Black to White

"Less your nightgown." There was a twinkle in her eye.

"Mmm-hmm, yeah. But it was just cuddling, Devon. And so you know, liked it. Your dad's a nice guy."

She was about to say something when Paul entered, took his plate and sat down.

Silence filled the room, blanketed the meal. Devon and I had tried to get a conversation going, but each of us around the table now ate alone, as solitary as if we'd been in separate rooms.

Paul was entirely silent, totally focusing on his food. The spaniels didn't seem to notice one way or the other. They stood in a circle around the table, waiting to do an emergency cleanup if anybody dropped a piece of toast.

I finally put down my muffin, wiped my mouth on the napkin.

"OK, awkward," I announced.

The two looked at me. Devon giggled but Paul actually blushed.

"I mean, really?" I said, trying not to blush myself as they stared at me.

"Look, why are we like this? Nothing happened."

Paul's eyes dropped to his plate.

I reached out, took them by their hands.

I saw Devon nod in support and was deeply thankful she didn't mention my nightgown. She turned to her father, took his hand.

"Daddy." Then again, more forcefully, "Daddy!"

He looked up at her.

"Did  anything happen? "

He flushed, shot a glance at me. "Of course not!"

She squeezed his hand, changed her tone and instantly became much more matter-of-fact.

"OK, then. Nothing happened. So, what are your plans for today, Daddy?"

Paul looked a bit shell-shocked. His day had been one whiplash after another. I could see him try to pull himself together.

"Um... There's some stuff to catch up on at the office. I should go in."

She smiled gently. Just another normal day...

"Will we see you for lunch?"

He thought for a second, shook his head.

"Probably not, Devon."

"Then we'll see you for dinner."

She squeezed his hand again, turned to me.

I was trying hard not to grin at the expression on her father's face - still embarrassed, but oh, so lovable. He was still 100 percent Paul and I felt my heart go out to him.

"What would you like to do today, Sam?" she asked.

"Um, I need to do a bit of shopping, but I can call an Uber or something."

"Where are you off to?"

I named a local supermall.

"I need some stuff, too, Sam. We can go together. I'll even flip you for lunch! "

I thought about that. I owed her a lot more than just lunch.

"Thank you."

.

We didn't hurry after Paul drove away. We took the dogs for a walk and got to the mall no sooner than we had to. We lingered here, window shopped there, talked of nothing much, tried on clothes - just two friends passing time. Eventually, she pointed out a sushi place she said was pretty good.

It was, too.

I lost the toss and caught the eye of the server.

"Where next?" Devon asked as I tucked the receipt into my purse. "It's been nice, but you said you needed something."

I named a lingerie chain, a high end one with a reputation for very feminine (read 'very sexy') items.

Devon flushed. She'd been supportive, but 'supportive' only went so far.

"Sam! I am not going to watch you trying on lingerie to wear for my father!"

I choked on my tea, almost sprayed the table between us.

"What? Oh, heck no, Devon! But the wire in one of my bras is starting to poke through and I want to replace it. It's where I normally go."

She said nothing, looked at my skeptically.

I raised my one hand, crossed my heart with the other.

"I promise. You get the veto, Devon."

She seemed mollified and actually knew her way to the store.

+

We got home in the mid-afternoon to find that the pool was calling. I put on a fairly conservative swimsuit and did some lengths. Shoulders protesting — how did Paul manage so many laps each morning?  — I got out and dropped into a chair beside her.

"Devon, I really appreciate your being so chill about all this."

She turned her head, grinned.

"S'okay, Sam. It was a bit of a shock at first, but I believe you now.

"And you think how he looked at breakfast this morning was grim? I've seen him look a lot worse than that, Sam. So, you know what? I think you're good for Daddy."

Good old rock-solid Devon pragmatism. I'd been hoping that would kick in.

She reached out, held my hand.

"Thinking it over, Sam, it's great that you got through to him at all. I really have been worried the past couple of years."

I squeezed her hand.

"Well, you made it a lot less awkward, Devon. Um, is there something he really likes for dinner, something I could make for him? You know, comfort food?"

She thought for a moment, giggled.

"Honestly? He's a guy. 'Comfort food' comes in medium, large or extra large, do you want extra cheese and how many pieces would you like that cut into?"

"Pizza? That's it?"

