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Monet Inspires Novelist

Category: Mature
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The Davidson’s middle daughter Monet was a worry to her parents. The 19-year was a gifted sportswoman and had taken a job as an attendant at the city’s indoor aquatic center instead of going to college whereas her older sister Lisa would graduate this year with a Master’s degree in computer science. Younger sister Colleen was the top female in her year class as a high school senior.

Monet’s mother Donna whined to her husband, “Harry please do something with Monet.”

The banker sighed. It was Thursday and this was the first time the subject of defiant Monet had been raised in a week. He’d assumed the crisis had expired with Donna rendered speechless on that topic either through emotional exhaustion or repetitive conversation topic fatigue syndrome.

No such luck apparently.

He sighed openly and asked what did Donna suggest?

“Tell her she has to go to college.”

“I have done that, countless times.”

Donna snorted, “Then make her go.”

“And how do I do that.”

“Tell her she has to go.”

Harry groaned, wondering how his wife had gotten her through college with a degree in education. It must have been her big tits. Now why hadn’t he thought about that brain capacity/breast size before? Oh crap his memory was going. His wife was sending him into senility prematurely.

He tried to ease the conversation off track. “I thought you would have been more concerned your stubborn daughter still shows no in interest in guys.”

“Oh you’ve noticed that too?”

Harry said patiently, “We’ve spoken about it several times.”

“Oh if you say so I accept that. So we have a lesbian in the family?”

“Christ Donna, don’t say that and don’t think that. My bank is ultra-conservative and wouldn’t tolerate a senior executive having a gay daughter.”

“Well you ought to have thought about that before becoming a banker.”

Harry said wearily he was a banker before he’d met their mother.

“Oh so you were. How time flies,” said the blonde with long legs and, yes, big tits.

Harry knew Donna went to pieces emotionally over this one thing, Monet’s defiance as Donna called it but he thought the words to more appropriately describe it were Monet’s strong will and focus. If Monet had gone to college she would have had to play college soccer whereas she wished to play State zone soccer.

Monet has taken the attendant’s job at the multi-pool facility because her fixed hours were Monday to Fridays, 6:00 till 2:00 and she then had the afternoon to read or shop and then go to evening soccer practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays and then play Saturday afternoons and return home after away games on Sundays. She’d chosen fixed hours because attendants on the higher pay rate at the pool complex had to work shifts including being assigned to work on alternative weekends.

The other thing he always chose not to mention to Donna was that by not going to college Monet would save her parents about $120,000 as a resident student doing a 4-year degree, less any support grants and that could have been considerable in Donna’s case because she probably could have pulled in a big sports scholarship. She was rated outstanding for her age in soccer, 3 m tower diving and tennis. Coaches had told Harry that Monet could possibly have a professional career in soccer and possibly tennis and could become nationally competitive in tower diving under the right patronage. He knew of course coaches tended to patronize affluent parents.

Donna barked, “So with all that thinking have you worked out what do we do with your wayward daughter?”

“Only to think we’ve traversed the same old oral pathway and I expect you’ll bring up the subject again before too long.”

“How the hell can you be a banker with your pea-brain?” Donna said, leaving the room and slamming the door.

Harry sighed and switched the TV from soppy muck to his favorite sports channel.

Monet was in one of the big shower cubicles with Maxine and Maria after soccer practice. Maria said quietly, “You have the best looking breasts I’ve ever seen Monet. Why won’t you come over to Maxine’s place on Friday nights when her parents always go out and join in what we do?”

“Licking butt and pussy does nothing for me. I tried it a couple of times and the only reaction I had was I couldn’t stop yawning.”

“Maria and I could probably stir you along.”

“No thanks Maxie. You know this conversation is hilarious because I suspect my mom thinks I’m gay.”

“Well do you think your mom would join us?” Maria asked, sending the other two into a giggling fit.

Maxine lived not far from Monet and they usually cycled home together, being on a dedicated cycling track almost all the way.

“If you’re not gay what are you?” asked Maxine. “At high school you rarely dated and no reports came back in you were great at whatever the expectation was.”

“It will be guys but it hasn’t happen yet. I’m only just nineteen and I assume I’m a late developer.”

“Are you a virgin?”

“No on a couple of occasions my date wore me down and I dropped my panties for him to shut him up. God when guys are pestering you for sex they become like whining old women.”

They laughed and Maxine made the outrageous claim she’d had sex more times than her mom.

“Have you any idea how many times your mom has done it?”

“No idea but when she was giving me one of those mother-daughter talks she’s said she’s never been overly interested in sex.”

“Women are liars Maxie. They can’t help it because they have the liar gene in their makeup and they also have a sex gene and a backup sex gene in case the front-end one malfunctions. Some poor unfortunate women have both sex genes cutting in together and we call those unfortunate women sluts.”

“Are you sure about that Monet?”

“No but it sounds credible to me.”

“Yeah me too and I’ve never heard any other explanation why some women are sluts. I must tell mom she may have a couple of malfunctioning sex genes.”

“Um Maxie, I suggest you don’t. You know how older women go crazy when they talk about their health, other people’s operations and sex issues.”

“Oh yeah, good thinking. And if mom worried it could cut off any supply dad is getting and I’d hate to be responsible for that.”

It was still daylight when Monet arrived home. The big covered truck that had been delivering furniture to the empty house next door had gone and all the lights in the now occupied house were on.

Monet groaned aloud, “So we have new neighbors. I hope they don’t fight and yell and the kids don’t run amok yelling.”

After the usual start to dinner with Monet’s father asking had she allowed anyone to drown at the pool during her watch today (answer no) and her mother announcing she’d sat beside Bess’s mother at the hairdressers and Kathleen had said Bess was having a marvelous time at college (no comment from either husband or daughter), Monet went to her bedroom. She removed her shoes and top and sat in front of her computer wearing just her bra, short skirt and panties and booted the laptop. She looked out of the window straight across to a guy sitting at his computer in front of his facing window.

They stared at each other and he finally waved.

Monet waved back.

He left the room and she began searching the web for news about women’s soccer.

