I have been having an affair with him for about six months. He is the father of one of my private piano students; he is about forty, tall, handsome, shaven head, with charcoal, wide-rimmed glasses. His son is five years old, quick-witted and polite – always a tell-tale sign of parents who give a shit, even if they are separated. Sometimes the grandfather drops my student off, sometimes it is the attractive father, but I have never seen the grandmother or mother of the child. I sometimes wonder if there are any females in the boy’s family.
How it started was, my student was ill one day, but his father, instead of calling me to inform me of the news, showed up on my doorstep at the student’s lesson hour, and asked me out for lunch. I cocked my head a little, then said yes. He brought me over to a small café just a few minutes’ walk away from my apartment; turned out he owned the place. He took pride in his coffee; he mixed his signature blend, roasted it, ground it, then made me an espresso. The freshness of the drink already intoxicated me; seeing him concentrating on his task at hand deepened my infatuation for him. After a sandwich and a second cup of espresso, he brought me into his large storage room full of green beans. He explained their places of origin and characteristics in detail, before leading me into his office behind the storage room, and fucked me right there on his desk. He was huge, and had a thick head which was especially satisfying when he pushed through my slit and focused on drilling right at my g-spot. He looked as dedicated as when he was preparing his perfect cup of black gold. Guess he was born with great focus on whatever he was doing at the time.
We do not ask each other any questions. That seems to work perfectly for both of us. There is plenty of sex; he is a great lover, and we enjoy groping each other in semi-public places – it seems somehow to fit our situation: we are not really in a relationship, but we are exploring each other in the most private parts, during the most intimate acts possible. I would wank him in the dark cinema theatre while we watch a random movie half-heartedly; we would walk aimlessly in a museum, then disappear into the fire exit for a quickie; he would take me hiking during the day and eat me out on a deserted path where no one passes by.
I know this leads nowhere: I cling fiercely onto my independence; I do not wish to become anyone’s bride. He, in turn, has a son to bring up, with an estranged wife he may or may not divorce – in either case, he needs to continue supporting financially. We are just giving each other orgasms, regularly, powerfully and tirelessly. Who says being happy for now cannot stretch out indefinitely? Hell, perhaps that is the new definition of happily ever after. Who knows?
- Flash Fiction: A Good Girl Does Porn by Guy Hogan (pittsburghflashfictiongazette.com)