Chapter One

 

I've never claimed to be an expert in men, or boys, or guys. Frankly, they've always been both a puzzle and an annoyance to me. The boys had been irritating right through junior high. The guys were sometimes sexy, sometimes tempting, sometimes frustrating, sometimes insulting and embarrassing, but always confusing in high school.

Men, to me, were people like my teachers, uncles, and aunts, the friends of my parents, the parents of my friends, doctors, authority figures etc. They were generally speaking not people to be paid much attention to except as people who bossed you around.

I mean to say that they were always around but they weren't people I really talked to except when they wanted something of me or I wanted something from them. I certainly didn't have long conversations with them. Well, except for my parents.

I mean, why would I? What did I have in common with them? Everything they liked was different from everything I liked. I looked at things in a completely different way than they did. Plus, let's face it, most of them aren't particularly attractive to my eyes.

Of course, now that I've graduated from high school and am out in the working world all of the guys that I know have technically speaking become men, so things are changing. But I still tend to think of, well, 'males' my age as guys, not men.

One thing which has perplexed me since hitting puberty is that whether they were boys, guys, or men, they all tended to look at me with a certain level of want. As in I had what they wanted. The boys and guys made no secret of that wanting. The men were generally much more discreet given my age. But I could see it in their eyes. And not all of them were discrete at all.

I don't know very many of my girlfriends who are attractive who haven't been subjected to catcalls and obscene remarks and yells from men in passing cars or on the streets since they were in junior high. And it doesn't seem to matter if the men are two or even three times our age.

You tend to get used to that sort of thing as you get older; I certainly have. It's mostly water off a duck's back now. All I do is give them the finger or some other rude gesture. Or else I just ignore them. You could say they were just perverts but I think they're just the ones who don't know how to be discreet about what they want. Or just don't have the manners to cover it up.

Because plenty of men two and three times their age have given me that look, which I have come to know so well over the years. It's kind of an appreciative look with eyes that quickly flick away so as to not be seen, and then kind of swing back as often as possible while being discrete. It's a look that says they very much like what they see.

There's nothing wrong with that and it's not like they can help themselves anyway. Men are all a bundle of instincts when it comes to sex and women. Then again I don't really think of myself as a woman either, any more than I think of the guys I go around with as men. Women are like, my mother, or other old people.

I just tend to think of myself as a girl, no matter what the government says about my age and whether I can vote or join the Army or whatever. I've never wanted to grow older. That always seemed to me to be something associated with a lot of work that wasn't at all fun, and a lot of responsibilities I didn't want.

A girl can be sexy and hot and beautiful. She doesn't need to be a 'woman' for that. Besides, girls play, women work. I had little desire to work. I much preferred having my parents pay for everything while I played.

After I graduated I resisted my parents pressure to go to college. I figured I'd just get some easy job and continue to play. I don't think I quite realized that any job takes up more time than school had. And there's a lot less fun to it. So that was a mistake on my part.

Not to mention there's not a lot you can get right out of high school with no experience. I wound up working as a waitress in a pub. I wear this little tartan kilt and a tight top and get lots of tips from middle-aged guys. I also get lots of come-ons, and more than a few indiscreet suggestions and comments about my body.

Believe you me when you work in an outfit like that any illusions you might have about the way men look at girls fade away pretty quickly. They were way less discrete than when I was a high school girl. It made me a little self-conscious, even though guys have been looking me over since I hit puberty, but it was also sometimes kind of flattering.

I mean, society tells you that your worth is measured by how hot you are. So all those guys and men and boys all looking at me and wanting me is kind of reassuring and good for my ego in a way. As long as they're not too rude about it. But it can still make me feel a little uneasy and self-conscious sometimes.

My friends' fathers are mostly the safest men to be around. They don't even dare look unless they're super discrete. Some of them, I think, don't even care. They see me as the same age as their daughters and they're just not interested. Which is great with me.

Taylor was not that much of a friend of mine. I kind of knew her from school. But Ashley was my friend, and Ashley had persuaded me to join her over at Taylor's place because they had a nice big backyard pool with lots of privacy. She didn't live very far from me, and it was a sunny, hot day, so I figured I'd just ride my bike.

I wore my white bikini underneath a pair of low-rise shorts and a loose, white tank top with lots of midriff showing. I won't honestly say I didn't know that I looked cute and sexy, because of course I assessed myself in the mirror before leaving. But mostly I wanted to be relatively cool on a hot day.

