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--------------------------------------------------------
Copyright 1998 by EzRiter. The attached work of fiction 
is intended to be entertainment for adults in locations 
in which it is legal. If it is illegal in your 
location, DO NOT read. This is a copyrighted work. 
Reposting or any other use strictly prohibited without 
the express, written permission of the copyright 
holder, except may by posted as part of a review or 
posted to free-access archive sights.
--------------------------------------------------------

Sugar Daddy
by E.Z. Riter (ezriter@hotmail.com)

***

I had not seen Laura in two years, not since her 
marriage to a young man she believed she loved. I had 
missed her everyday, hurting terribly at first from her 
absence, but, now, suffering only a dull ache once or 
twice a day when she floated from the closets in my 
mind to flit across my consciousness like a ghost. (MF, 
rom)

***

As I walked into the mall, I wondered why that 
particular Saturday I was compelled to shop for 
something I really did not need. I had not been to the 
mall in six months, but, here I was, wandering towards 
the bookstore when I saw her.

Now twenty-two, she was more beautiful than ever as she 
pushed the baby carriage through the mall, stopping to 
look at the dresses on sale in the windows. Her hair 
was brown again, not the brassy blonde she dyed it in 
high school. It went well with her coloring and her big 
brown eyes. Her figure was even better than I 
remembered, full, lush, yet tight with a narrow waist, 
shapely calves continuing from skirted thighs. 

"Laura! Honey, how are you?"

"Jack? Jack! Oh, Jack. I am so happy so see you!"

She turned red as if embarrassed but her eyes were 
shiny. As we hugged she held on for dear life which was 
fine by me. I would be happy if we never stopped. When 
I kept her hand in mine as we separated, she seemed to 
enjoy it.

"You daughter is beautiful, Laura. I know you and Bob 
must be proud."

A tear came to her eye as she looked away.

"Something wrong?"

"Bob and I are divorced, Jack. It was final last week."

"Oh. Laura, I am so sorry for you. What happened?"

Her eyes locked on to me, questioning, searching, 
wondering whether to tell me the truth. 

"It's a long story."

"I have all the time in the world. Let me buy you 
lunch. You can tell me then."

Again, a long and desperate silence as she tried to 
decide. She squeezed my hand before letting it drop.

"I would like that."

We went to one of the quieter, full service restaurants 
in the mall, sitting in a far corner. Laura parked the 
stroller and held her baby close to her as she fished 
in the big tote bag for a bottle.

"I have been nursing, but, in public..."

"Don't worry about me. I think nursing is great."

She gave me a delightful grin. It was the first real 
smile from her I had seen today. She had a beautiful, 
warm, innocent but very sexy smile. She needed to do it 
more frequently. We ordered lunch as she slipped the 
bottle in the baby's mouth. Jennifer closed her little 
eyes, her fists clenched in tiny balls, as she sucked 
mightily on the cold rubber substitute for her mother's 
own warm teat. 

"Okay, what are you thinking," Laura said, eyeing me 
suspiciously. I know I blushed. "Tell me." "Just an old 
joke. Jennifer nursing reminder me of it." "I need a 
good laugh. Good lord, Jack. We know each other well 
enough to tell dirty jokes." 

I told her. The old one about why mother's milk is so 
much better to take on picnics. Stays fresh. Better for 
you. Comes in such a cute container. She laughed 
politely. It was not that good a joke to begin with but 
it broke the silence so heavy around us. 

"Okay, tell me your story." 

Again, there was a long pause as she stared at me as if 
hoping to find the answer to all her problems in my 
face.

"I feel a compulsion to be totally honest with you. I 
am trying to think through why I feel that way."

"I know why."

"Why?"

"Because you know how special... how important... you 
are to me. You know you can trust me totally."

And, she could. Laura was my daughter's best friend. 
Over the years, she and I had developed a very close, 
friendly, warm, but non-sexual relationship. It was 
more than father-daughter, more than teacher-student. 
Less than lovers, although in some ways it was more 
meaningful, certainly more meaningful than a one night 
stand or short affair which was solely passion driven. 

