Chapter One

 

The first time I noticed Mr. Cole noticing me was when Emily and I got caught out in the rain one day. The rain broke without warning and we both ran, squealing down the sidewalk towards her place. But it didn't matter. It poured! We were soaked within seconds. I was wearing a cotton tank top which sagged noticeably - though it wasn't me who noticed, at first.

We made it to her front door and inside where, gasping and panting and dripping wet we took off our sneakers. That meant, in my case, leaning with my butt against the wall and pulling my feet up toward my hands so I could untie the laces. Bending forward, in other words.

Mr. Cole wandered over and as I dropped the second shoe, then peeled off the sock and straightened up I caught his eyes looking rather clearly down before he quickly jerked them up. I wasn't entirely sure, but when I later looked at myself in the mirror I could see that bending forward caused my breasts to press down on the newly stretchy fabric and reveal quite a lot of cleavage if you happened to be looking in the right direction.

Well, it wasn't exactly the first time I'd caught a guy staring at my chest. Unlike Emily, no one has ever teased me with terms like 'flatsy' or 'beanpole'. I developed early and well. And my breasts are one of the best parts of what I have to admit is a body owned by someone who won the genetic sweepstakes.

I'm not huge, but my breasts are certainly noticeable. And they get noticed, almost no matter what I wore. So like I said, it sure wasn't the first time a guy, even an older guy, noticed them. But this was Emily's father! That felt very weird! But it also felt strangely exciting.

Mr. Cole is nothing like my dad. My dad is out of shape, rumpled, prematurely balding, and looks like, well, a dad. Mr. Cole is tall, straight-backed, flat-bellied, and wide-shouldered. He's really handsome, with a full head of hair, and a kind of stubbly beard, if you can call it that, which gives him a kind of cool, dangerous look.

He's not as old as my parents because mine had me later in life than he and Mrs. Cole had Emily and her brother Eric. So I've always thought of him as cool and sexy - in a distant, unobtainable, totally off-limits kind of way.

I did not, of course, mention him maybe staring into my cleavage to Emily! Hey, I wasn't even completely sure myself. And so, to satisfy my curiosity (and ego) I sometimes made attempts to see if I was right by dressing sexy around him and posing my body in attractive ways. Oh, I was very discreet. I mean, there was no way I wanted him to think I had noticed or was trying to attract his attention!

But I certainly took a lot of care when I went over, just in case he was home and just in case we might meet. Usually, however, he wasn't and we didn't. He worked long hours at his company downtown.

Then came the day me and Emily were alone in the house and decided to go topless just for fun and kicks. We almost went bottomless, too, and were kind of joking around about it, and probably would have within a few minutes. But I went inside to get more water and ice for our drinks from the fridge.

Which was why I was standing there wearing nothing but a very small pink thong when her dad came around the corner. We were both shocked, me by him being there and him by me being practically naked. I gaped at him for a moment, then yelped and jerked my arms in to cover my chest.

I happened to be holding a plastic cup filled with ice and water, which immediately slopped against my chest, which made me cry out even more loudly and jerk aside, dropping the cup. The ice-water spilled on the floor, and in my sudden, desperate attempt to twist around and get away from him - before remembering I had a thong on - I stepped on an ice cube!

It was like some kind of comedy play with nudity! Except instead of falling heavily on the floor I felt his hand snake out and grab me by the upper arm as I was halfway down. Mr. Cole works out and he's a strong guy! I was impressed despite my state of wild disarray, as he stopped me from hitting the floor and pulled me back upright.

He pulled me so firmly up and I was so unbalanced I was pulled up against him, and my bare breasts, which were kind of slick with sunscreen and wet with the water, pressed against his silk shirt. So even though I jerked back quickly they left noticeable round marks.

I quickly clamped my arms across my breasts as he released my arm, grinning at me.

"Sorry to surprise you, Chloe," he said. "My meeting was canceled and I thought I'd come home and relax by the pool."