The tank top was not particularly large, more for temporary coverage for the half dozen blocks I was going to drive. I had considered just wearing my bikini top, but had decided to be a little modest, just in case I ran across anyone of the male persuasion.

I found Taylor's house with no problem, rolled up the driveway, and looked around. It was a nice-looking Georgian brick house with a big, two-car garage. One of the garage doors was open and I considered parking my bike in there. But I decided it would be best to ask, so I laid it down and went up to the door to ring the bell.

Taylor is black so I wasn't surprised when a black man opened the door to look down on me. What did give me pause was just how big and how black he was. Most black people aren't really black, you know. They're more like various shades of brown. This guy was like really black, like Zulu warrior black. He wasn't wearing anything but a bathing suit, and boy was he ever ripped.

He had a huge chest and broad shoulders, and his skin glistened as if oiled. He was the first guy I had met up close who actually did have washboard abs, or very close to them. His arms were thick and muscular, as were his legs. He was a good head taller than me, and I'm tall for a girl, and had a thin beard and a shaved skull.

He was an older guy, easily twice my almost nineteen years, but his dark eyes were giving me that look that I've come to see from men, that look of wanting. And he wasn't being all that discrete in the way his dark eyes moved up and down. I don't mean that he was eyeing me like some kind of lustful pervert. It was more like he liked what he saw and didn't give a shit what anyone might think of that.

"Um, hi," I said, feeling my chest starting to tighten, "my name is Sloane and I'm supposed to be seeing Taylor and Ashley here?"

"How you doing, Sloane. I'm Taylor's father. You can prop your bike in the garage there and come on inside."

I beamed at him thankfully, maybe a little too much, and hurriedly turned and bent over to get my bike, wondering, with my heart starting to beat rapidly, if he was staring at my ass. I lifted it up and wheeled it into the garage, then came back to the door where he was still waiting, and still looking at me.

He ushered me past and I went into the house as he closed the door and came in behind me.

"Just go right on through the kitchen. You can see the back door straight ahead there."

"Okay, thanks," I said of my shoulder.

The backyard was very nicely done up. It wasn't just the normal rectangular swimming pool. It was more oval-shaped and it'd been done up like something more natural with stones and bushes and flowers and trees all around. I didn't see Taylor or Ashley as I made my way out onto the patio and then over to the table which held a radio, some towels, ice water, and a bottle of sunscreen.

I was a little surprised when he came up behind me, but not at all alarmed as I looked around for the two.

"Ashley couldn't survive the afternoon without her particular brand of bottled iced tea," he said dryly. "So Taylor drove her to the supermarket to pick some up. They'll be back soon."

"Pineapple flavored, right?"

"I think that was it. I promised Taylor I'd get out of here when you guys set up. I got some stuff to do in the office anyway."

"Oh, okay," I said uncertainly.

"You can get undressed there in the cabin and pour yourself some ice water. Or there's colas and fruit juices in the fridge inside."

I felt a hard little jolt when he said, 'get undressed'. He might be Taylor's father but I'd never met him before and he sure didn't present himself like a father. Fathers weren't supposed to be as sexy-looking as him. Like I said, I've never been around a guy so ripped, so... muscular, and masculine, and with his skin gleaming black the way it was I just wanted to run my fingers across his chest.

"Oh, well, I already have my bikini on underneath," I said, hoping I wasn't blushing.

He kind of grinned a little lazily. "Yeah, I kind of figured that was a bikini bra on account of that top doesn't really hide a lot."

I felt my skin warming. "I only had a few blocks to drive," I said.

"Hey, if it was up to me, baby, pretty girls could wear their bikinis everywhere they went."

I laughed a little too much, feeling this hot, crackling sexual charge of something rippling up my spine. I suddenly felt a tremendous anxiety that my nipples were going to be so hard he would notice and then know that I thought he was incredibly hot and sexy.

"Maybe I'll take a little quick dip before putting on ask my sunscreen," I gulped, turning away from him.

I toed my sandals off, pulled the tank top up and over my head, and tossed it on an empty lounge chair. And then, knowing my face was getting flushed, slipped my thumbs into my shorts and started to peel them down and off.

And as I started I suddenly remembered I was wearing a thong! I don't wear thongs in public. I only wear them for places like this where according to Ashley, there weren't going to be any guys around. That way I get a better tan. But it was too late now. I sure didn't want to squeal like a child and yank my pants back up and then refuse to remove them until he left.

