It's so strange looking back on it, to think of how I got into all of this. My best friend's daughter for pete's sake. I don't even know if I regret it, that's the scary part. Whatever, the fact is now I live for this girl, and she's only 18. And I'm 22 years older than her. When we first got together I really felt that if her father - my best friend - ever found out, well, I didn't know what would happen. It all started about just over a year ago. I was at Naomi's 17th birthday party. I'd been to them all. Hell, I was there when she was born - driving over to New Jersey when I got the call from my best friend Mark that his wife was going to deliver their child. I can even remember her birth weight was 6 lbs 9 oz. Naomi weighed more like 115 on this day though, and it being the middle of summer, there weren't a lot of clothes covering her blossoming body. You try not to pay a whole lot of attention to these things when it's your best friend's daughter, but Naomi had developed beautiful full breasts and a sweet round ass. All of this with what looked like no more than a 22" waist on her 5' 6" frame. She was stunning to behold, with her long brown hair, almond-shaped green eyes, and heart-shaped face. Jesus, maybe I was in love with her all along.
If I was, I wasn't alone. Whenever I visited Mark and his family, I never failed to notice that Naomi had developed quite a fan club among her male peers, and the phone seemed to ring for her constantly. Naomi had settled on one guy though, a guy named Matt who must've been about 19. I noticed Mark never seemed too protective of Naomi, and she and Matt had free reign to come and go as they pleased. Every time I came by, I noticed that Naomi seemed to take more and more notice of me. This surprised me, as I expected just the opposite from a teenage girl. She always took time out to talk to me, and would hold the conversation up for quite a while sometimes. Once we talked for almost an hour while her Dad and Mom busied themselves being the perfect hosts at a party I attended there. She amazed me at her candor and her apparent maturity. I suppose I suspected that she might have had a little crush on me, but I also thought that it might just be an older man's wishful thinking, and I just put it out of my head. So when I attended Naomi's party I was a little surprised to see that she seemed so subdued. It was subtle, and no one else seemed to notice, but it hit me over the head. She gave me her usual stunning smile in greeting, but there was an unmistakable air of sadness about her. The only time it seemed to break was when she opened the opal (her birth stone) ring I gave her for her birthday. She put it on right away and wore it for the rest of the night.
As the evening wore down, the rest of the family got absorbed in a movie on cable in the family room. But Naomi and I had met up in the kitchen and began idly talking. I asked her how she felt about turning 17 and she said it was OK. "I don't feel any older," she said with a laugh. "Well, how do you feel?" I asked with a slightly more serious tone. I sensed something was dragging her down and I wanted to help her out. "The truth?" she asked looking right at me, "Not too good. Matt and I are on the rocks." I waited. "I don't know. Matt told me yesterday he thought we should start seeing other people. I'm pretty sure he has someone else in mind already. Anyway that's why he's not here tonight." She looked back down at the kitchen table.
"I know you probably already know all of the clichés, so I won't bore you with them...", I said. "No, go ahead and bore me." She flashed her amazing smile at me. I don't know, time just seems to stop when she gives me that smile. "OK. There's lots of fish in the sea. We all go through this sometime. This too shall pass. Uh, that's how the cookie crumbles -" "OK, OK! You can stop!" she said laughing. "But seriously, I don't know what I'm gong to do..." "Well, you can pretty much do whatever the hell you want now, the way I see it." I said, and once again she looked right at me. I felt the slightest cold sweat rising on my spine. "You're such a gorgeous girl , you can probably have any guy you want." She blushed and looked away. "Jesus, I didn't even think you noticed me. At least not like that." She tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile. "Anyway, guys don't just drop at my feet."
"They should," I said. Then I leaned over to her and whispered conspiratorially, "I figure a girl like you has guys begging to kiss her ass almost constantly." As soon as I said it, I'd wish I could withdraw it. Never mind that it was a totally inappropriate remark for a 39-year-old man to be making to a just 17-year-old girl - it was also just a little to close to what I was feeling like doing just then! "Kiss my ass?" she whispered back over a giggle. "Who 'begs to kiss a girl's ass'? Besides, I don't think anyone would want to kiss my ass. It's kind of fat, don't you think?" And she stood up and turned around, her head turned over her shoulder to look at me. That sort of pushed me over the edge. I knew I was totally out of line when I whispered back, "Are you fucking kidding? Your ass is absolutely perfect! Now shut up about that and sit down!" That made her let out a quick yelp of surprised laughter as she threw her hand to her mouth and sat back in her chair. We both immediately turned our heads to the family room, but no one came out or said anything. I guess the goddamn movie was pretty good...
There was such a warmth in her eyes when I turned back to her. Warmth tinged with delight and mischievousness. "Let me ask you a question. And I want an honest answer," she said quietly. "If I were older,..." I knew this was coming. "...would you date me?" "Sweetheart, " I returned with an overly serious tone, "I would be the first to kneel down before you... and beg... to kiss your ass. ", and I gave her hand a squeeze as I finished my remark. This sent her into another bout of muffled laughter, hand to mouth. She looked so sweet and sexy. She was incredibly amazing. And I was feeling like an incredible lech. "Well, you probably shouldn't do that," she said. Her tone had quite sobered, and I began to fear that maybe she also decided that I had overstepped my bounds. "Because," she continued, "I would probably let you do it." It was my turn to be shocked, but I hid it better than she did. "And then you'd have to be my slave. Kissing my ass whenever I was in the mood for it. And who knows, I'd probably be in the mood for that all the time." I was shocked. I didn't know what to say, and I guess I wasn't hiding that very well at all, because she said, "But you'd probably like that, wouldn't you. . Kissing my ass. Being my slave." Her eyes gleamed with an almost evil delight.