A small stone hit her window and she jumped half an inch in fright. She looked out and saw the same guy now standing at the solid wooden fence and making obscene gestures but then she worked out he meant her to open her window and she obliged.

“Hi, sorry for the intrusion but I thought I should introduce myself as your new neighbor. “I’m McNeill Pax.”

“What?” Monet said in surprise.

“Yes I know McNeill is unusual as a first name but…”

“McNeill Pax the author?”

“You know of me?” he said in surprise.

“Mom bought the paperback of ‘Flora’s Floral PJs’ and we both cackled through the book. You didn’t stop being funny like so many writers starting off humorously do.”

“Why thank you… um?”

“Monet Davidson.”

“Wow Monet, cute name. I couldn’t help notice your unusual style of dress for working at your computer.”

“It’s warm tonight. On very warm nights I shed my bra but give me your phone number and I’ll warn you not to look over here on those nights. I’d hate to disgust you.”

“Disgust me, I don’t think so. What is you bra size?”

Unfazed by that intimate probe Monet said, “34B but I’m still growing. Will you buy a bra for me?”

“Well actually I was making a mental note of having one of my female characters typing the night away dressed only in her bra and I thought I’d make her your size.”

“But she wouldn’t be me?”

“Oh no, stealing identities leads to too much trouble for writers.”

“Why would the heroine be dressed in only a bra?”

McNeill paused and then said he didn’t wish to embarrass Monet.

“I like the thought of you being a kind person but please go ahead.”

“When I looked over and saw you I instantly though god she’s only dressed in a bra. I couldn’t see much lower of course.”

“Would your heroine who wears only a bra when at the computer have a bush or would she be clipped or partly or fully shaved?”

“How did you present?”

“Mr Pax!”

“Sorry my mind raced away on me. It happens to writers.”

“Perhaps we’ll talk tomorrow. Welcome to the neighborhood. Good evening.”

Monet stood and closed the window conscious he was starting at her chest.

Her pulse began to race.

“Omigod, it’s beginning to happen. I must seduce him to prove it to my satisfaction that my interest in being a portal for male ejaculations is indeed developing.”

She pulled the curtain across and sat down, breathing a little heavily. She wriggled her toes in excitement. There was no way she’d fail in this new challenge and even if he were gay, a seduction would still be accomplished. She wondered where were his wife and kids.

Next morning Monet went out and began her usual Sunday morning run.

Mr Pax dressed for running fell in beside her.

“So you run?” he said, without surprise.

“I’m like a book to you Mr Pax. Until you begin opening pages you’ll know nothing about me and likewise for my knowledge and understanding of you.”

“That’s rather profound for a woman, especially a young one. I must work what you just said into a novel.”

Monet gritted and then hit back.

“Well I guess that comment incorporated a slur on women and tells me quite a bit about you Mr Pax.”

She almost heard the gasp.

He grunted, “Um sorry. These things sometimes jump out.”

Monet asked how old was he.


“Oh my bust size. I hope then I don’t know you when you reach your forties.”

“Why not?”

They pounded on in silence and he began giggling or whatever men do. Was it chuckling?

“God you are funny,” he said. “I finally twigged what you meant with that comment and you must excuse me for being so slow but then I’m only male. I then began laughing picturing your forty-five size bust spilling down and covering your keyboard.”

“I’m pleased that amuses you,” Monet said icily and held back her grin.

“Yeah I can write a long passage about my heroine’s mother finding a laptop is unsuitable for her.”

Monet laughed hard and turned knowing this odd Joe from next-door would now have a great view of her teeth and right down to her tonsils and would see her neck thickened and the cords prominent because she was exhibiting her power laugh. Not that it mattered.

Then he said a profound thing that would assist greatly in the seduction of the jerk: “It’s a real pleasure to know you have genuine humor. I’m had my fill of females who laugh without understanding and their eyes remain semi-glazed. Just then your ocean blue eyes reflected this morning’s sunlight and shone in wholesome glory.”

Monet ran on silently, heart pounding. God no male had ever spoken to her like that.

“I have to tell you something.”

Oh no, Monet thought wildly. He is about to confess he’s gay or else he has an unusually small penis or perhaps both misfortunes will be confessed.

“Your mom popped over late yesterday afternoon with some freshly-made cookies and homemade lemonade and welcomed me as a new resident. She told me she had three lovely daughters but sadly the middle and most beautiful of her daughters was difficult.

Monet tensed.

“She said you were out at soccer coaching and were far too complex for her to understand. That’s when I knew I’d expect you to be the most interesting person in your family, someone to study in detail to epitomize my next heroine.”

“You don’t say,” Monet said. “Do that and I’ll get dad to run you out of town.”

“No, no… you don’t understand. My studies will form images and impressions that I’ll use to create a female character that you’ll have difficulty recognizing because she will be only part of you. Writers draw character and personality and even utterances from a variety of memories or study of people collective to create bits and pieces of each identity to create each main character. You must understand the genre is fiction and so the characters are fictional with stolen elements from real people to provide the reality that gives them credibility but of course you’ll know characters in literature have to appear larger than life otherwise readers would find them as boring as the people around them.”

“So, you find me boring.”

“Did I say that?”

Monet had to agree he had not done so directly but no way would she acknowledge that.

“I have been insulted. Goodbye old man.”

Monet powered on the pace and he stayed with her for almost two hundred yards but then began fading. She didn’t look back, slowed to jog over the water main exposed as it crossed McVinny’s Creek and then ran even faster to allow creeping exhaustion to blot out everything about the jerk.

She was back home by 8:00 and after showering joined her folk on the terrace for breakfast. Her mom ate stewed prunes and one piece of dry toast while Monet scoffed almost as much bacon, potato mash and green fried tomatoes as her father did and then cover the top of her black coffee with cream.

Her non-athletic and weight-gathering mother could only watch that intake and sigh.

Harry said, “One thing I look forward to most of the week is Sunday breakfast with my family.”

“Oh darling how sweet.”

Monet could only grin and her younger sister looked at her and grinned. They heard that same exchange every Sunday morning.