She smiled happily. "There's a place he likes. I'll order his favorite for, say, 6:30. You know where the wine is. Set the table and he'll be delighted."

+

If not delighted, Paul was at least less self-conscious, more relaxed than he had been this morning. Well, it would have been difficult to have been more tense, right? All the same, while he was pleased with the pizza, Paul didn't linger at the table. He did insist on his doing the cleanup, given that Devon and I had done 'the cooking'. We ladies looked at each other, shrugged and settled for Netflix.

The movie had a good ending, slight sniffly tears from both of us. I looked at my watch and was surprised to see that it was after 9:00.

"When does your dad normally go to bed?" I asked.

She looked at the clock. "Soon. Normally by 10, anyway. Why?"

"I'm going back in there, Devon. Unless you kick me out."

Her eyes instinctively narrowed for a moment, but only a moment. In the end, Daddy needed company and she trusted Samantha. It wasn't a slam-dunk by any means, but she hadn't said No.

"I'd wondered, Sam."

I took a breath, held it a second, let it out.

"I've got another four days here, Dev. If he'll let me, I plan on being in there every night from now on."

She closed her eyes, obviously trying to make this all work in her head. Who likes to think about their parents having sex? And with her best friend....

After a moment, they opened again. From the wry smile slowly growing in her face, I could see that she was certain now.

"OK." She pulled me into a strong hug before releasing me. "I'll be rooting for you, Sam," she whispered.

I hugged her tightly, turned to go, but she caught my arm. "Wait."

She put her mouth to my ear, lowered her voice. "A secret for you, Sam."

I waited. She seemed to be working up her courage.

"I wasn't supposed to be an only child, you know. But Mom had problems delivering me and the doctors said another pregnancy would be dangerous."

She continued, whispering even more softly.

"So, Daddy got sent to the vet."

My eyes popped open at the implications of that. There was no doubt now about Devon's game, which team she was rooting for.

I pulled her into a deep, hard, loving hug, tried to fight back a happy sniffle, failed.

"Thanks, Devon."

"Go make Daddy happy."

"I'll try."

I could hear the sound of the en suite  shower as I kissed her cheek and headed down the hall.

"Sam?"

I turned, looked at her.

"You hurt my daddy and I'll bust your ass." She was smiling, but I knew she meant it.

"Yeah," I said. "I know that, Devon."

Her smile became a little brighter. Her hand waved me away, motioned me down the hall.

I ducked into the main bathroom, found Devon's shower cap, took a very quick shower. I wrapped myself in a towel and rolled my clothes into a ball. The kitchen light was off and I'd already heard Devon go into her room. I went into my room and tossed everything onto the bed.

Down the hall, the sound of water continued.

I found my case and did a quick minimal makeup. I was about done when I remembered a tiny bottle of perfume a boyfriend had given me for my birthday. I'd been impressed, but not that  impressed, if you know what I mean. I'd worn it for him until we broke up, which hadn't taken long in any case. It'd been in my makeup bag ever since.

Minute drops on wrists, behind ears, nape of neck and, blushing slightly, between the Girls. Standard places, right?

I thought so, anyway.

I went to put on my nightie. My hand froze just short of it. I looked at myself in the mirror, pulled my shoulders back, smiled.

No nightie. Not tonight.

I peeked out into the hall again, just to be sure. There was a light on in Devon's room, but the door was closed. I took a deep breath for courage, stepped out into the hall, shutting my door behind me.

I don't know what I would have done if Paul had locked his door, but the handle moved quietly under my hand. I was gently closing the door behind me when the sound of the water stopped.

I tossed the throw pillows off the bed, quickly slithered under the duvet, leaving Paul the side he'd been in last night.

I could hear him moving around, then an electric toothbrush, a cabinet door opening and closing. I tried to calm myself, worked on a sweet smile.

The door opened and Paul stepped into the bedroom, nude, his head covered with a towel as he dried his hair.

He got about two steps before noticing me. He gave a small gasp, covered his groin with the damp towel.

"What in hell, Sam?"

"I was enjoying myself when Devon brought coffee this morning, Paul." I said. "I'm back."

Having said that, I hoped it sounded better to him than it did to me.

He stepped to the door, caught the knob in his hand.

"Sam, you need to put your clothes on and get back where you belong. Please."

