Break Up In The End

"Even if I knew you'd be the one that got away

I'd still go back and get you

Even if I knew you'd be my best and worst mistake

Oh, I'd still make it with you

Over and over, again and again

Even though we break up in the end "

"Break up in the End", sung by Cole Swindell Writers: Richard Chase McGill, Jon Mark Nite, Jessie Jo Dillon

CHAPTER ONE

I was on the wrong end of middle age, still smarting from the divorce, and wondering what I was going to do with my life, from here.

After several years of joint custody, my children had grown, moved out, and started families of their own. That left me with a lot of time on my hands. I went to my job, came home, washed my clothes, picked up my house, cooked dinner and washed my dishes, and slept. Rinse and repeat. Some weekends I went camping, others I went to the rifle range. After several months, I found myself settling into a routine.

My kids phoned me from time to time, to check up on the old man, and to keep me updated on the events in their lives. They kept busy with their kids, with their schooling and with their jobs.

I wasn't really, completely, celibate. Occasionally I hooked up with one woman or another, but, fundamentally, I had no interest in any sort of formal relationship. The divorce, and the awful shenanigans the ex perpetrated, well, I was not interested in empowering another woman to fuck with my head, to fuck with my life, again.

Having said all that, there was one woman who inspired my fantasy life. She was the medical assistant assigned to me, and she occupied my daydreams. Melissa stood out from the rest of the women working at the clinic. While they nattered on about boyfriends, or movies, or how they spent the weekend at the bar, Melissa kept more to herself. The only time she really seemed to get engaged in the conversation, is when she talked about her kids. Her face lit up, as if they were a beacon of joy in her life. To hear her stories, it was a fact.

The fact that she was petite and pretty, only made her niceness and maturity shine the more brightly. While the other women were complaining about the men in their lives, Melissa would talk about her children, and the milestones that they were crossing. Her oldest, she reported with pride, would read to his younger sister, and point out the letters and the sounds each represented.

We were buddies, after a fashion. I would occasionally listen as she worked through one parenting conundrum or another, and present suggestions based on my own child rearing years. My assistance was hardly required, as her children, every time I encountered them, were unfailingly polite and well behaved.

As happens annually, about this time of year, winter ended, and spring made her appearance. Temperatures began to run reliably in the seventies, at long freaking last, and Melissa was musing out loud about a day at the beach with her kids. I had nothing going on, and volunteered to be her "wing-man", sharing child supervision duties. She beamed, promising me a picnic lunch, and plenty of sunshine. We made a date, so to speak, for me to pick her and the kids up and head off to one of the county parks.

Saturday mornings make 8 o'clock seem considerably earlier than the clock says it is. This was balanced by Melissa's broad smile as she answered her door to my knock, and the excited chattering of her children as we loaded up. I had my stuff in a duffle bag, and Melissa dropped her own beach bag into the back of my truck, buckling the kids into her car seats in the back seat Once she had settled in, I admired her snug jeans and lightweight tee shirt.

We arrived at the park, and plowed through the typical confusion of corralling two excited children, transporting all our stuff to a suitable picnic spot, and then arranging everything properly. Melissa took her kids to the bathroom in order to change into their swimsuits, returning in a modest beach cover up. I took my turn thereafter.

Melissa and I chatted, enjoying each other's company. I was happy to be out of the house, and the scenery at the beach, so to speak, was quite compelling. After a while, she shrugged out of her robe, revealing her two piece swimsuit. While it was reasonably modest, the fabric did nothing to hide the fact that this woman was fit, and fully grown. Her deep brown hair was held in pigtails, her eyes sparkled as from pending mischief. She eventually handed off the child watching duties to me so she could go swim. I admired her firm butt as she walked away. While she swam, and splashed the cooling waters of the lake over herself, I kept an eye on the kids, as they merrily played in the sand.

Upon her return, well, her breasts had hardly any sway, and her nipples were erect from the cold of the lake. The water streaming down her body seemed to highlight her taut abdomen. She caught me ogling her and, turning, cut a pose. I proffered her a towel, offering to dry her back.

I ran my hands up and down her back, rubbing the towel over her muscles. She shivered once, and reached, drawing it around herself. She turned, and nodded toward my own towel. "Ya know, a gentleman would offer to dry a lady's hair!"