Donna said, “Girls I need you to help tidy the house and assist with lunch. I’ve invited our new neighbor McNeill over. That’s a really unusual name, McNeill Pax. I feel I’ve heard it before.

Monet said, “Flora’s Floral PJs.”

“Oh god, we have an author living next to us,” Donna said, cheeks flaming. “How exciting. I must tell my friends.”

Monet felt the need to tell her mom ‘Hands off, he’s mine’ but that would alert her mom that at least one of her daughters knew her mom occasionally strayed and Monet didn’t know if her father knew about that adulterous side to his wife.

“I thought that book was childish crap.” Lisa who lacked real humor said.

“Lisa!” shrieked her mom but Harry said Lisa was entitled to have an imposing view, and that was that.

“Oh I told McNeill that you go for a run at 6:30 on Sunday mornings,” Donna said, patting her hair. “He asked me were there running trails in the neighborhood, that he tried to be an endurance runner. Did he take the opportunity to join you?”

“Yes although when we chatted briefly last night and he didn’t mention running. He just showed up beside me this morning and almost scared the crap out of me.”

“Monet,” scolded her mom.

The other three smiled.

“Did he spot you at your computer in your bra?” asked Lisa.

Their mom froze, waiting for the reply.

“Yep that’s what attracted him to the fence to take a closer look.”


“It was okay mom. I was wearing a full floral bra, not one of my sexy half-cup ones.”


“Calm down Donna,” Harry said mildly. “For the life of me I can’t see the difference between a woman wearing a bikini top and a woman wearing a bra without a top.”

“It’s a matter of perception.”

“That’s ridiculous and people ought to grow out of that notion. Providing they don’t droop or have over-large nipples I’d prefer woman to wear them uncovered. It would add interest to my day. Run round the house in just your panties girls.”

“What about me?” Donna demanded.

The other three laughed and then she laughed, realizing Harry was joking.

Her father asked, “Will you bare your breasts for this McNeil guy?”

“Perhaps I might Lisa,” Monet said staring at her mom. “But he’d have to ask nicely for me to display them.”

“Oh God, I’m developing a headache.”

“Then go to bed mom. Monet and I will entertain our presumably exciting and over-sexed neighbor at lunch.”

“No I’ll be fine. It was just warning my family not to stress me.”

When clearing away breakfast, Harry out on the lawn practicing his golf chipping and Donna away dusting or those other things mothers like to do to keep themselves occupied, Lisa asked, “Do you think mom has it off with other guys?”

“How would I know that?”

“So you haven’t caught her at it.”

“No,” Monet said, thinking not directly.

“Is this guy next door fuckable?”

“I suppose so but why don’t you try him out and then advise me.”

“But I’m still not eighteen. Mom says I must wait till I’m eighteen before I do it.”

“Then stop short of penis penetration with McNeill.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t do that. He’s old. It will be all wrinkly and won’t go stiff.”

“Oh my darling sister, you are going to have a great time finding the truth on misconceptions about sex. I’m so happy for you.”

“W-what misconceptions?”

“Darling that’s for you to find out. I won’t spoil it for you.”

“Spoil what for Lisa?” asked their mom, coming into the kitchen.

“A movie I’ve seen on at the Roxy. She wanted to know how it ends.”

“It’s not one of these R18 movies is it?”

“No mom, a beautiful coming of age film of a girl going through college.”

“And you saw that?” her mom said disbelievingly.

Monet sighed. “Yes mom. If you really must know I chose not to go to college so I could play zone soccer and perhaps make the state A-team and Maxine and Maria were keen to see that movie. I suppose I should tell you I’m having this year off study and plan to take a business degree on-line next year.”

“Oh darling, how wonderful. Please allow me to pay all your fees. Oh you are such a darling daughter.”

Monet gave her mom a huge smile and thought, well in that case please oblige your darling daughter by keeping your hands off our neighbor until she’d finished with him.

* * *

McNeill came through the side gate carrying flowers and a bottle of red wine.

Harry who was at the grill basting chicken he was barbequing waved and the women converged on their guest.

“Oh flowers,” Donna said, placing a hand across her ample bosom, much of the flesh protruding above the low neck of her sundress, and drawing McNeill’s attention. “How lovely.”

He glanced at Monet in dismay and she winked at nodded. McNeill handed over the flowers, meant for Monet as an apology, to her grasping mother.

Donna cooed thank you and kissed her guest on the cheek.

She introduced Lisa who shook hands and Monet stepped up and coolly kissed McNeill juicily on the lips.

He looked startled but no more so than Donna.

Donna selfishly sat the guest opposite her at the table, Harry beside her and Lisa next to McNeill, leaving Monet to walk meekly to the ‘widow’s’ placing set next to Lisa and that meant McNeill was unable to see Monet without bending backwards or forwards.

Oh well done mama, gnashed Monet but really she didn’t care, believing she would have finished with McNeill with her mom still not within sight of the home straight.

“Oh I did love the mother of your principal character in ‘Flora’s Floral PJ’s’. Um…”

McNeill waited patiently for Donna’s brain to grind into gear, as did Monet who finally called, “Lorelei”, earning a cutting glance from her mother.

“Oh yes, thank you Monet,” Donna said, shooting a grateful smile at Monet for all to see.

“Does anyone happen to know the meaning of that name?”

The three nearest McNeill looked blankly at him. Monet sipped wine.


Donna sighed. “She’ll know, Monet knows all sorts of things but not relevant things to gain top marks in exams.”

“Tell us Monet,” Lisa urged.

“No it’s too much like showing off.”

“Say it otherwise I’ll squeeze it out of you,” McNeill said.

“Oooh,” Monet said, mainly to rev up her mother but Donna’s shoulders slumped as if she’d thrown in the towel.

“Mom knows but she’s been so busy preparing for your neighborly visit her mind is having a wee rest. It’s a name of German origin and means siren or romantic people prefer the alternative meaning of an alluring enchantress.”

McNeill leaned forward and said very good and asked if she knew what his first name meant?

