Threesome Stories : The Widow E-Book

Jarko Lee

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

“Here goes,” said Megan, grinning at both of us while hugging her husband. “Fred’s a great husband and a wonderful father, but there’s more to the story than you know.”

Leseprobe

Jarko Lee

Threesome Stories : The Widow

Everyone looked at me, and then it was my turn for a red face. While hugging her husband with one arm, Megan had ostentatiously reached for my groin and rubbed. “How about it, Steve? Can you still get it up for me?”BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

Threesome Stories: The Widow

Threesome Stories: The Widow

I’d always liked Christmas, but that was before the wreck that claimed my daughter and son. Jessica was a junior in college, and Tyler was just starting his career after graduation. They had come home for a holiday and, on Christmas Eve afternoon at 2:26, a drunk driver with two DUI convictions to his name and a bottle of vodka in his belly, had crossed the center line and killed them both. One horrible, awful “Bam!” and two lives were snuffed out before they had barely begun. The drunk lived on for a few days, and then he died, too. It didn’t make me feel any better.

At age 56 I was suddenly childless, my wife, Deidre, was post-menopausal, and we had been looking forward to traveling a bit now that the kids were raised, not at starting another family. And how the hell could we? Deidre couldn’t have any more kids, and while we could try to adopt, that could take years. Sure, we could decide to hire a surrogate, but frankly, we were too damn old to be changing diapers and getting up in the middle of the night with a screaming baby, and I sincerely doubted that Deidre would be enthusiastic at the idea of quitting her job to raise some other woman’s child only to give me another chance at genetic immortality.

I’ve always kept myself in pretty good shape, but I have to admit, I’m a middle-aged guy. Sure, I jog, and I push myself away from the dinner table before I’m tempted by seconds, but I’m not the sexiest man alive, believe me, and there’s no way I could squeeze into my college jeans, even if I still had them. So I was more than flattered one Saturday morning when, while out for a jog, a neighbor on the next block who couldn’t have been more than 22 or 23 waved cheerfully at me as she pushed a baby carriage out her entranceway and onto the sideway. I simply had to stop.

“Hi! I’m Steve. Steve Alfson. How old’s your, uh, son?”

“Rachel’s four months old, and a girl, Steve.”

Shit. I’d put my mouth in gear before noticing the pink clothing on the kid. But hey, the baby carriage was blue! The young woman didn’t look perturbed, though, and surprised the heck out of me when she put her hand on mine, lightly, and smiled broadly. “It’s OK, Steve. You’re not the first person to mistake Rachel for a boy. I shouldn’t have borrowed my cousin’s baby blue baby carriage. And by the way, my name is Megan Kirsten, and I’m glad to meet you.”