I waited a moment, pulled the duvet down a handsbreadth, showing bare shoulders. A two-second wait, then a fraction lower, exposing the beginnings of cleavage.

"What clothes?" I whispered.

He wrapped the towel around his waist and came to stand by me. I took the opportunity to admire the broad swimmer's shoulders, the still-solid six-pack, his strong legs.

He sat down on the bed beside me. I could see him trying to calm himself. His hand reached out, stroked my head gently.

"Sam." His voice was very gentle. "Sam, you — we — can't do this. It's not right."

I tried to keep it simple.

"Why?"

It was a simple question but, of course, one leaving no simple response.

"Sam..."

I knew what was going through his mind. It was pretty obvious -- him being 25 or 30 years older than me, my being Devon's best friend and her being just across the hallway...

And Jessica. Always, always, always - always  his memories of Jessica.

I couldn't blame him for that.

I leaned my head against his palm, pressed his hand in place against my cheek with my own hand.

When in doubt, go for broke.

"Paul," I whispered, "I can't ever be Jessica. I know that."

His face fell, his chin dropped to his chest. For a second, I thought he was going to break into tears again.

"I wouldn't want that, either, Paul," I said, even softer.

I put my other hand under his chin, lifted. His eyes looked so very, very sad.

I pulled him down towards me, kissed his forehead and whispered.

"I can't be Jessica, Paul, but maybe, just maybe, you'll let me be Samantha."

There was a long, long silence.

It was his hands drawing us together that told me I'd won.

My heart sang as he pulled me into a strong, incredibly loving bear hug. I could scarcely breathe and it didn't matter to me in the slightest. I'd wanted to be in his arms and I was.

The hug became gentler, less needy. I felt the duvet between us, tugged at it, pulled it away, followed it with that silly towel, pulled him back in for a totally bare embrace, our first.

It was  our first, too, for this time he was holding Sam, not Jessica. That made a big difference to me.

He released me from the hug, stood in front of me, his hands stroking my hair, ever so gently.

It felt wonderful, better than I could have imagined. Just that little gesture made my heart sing.

My head on his abdomen and my hands around his hips, I pulled him in, clung to him.

I opened my eyes and saw his manhood hanging just in front of me.

I'd seen it before, but not like this. It didn't look nearly as fearsome as before.

Like many of his generation, he had been circumcised and the rim of his crown was distinct, a slightly darker scar just below it. Paul's arms froze on my head as I leaned forward.

The skin on his shaft felt soft against my nose.

My chin.

My lips.

No, I'd certainly not done this before. But I thought I knew how. It was something that got talked about at the occasional girls-only gathering, later, when the wine and coolers had had their time.

I put my hands on his hips, pushed him back a step, looked up to see him staring down at me. I smiled, best as I could.

Keeping my eyes locked on his, I slid my hand under his scrotum, felt the warmth behind it on my fingers, felt its contents shift as I rolled it gently, felt the wrinkled skin tighten as it rose against his body.

"May I?" I whispered softly.

I saw the desire growing in his eyes.

Smiling, fondling his weight, I worked on my confidence, remembered something one of the girls had recommended.

I knelt on the floor in front of him, lifted his half-soft length up against his tummy, leaned down and began to bathe his sac with soft, flowing strokes of my tongue. I could feel his twins through his skin, felt his shaft rapidly become harder.

I swirled my tongue over and around his sac, trying to please every part of it.

When I pulled back, he was fully hard. I ran my tongue along his full length, took carefully it in one hand and bent back to his sac.

His balls were swollen, heavy, but I thought they'd fit into my mouth, one at a time.

Carefully, my lips over my teeth, I sucked one egg inside, moved my tongue around it, gently pulled back from his body. I felt his cock twitch in my hand, heard him sigh above me.

Pulling back, I released him with a soft pop!  before looking up to see Paul smiling down at me.

"How's that?" I asked. I didn't wait for a reply. Instead, I bent down and repeated it with his other ball.

With the second quiet pop! , I remembered another girl's advice.

"Keep smiling! Keep looking at him - keep your eyes on the guy's!" " She'd grinned, added, "Make him think you're loving it!"

Maggie had been pretty cynical that night. Maybe having just broken up with Darren had had something to do with it. It didn't really matter, for I found that I was enjoying myself.