It was a very special relationship to me, and, I hoped, 
to her. Often, she had come to me for advise, finding a 
sympathetic voice and a non- judgmental ear. After my 
divorce, she came to comfort and council me. When she 
became engaged, we quit talking to each other. I really 
felt the loss of her company more than she knew; 
perhaps, more than even I knew before I saw her again 
today. 

"Jack... Jack, I committed adultery." 

Tears began to fall. She struggled to hold the baby and 
the bottle in one hand as she searched for a tissue. I 
gave her mine. She smiled wanly, dabbing a quickly 
reddening eyes with the soft tip of the rolled paper.

"Laura, I did not mean to pry."

"No. I want to tell you! You see, he asked me to do it. 
I thought I was making him happy. Oh, Jack, was I so 
horrible?"

In a torrent of words punctuated by sobs, the story 
began to flow out of her, a story like many others, of 
a woman trying to please her man by giving him complete 
control of her sexuality, of her man not knowing what 
he wanted of her or himself, of his intoxication with 
the power her love and submission gave him, of setting 
limits beyond what was desired, of limits tested and 
surpassed.  

Knowledge gained of what actually was wanted... but, 
that knowledge coming too late to prevent events which 
shatter the trust... the foundation... of a marriage. 
Yes, she said they both loved it. She liked the 
attention of different men. She was being so honest 
with me... so honest. She was afraid she would drive me 
away but more afraid not to unburden her soul. 

The waitress gave me a nasty look as she asked Laura if 
she wanted anything. "Should I call security, ma'am?" 
she asked, concerned over Laura's obvious sorrow. Laura 
shook her head no as she blotted tears. She continued 
her story around bites of salad as we ate the meal 
without tasting it, having it as a reason to sit and 
talk to each other. As we talked, I am sure it was 
evident to her how much I cared, if any evidence was 
needed after the years of our relationship. 

"How can I help you?"

Her eyes burned into me, searching, probing, 
questioning eyes. There was such a great message in 
them, a message she was afraid to covert to words. When 
her eyes finally dropped from mine, we sat in 
uncomfortable silence. There was so much I wanted to 
say, too, but, I wrestled my own fears, fighting for 
the substance... for the sheer guts... to say what I so 
desperately wished to say.

"What are you going to do now?" I asked.

"I do not know. I am living with my mother, but..."

"You need a sugar daddy," blurted out of me. 

My mind was racing and I felt like an idiot. In my gut, 
I knew I could not let her get away although I not the 
slightest idea how to go forward.

"Oh?" Her eyebrows arched quizzically, her lips 
twitched in a restrained grin.

"Yes. You need to find a generous, considerate older 
man who would treat such a wonderful young woman with 
all the kindness she deserves. He is madly in love..."

My heart was pounding. I knew I had turned bright red 
because I had no intention of saying that. It just 
popped out and I was mortified. 

"Laura, I..."

She started laughing: a deep, rich, hearty laugh with 
her eyes watering, that caused others in the restaurant 
to turn and stare at her. Soon, her gasping for air 
punctuated the little giggles as she fought to restrain 
herself. The waitress returned, again eyeing me 
suspiciously. I think she would have assaulted me at 
the slightest provocation. 

"And, where would I find such a loving older man?" she 
asked, still fighting back the giggles.

"Oh, Laura... I was not trying to come on to you. I 
just... well..." I sat in silence, unable to say what I 
wanted to say. Isn't the human mind an amazing complex 
of emotions, juxtapositioned to stifle what should be 
easy communication for fear of saying the wrong thing. 
I was holding tight to one level of a relationship, 
fearful of jumping to the next level, even though my 
desire to make that jump was so great the words had 
leapt from my subconscious, revealing what my conscious 
feared to show. 

She put her hand over mine, squeezing gently to 
reassure me. She handed me her pocket appointment 
calendar, the little book so many people now use to 
organize their lives. 

"The divorce was final on the fourteenth. Look under 
that date."

Her eyes were bright and alive as I looked. The 
notation said: "Divorce final. Quit putting it off. You 
know he is the one. Call him!" Him was underlined three 
times.

Puzzled, I gave the calendar back but she pushed it to 
me.