“No but I’ll guess, son of Neil?”

“Correct. It’s Gaelic and my paternal grandmother who was an O’Neill persuaded my father to call me that and mom says she gave in, being outnumbered.”

“Well I’d say you have honored your grandmother in the way you have carried that name,” Donna said. “It was a lovely wee story. More salad anyone?”

“Yes please Donna. That really was a lovely thing to say to me.”

“My darling Harry taught me to be romantic,” she said, flushing.

“Sex I mean firing up emotionally was practically unknown to Donna when I first met her but I found her to be a quick learner,” Harry said, looking at his wife affectionately, unaware his daughters were gaping.

“There you can write that into one of your novels,” Monet said. “McNeill feeds off in the literary sense and in the nicest possible way the people he meets I believe.”

“Monet don’t exaggerate and please call our guest Mr Pax until he decides otherwise.”

“Lisa and Monet, please call me McNeill. And what Monet has said is true and in fact very accurate. I use my eyes, nose, ears and associations to inject realism into my novels as I believe most if not all authors do. Unless they did their readers would think the setting was in the Planet Castillo and the characters were from there.”

Donna said there was no planet called Castillo and McNeill smiled and said she was correct… it hadn’t yet been discovered and named. He said it was true he’d moved into the neighborhood to try to base the setting and some of the characters he met in the new novel he was about to start. “I lease houses for six months, complete my novel and then move on. The McPhee’s believed it was better getting a good rental from their house next to you rather than letting it remain unoccupied at the end of their unsuccessful sale marketing program. Their Realtor will resume marketing in the spring when I leave.”

As McNeill was leaving, kissing and lightly hugging Donna, he called, “When do we next run Monet?”

“At 4:30,” Lisa said. “I usually go with her on Sunday afternoons but will drop out if you’re aiming to get your lecherous arms around her.”


“It’s okay Donna,” McNeill laughed. “Lisa is just joking. Monet doesn’t particularly like me.”

“Monet tends to largely go in the opposite direction to most people,” her mom sighed. “Just be kind to my daughters and remember Lisa is only seventeen.”

“Mom you come too as chaperone,” Monet smiled and Donna laughed so heartily her breasts took on the behavior of jelly. “God I’m half drunk,” she giggled, attempting to grab her boobs to bring them under control.


Two Sundays later Monet waited at the gate for two minutes before McNeill came out and loped up to her after slamming the door shut.

“Good morning,” he smiled. She held up her face and was lightly kissed.

“Do you think of sex when you kiss me?”

“God no, your mom would kill me.”

“Would not that be a romantic way to die?”

McNeill had a quite thought and came up trumps. “I’m a guy who prefers multiple choices.”

He laughed and Monet giggled and told him she was content for him to set the pace.

“According to the forecast today will be a scorcher. Will you bare your tits over your computer tonight?”

“I might but don’t your prefer the word breasts or even boobs.”

“Not when I’m with you.”

“Well then call mine tits. But let mom hear you using it and she’d come after you with an axe.”

“Monet may I ask have you thought about attempting to write a novel? I suspect you will succeed if you stick at it because you tend to speak graphically and that ought to mirror in your writing.”

“You have to be a great story-teller to succeed as a published author. We learnt that at school.”

“How good are you as a story-teller Monet?”

“I have no idea.”

“Then shouldn’t we find out? Please let me get your going.”

“We studied novel writing at school. I believe I know all there is to know, um technically.”

McNeill snorted, “That’s bullshit.”

“Oooh, are we having a romantic conversation?”

Monet don’t be mad at me. Just do two things for me: Show me your tits tonight and let me coach you about novel writing.”

“Okay. Can you speed up a little? The conversation is great, being with you is great but the pace is a drag.”

“Um you are sincere about that comment me being with you is great?”

“Yes of course. You are the most interesting guy I’ve ever met by a long shot. Now we are slowing… for fuck sake McNeill, could we have a bit more pace?”

Without replying McNeill lengthened his stride and they were away.

When they stopped for a breather he asked, “What is your attitude toward sexual relations?”

Monet was in like a shot. “Are you thinking about fucking me?”

McNeill took a step backward in shock. “Monet how could you think such a thing?”

“Because I’m romantic?” she asked, raising her voice level at the end to ensure he realized that was a question.

“Er let’s skip that. You must understand I asked the question as part of literary research.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Monet please react calmly about this. Are you aware your mother thinks she’s attracted to me?”

“Think? I know she is. Just apply the charm and you’ll be in and I’m not joking.”

“Oh god. She comes over most mornings when you guys have left home.”

That jolted Monet because it was news to her. “On some pretext?”


“Thereby interrupting your work flow because you write best in the morning?”

“Yes,” said McNeill, looking at Monet closely. “You appear to have great understanding.”

“Oh I get by. Wouldn’t you rather fuck me than my mother?”

“Yes of course… oh god what am I saying?”

“One means adultery and the other means toy girl, so I see me being the logical choice if you wish to keep your conscious clear. But if you touch mom you could be in danger. As a young guy dad trained in unarmed combat and if he managed to get you on the ground he could finish you or perhaps back off and just crippled you.”

“You father? He’s tubby, conservative and not very motivated.”

“”Mom told us that dad made a bit of a play for her and her older brother told him to back off and so dad went off to learn how to deal with any guys who threatened him. Several months later he appeared on the scene again and when big brother told him to beat it dad said make me and seconds later big brother lay on the ground screaming in pain. Mom and her mother raced out and told my Uncle Joshua he’d gotten his comeuppance. Mom was allowed to go out with dad that very next weekend.”

“Oh whoopee.”


“Don’t you see… you are the family I’ve been looking for?”

“Us? We’re not interestingly dysfunctional?”

“No you’re not but you are no ordinary suburbanites. You are the interestingly opposite to being dysfunctional. You guys but I’m not sure about Lisa yet are full of interesting sayings and colorful backgrounds and I have yet to meet your elder sister.”

“McNeill, promise me anything you write about us won’t be recognizable to us.”

“Yes I promise. I’m skilled enough to do that.”

