With special thanks to ROBERTODAVO, Bumknee52, Josie_03, and Mary_K_Kinkster who offered me good advice about pacing and character development on my first few stories!
*****
OK, I'll admit it. In my late 30's, I've become a dirty old man.
Maybe it's man-o-pause or a midlife crisis, but I can't stop admiring much younger women lately. It's been a thing for a couple of years, and although I am discreet about it (I think!), it's a constant struggle.
In my normal workday in the IT department, there isn't much to look at. We're all guys from 22 to 52, and there aren't many young women anywhere in the company. Every now and then, someone gets an intern, or a daughter stops by, but what can you do besides glance quickly at work? Very unsatisfying.
On the street, however, is a different story. As the weather warms up, girls all around New Haven and the surrounding towns emerge from their winter jackets like butterflies and stretch their lithe young bodies in the sun. My sunglasses are a permanent fixture-I learned that in Creep 101, I believe-and I choose my lunch spots and my errands based on the traffic patterns of the local colleges. A good day lets me fill my senses with beautiful college-aged girls.
In the next town over where I live, the encounters are often more personal. Even though I don't have kids in the school system, I tend to see the same store clerks and cashiers in the places I frequent. Many of them are in high school or college, and they are usually quick with a smile and a joke once they get to know me. What? Me? I suppose that's worth mentioning. I'm 38 now, never married, six feet tall, and I keep myself at around 185 by working out, biking, and doing all my own housework and landscaping. My brown hair is mostly intact, and I have grey eyes. I'm sure they see a good-enough-looking, pleasant older guy and don't think twice about me.
One of my favorites started working at the gourmet market last year. I guessed from her wardrobe and her uncertain manner that she was a high school student with her first job. She was very pale, she had blue-grey eyes, and her straight blonde hair was pulled back tightly into a ponytail. She had a sweet smile, and she spoke softly to customers and co-workers. It took several visits to the store to catch a glimpse of her name tag-it read SARAH in handwritten block lettering.
Once she started working the cash registers up front, I tried to time my shopping to when she was there and end up in her line. Since I usually shop for just one or two day's worth of food, I had plenty of opportunity to see her. She was a treat-quiet and courteous, with a lovely fair complexion and a healthy glow about her. I enjoyed her brief company on those occasions, and the only hitch was that she couldn't ring up my period six-pack purchases because she was only 17. Other than that, she grew friendlier as her confidence increased, and she always had a smile ready for me.
Last week, the weather changed radically. We jumped from spring to summer in a day, and it was too nice to say at work. I left at noon, explaining that I had to take my car in to get the brakes checked. Instead, I headed for home. When I stopped by the market for beer and something to grill later, I was in for a treat! Sarah had gone from wearing jeans and a store sweatshirt to sporting a tight pair of khaki shorts and a form-fitting polo shirt with the store logo on it. All of a sudden, I realized that her charms went far beyond a cute smile and a friendly manner. From far down the aisle, I admired the sweet curve of her ass, and the stretch of her shirt suggested a pair of luscious full breasts hiding within.
I know, I know-I'm a dirty old man. One thing saved me that day, so cut me some slack! As I finished my shopping, I waited patiently until her line was shortest, then joined it. When it was my turn, she asked me how I was by name and told me how happy she was that it was finally warm out. All this with a ravishing smile that lit up her face. What a combination! Anyway, she scanned my groceries, and I reached slowly for my wallet, knowing that there was no rush because she would have to call the manager over to ring in my beer for her. To my surprise, she flicked it across the reader and dropped it into my shopping bag.
My eyebrows must have shot up in puzzlement. Sarah grinned even wider and said, "I don't have to call the manager anymore-I just turned 18 yesterday!"
"That's great-happy birthday!" I responded. "Eighteen is a big year."
I quickly fished out my wallet, fumbled out the debit card, and slotted everything into place. "Did you do anything fun to celebrate?" I asked innocently, thinking that she was 18 now, so I could imagine anything I wanted about her.
"Just family stuff-we went out to that new restaurant on the beach, then had ice cream. The real party is this weekend when my boyfriend comes back from college!"
Boyfriend. Of course someone this beautiful and friendly had a boyfriend. I was surprised at the flicker of jealousy I felt-how could a callous young college kid appreciate the wonderful girl in front of me? As I tapped in my pin code, I managed some kind of response: "That'll be fun!" or some such.
She smiled in return. "I'm sure it will be!" she said excitedly. "Email the receipt?"
"Absolutely," I said with my best friendly older guy grin as I grabbed the bags and tucked my debit card into my shirt pocket. Then I paused awkwardly before leaving her with a rushed farewell: "See you next time...have a great weekend."
"You too," Sarah said, smiling and turning to the next customer.
As I walked to my car, I pondered the strength of my reaction. I was clearly feeling possessive of her, but why? Was it that I had seen her go from shy girl to confident young woman, and tried to help that process along with some stupid banter? Was it the sudden revelation of her amazing little body? Obviously, her turning 18 made it much easier to think about her in an intimate way, but I was as mixed up about her friendliness and warmth as I was thinking about her breasts and her ass. That train of thought led me down a dark road quickly...I found myself wondering if her whole body was as peaches-and-cream delicious as her face and arms were. I wondered if her pubic hair matched the color of her ponytail, or if it was darker. I wondered if she responded eagerly when her boyfriend...
Yeah, that was it. I was conflicted because I was jealous of her boyfriend. He got to kiss those smiling lips, feel that silky hair against him, and explore that ripe young frame. I felt an unwelcome and completely unreasonable stirring of anger as I thought about some fumbling frat boy tried to unclasp her bra. I imagined a look of passion on her face, quickly turning to a frown of concern and disappointment when his uncoordinated attempts at foreplay were replaced by a rolled-on condom and a quick, unsatisfying roll in the hay. She deserved better...
This completely unprofitable line of thinking stayed with me all the way home. I stowed the groceries, and then decided to take advantage of the phenomenal weather and mow the lawn. Swapping my work clothes for a pair of gym shorts, an old T-shirt, and sneakers, I slotted the battery into the mower and headed to the front yard. The sun felt great on my shoulders as I worked, and I quickly finished that section of lawn. As I emptied the clippings into the compost pile, I decided it was hot enough to lose the shirt, so I draped it across the deck railing and switched the mower back on. The backyard was three times the size of the front, so I worked quickly-I always challenged myself to finish both without stopping to change batteries.
I was five minutes from being done when I thought I heard my name being called. I let the mower die and listened carefully. I looked around, but couldn't see anyone. Leaving the equipment in position, I walked toward the front of the house, stopping to grab my shirt. I quickly used it to wipe the sweat off my face, wanting to look presentable in case I had a visitor. It was pretty well soaked, and as I stood there debating whether to put it back on or not, a very unexpected thing happened-Sarah walked around the corner of the house!
I'm sure my face was a picture of surprise, because she grinned merrily at my confusion. I stood there in disbelief for a long moment as she came along the side of the house toward me and stopped just a few feet away. With a taunting gesture, she raised her right hand, which was holding my wallet.
"Forget something, Steve?" she asked me in a teasing voice.