I wrapped the towel around her head, rubbing her dry, watching the children dig holes in the sand and otherwise amuse themselves. She leaned into my caress, turning this way and that, directing my attentions to the parts of her head that she desired.

After I had enjoyed an afternoon of innocent fun, with well behaved kids, in the company of an intelligent, cute, fun woman, Melissa insisted that I accompany them home. There she treated me to a home cooked meal. Shortly after this unaccustomed delight, the kids toddled off to bed, yawning. Melissa tucked them into bed, and returned, where we dawdled over a glass of wine. We enjoyed more innocent conversation. While I was basking in her presence, feeding my (I hoped secret) crush on her, she evidently was enjoying an adult, non-work chat.

We repeated our excursions something like every couple of weekends. I continued to admire her, I hoped discreetly, and built up a store of what might be considered "fap fodder". While Melissa certainly played a leading role in my fantasies, well, I was reluctant to "fish off the company pier".

She, therefore, seized the initiative. After several of these sorts of adventures, one evening after dinner she set her glass upon the table, and turned to face me.

"Are you tired?"

"Well, yes, sort of. Why do you ask?"

"I think that you are too tired to safely drive home."

"I might be. And...?"

"It's time for bed. C'mon!"

She was coming at me from left field, and moving entirely too quickly for me, after filling my stomach and a glass or two of wine. I set my glass upon a napkin, and rose to follow her. She took my hand, and led me to her bedroom, pausing along the way to look in on her children, and close their doors. Once we entered her room, she turned and secured the door. Turning back to face me, she squared her shoulders, and began.

"You do realize that I have not been with a man since Cal walked out on us, right?"

"I had figured as much. While all the other women are talking about their weekend hook ups, or how their boyfriends and they had spent the weekend, all you ever talk about is your kids. Just as if they were the center of your life. And, having met them, it certainly has paid off."

"Thank you. It hasn't been easy, but, I suppose, important things never are easy. My children are Job One to me. For a lot of reasons, I'm leery of any sort of relationship with another man. I'm afraid that he won't be able to handle being second to my children in my life, or that he'll think that he has to be their dad. Well, their dad walked out, and I am reluctant to get wrapped up in some other man, and his drama."

"I agree with you. So, why are we here? And, why me, here with you?"

She drew in a deep breath, released it, and looked in my eyes. "Even with all that said, I'm still a woman, I still long for the touch of a man, and I still want to be desired, to be romanced, to be treasured, and to be taken by a man who wants me, and will work to get me. I know you haven't catted around since your ex left you, even since your kids moved out on their own. You have been a perfect gentleman with me, at work and on our day trips, and I love that you watch out for my kids as if they were your own. I have also seen how you ogle me, from time to time, even if you are too much of a gentleman to sneak a feel. I think you are grown up enough to handle a no strings, friends-with-benefits arrangement. We each get nookie, and you get home cooked meals. Interested?"

I regarded her, as a woman and as a playmate. She was petite, fit, curvy, and pretty. Still, I just had to ask. "So, aside from the obvious, what do you get out of this? Don't get me wrong, this is absolutely the best offer I've had in ages, but, I ought to know what you are looking to get out of this, even if only to be sure I'm giving you what you want."

Her gaze slid to my crotch, where Little Mark was making plain his views on the proceedings. "Oh, I'm sure that you have what I want, and I'm confident you will let me have it. In fact, I really think you will have to be encouraged to let me have it just as hard, just as rough, as I really want it. But, I'll get what I want, have confidence!"

She stepped back a step, grasped the hem of her tee shirt, and drew it over her head, inverting it in the process. Standing there, her brassiere framing her breasts, she looked me up and down, and observed, "Perhaps you are not really understanding what I'm offering you. If you did, I do not think you have the proper wardrobe!"

Once I have been tapped by The Bat of Clue, I can figure most things out. I tossed my shirt into the corner while toeing off my shoes. Melissa's bra landed atop my shirt soon followed by my pants and shorts. I looked up to behold her wriggling her panties off, and, with a graceful kick, launch them onto the clothing pile.

She caught my hungry look, and cut a pose, hands on hips, one knee cocked forward. Once she added a little shimmy, well, genetically programmed visual responses to moving objects caused my eyes to follow the sway of her firm breasts. I did, however, successfully stop short of salivating.