“Right so when do you and I have sex?”

McNeill shuffled and looked as if he wished he were running.

“Monet, please… I’m too old for you.”

“Coward,” Monet screamed and was off like a rocket at a pace McNeill could only dream of achieving. He stood, appalled, that a nineteen-year old wanted him to have sex with her. No way, absolutely no way. She was almost under-age.

That evening he watched as Monet came into her bedroom. Removed her top and bra and stood as closely as she could to the window, leaning over her desk to display her uncovered breasts to him. Her expression was defiant and then she closed the drapes.

McNeill whimpered. Yes and that shocked him. He whimpered again.

Next afternoon thirty minutes after Monet arrived home from work she sat with her mother, who chose not to hold down a job, at the outside table having coffee.

McNeill came in through the side gate and kissed both women on the cheeks and then announced he was there to begin teaching Monet about novel writing.

Donna looked surprised but said nothing. She stayed for fifteen minutes while McNeill discussed some of the principles of character development and then Donna excused herself and went off to read.

Monet whispered, “Unzip and show me your cock.”

“Monet,” he squirmed in his chair.

“I’ll give you time to get an erection. Here look at my tit,” she said, baring one.

McNeill swallowed and didn’t look away. After a few minutes he unzipped and pulled out his erection.

“Very impressive. What’s it like to lick?”

“I can’t reach it, not being athletic enough.”

“Oh yes, of course. Now please remember I’ll require this procedure each time you lecture me on novel writing. Put it away before mom sees it and comes running with a meat cleaver.”

McNeill fumbled dreadfully in his efforts to pack it away. He’d turned red-faced.

“I’m prepared to follow your unusual request but we are too exposed out here.”

Concealing her triumph Monet said, “Then we must meet at your place and remain concealed.”

“The purpose of this association is to coach you.”

“I know. But slowly we’ll progress until you are lecturing with both of us nude.”

McNeill swallowed hugely but interestingly he didn’t reject Monet’s proposal.

* * *

Two weeks after McNeill pulled out his dick for the first time for Monet he said he’d like to see her play soccer.

“You don’t have a car so I’ll see if there’s a spare seat on our bus. We fill the spare seats with supporters whenever we can.”

“I-I’ll rent a vehicle and slip in unnoticed.”

“It’s at Fenton only ninety-five miles away so it’s not worth hiring a vehicle.”

“What will your friends think when an old guy turns up with you?”

“They’ll simply assume you are fucking me and so will accept you.”

“Fucking you?” McNeill croaked.

“Yes my girlfriends are rather like me, coarse,” she grinned.

“I think I could cope with that,” he said nervously, “so long as your mom doesn’t hear the rumor and come after me with her meat cleaver.”

Monet frowned. “Mom doesn’t possess a meat cleaver. She buys our meat at the supermarket already cut except for roasts and dad carves those.”

McNeill chose not to remind Monet that only a fortnight ago she’d warned him about the possibility of her mom coming after him with a meat cleaver.

When boarding the bus McNeill received a few stares as any stranger would expect and when he sat beside Monet he assumed everyone looking would assume he was her uncle, her youngest uncle. A dyed blonde with large tits came down and said to Monet, “Maria wants a chat. I’ll swap seats with you.”

Monet looked surprised but went off after whispering to the woman, “Now no bullying.” Only by straining had McNeill heard that.

“I’m Maxine. Who are you?”

“McNeill is my first name Maxine.”

“Oh so you are supposed to be the sexy Mr Pax that Monet has told me about?”

“Supposed to be?” Oh come on Maxine there is no need to be jealous.”

“Look here buster, you harm our soccer star and you’ll answer to Maria and me. We’ll crush you like peas in a pod.”

“Don’t you mean a pea pod?”

“I know what I mean.”

“I guess you do. You have lovely hair.”


“Why do you call Monet your star?”

Maxine stood to return to her seat. “Just keep your eye on her today. You’ll see. Are you sleeping with her tonight.”

“No of course not. We return home this evening.”

“The host team entertains us to 10:00 or so and then we sleep at a motel and return home in the morning. It’s tradition you know.”

“No I didn’t know. I’ll wait till Monet tells me what I’ll be doing.”

“She’s been waiting for the opportunity to have sex with you and this is it. She’s been too worried about touching you in case her mom finds out and shoots you or something.”

“Shoots me?”

“Gee you are green for a guy. Don’t you know how mother’s react when they feel one of their brood is threatened whether it’s be a sleaze ball or not?”

She walked away and McNeill felt rather shaken at the possibility, a distinct possibility, of being regarded as a sleaze ball. How the hell could he worm his way out of this?

Providence took care of it for him.

McNeill joined the supporters off the bus to sit in a group knowing they’d be heavily outnumbered. A woman said to him, “You are with Monet Davidson aren’t you?”

“Yes… I confess to being the sleaze-ball.”

The teams were running out and cheering drowned out the last part of his reply.

When the noise died the woman said, “See those two women standing just short of the sideline attempting to look inconspicuous?”

“Yeah, one looks anorexic and the other looks really bubbled.”

“Do you wish me to inform you or not?” the woman said coldly.

“Oh please excuse me, my levity appears to have gone amiss.”

She smiled and said she had two of his books, ‘Sergeant Belinda Croix’ and

‘Bernie’s Diner’. “You write beautifully but the strain of doing that perhaps explains why you are a bit of an asshole as a person.”

“Forgive me ma’am for I have sinned.”

“Perhaps a loveable asshole to those who get to know you. I’m Maxine’s mom and she came back to us after talking to you practically weeping. She said you said she had lovely hair and Maxine said no guy has ever paid her a compliment like that.”

“Maxine is okay. She just needs to slowdown from attempting to grow up too soon. She has the breasts guys will go for.”

“God McNeill, keep your voice down. You are embarrassing to talk to in public.”

The sleaze ball/asshole said to Maxine’s mom, “You were saying about those two women?”

“Oh yes, they are soccer scouts. One of the leading teams in the WPSL out East is urgently looking for a replacement central midfielder. Those women are here to assess your young lady. Come up and sit alongside me but please don’t grope… I’ve heard stories about you writers with uncontrolled sexual urges.”