Of course, my face was a hot red! I stuttered and half turned away - then once again remembered I was wearing a thong and jerked back again, only to see his eyes flick upward - presumably from where they'd been looking downward - at my ass!

"I uhm... I'm sorry!" I squeaked. "Emily and I were just getting some sun!"

"No apologies necessary."

I scurried outside.

"Your dad is here!" I hissed as I passed Emily and pulled a towel around myself.

"Is he?"

She pulled her top on and fastened it, her back to the door, then looked at me and started laughing.

"Don't tell me he saw you."

"Yes!"

She laughed even harder, of course.

I quickly pulled on my own top, then dropped the towel around my hips since like I said I was wearing a thong.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure my dad's seen boobs before."

"Not mine!"

"Oh well," she said, smirking. "Now he has."

Emily is more... laid back than me. She rarely gets upset by anything. She's calm, cool and collected, and very thoughtful. She's the antithesis of your typical cute blonde stereotype. And she is cute, for sure, with long, beautiful blonde hair that's as natural as my dark brown hair and a lithe, slender body.

At five feet seven I'm five inches taller than her. She takes after her mother rather than her father, I guess. I do the opposite. Her eyes are bright and blue and beautiful and... perfect. Mine, unfortunately, are kind of far-sighted. Which is why I usually wear glasses whenever I have to do any reading.

I'm neither as calm nor as confident as her. And I do get more emotional and anxious at times. I'm a bit hyperactive, and can't sit still for long. Maybe that's why I'm more into sports than her.

Anyway, after that incident, once my face had cooled and I was back home, I started to think again about how he'd seen me. I looked at myself in the mirror, trying to get just the same angle he would have had, and once again felt both embarrassment and pride.

It's not every day you can expose yourself to a hot guy you're not dating without either committing yourself to something or being considered a slut. I'm proud of my body, and my breasts in particular, like I said. But I do my best not to look like I'm showing them off. Other girls, in particular, don't like that at all.

And boys, well, boys are so immature that they immediately think that if you're showing off cleavage you want them to stare and comment on it and are maybe looking for a guy and trying to impress them. Which, I admit, I sometimes am, but not usually! Every girl likes to be seen as hot, after all, even when they're not hunting for a guy.

So I looked at myself as he would have seen me, reassuring myself that I'd looked hot, that he'd seen me from angles which would make him think I was sexy and beautiful. Even though, of course, I had zero interest in pursuing anything with him. I mean, he was old, and Emily's dad!

I have to say that sexuality confused me. I got that I was 'hot'. I mean, everyone said so. Guys often acted stupid the way they tried to impress me, and I had, of course, seen internet porn, if only to compare my body to those of the girls involved. I mean, if the guys went gaga over these girls, and I could compare my body to theirs and come out ahead or at least even, then I must be pretty hot, right?

So I had this nifty body that all kinds of guys wanted to see and touch and do things to, but I couldn't use it for much. I mean, I didn't want to get a reputation as a slut, so I had to be choosy. And frankly, the guys I had chosen hadn't been all that impressive. Sure, sex had been kind of exciting, in a messy, awkward sort of way.

But I sure hadn't felt the amazing orgasms the actresses in the porn videos did, and after the first few times I hadn't felt nearly as excited, either. I was beginning to have my doubts about how great and glorious sex was supposed to be, and whether it wasn't mostly some kind of big old lie that men told to get us to put out.

I did like to dress up sexy, though, as long as it didn't look like I was trying. I mean, I wanted to be respected and thought of as smart and confident and also a girl with self-respect. I wasn't going to act or dress like a slut! Why should I? To please guys who panted over me anyway in hopes of what? Getting sex? I could get sex easy. And it hadn't impressed me all that much.

It was also inherently dangerous, trusting a guy, hoping he'd be good, and not rough, and not someone who finished quickly and not someone who would demand more or get angry and try to force more, and not someone who would brag to all his friends afterward.