Melissa had a hungry look of her own. She gestured at my throbbing scimitar of lust, and asked in mock innocence, "Did I do that?"

"Yep. Although, to be honest, it's kind of the way I respond to all the hot, smart, nice, sexy women who seem to be offering me an opportunity to tickle their fancy!"

She smiled more widely at that. "Oh, yes! You will certainly get the opportunity to tickle my fancy! Any suggestions? After all, a man as (devilish grin, vocal emphasis added) OLD as you, might have some ideas that an innocent young lass such as myself, might enjoy!"

"Yep! I'd like to begin with a little taste test!"

She gave a little hop, and flopped back onto the bed. "Just tell me how you want me, kind sir!"

"Oh, I think that just the way you are: naked, willing, enthusiastic, is pretty much everything I want or need in a woman, under these circumstances!"

I knelt at the edge of the bed, drawing her closer so I could admire her kitty. Melissa reached to her sex, drawing her petals apart. "Do you see anything that interests you?"

"Well, this right here looks pretty intriguing!" I puckered up, and kissed her sex, peppering her inner folds with smooches, as I worked my way past her clitoris. She hummed her approval, one hand moving to wrap behind my head, guiding my attentions to those areas she felt were neglected.

I nuzzled her folds, savoring the scent of an aroused woman. Extending my tongue, I took a lap, up one side and down the other, returning for a little teasing of her clitoris. I lashed her nubbin for a few strokes, and then introduced a finger into her grotto, tickling her anterior wall as I licked her up and down.

She seemed to approve, so I added a second finger to the first, crooking them in a "come hither" motion. It appeared that she enjoyed that, as well, so I continued my gestures. I blew lightly upon her sex, and then swooped in for another taste. The combination of G Spot tickling, pussy lapping, and a break in her romantic drought looked like it was about to push her over the edge into her own personal earthly nirvana. She hummed, she moaned, she writhed, it felt as if she was attempting to push my entire head into her puss, tongue first.

I do not think that it would have worked that way. In any event, before she could make very much progress on fitting my head into her sex, she seized up, stopped moaning, and she immobilized my probing fingers by the pressure of her spasming sex upon them. She relaxed for a moment, and seized up again, squeezing my fingers buried within her yet again. Her torso flexed, relaxed, and flexed again, a rictus of pleasure across her face.

I sat back from my efforts, extricating my fingers, and smiling upon her limp, panting (and sexy!) form. Her firm erect nippled breasts swayed with each breath, her taut abdomen moved, rippling occasionally from orgasmic aftershocks. Her pelvis moved back and forth, as if searching for the fingers lately moving within her.

I admired her. Aside from my own nookie drought, she was a pretty woman, smart, full of common sense, and capable. All items on my personal sexual targeting list. While she worked to catch her breath, her taut tummy, firm breasts, the womanly swell of her hips, all riveted my attention. As I considered her essence, beginning to drip from my chin, I found the metaphorical frosting on this cake of bliss.

She eventually roused herself, smiling at my glazed countenance. "Looks like I gave you quite a coating of my goo!"

"Yep, certainly does! You appeared to be having such a good time, I thought it would be poor manners to interrupt you."

"I'm very glad that you did not interrupt me! That was the best time I have had in quite some time. I suppose it is only fair that I return the favor. Do you think you can get more than one show out of your johnston? Once I suck you off, then I'd like some of that where my kitty really wants it!"

The only reason to pause and contemplate that offer, was to wonder at my ability to hold up my end of the bargain. I so stated. "I believe that is a question that requires a clinical experiment. I am willing to volunteer myself as your experimental subject! I can take that risk!"

"Oh, so you're willing to face that danger, are you? Let's see how cocky you are once I have had my way with you!"

She scuttled back on the bed, patting the space next to her, indicating I should take that position. As I followed directions, she pushed me flat and, resting one arm next to my chest, reached with the other hand to waggle my steely throbber to and fro. "Certainly appears that you have gotten into the spirit of affairs!", she observed, and then swooped down for a sample.

"Hmmm! Your dick is drooling goodness! Could it be that you're excited?" This was accompanied by wide eyed, eyelid batting, faux wonderment.

