I live with my uncle and take care of him because my parents don't want to shell out for an assisted living facility. I work nights as a waiter so the arrangement suits me and my schedule well enough, but I barely earn enough to make ends meet. He's got a nice little house with a garden out back and it's very secluded, or so I thought. I also thought it would be the perfect place to grow a little something to make a bit of extra money on the side.

 

One night, after I'd put my uncle to bed, around 9pm or so, there was some knocking on the door downstairs. As I was heading to the front door, I had noticed all the commotion was coming from the backdoor. I thought, "Who the hell could it be and at this hour?" But then I thought about my little side venture growing out back, so I rushed over to find out what the hell was someone doing back there. Was it the cops? With a lot of trepidation, I looked out the window only to see the next door neighbor standing there, twirling something in his hand. Holy Shit!

 

I opened the door, trying to play it cool by saying, "Hi Mr. Rogers! What are you doing here?"

 

Mr. Rogers was a 40-something bachelor, a widower who filled in as a part-time mechanic when he wasn't puttering around in his garage or out running errands. He grinned and replied, "Well Trace, I was trimming my peach tree and dropped the saw over into your yard, so I hopped over to go get it, and noticed some odd plants with these extremely unmistakable shoots." He brought the strange looking leaf up to my face as I attempted to think of some reason to give him, yet nothing came out, so he proceeded with, "Now I know you youngsters have an exceptionally 'live and let live' perspective on pot, shit, I've smoked a joint or two myself, in my day. But I'm afraid the police wouldn't have the same reaction to this as I have, and if somehow, someone managed to call them you would certainly go to jail for quite a long while, and we wouldn't want that, would we?

 

I shook my head and begged, "It would be great if you Mr. Rogers, Carl, wouldn't turn me in, I'll pay you, I'll do anything you ask, but please, I beg of you, don't call the police!"

 

He grinned and replied, "I don't need your cash Trace, yet I like this subservience of yours, this pleading side of you and I think we can find something that suits both our needs."

 

With that he ran his hand up from my abs, to my firm chest to pinch my nipple, making it plentifully clear what he was implying. I nearly tore his hand away and punched him in the face, however I understood that there was no other way out of this, so I took a deep, shivering breath and simply let him grab at me. His other hand began following my stomach along the highest point of my jeans as he said, "Great, now, is your uncle sleeping and will he likely wake up?"

 

"He's sound asleep, and I even gave him a pill, he'll sleep through a tornado!"

 

He had discovered my areola stiffening through my t-shirt and squeezed it hard. He gestured and said, "That's great! I think we'll begin with something a little basic."

 

He dragged me by my areola to the family room where he tossed a cushion on the floor, sat down and told me, "Remove your clothes and bend down."