When Peter decides to advertise for a housemate to share his cabin in the woods, he doesn't expect a woman to answer and is surprised when Kate, a beautiful, sexy woman, young enough to be his daughter, shows up. He is determined not to let anything happen, but is tantalized by her seductive ways. Still, determined not to allow his passions control his behavior, he finds himself unable to resist when they have dinner and she gets drunk from too much wine. Still, reluctant to accept what is happening, Kate tells him she loves older men and he should see her as a gift sent to him. Though much older, Peter realizes this younger woman has much to teach him and learns what happens when you give up expectations and give in to what comes your way.
I live in a cabin in the woods that my wife and I built several years ago. She moved out last year and we got a divorce after twenty-five years of marriage. We’re still friends. We married young and gradually just drifted apart and life goes on. I’m a writer and have a couple of books published and a collection of poetry. I have a little following, but nothing major by any means. I teach writing at a local college and a few online courses. I’m fifty-two and in pretty good shape considering I love to eat and hate to exercise—except for working in my garden. I work hard out there and grow most of my own food. I live a pretty simple life, but one day I decided to get a housemate, someone to help with the mortgage payments. I put up a sign at the local food co-op with little slips at the bottom with my phone number that said ask for Peter. I didn’t get any calls, but when I checked my sign at the co-op a few times I saw that a few slips had been taken.
One Sunday afternoon, the phone rang and someone asked for Peter. I heard a woman’s voice, which sounded young. Answering her question, I said, “Yes, I am looking for a housemate, but didn’t think a woman would call.” I asked if she’d mind sharing the place with a man.
She said, “It all depends. I just arrived in town and need a place to live.”
I told her I was five miles out of town and gave her directions. While I was waiting, I picked up things, wiped the kitchen counter, put some dishes away and ran a brush around the toilet bowl. The place looked pretty good. About fifteen minutes later, a red Saab pulled up next to my old Subaru. I saw a young woman walking up the path, looking down at the ground, then up at the cabin. She wore a short denim skirt, a jean jacket and boots that came to her knees. She had long brownish hair, almost blonde. I opened the screen door as she approached and she looked up and smiled, “Hi. I’m Kate,” she said and shook my hand.
“Oh, wow, I love all the wood and the skylights,” she said as she entered and looked around.
She had a pretty face, high cheekbones, intense green eyes and freckles. Her long dusty-blonde hair came down well past her shoulders.
“So where would I stay, if I took it?” she asked.
“You’d have the whole other side of the cabin. Follow me and I’ll show you.”
When we entered the bedroom, she unzipped her jean jacket. She was wearing a tight black turtleneck and I could see she wasn’t wearing a bra because her nipples showed through her shirt. She’s really built, I thought, noticing how her grapefruit-sized tits strained the material of her shirt.
She finished her wine and asked if I minded if she poured another glass. Luckily, it was a large bottle. I shook my head, and she poured herself another glass and filled mine. I liked that she was feeling comfortable. When we finished eating, she picked up our bowls and took them to the sink. I noticed that she staggered slightly. Again, I couldn't help looking at her luscious ass while she washed our dishes.
She glanced at me looking at her. I think she knew I liked what I was seeing. She smiled then went back to washing the bowls, humming to herself.
I moved to my recliner in front of the wood stove, turned on the lamp behind me, picked up my magazine, leaned back and tried to read it, trying to get my mind off of her body. I’ve got to control myself. I can’t let anything happen. She’s younger than my daughter.
While I was reading, Kate came to where I was sitting and stood in front of me, pressing her knees against my legs. She looked down at me with a little smile. Her crotch was at eye level. I looked up at her and tried not to look at her tits and the nipples poking her tight shirt. She didn’t say anything but just pressed her knees harder against my leg. “I think I’m drunk.”
“Oh,” I said.
“And horny,” she added. “When I get drunk like this all I want to do is fuck.”
I was stunned by her bluntness. She got down on her knees, took the magazine off of my lap, spread my legs apart and put her hand on my cock. She bit her lower lip and looked into my eyes. I was already aroused from looking at her, but when she started rubbing my cock, I could feel myself getting bigger and harder. I didn’t move. I can’t believe this is happening. I can't let this happen.
“I saw how you were looking at me, Peter.” She gazed into my eyes while she moved her hand up and down my bulging cock. “Hmm, I love how your cock feels. It feels so big and hard.”
I didn't know what to do, but loved how her hand felt and couldn't believe how hard my cock was. I knew I should stop this, but couldn't. My cock was throbbing.
She stood up and straddled my legs, sat down and pressed her crotch against my cock and started grinding.
I should push her away and stop this from happening. I was trying desperately to control myself, but instead of pushing her away, I grabbed her round ass and pulled her into me and started grinding my cock into her as she rubbed herself against me.
“Oh, fuck. This feels sooooo good,” she moaned before leaning forward and kissing me. Her insistent tongue penetrated my mouth. “Come on, Peter, kiss me,” she said, looking hungrily into my eyes.
Bio for J.E. Wiseman
J.E. Wiseman is a prolific author of erotica and romance who has lived an adventurous life as a merchant seaman, teacher, farmer and baker. He started writing poetry and stories when he was nine and is now widely published. His many books are filled with keen observations and provocative ideas that explore the hidden needs and desires of intriguing characters. After living in the woods in an off-the grid cabin for twelve years where he grew most of his own food, he is now living in a small pentagon shaped cabin overlooking a trout pond where he writes every morning beginning at four o' clock.