So yeah, I had this great, sleek body I could look at in my bedroom or bathroom mirror, and pose in a sexy way pretending I was some kind of porn star or something. And I could wear sexy lingerie and dance for myself. And at times I could even masturbate with fantasies of doing outrageous things in my head.

But I never actually DID outrageous things. Because I wasn't that brave or brazen.

Anyway, nothing happened for months after that. My embarrassment around him faded. Not that I saw much of him. Like I said, he worked long hours.

I started seeing a guy named Chris. He was an athlete like me. Except he played baseball and football while I played soccer, lacrosse, and field hockey. We started sleeping together right at the end of my freshman year at college, and things were going okay. Not great, though, just okay. He wasn't as attentive as I would have liked, and was often busy with his guy friends, and didn't want girls around.

He was also always trying to get me to wear more revealing clothes and wear contacts instead of glasses, even to school! And he kept trying to take pictures of me naked and wanted to do a video "just for us" of having sex. Yeah, no! No way I was trusting him!

Anyway, as you might have guessed it didn't work out. I found out he was sleeping around with this blonde cheerleader slut, and confronted him outside the gym and he admitted it. Well, he was drunk at the time and too stupid to figure out a good lie. So instead, he blamed me. You know what he said? He said I was a boring fuck!

I was so enraged that for the first time since junior high I just hauled off and punched him right in the face. Since he was drunk he wasn't prepared and it knocked him backward a couple of steps. There was a rock there about as high as his knees and he backed into it, fell over it, and then, yelling, fell into a bush.

I turned and stalked off, fuming and fighting back tears.

Of course, I was also humiliated and deflated at the thought I wasn't good in bed. Even though, to be honest, I wasn't sure how a girl got judged in that regard. I thought I was pretty good with oral sex. And the rest of it was his job!

So I did what any teenage girl would do, I watched porn videos. It didn't seem to me that those girls did an awful lot that I didn't. And in fact, their oral sex skills were mostly not as good as mine, at least in my judgment. Well, except the ones who deep throated. How the fuck did they do that!?

I sought the opinion of girls I knew at college, and one of them, Olivia, said she could deep throat. She said was all a matter of controlling your gag reflex, and that you could even breathe with a cock in your throat if you could relax your throat enough.

"I can mostly only do it when I'm really turned on, though," she confessed.

We were at a table in the cafeteria, and another girl I knew named Shannon was there too. She shook her head. "How do you not throw up?"

"It's like... mind over matter," Olivia said. "I mean, it's not physical reflex it's mental. Like if you stick your finger back there you gag, right, but if you just swallow food, you don't gag. Food is solid, just like your finger. It slides back to your throat, and you just swallow, because your mind knows it's supposed to be swallowed. So you have to train your mind."

Shannon shook her head. "I never got any complaints."

"Yeah, because as the guys say, even when it's bad it's good. Nobody ever complains about a blow job," Olivia said. "But they might not be especially impressed either."

I next consulted Hannah, my roommate, and the bitch said she could deep throat too! That started making me feel inferior in an area I thought I was pretty good at! How many girls could deep throat? Most of those in the porn videos didn't!

So then, we started to kind of experiment, and she tried to teach me how to deep throat. We even bought a small dildo for that purpose and, giggling and laughing, I tried and she coached, and eventually, I managed to deep throat it without gagging too much, and then with hardly gagging at all!

I felt super confident after that, and eager to put my newfound skills to work! I considered sleeping with one of Chris' teammates in hopes he'd get word that I was deep throating. That would show him!

See, much of my self-image was as a hot girl, but not an outrageously hot girl. I mean, I did wear glasses, and I didn't show off or wear really tight clothes. But I still wanted to think of myself as hot. Being described as a 'boring fuck' was absolutely not in line with that self-image!