“Grope you with you wrapped up like that? You have to be kidding.”

“Sit beside me and shut up asshole,” she laughed.

Lindy Vickers found McNeill didn’t have a clue about soccer and kept him informed about some of the moves and towards the end of the game she kissed McNeill and said Monet was having a cracker.

Their team won, 3-2 and McNeill saw Monet break the 2-2 score-line with a curling 30-yard high pass that went to the left of the crowded goalmouth to drop down in front of the left winger who took it in a header. The ball deflected down from the crossbar to drop into the net, a sensational winner.

The main crowd fell silent in shock and the small band of visitors went crazy, as did the visiting team.

“The players will be at least an hour cooling down and listening to their coaches and then showering and sitting to relax, Lindy said. “I’m a Soccer Mom and a win always makes me feel sexy. Do you wish to come with me, I have been here before and there are several dressing rooms that will be unused.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” McNeill grinned, never one to turn down an opportunity.

Lindy kindly sat on the massage table after pulling her panties down for McNeill, who quickly kissed her and then went down on her as she gave him little option, slamming his head into her groin with a big push.

She tasted okay and he began sucking heartily and using a couple of fingers. She groaned, pulling at his hair and began lubing copiously.

“Oh come on darling,” groaned the slut (and what did that make McNeill?). “Please shove it in and pump.”

They banged each other as if there would be no tomorrow and were rather noisy but fortunately no one came near apart from a caretaker in one of the toilet cubicles facing them who left the door open and whacked off, watching them.

Lindy and McNeill came copiously and licked the sweat off each other’s face. They cleaned up and left and as they went through the door the old guy in the toilet groaned and at last achieved some result for his hard work.

“You fuck really well Lindy, putting more effort into it than many women do.”

“Oh thank you darling man,” she cooed.

McNeill reached behind her and grabbed a handful of ass and squeezed.

“That’s enough McNeill otherwise you’ll have to take me back and fuck me again.”

“Um at what stage will the players be at?”

“Almost ready to go in to eat. Our bus fares included payment to eat with them, courtesy of the club.”

They decided they were hungry and choose to head for the food instead of heading back for more sex. Also they didn’t wish to be conspicuously missed and childless divorcee McNeill was a little ashamed of having just committed adultery.

Holding a beer and handing Lindy and white wine they watched the players filed in. Maxine came up to her mother, still red-faced from exertion at having played tirelessly as a defender, and kissed her and turning to McNeill puckered her lips and so he kissed her.

“You kiss better than mom.”

“It’s inevitable daughters would say that.”

Maxine laughed and told her mom, “You could do well associating with this guy because he’s on your wavelength, he’s a brain.”

Lindy’s expression didn’t change.

McNeill began looking for Monet and saw her enter with the two scouts and leave them and head to him.

“Something big has come up, really big.”

“What those scouts will report on you favorably?”

Monet frowned and then realized what McNeill was talking about.

“They are not scouts; they are the manager and head coach of the Vermont Maples. They want me in Burlington to begin training with the team this Thursday and have arranged for a contract to be faxed to dad to have it checked out. The offer is more than tempting; it’s what I want and the next step up will be into professional soccer. They are so desperate to get me they have organized a sponsor, a women’s sports store where I’ll work when I’m not required to train or travel in connection for soccer. The Women’s Premier Soccer League is a body for amateur soccer.”

Lindy had heard the news from her daughter and came over and hugged Monet and congratulated her warmly. Monet urged her not to say anything until an announcement was made in a few minutes.

McNeill didn’t know what to think. Instead of jumping out of her skin in delight, Monet appeared calm and focused although she did place her hand in his. God she was a professional sportswoman to the core.

However, when the announcement was made she yelled and screamed as much as the players not in the know who rushed her. Monet made a bubbling speech saying it was her intention to accept once her family’s attorney approved the contract details. She spoke emotionally thanking her club for its support and to her coaches for the guidance they’d given her to sharpen up her prowess.

At that point McNeill went off and made a call and found they could return home on a long-distance bus that would stop briefly at 11:00. He decided Monet ought to be home with her parents to spend what little time she had with them before she left for Vermont.

They sat at the back of the half-filled bus and canoodled and McNeill fingered her off but resisted her request for full sex.

“No you are too young for me but the real reason is you have been in no hurry to have sex, according to what you’re told me. I say you’ll really know when you are ready to open those legs to some lucky guy. At present you are on a bit of a high and I admit we have been working up to have sex but no Monet, let it be for a guy you have real affection for… er someone nearer your age.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she yawned. “But don’t kid yourself I have no affection for you. Mom says you’re just as difficult a person as I am and that we two think almost in reverse to how most other people think. I think I know what she meant.”

Within a few minutes Monet was asleep, breathing gently in McNeill’s arms. He mused sadly of the possible long and wonderful relationship they could have had, a relationship that would have stolen her youth. He’d screwed up his former wife’s life through being an alternative thinker to her and he had no intention of screwing up this young women’s life with a second bite of the apple.


McNeill didn’t write for four days after Monet left. Darkness appeared to have entered his life and there was no bubble and bounce.

Donna came over the second morning after Monet’s departure and looking at him and asked what was wrong? He looked ill.

“I’m fine.”

Looking concerned she said, “Liar.”

“Think what you like.”

“Then why aren’t you writing?”

“Haven’t you got something to better to do than to waste time with old grumpy?”

Donna looked at him carefully and then she realized what it was. “Oh for heaven’s sake, you’re grieving.”

The lack of response confirmed that. She wrapped her arms around and McNeill’s head fell on to her ample bosom. She rocked him and felt a tear fall on to her cleavage and that made her strong and she cooed, “Oh you poor, poor man.”