"Keep looking back."

Each day had a notation, "call him," and it was 
sometimes emphasized with underlines or smiley faces. 
Back and back through the days, I went. Finally, I 
reached the page she wanted me to see.

"Call Jack Williams. 555-1234."

"Me? I am honored but... why?"

"I am crazy about you, too. I thought about you many 
times when I was married to Bob. I am afraid he 
suffered in the comparison. Sometime after Bob and I 
separated, I realized you returned over and over to my 
thoughts. Those thoughts were good thoughts, Jack... 
loving thoughts... caring thoughts. I decided to wait 
until the divorce was final. Then... I have picked up 
the phone countless times to call you. I just didn't 
know how to...."

We held hands across the table, lost in each other, 
relishing the silence of and the touch as lovers have 
done since men and women were created, seeing each 
other in new ways, creating fantasies, one for the 
other, built on a hope of our own desires for the 
future. Jennifer's cry broke our reverie, allowing me 
to find my voice.

"You have not seen the changes I made to the house 
since you were last there. Why don't you come over, 
perhaps tonight. We could have dinner."

I got that fabulous smile of hers again: that so sexy, 
so warm and honest, yet, so innocent smile.

"Just dinner?" 

Could I even hope?"

"I have some etchings to show you."

"How wonderful! I love etchings. I have wanted to see 
your etchings for a long time, Jack."

The waitress appeared, seeming to be convinced I was 
not a monster and her customer was safe with me. Or, 
perhaps, she just realized I was paying and wished to 
encourage a larger tip. It made no difference as I over 
tipped substantially. I held Jennifer as Laura repacked 
the stroller. 

I was at that awkward age: still wanting children; too 
young for grandchildren; my own already grown. I saw 
Laura watching me out of the corner of her eye.

"I want more children. One or two, anyway." It was said 
so softly I could have ignored it had I chosen. But, I 
looked at her and smiled. We held hands as I walked her 
to her car, loaded the baby... Jennifer... into the car 
seat and held the door for Laura. Again, silence 
surrounded us as we searched each other's faces again. 
We kissed... a long, loving, kiss. She flashed that 
warm, sexy, wonderful smile at me again as she sat 
down.

"See you at seven, sugar daddy," she giggled.

I was a nervous wreck at seven. If I had been a 
drinking man, I would have been drunk as I sought 
courage from a bottle. But, instead, I was fidgeting 
man. Every piece of furniture and knick knack had been 
moved twice. The cold boiled shrimp on the hor d'ourve 
platter had been rearranged so many times they were 
bruised. The clock was almost worn out just from me 
checking it to see if it had failed or time was simply 
stopped. If the door bell had rung a minute later, I 
would have gone mad. I threw open the door.

Even after forty years, all of which was spent living 
with women since I had a mother, two sisters, a wife 
and a daughter, I am still amazed how a woman can 
combine clothes, accessories, makeup and attitude to 
provide a limitless number of messages to be sent to 
those who see her. 

Laura was wearing a simple white blouse with long, 
puffed sleeves, five buttons of which two were not 
fastened, a simple gold chain with a small diamond 
around her neck and matching ear drops. She wore a 
tight, mid-thigh black skirt, nude stockings and pumps 
with three inch heels, discreet, lightly applied makeup 
with light pastel nail coloring. Her hair was soft on 
her shoulders. The message was "I am a beautiful and 
highly sexual woman but off limits to all men... but 
one."

She took my breath away. As I stood, rudely taking her 
in rather than inviting her in, she gave me a wicked 
smile and slowly turned. "Do I look good enough to be 
invited in?" She had that smile again. 

"Forgive me. I just enjoyed seeing you so much." I 
recovered adequately to be a good host. We visited, 
sipping a light drink, spending precious time being 
together again. It was she who changed the nature of 
our discussions. She gave me a wicked, wanton, "I want 
to be fucked" smile as she took my hand in hers. She 
raised my palm to her lips and kissed it. 

"I have never had a sugar daddy before," she teased. 
"What is a girl suppose to do?" 