I enjoyed the feel of his stiff crown as I moved it back and forth against my open lips. I enjoyed Paul's scent, returning now after his shower - musky, entrancing. I enjoyed the feel of his slit as it slid over the very tip of my tongue.

I found I liked the feeling of control all this gave me, the, what...? Feminine power? That's not quite it, but I loved being in charge like this.

Even more than that, I was enjoying the look on Paul's face as he stared down at me. There was no doubt at all that I was pleasing him.

I wasn't entirely sure of where to go now, but I'd seen enough on the screen that I had the basic idea. And Paul was normal, not huge. I wanted to at least try.

Holding his cock by its base, I began to run my tongue over its head and shaft, around and around, letting its head flop against my face, run over my chin, cheeks, lips and nose. I kept watching Paul as I did so, pulled off him every few seconds to smile brightly up at him.

"Make it art!"  another classmate had advised. I thought I was, for there was clearly deep enjoyment in his eyes, a softness to them I'd not ever seen before. And I found myself truly liking this, enjoying not only my control of Paul's pleasure, but also the way this most curious bit of anatomy felt as it swept over my skin, hard and soft at the same time.

I took a firmer grip on his shaft, leaned in, took his tip into my mouth, over my lips, over my tongue now crouching at the bottom of my mouth.

Paul's hand gently stroked my head, fingers sliding through my hair.

Grasping his taut sac with one hand, I began to slowly move my head back and forth over his hardness, taking him deeper and deeper into my mouth each time. He felt strange, almost too big, yet it was still pleasurable. I took him too deeply once, choked slightly and didn't go so far in thereafter.

My cheeks hollow with suction, I swirled his plum with my tongue tip when it was in reach, the flat of my tongue sweeping his underside the rest of the time. My hand began to pump the soft, soft skin of his shaft; I found myself giggling inside at how easily it moved over his rigid core.

He was breathing heavily now. His hands rested on my head, fingers tangled in my hair.

His thighs tensed; his breath caught. I could see his eyes close.

I knew what would happen, wondered what it would be like when it did, tried to ready myself, tried to decide...

Paul reached down, grasped my upper arms, pulled me to my feet. I lost my grip on his shaft; his body pressed against me and I could feel it between us.

"Sam," he whispered. "You're amazing."

His lips descended on mine and it wasn't some vapid, sophomoric boy kissing me now, it was Paul, a strong, experienced, mature man. If I hadn't been aroused before, I certainly was now. His lips had no sooner touched mine than I was shivered at the weight in my belly, the swelling of my labia, the insistent hardness of my nipples now pressing against his chest hair.

He bent slightly and his strong arms swept me up, lowered me to the mattress. In a moment, he was lying beside me, his eyes drifting up and down my form. I was doing my own admiring - studying anatomy is not the same as knowing a lover's body.

Paul's tongue traced my lips, met my own tongue, touched and danced and played. I gasped as I felt his hand move down my arm, drift over my tummy, rise to cup my breast. This was another first; my boyfriends had felt my bra; this was the first bare touch.

It felt heavenly.

Paul heard my gasp, felt my body tense up, clearly knew he was pleasing me. I felt my heart pound as he squeezed me gently, then found my nipple, teasing, rolling, pulling.

I ran my hands over his body, pulled his head against mine, mashed my lips on his. I was finding it hard to breathe and didn't care. I wanted more of him.

Paul proved to be a master of foreplay. His hand left my boob, repeated the process with the other, then trailed fingertips over my chest, tummy and hips, leaving fiery lines of arousal in their wake.

One hand, then the other, found my breasts again, slid over them, cupped them and squeezed gently. His lips left a line of fairy kisses as they moved down my jaw, my neck, over my collarbone, then around my boobs, barely touching them.

None of my boyfriends had been this knowing and I wiggled happily under his caresses. I could feel my girl-bits swell more in their arousal, trying to keep pace with my nipples.

I moaned softly as his lips moved over the Girls. His tongue flowed around them, then up one in a slow spiral, gently, tenderly, closer and closer to where his thumb and fingers were pulling and rolling my nipples.

I groaned as his mouth suddenly moved away from my clamoring nipple without ever quite touching it, groaned more loudly as he began to work his way up my other boob.

I tried to reach his hardness. I could feel it against my hip, reached, stretched, but couldn't quite get to it. Instead, I began to run my hands up and down his back and sides, sweeping his hard, lean muscles over and over.