Two minutes of that was all McNeill needed. He pulled away, blew his nose and thanked her warmly. “You are a lovely woman Donna. I feel I’m over the worst now. I can easily afford to walk away from my lease here and lease a house in Vermont but now way do I wish to rob your daughter of her glorious twenties and she knows I feel like that. I had no choice Donna; I’m not altogether a soulless guy. You need soul to write and this harrowing experience might be good for me. I expect to feel like writing again within the next day or so. I’ll put the novel I had started aside and brief my publisher on a new work that I have yet to plan.”

“It will be loosely based on Monet won’t it?”

“Yes a love story that goes sour and the guy will be her age but she’ll win through, being that kind of heroine. Possibly she’ll be a skier or skater, not a soccer player.”

“I’d like you to make your heroine a young woman breaking into professional soccer. I’ll ask Harry for his opinion. I believe two on to one could convince you to choose soccer as the setting. It’s a newer sport for women compared with skiing and skating and I think it would attract a wider readership with soccer as the central theme.”

“Well I’ll think about it.”

Donna said he was to come over for dinner. “I’ll get Lisa to go for a run with you.”

“Christ what are you doing Donna, Lisa is only seventeen.”

“Yes and eager to have sex. But McNeill if I can’t trust you to be alone with Lisa then who can I trust?”

McNeill was almost overcome in emotion. “That is one of the greatest compliments anyone has ever given me Donna. You make me feel so humble.”

“Well I can’t change the way you feel McNeill but by god, please accept you have had a profound influence on my family and me. We all have sharpened up our acts since you’ve been around, even Harry. He’s not into running but he has pulled out his stored gym apparatus and is working out every evening before dinner and had changed his diet to loose weight and I’m getting more sex that I’ve had in years.”

“More sex, is that good?” McNeill said, managing a weak grin.

“Damn good,” Donna giggled. “Lisa has shifted into Monet’s room and if she chooses to work at the window in her bra or even with her top bare then that’s all right to me and you can expect her to ask you to talk to her about many things and no doubt one of the subjects will be sex.”

“And that is okay by you?”

“Of course it is but I suggest you don’t mention that to Harry. Fathers tend to be ultra-conservative about what their daughters should be told about sexual relations.”

* * *

McNeill’s publisher screamed at him for discarding his latest novel.

“We have lost six weeks,” she ranted.

“Milly I’m a writer, not a machine. Just calm down otherwise you’ll send milk into your old tits.”

“What? How dare you. I’ve never been so foully personal with you.”

“Well I never rant at you as you are doing to me now.”

“Me ranting. For fuck sake McNeill… oh god, I have lost it haven’t I? I call back soon.”

Milly called back twenty minutes later.

“I’m sorry. Although I have an agreement with you on that original proposal your contract relates to a finishing date, not a title and not even content. You have every right to change your intent and have every right to be supported by your publisher whom you have served well. I apologize sincerely.”

“Thanks and I apologize for talking to you foully.”

“Oh that. I suggest you write that into dialogue some time. It was most original. Just make sure the woman you were talking to is in her sixties like me. Women readers will pee themselves in laughter.”

“As you wish Milly. I’ll sent you the proposal tomorrow and I’ll promise you this: this one will be as good as anything I’ve written.”

“I suggest you write it before making such a claim.”

“The book is in me Milly attempting to claw it’s way out.”

* * *

McNeill was running with Lisa and was complimentary about her improvement.

“You are ready to lift the pace a notch.”

“Okay but let me tell you this. Mom had a girly talk with me last night after our visitors left. She was half-drunk. She told me she can’t understand why you haven’t tried to have an affair with her.

“It’s simple Lisa. Why risk fucking up your family? The ghost of Monet remains with me and I know she’d be offended if I played around with your mother and as you know I get along with your father pretty well and I’d bust that friendship if he found out.”

“Gee girls at school say men fuck women at every opportunity.”

“Well your fellow students don’t know everything.”

“Mom would got for you like a cat on heat if you made a play for her, wouldn’t she?”

“You know your mother Lisa, what do you think?”

“Um what do I think? Well I can only say that’s a difficult one to read.”

McNeill laughed and said good thinking.

“What do you really think she’d do?”

“Lisa you mother likes to give the impression she’s sexy and, well, guys do look at her tits. Although they are pretty big they really are beauties, er to guys. But if you want the truth,” he lied, “I’m sure you mom doesn’t play around and would reject with disgust any hit I made on her. At crunch time I feel she’s react conservatively.”

“Wow, that’s a relief. Right I’m picking up the pace Mr Slowcoach.”

McNeill looked at the young ass that was drawing away from him and went after it… er… sprinted to catch up to Lisa.

* * *

Colleen the sister came home from college on a break. She was pleasant, conservative and was non athletic and had the tit mass of her mom but not the shape. McNeill had walked into their home one afternoon without knocking and caught Donna walking around in just shorts dusting. She made no attempt to cover up and didn’t appear to be annoyed that he was taking a good look. They drooped but not hugely and the way they hung containing good shape was yummy. She went off to make coffee and returned wearing a bra and top. McNeill said grandly there was no need to dress up for him. She smiled and said he couldn’t expect to always see what he deserved to see. He thought that was an excellent reply.

Lisa told McNeill that Monet was coming home for the weekend because her team had a bye and it would be the first time all the family had been together in months. She was bringing a guy.

“Oh damn I’ll miss her,” McNeill lied. “I’m going home to see my folk.”

He decided to do that because they hadn’t seen him for many months.

* * *

The passing weeks took everyone and everything into fall and McNeill had never found it so easy to progress a manuscript and his publisher was greatly pleased at the sample chapters he’d sent. Milly had earlier received a précis of the story. McNeill could tell from the tone of the emails received from Milly and his editor that their expectations were building.

Out of the blue, a week after a storm had brought a touch of winter, Lindy called him.

“Oh hi, something has come up giving me reason to call you. How are you doing?”


“Monet is going great.”

“Yeah we follow reports of the games. How’s Maxine.”

“She’s great. Yes everything is great but me.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that. Do you wish to meet and talk?”

“Do you still fuck married women?”

Caught flatfooted McNeill nevertheless knew he’d be expected to come up with something profound. He thought his effort was rather pathetic.

“Rarely. You were with me at the right moment, a delightful window of opportunity.”