I pretended no such confusion. "Excited? As if I could be other than pulsingly hard! Have you seen you? You are so pretty, and, gotta tell you, the look that you are giving my cock simply whispers that you plan on devouring me, drinking me whole. You know I've been in a bit of a drought: so, let's think about this. A young, hot, naked woman is promising me a suck job, and has just now spoken of how she owes me one after I just licked her to a climax. The only surprising thing about this scene, is how you are not wearing my cum on your face, right now!"

A moue replaced the wide eyed look. "Oh, no ! Mister, I want your cum-shots where I can enjoy them! Once you fill my little mouth, and I swallow you down, I am gonna suck you hard again, and then you will give my kitty the pounding that she, and I, deserve!"

She took about half my length into her mouth, swirling her tongue about me, and drew off with a pop. "And, you will simply lay back, and enjoy the delights that a suck mistress can provide you! Here is my very best!"

And, as they say, that was no shit. Her best was mighty fine, indeed. I have had the blessing of being romanced by attractive women, had my cock sucked by enthusiastic women, been made love to by experienced women, and, let me tell you, every single experience that I had previously enjoyed, paled in the shadow of the oral loving she laid upon me.

My only regret was, with the cunt lapping warm up I had had, and her master (mistress?) level oral skills, and my lengthy drought, well, to characterize my "trigger" as "short", would not accurately reflect the speed with which I demonstrated in unmistakable fashion my appreciation of her cock sucking talent. I shot rope after rope of gooey baby batter into her mouth, and she coursed shot after shot into her stomach, each swallow massaging another jism fountain from my throbbing semen spout.

I locked up, and, once I had emptied every drop of fluid from my body, I went limp. She scooted next to me, resting her head upon my chest.

Melissa, in contrast, appeared chipper beyond words. "Oohhh! That was sooo cool! I simply loovve the way your face squinched up just before you poured yourself into my mouth! I felt so powerful, so in control, so, I dunno, 'I did that! I made him go crazy! My mouth, my lips, my tongue! I made him lose all control!' Wow! When can you do that again? I hope it doesn't take very long! I want to get you all hard again, and have you get all googly eyed, with your dick buried all the way in my puss!"

I regarded her, blearily, and attempted to formulate a coherent response. Blood was just—JUST!--beginning to make it's way to my brain, but nothing more sophisticated than my lizard hind brain was really perfusing, so speech, really, was just out of my reach. So, I grunted.

"Huh?"

She smiled. Entirely a charitable response to my imbecility. I tried again.

"It might be a while before you get more than a twitch out of my johnston. I came pretty hard, you know!"

She licked her lips. "Yeah, I know!" She slid next to me, arranging my off arm beneath her, curled around her shoulder to her liking. "I suppose I will simply have to wait for a while, until your old, old batteries recharge, and I can make you hard all over again. Then, you can schtup the stuffings out of me, just like I want and deserve!"

I agreed. "After a performance like that, you certainly do deserve the schtupping you want, just the way you want it!"

That was the peak of my intellectual effort, and, sated and relaxed, I laid my head back onto the pillow, and fell asleep for a while.

To my surprise, I found myself reanimated several hours later, in the middle of the night. Melissa had found a maneuver to awaken me, considerably more pleasant than any alarm clock I had ever encountered. Once I identified the source of the molten heat enveloping my schwanz, I then realized why I was, again, achingly hard.

Melissa soon determined that her sucking had rendered me erect enough for her purposes, purposes that she soon demonstrated to me. She straddled my supine form, and, slotting my crown at her sexual flower, slowly settled upon me. She paused, at full penetration, before beginning to rock her pelvis forward and back, stirring her oils into a meringue. I was considering how I could add to her enjoyment of affairs, but it certainly appeared that she had everything arranged just to her satisfaction, so I occupied myself with savoring her steamy center, and trying to avoid ejaculating too early in the proceedings.

She rode me for an extended period, until she found her own completion, and, gasping and panting, settled upon me. I wrapped her in my arms, squeezing her firm breasts against me, and reciprocated my own way over the same cliff, pouring myself into her core.

A couple of climaxes being an unaccustomed pleasure for me, I slept once again, awakening in the morning with Melissa wrapped around me, her head on my shoulder.