Corruption of a Family (Part 5 of 5)

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For the next month or so nothing changed. I worked, smoked some of the best bud imaginable, and on at least two more occasions slept with Mr. Thompson's wife. The subsequent lays were more mutually instigated than the first and just as attributable to liquor. These trysts were never discussed and were only recognized by mutually knowing glances. Neither one of us could afford Mrs. Thompson's husband and children discovering our secret. Despite the fact the woman was married with two children (very similar in age to myself), regret for my actions was nonexistent. I've always held that regret is a wasted emotion.

With all of this behind the scene action going on, anyone reading this has to assume that at some point the situation would boil over, exposing some clue that pointed to our joint scandal. You couldn't be further from wrong, and while I am not at liberty to reveal any of the participant's real names, I know for a fact that our affair never surfaced. With a "little" bit of help from me, Mrs. Thompson made sure of it.

I arrived home one evening in the spring of 1998. The theme for my state of mind in these ultimately unfortunate homecomings remains constant: drunk, stoned, impulsive, and male. Before I could ascend the stairs and deposit myself on my trusty futon, I was greeted by the Thompson's daughter. I would have drank her bathwater; if only she had been born a mute. And it wasn't that her voice grated on the inner-workings of my soul as do some people's, but rather that the context of her speech was juvenile, unbecoming of her age, and inconducive to flirtation. I knew why she was a virgin. No man had made it past her mouth.

She had asked if I was in-pocket. I stayed in-pocket and quickly packed my chillum before heading to my room to spark it. I likely had more alcohol in my system than is recommended to be smoking a high THC strain, but I never pass up an excuse to get stoned. That's exactly what this late-night hallway encounter was...an excuse to smoke. Cheers!

It didn't take me long to ascertain that my seventeen year old neighbor had been in her mother's liquor cabinet. Her smiling yet unfocused eyes had been a sure giveaway. We smoked a couple of bowls and chatted as little as possible while I watched Sportscenter. I had hoped she wouldn't be posting up for too long.

The next time I looked her direction, wondering why my bowl-hand had been extended for so long with its burden, she was out, slumped over and immovable. Fuck. I grabbed a blanket and pillow and cleared myself a place on the floor so that I could catch my own Z's.

Sleep came easily and seemed to have lasted a while before I shuffled back from its depths. I could feel the warmth of someone laying next to me and they weren't just laying next to me. They were touching me with a great deal of familiarity. Damn I was wasted, but I knew that couldn't be who I thought it was. No way was she that bold.

Before I could protest (yeah, cause I was thinking of protesting) she kissed my neck and the catalcysmic results of such were set in motion. This was something that just had to be done right? I mean, she was a virgin...and...did I really need any other reasoning? How simple my mind used to be and how powerful alcohol's grip on it when under the influence. I never thought twice about sleeping with the girl once it began.

After we finished, she shyly returned to her room and I was left to wonder about what it was I had done. It was 5 o'clock in the morning and I would be getting ready for work soon. No matter how much drink I consumed the night before, I wasn't going back to sleep now. My endorphins were racing and my conscience crumbling. It was going to be a long day.

Before I could even make it home from work that afternoon, Mrs. Thompson's daughter had revealed to her mother the extent of our early morning union. As I walked through the door and again ascended the stairs, there was a trembling red-head standing at its apex. She told me to get the fuck out of her house and I could hardly blame her. Never listen to your dick...it'll have you sleeping in the snow. (Click here to subscribe to my feed!)

Corruption of a Family (Part 4 of 5)

If you missed the last post, click HERE!

Mrs. Thompson and I didn't commit the act in my bedroom. Her daughter's was adjacent to mine and the last thing a married woman needs is one of her children asking why it sounded like mom was having sex when dad was 1,000 miles away. Explaining why it sounded as if it was coming from my room wouldn't have made things any easier.

Was I about to be a participant in this -- with a married 37 year old woman who was supposed to be providing me a home as a favor for my own mother? Your damned right I was. And I did. We did. I had just hoped she would wash her sheets before the aforementioned spouse returned home from his trip. I had just spent the last four months of my life in a disciplinary boot camp and I am expected to pass on random inebriated sex? I hope you'll all forgive me for indulging.

My life amongst the Thompsons didn't change much following my seduction. However, I must admit that the next morning was a tad odd. I had woken up in my own bed(that was definitely her suggestion as I had been a sloppy mess and would have never come up with such a profound idea to avoid discovery)which at first led me to believe it was all just some crazy dream. I can remember thinking that if it had been a dream then I might just have to test my charm on Mrs. Thompson and see where it got me in real life.

Stepping from the confines of my room I could already hear the MILF from my apparent fantasy tip-tapping away at her laptop. As I descended the stairs into the living room she glanced up from her labors with a look from a woman I wasn't so sure I had ever been the recipient of. It wasn't love, lust, disbelief, or even astonishment. It was plain admiration...well, and maybe a little bit of "misguided" love. The look scared me while my pride welled. I was now definitely assured that the act had been no dream. What the fuck was going to happen next and where would this end?

A bagel had never been so difficult to consume. I could have definitely used some of that fancy strawberry cream cheese to help wash it down my shock-dried palate. Mrs. Thompson sat quiet across from me, eyes again glued to her work. It was time for me to start getting ready and maybe I would be spared the "talk". Finishing up my breakfast, a sardonic smile crept to the corners of my mouth and I informed her I was going to jump in the shower and then head on to work. She replied with a nod and knowing smile.

I sprinted up the stairs(I don't think I could have gotten away from her fast enough)and stripped for my shower as quickly as I had the night prior. Before I could get redressed, ready, and out the door, Mrs. Thompson had left. Looking back I think she did it on purpose to avoid the awkwardness of it all. She for sure displayed to me the maturity and understanding of older women. She had put it on me and I might just need some recovery time. I would have all day at work to think about our new arrangement. She hadn't seemed worried at all. (Click here to subscribe to my feed!)