“My husband Ralph has a mistress and the bastard is taking Maxine skiing this coming weekend and taking that bitch he calls his PA with them.”

“Jesus. What are you doing about it?”

“Nothing at the moment. It shocked Maxine too and when I told her there was little I could do because I hate being up at ski fields she suggested I call you and arrange a weekend with you. She assumed when we disappeared at the soccer match we had had sex. Maxine knows all about Soccer Mums.”

“So you are keen to be fucked?”

“Yes and we can stay in bed all weekend if you wish.”

“Can you get time off?”

“Yes easily. I’m an accountant with private clients and work from home.”

“Then let’s fly late Thursday afternoon to Arizona and return late Monday. My parents have a winter home in Phoenix and are not down there at present. I’ll need to check that it’s vacant. It’s pretty basic but extremely comfortable and private with a pool and hot tub and a couple of great restaurants are close by.”

“Oooh, how romantic. May we live nude? I’ve always dreamed of doing that. My body still looks reasonably good and I know you almost have the body of a young man.”

“Well okay providing you don’t mind being fucked every time I see you bend over to pick up something.


* * *

At the airport McNeill worried whether he’d recognize Lindy as he’d only met her the once although had fucked her. But that had been in a room with only one light on above the table on which she’d lay on her back for him. At that time he’d been interested in things other than what she looked like. Well he remembered she had good tits, was a dark shade of blonde, long with curls, blue eyes, a pretty good figure and a very small butt for a woman. And that was about all.

He looked around and saw blondes everywhere although most had big butts.

“Hi McNeill.”

He turned and there she was; she’d found him.

“Ah my date for a filthy weekend,” he smiled, kissing her gently on the lips. Her eyes remained open as she continued to look at him, probably wanting to see acceptance.

“You are a lovely looking woman.”

She smiled, her shoulders appeared to square and she said thanks.

McNeill said, “Do you mind if we don’t mention books, writing and your family this weekend?”

“Oh a wonderful suggestion and please add accountancy.”

“We’re in business class,” he said as they went to Delta’s lounge where they had coffee and chatted until their flight was called. Three and a half hours later in Phoenix they picked up the Ford Explorer McNeill had booked and forty minutes later were at the house.

“God I hadn’t realized Phoenix was so big and had mountains inside the city boundary.”

McNeill smiled and said no one knew everything. “Well here we are.”

“Oh the place is charming and so well maintained.”

“Yeah dad has people in on contract. What do you think of the neighborhood?”

“Oh it’s so different. I love it. The temperature is wonderful.”

“Yeah, better than what we have at home this time of year. The vehicle reading was seventy-three and it’s unlikely to dip below the low sixties at night. Right carry your bags in and get your gear off.”

“Providing you do the same.”

“Of course I will.”

Lindy fluffed around and finally came out nude to find McNeill nude but wet from being in the pool.”

He opened the chiller box and poured a white wine for Lindy. He drank beer.

“When can we have sex?” she asked, looking at him over her glass.

“Jump into the pool and we’ll have our first one in there.”

“But our juices…”

“Don’t worry. The pool is chemically treated and anyway what we shed by way of fluids will be an infinitesimal release in 30,000 gallons of water.”

“Gee well yeah it is a large pool. I could swallow your cum if that would be a contribution to the environment.”

They laughed.

They didn’t laugh when they slid over the edge into the shallow end of the pool.

Lindy’s tits seemed to float into McNeill’s hands and she placed a hand around his dick and pulled it to encourage it to fully extend. They gazed into each other’s eyes.

“This is good,” he mumbled inadequately.

“It’s what I wanted.”

That seemed to telegraph something and so McNeill turned imaginative and sensitive. “Do you want to come and live with me when you dump your husband?”

“You wouldn’t want me after you’ve had your fill here.”

“I don’t think you are correct about that… my memory of you is you were a great fuck.”

Lindy’s eyes flickered and she whispered, “Shove it in please and fuck me hard.”

There are times in a guy’s life when he has to bow to a woman’s wishes and McNeill knew instinctively this was on such occasion.

“Pull your cunt lips open baby, here’s your first present for today.”


Lindy Vickers had difficulty walking through the airport for the flight home and McNeill Pax appeared decidedly bow-legged. Anyone analyzing their condition could have been excused for thinking they were honeymooners.

Lindy had the big bust-up with her husband and, weeping in guilt, he agreed to a divorce. She spent that night sleeping with McNeill and moved all her things into his house over the next few days.

Maxine had assumed she was left to live with her father but her mother suggested she should invite McNeill to lunch and find what they had in common, if anything, and whether they appeared compatible. She moved in with Lindy and McNeill the next weekend. The Vickers’ home was then promoted for sale.

At her graduation Colleen Davidson introduced her parents to her girlfriend. Discovering Colleen was gay was a big shock to Harry and Donna. But it would appear Harry was safe from being fired from the bank because Colleen had gone off to Texas to settle with her darling. Harry was promoted to vice-president in charge of lending as a direct result of Donna’s secret affair with the bank’s president.

A month after Lindy’s 40th birthday celebrations it was confirmed she was pregnant. Marriage was planned for the following summer.

Monet never gained selection to a professional soccer team but she starred in amateur soccer for another five years before she married the only child of a guy who owned a chain of eleven supermarkets. Her fiancée is nine years older than Monet and like her he doesn’t much like sex either.

Lisa Davidson is known as one of the ten top sluts at her college. She is studying English literature and writing.

McNeill ended up buying the house he was renting because Lindy and their neighbor Donna had become the best of friends and the neighborhood had grown on him and he’d acquired the biggest bunch of friends he’d ever had.

His novel, Cindy McPhee, Soccer Superstar,’ has already sold more copies than the combined aggregate sales of all of his other eleven novels but didn’t quite make the best-seller list. It is currently being printed in English, French, Italian, German, Portuguese and Spanish languages.

McNeill claims the divorce of Lindy and her husband has no connection to his new novel being printed, ‘Lust Kills a Marriage’.

Lindy calls that a big fat lie.


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