panties and
his athletic socks and guided his jeans to the floor. I snapped the band of his
tighty-whities and grinned up at him. Then I slipped my fingers under the edge
of the band and peeled them down. First in back, over his ass and then in front,
detangling his stiff cock from the mix. I took his dick in my hand and stroked
him while I looked up into his face looking down at me. I knew I had his
attention but I got a kick out of seeing it. I started by timidly licking the
head before I sucked him into my mouth.
My hands explored the tops of
his thighs. His thighs are like tree trunks covered with springy, wiry hair- one
of my favorite features. Since that night, I love to lock my legs around one and
hump one of his thighs rubbing my warm wet pussy against his leg sending him a
message that I want him and I want him soon. But that night I explored them with
my hands, scratching them with my nails while I loved his cock with my mouth.
He eventually pushed me back onto the rug following me. After spending a
fair amount of time fascinated with my breasts, his mouth trailed down over my
stomach. His hairline was receding in so many directions that he kept his hair
cut in a way that made it appear somewhat like a military cut. Maybe it was a
throw back to an earlier time. It wasn't something he talked about and that fit.
He would a young buck in the Viet Nam draft.
I wondered about it that
night, as I have since. I've come to the place now that I can't look at the top
of his head without wanting to slip my hand down into my jeans and twirl my
finger around my clit. I'd grown used to tracing that hairline with my fingers
while he worked me into a frenzy his mouth. I couldn't watch him speak a full
lecture without my mind drifting to the image of watching him work quite
differently over the landscape of stomach. He wore no moustache and I can't
image one looking better than my pubic hair cresting his upper lip.
He
and I have learned from each other. Often now, he will slip a finger up my ass
while probing me with his tongue. He really gets off on the dichotomy of how
readily willing I am to accept this while at the same time I get so turned on by
the forbidden nature of it.
I can't really say he was quite as willing
the first time I nudged one of my fingers in his ass. But he stretched his
personal sexual boundaries and over-looked that long believed taboo in lieu of
the sensuality of a woman fingering his ass while she swallowed his
cock.
I'd had boyfriends before him that were almost 10 years younger
than me. They seemed to think anal sex was a flavor of the month. For me, I was
of the generation where anal was just bad enough to be damn exciting but not
taboo.
As for him, he thought I'd offered him the arc of the covenant
one night when I turned my back on him and swayed my rear end at him and asked
him if he would fuck my ass. No woman had ever offered it to him. He has just
enough straight-laced small-town Midwest in him to never have asked.
That first night we made love stretched out in front of the fireplace,
it was in a nice safe missionary position. But it was some of the best nice,
safe, missionary sex I have ever had. He tried not to crush me with his weight
and I tried to cradle him between my legs. In the awkward manner that new lovers
have of not quite knowing where extremities like noses, arms and legs go. He was
a gentleman who made sure I came first and I was a hellion who left nail
scratches down his back. The middle path with us is a wide one. But with oh so
many places to travel.
I've traced the lines on his face and body with
my fingers and tongue, treasuring that each of them for adding another layer of
knowledge and depth to his ability to love and appreciate me. Some days I wonder
what he was like when he was younger and I am sure he wonders what I will be
like in twenty years.
A Wider Middle Path
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First Time SEX - Stories !
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