The school term ended, though, and I went home without being able to try out my new oral skills on anything but a dildo. The problem was my school was a thousand miles from home. I hadn't been able to arrange for any kind of summer job. I didn't absolutely need a summer job since my dad, like Emily's, makes pretty decent money.

But I didn't want to be seen as a leech. I was an adult! And the counselor at school said that I really needed to get some work experience during my summer terms because I hadn't had any before that. Otherwise, I'd have a hard time when I graduated.

"It almost doesn't matter what you get as long as you get something," she said. "After you graduate, though, a job in the service or hotel industry won't look very good on your resume."

Which sucked. I sure didn't want to work as a freaking waitress or something. Emily didn't have that problem. She was going to go work for her dad's company when she graduated. My dad was a lawyer, though and I wasn't taking law. I was taking business.

Anyway, shortly after going home, I wound up hooking up with Emily again. She was, of course, going to college too, but not mine. Her family wanted her to go to the same college they did; Harvard.

I slept over at her house, which I did frequently, and we watched Netflix late into the night. She dared me to go skinny-dipping in the pool with her. Which, given my experience getting caught last summer was a no-go for me.

But the thought of it was kind of... intriguing. I mean, I'm not a huge risk-taker like some, but I do like excitement and doing some wild things. I was not boring, dammit!

I was still upset about what Chris had said. It was only about ten days earlier, after all. And I was feeling like I had been dumped, even though it was me who dumped him. I was feeling, in other words, kind of unattractive, even though my eyes said my naked body - and my face - were the equal of most of those girls in the videos and pictures guys panted over.

Anyway, I was having trouble falling asleep. Of course, Emily dropped off like a stone. She always did. Bitch. I tossed and turned and tried to not think about Chris and how humiliated I'd felt when he'd said that.

I decided to get up and get a cup of milk or something, hoping that would take my mind off it. Then I had a different thought. The skinny-dipping! It was one in the morning. Everyone was dead to the world. A hot, sexy girl, naked sliding sleekly through the water in the moonlight... I liked that image of myself!

Which was dumb but whatever. I slipped out of her room and went down the back stairs. I eased the sliding back door open, then closed it behind me. My heart was already beating rapidly as I looked at the pool. The moon was a dim light above, behind clouds.

Which was good, because there were windows upstairs overlooking the pool! Not that anyone would be at them, of course. And the windows would be closed because it was a warm night and the central air was on.

I moved slowly over to the pool, then around it, eyeing the darkened windows nervously. There was no sign of anyone. I could feel my pulse racing, and, oddly, my nipples felt rock hard against the thin nightshirt.

It was pink, and cotton. And that was all it was - a nightshirt. Kind of like a longer T-shirt. I fought myself over whether I dared to do it and almost decided no several times. Then I finally gripped the hem and peeled it up my body and up over my head and off.

Naked! I was naked in the Coles' back yard with both her parents right up there in that window!

Fuck!

This was daring!

No. Daring would be diving into the pool. I wasn't that daring! I scurried to the edge, then sat down and let my feet and lower legs slide into the water. I gasped a bit at how cool it was, then forced myself in. I slipped completely under the surface, then kicked out strongly, swimming underwater for several body lengths before coming to the surface as quietly as I could.

I was getting turned on. It was the... the daring of it, and being naked, and the feel of cool water sliding over my bare skin, and the self-image I was building up in my mind about how hot and sexy I was. I dove under the water again, swimming back across to the other side.

It was both exhilarating and scary! I decided I'd better get out and back upstairs, though. I climbed slowly and carefully out (it wouldn't do to fall and splash). I reached up and squeezed the water out of my hair, consciously posing myself as if I had just climbed out of the pool at the Riviera or someplace like that.

There was a screened gazebo next to the pool. Next to it was a fire-pit and some loungers as well as a small simple shower. The shower was just a pole with a shower-head meant to wash off the chlorine before you went inside. I went over to it, slapping at a mosquito. Now that I was naked and out of the water they were starting to annoy me.

