I have been dying to tell someone and/or ask for advice, but because of the subject and reputations involved, I haven’t brought it up with a soul. I am a recently (3 yrs ago) divorced white woman, 44 who is almost back in the same shape as I was in my 20’s thanks to the divorce, yoga, and burning away my sexual frustration in the gym. I am still very good looking, and so is my 22 year old daughter…which is why she has such a sexy 23 year old fiancée. None of those things are a problem. Here is what the problem is, and you are probably only the third person on earth to know: My daughter’s fiancé does his laundry at my house, where my daughter stays most weekends when she isn’t at his apartment. Still no problem. I came home from work and went downstairs, no shoes, (and I don’t stomp) to see him from a distance through the laundry room door; he was standing almost with his back to me, but just a bit sideways. I initially thought he was blowing his nose on something, so I just kept walking toward the door to get the clean towels from the dryer. When he heard me step from the carpet onto the linoleum, he almost jumped a foot, and immediately balled up the “handkerchief” in his hand, saying how he didn’t know anyone was around, and I startled him, something like that anyway. I knew something was up. I just said “Hi, Tim. Doing laundry?”” and immediately felt like an idiot, since neither the washer nor dryer was running, and he didn’t have his laundry bag. He stammered something about losing a sock last time, but as I walked around him to the dryer, I saw his dilemma. He was only wearing an old, thin college t-shirt and an even thinner pair of running shorts. Tim had a boner, or hard on, erection, whatever you want to call it. It was a huge one, and I have seen a few, and he could not hide it. His hand still had something in it, and I don’t think the running shorts had pockets. He had a huge boner and he was standing right next to me. Of course I looked, at first thinking he had some kind of fanny pack on that drew my eyes there. I think I audibly gasped, but can’t remember. I didn’t burst out laughing, either, I know that for sure. I immediately got as nervous as he was, and I wasn’t the one that was caught red handed, so I also later thought that wasn’t fair that I felt that way. Nervous, but also some other things. A bit of genuine fear, mixed with excitement as I pretended to act normal, getting the towels out of the dryer… then realizing that all 115 pounds of me is now bent over in front of a 6’4″ muscular guy that could lift me with one hand. I froze with my hands in the dryer as I realized I was vulnerable, and he just stood there with that giant boner of his pointed straight at my ass, I am sure, because I could see between my legs where his feet were planted. I was wearing yoga shorts at the time, probably shorter than ones I would want him to see me in, definitely not the full length pants that were in the basket, so at least we were even on getting an eyeful of each other. I felt something else after I fully realized that he was enjoying my dirty underthings, and it broke me out of my frozen, bent over position. I don’t know if “flattered” is exactly right, but close. There was now no questions in my mind that he knew those were my panties, rather than my daughter’s. She has a separate hamper in her room for hers and never leaves her dirty clothes in the laundry room. I later confirmed he was sniffing them, because when I put the laundry basket down there, the thong that he was sniffing was intertwined in the pair of pink yoga pants I wore to the gym…I know that because every time I do the wash I have to unravel the yoga pants/panties jumble, and it is a pain. This time as soon as he left the house in a rush (go figure) I examined the laundry basket and noticed the panties were separated from the yoga pants by two layers of clothes. Tim has seen me in pink yoga pants many times, and has never seen my daughter in anything but black ones, so he knew they were mine all right. When I finally stood back up and turned around, I did it a bit slower, more in control now, and pretended to be looking down at the clean towels protecting my breasts from his leer, but I actually needed to glance back down at him to make sure I hadn’t imagined the whole thing. Yup, still a boner, still huge, and it seemed to be sticking up higher than before, if possible. This time I did offer him a little grin as I walked by him out the door. He followed, saying he had to get going. I swear I could feel his eyes on my butt all the way back up the stairs. That was about six weeks ago and I have seen Tim maybe once a week, less than half as much as before. We never mentioned that afternoon to each other, it’s too weird. My daughter is still planning a June wedding next year. She doesn’t know that I now fantasize about her fiancée almost every night, sometimes with my vibrator handy, sometimes with my fingers. I don’t know if Tim would be disgusted at how many times I came thinking about his big dick. I fantasize about going over to his place and giving him a bunch of my dirty lingerie, along with some pictures I had my girlfriend take of me in the same lingerie for a dating site that I plan on getting a profile on. I don’t want to marry Tim; I want my daughter to marry him. I don’t want to make love to Tim; I want Tim to fuck me really, really hard, so you see why I feel stuck.
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