"The girl is doing just fine," I replied as I pulled 
her to me. In that instant before our lips met, as she 
was moving towards me, a picture flashed from my 
subconscious. It was the only time our relationship had 
crossed that line from special friends into a sexual 
realm. She was almost seventeen. We had been talking 
but I could not remember about what. 

Suddenly, she leapt into me, her arms around my neck, 
her firm, young body pressed hard against mine. Before 
I could stop her (not that I would have), her tongue 
was down my throat, kissing me with all the passion for 
which a man could wish. It had frightened and 
embarrassed us both and never occurred again. 

Until now. Now, she was against me again. This time she 
was twenty-two and we both were single. She giggled. 
Leaning back, she turned a light red and giggled again. 
"What?" I asked. "Remember when..." She, too, dredged 
that memory from her mind, telling me for the first 
time how she would have willingly gone to my bed then 
if only I had asked. 

"I am glad we waited, Laura. Now, it will mean we can 
do this a lifetime without guilt." 

"Let's get started."

"No. You can wait," I replied. Her eyes flared with 
lust as she squirmed her body against me, forcing her 
skirt up around her waist, revealing bright pink thong 
panties.

"Going to make me wait? I have waited a long time for 
you, Jack." She kissed me lustily, driving me back onto 
the couch as she squirming on me. "Going to make me beg 
for it?" she gasped between kisses. She sat up, rubbing 
her pantied-pussy against my too bound cock as she 
began to unbutton my shirt with haste. 

"Tell me what you are going to do to me, Jack? Going to 
hold me down?" She ripped my unbuttoned shirt out of my 
pants, groaning as she fell to suck my nipple. Up 
again, she yanked at my belt, ripping it open. She 
growled as she yanked my trousers off me, shoes and 
socks flying with them.

"Now, what are you going to do to me, Jack? Are you 
going to make me suck your cock!" She yanked my boxers 
down. Greedily, she fell on my cock, taking it into her 
mouth. I wrapped my hand in her hair and began pulling 
until she released the suction and lunged up on me. I 
rolled her over trapping her hands under her. She was 
surprised, her mouth forming a little O, her eyes wide. 
Then, she squirmed again.

"What are you going to do to me, Jack?" she whispered. 
"All of those things and more," I said, kissing her as 
I began to remove her he clothes. I freed a pair of 
gorgeous breasts. When I sucked her nipple, I tasted 
her milk: hot, sweet, thick. I began kneading her 
breast forcing the milk into my mouth, aiding the 
suction applied to strongly. It was something I had not 
done since my own daughter, her friend, Becky, was a 
babe in arms. 

"Migod, Jack, please, I need you in me," she moaned, 
trying to get her arms from under her, trying to hurry 
me. I kept her pinned as I suckled, enjoying her 
squirming, the heat radiating from her, the thick, 
yellow-white milk I consumed from her breast. "Jack, 
oh, Jesus, Jack, I-I... ohhhhh..." I felt her relax. 
"Wow," she murmured. "That has never happened before."

"See. We sugar daddies know what we are doing." 

What can be said. Hours later in the quiet of my 
bedroom, she lay against me as we cooled, sweat covered 
and sticky, happy and depleted. She was more 
magnificent than even my fertile imagination conceived, 
too wonderful for me to describe. 

"Yes, Jack. I will," she said in my ear, as she 
readjusted her position, her leg over my cock, her 
breasts on my chest. "Will what?" I replied, kissing 
her softly. "Will marry you. Didn't I hear you ask?"

I rolled her over, crushing her into the bed. "Laura, I 
need to say a few things first." Suddenly, her whole 
attitude changed. She appeared very frightened. "What?" 
she gasped. 

"You will never have another man." 

"Yes, sir," she grinned. 

"We will have children." 

"Yes, sir. Anything else?"

"I will fuck your ass on our wedding night." 

She gasped, squirming as if she had been shocked. Then, 
she smiled wantonly.

"Yes, sir. I would love doing anything with you, 
Jack... as long as you love me."

"You know I do, and, I have for years. Now, I will ask. 
Will you marry me?"

END

Comments, please! Email address: ezriter@hotmail.com

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
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