That would've been absolutely humiliating!

I practically ran to the pool and dove in. At least now if my nipples were hard - and they definitely felt hard - he'd think it was the cold water!

I hoped the cold water would also cool down my face because knowing he'd been staring at my nearly bare ass had definitely reddened my skin. But even under water I could feel my face burning! Like I said, I'd never worn a thong in public where there were guys around! And this was a really hot-looking guy! Even if he was a man.

I couldn't stay in the pool forever, though, without looking just as childish as if I'd squealed and refused to undress. Plus, to be absolutely honest, a part of me felt a delicious sense of edgy heat at having shown off like that - even if I hadn't meant to, you know, flaunt myself.

Everyone says I have a great ass, after all.

He was sitting sideways on one of the lounge chairs, examining his phone when I came out of the pool and walked back. My heart was still pounding kind of hard, feeling a tight little knot low in my abdomen as I approached.

I knew I looked good in the bikini. Although of course, my normal straight brown hair was now a tangled mess. I reached up and gave it a twist and pull so that water trickled down my back, then casually picked up the towel I brought and tried to look nonchalant as I toweled off the water.

"You sure must work out a lot," I said.

"If a man doesn't have self-discipline, he's not much of a man," he said. "Keeping your body in shape also keeps the mind in shape, prevents it from going slack."

His eyes slid down my body again, not trying to hide it.

"You must work out yourself."

And then he kind of reached up and gently prodded his big index finger against my abdomen.

"Usually girls are soft as mush here. But you look nice and toned."

"I uhm, yeah, I work out," I gulped, feeling my face flushing again.

The fingers turned into a hand, or at least the fronts of his fingers caressed my abdomen and stomach.

"Congratulations. You're doing a good job of it."

"The feel of his fingers against my flesh sent an instant little jolt of heat down between my legs and I swallowed several times before responding.

"Th-Thanks," I gulped. "I like to keep fit."

"Well, you look fit. I'm impressed. I like a girl who shows enough self-discipline to exercise properly and doesn't just want to firm up her butt and chest muscles."

His eyes slid upward off my abdomen as he removed his fingers and he grinned when he looked at my face. "Though it looks like you're doing well with chest muscles, too."

What did he mean by that!? Was he talking about my breasts!?

"A girl your size wants to keep those chest muscles tight so she doesn't sag later in life."

Oh my God! He was talking about my boobs! Although he was talking more like a dad would, I guess. Not that my dad would ever dare talk about my boobs.

I cringed a bit, blushing, but I also felt a wild rush at him being impressed by my boobs!

"Oh well, they're not that big," I gulped.

"They look plenty big to me, honey. Enough size to enjoy playing with without getting top-heavy," he said with a lazy grin.

Yikes!"

I gave an embarrassed laugh. But while his words made me self-conscious I felt another little flutter of heat in my belly, and my breasts sort of throbbed with my rapidly beating heart.

"Better put on some sunscreen, girl. The sun isn't kind to that fair skin of yours."

"N-No, it isn't. I mean yes I should!"

I had brought some of my own but he gestured to the bottle on the table, then picked it up and tossed it to me. "Use this stuff. It's ridiculously expensive, but it's supposed to be really good for your skin."

"Oh, um, thanks," I gulped.

I squeezed some out into my palm and began to spread it over my safer body parts.

"So you're the Sloane who decided not to go to college and then changed her mind, right?"

"Yeah," I said ruefully. "I didn't realize how working at the kinds of jobs you get for my school kind of sucks."

I spread the sunscreen over my shoulders and then over my upper chest. I was wearing, a triangle bikini which left me in a bit of a quandary. I mean, part of my breasts were showing. Did I want to put lotion on them while he watched or turn my back to him and show him my bare butt!? Because it had to be one or the other. If he was a guy I knew I wouldn't mind teasing him at all, but he was a man, an older man, and Taylor's father!

And yet he was super-hot looking, which didn't go well with being someone's dad. So I was kind of all screwed up in my head here. I wound up turning my back to him as casual as I could as I spread the oil down over the visible portions of my breasts and then down my belly below that. I couldn't go any lower without bending over and really flashing him my butt so I turned around towards him.

And that led to another fucking problem! Because I had to bend over in my little bikini top right in front of where he was sitting. I was hoping he wasn't thinking I was doing this to like a cocktease, and very self-conscious because of that as I spread the oil down my thighs.