I turned the little lever and water poured over me, rinsing off the chlorine. I didn't do it for long. I was getting anxious again. I turned it off and went to the loungers. We often forgot towels out here when we were swimming, but I didn't see any. I swatted at another mosquito, cursing softly and wishing I'd thought of towels! Stupid me!

I thought there might be something in the gazebo so I waved my arms to get the mosquitoes back and quickly opened one of the doors and slipped inside.

"Fuck!" I muttered.

"Is that an offer?"

I screamed and jerked my eyes around, gaping.

Mr. Cole was sitting in a comfortable, padded chair by the table. I was so shocked I could hardly move, except to, as I had the previous summer, slap an arm across my breasts and put my other hand over my pussy!

"Hello, Chloe. Nice night for a swim," he said in amusement.

"M-M-Mister Cole!" I gasped, voice squeaking. "I was just... just..."

My voice trailed off. I was mortified!

"I was sitting out here thinking," he said. "I didn't notice you until you stripped off your nightie."

I blushed even hotter.

"Then it was my thought to just keep quiet and let you swim and then leave to spare you embarrassment. Alas, that hasn't worked out."

I was still frozen, not knowing what to do. Then I started to back towards the door.

"I-I was... I'll just... going back inside!" I gulped.

"Your breasts are incredible. Has anyone told you that before?"

I froze, shocked all over again. Yikes!

"I've seen bigger, of course. But yours are just... perfect; perfect shape, perfect size, perfectly firm. And you have that beautiful, toned body, very flat stomach, and abs. Ah, youth."

What the fuck!? What was he saying!? What should I do!?

"You should be proud of your body, not embarrassed by it."

Easy for him to say! He wasn't the naked one!

"I'll... I-I'll just -."

"Come here."

OMG!

I haven't mentioned his voice before. He has this deep, full voice. It's the kind of voice which makes you want to say 'yes sir' even if he doesn't raise it or anything. And... and I didn't know what to do! I stood there frozen!

He pointed at the floor right in front of him.

"Now," he said.

My heart was pounding like a drum as I shuffled forward to stand timidly before him. I was expecting a lecture, some kind of stern parental talking to about my acting immoral or something by skinny-dipping in his pool. Maybe even a warning that I had better not do it again.

He was still in the deeper shadow while I had more light on me. Worse, the clouds eased and moonlight shone down into the hard.

"I know you're no virgin," he said.

I winced. Yes, it was going to be a lecture on morality. Shit! This was going to be even more embarrassing!

"Nor should you be. A girl your age should enjoy her youth. And you have a very sexy body."

Huh?!

"Put your hands behind your head."

What!?

"Wh-what!?" I squeaked.

"Hands behind your head."

"But... but...why!?"

"So I can see you better."

That was both a perfectly reasonable and fucking outrageous thing to say, frankly. I mean, sure, if Chris said it, it would be perfectly normal. But not Mister Cole! Not Emily's father!

I stood there frozen. He didn't say anything, and my mind churned wildly. I didn't know what to do or say. But I was starting to feel a strange dark thrill of... potential. He had already seen me naked, seen me showering. Why was I hiding like... like some silly little virgin?

"You have nothing I haven't already seen," he said, as if reading my mind.

I had two choices. I could refuse and run away, which I really wanted to do. Or I could... do as he told me, which different sorts of instincts were telling me was the right choice. The first instinct was my upbringing, which said I was to obey my teachers, coaches, tutors, babysitters, parents, uncles and aunts and the like. And that sort of applied to Emily's too.

The second instinct was entirely different, and was giving me a strange fluttery sense of tense, taut heat down low in my body.

Uncertainly, pulse racing, I eased my hands away, blushing furiously as I brought my hands up and behind my head.

"Spread your legs a little. More."

Oh my God! What was he doing!? What was I doing!? What the fuck!?