CHAPTER 1: CLASS IS IN SESSION
Megan Brandt woke up Saturday morning excited and nervous. She had been waiting for this day all week. Now, it was finally here. She had a carefully crafted plan. She had gone over it time after time in her head, the same way she would have prepared for her high school tennis matches. She visualized everything, played out all the scenarios in her mind. She was certain it would work. Well, almost certain. The real question was, did she want it to?
She got up and showered, liking the solitude of the empty house. Her parents had left in the wee hours of the morning -- "best way to beat traffic and make good time," her dad said -- and would be gone for a week, visiting relatives in Georgia. They had no qualms leaving Megan -- now 18 and a high school graduate -- home alone. She was a responsible girl, solid student, never got in any trouble. They lived in a safe, suburban Florida neighborhood with friendly, reliable neighbors.
As she prepared for college in the fall, her parents had encouraged Megan to quit her job at the ice cream shop and enjoy the summer without responsibilities or stress, starting with a week with the house and the pool all to herself. They envisioned their sweet daughter laying by the pool all week, watching movies all night and being the lazy summer teen they felt she deserved to be.
Little did they know that Megan had been thinking about college long before graduation. She was confident in her ability to handle the classes and she'd always been popular enough that she wasn't particularly worried about fitting in or making friends. But one thing had bothered her: The party life that seemed so prevalent in college. She had never really partied much. No drugs. Only a few drinks. Some sex, but nothing adventurous -- a couple of blowjobs, hand jobs and missionary was as far as she had gone with her handful of high school boyfriends. She wasn't a prude, but she was always worried about disappointing her parents, getting in trouble or damaging her reputation. She was a good girl. That had served her well thus far. But she felt like she needed to at least be able to fit in with the bad girls in college -- and the bad boys. But how would they respond once they found out she was a fraud? That petrified her. Thus, a plan was born.
The average teen girl might have decided to party all week, get wild, fuck as many guys as she could, drink, smoke, do whatever. But Megan wasn't average. Not in any way. Even with a week to go crazy, Megan still wanted to make sure she wouldn't get in trouble. Wild parties could lead to arrests, drugs, date rape, unwanted pregnancy, or simply embarrassing photos online for the whole world to see. She wanted no part of that. She needed to know what she was getting into, to know what to expect and how to control it. She needed someone she could trust to show her all those things without worrying about being harmed physically, emotionally or socially. She didn't need high school boys. She needed men. Mature, responsible men. Luckily, she had two living right next door. And she was pretty certain they were attracted to her. Luring them in should be easy. And given what she was offering, she didn't think they would say no.
Not that she was conceited, but she knew she was pretty. Always cute as she grew up, she had matured and blossomed into a beautiful young woman. Standing 5'4", she was the picture of a beach beauty. She had long curly black hair and a sweet round face with noticeable cheek bones and dark eyebrows. She had stunning green eyes, a pert nose and a dazzling white smile. She had a slender neck, perfectly round and perky B cup breasts with rosy red nipples, a flat stomach, narrow waist and long, well-toned legs. She had been a cheerleader and swam when she was younger, then focused on playing tennis. She was athletic, flexible and fit with a tight bubble butt that she considered her best feature. She kept her pussy waxed -- it just made sense when you wore bikinis all the time.
She had an all-over tan from many bikini-clad hours by the pool or at the beach. They lived in a nice suburban neighborhood with houses all around, but their backyard was visible to only one of those houses. That's where the old gentlemen Mick and Harry lived. Their house sat atop a slight rise that gave them a view over the Brandts' privacy fence.
When the men moved in four or five years ago, her parents had invited them for dinner to welcome them to the neighborhood. They had been very funny, charming and humble. They were from Chicago and had been friends since high school. Harry had worked as a car salesman and Mick had run his own landscaping business. Their wives got along well and they hung out frequently as couples. Sadly Mick's wife had passed away seven years ago and Harry's died only a year later. By then, both men were ready to retire and wanted to spend their remaining years in a warmer climate. They wanted to live in comfort in a nice city and, even though they had both saved wisely, still found that their best option was to split the costs for a nice Florida home. Plus, they could share the duties of keeping up the home and take care of one another if either fell ill or injured.
Megan had been sad to hear about their wives passing and felt sorry for them. She thought they were sweet and liked having them as neighbors. She always said hello when she saw them in the yard and occasionally they would come over and have a beer with her dad. Megan would always bake them cookies for Christmas.
They were good neighbors. They never bothered Megan or said or did anything inappropriate. But she knew they checked her out. She had noticed them looking out their windows as she sunbathed. She didn't mind. She was used to older men checking her out. It kind of turned her on. It was fun to tease them in her trademark tiny denim shorts, skimpy bikinis or little tennis skirts. It was sexy and a tiny bit naughty, but ultimately harmless.
Like many teen girls, she supposed, Megan fantasized about being with an older man. Maybe a teacher or one of her dad's friends. But Harry and Mick were far older than that. Harry was 62 and Mick was 64. They were both large men. She imagined in their younger days they were strong, broad-shouldered and maybe even handsome. But now, to an 18-year-old, they just looked old.
Harry was the bigger of the two. Standing 6-2, he weighed 300 pounds. He had thick hair that, once, dark and curly, was now mostly gray. His legs looked awkwardly thin, as he carried most of his weight in his chest and belly. He had big round rosy cheeks and his arms were bigger around than Megan's waist. His fingers looked like chubby little sausages. Megan thought he was kinda cute, like a big old teddy bear.
Mick was not as heavy, but because he was shorter, he looked even rounder than Harry. Mick was 5-8 and over 240 pounds. He was mostly bald, with just a few curly strands of dark hair swirled in the middle of his head. He wore thick glasses and had thin, dark lips. He was shaped like a barrel, wide and round from top to bottom. His calves and thighs were thick, supporting his jiggly beer belly and man boobs. Megan had always found him to be an adorable little man.
She wondered how she would think of them both a week from now. Not that it mattered a whole lot. Soon she'd be in college and Harry and Mick would be a distant -- hopefully fond or at least useful -- memory regardless of how the week went. But what did matter was that she trusted them. They were nice guys, gentlemen, but not prudes. They drank beer and told dirty jokes. They had lived fun lives. She knew they could teach her a lot. She couldn't imagine them hurting her or embarrassing her. They would keep her out of trouble while showing her all the things she needed to know. That was the plan. Now all she had to do was get them to agree to it. And the only bait better than a sexy young girl was a sexy young girl in distress.
After showering, Megan placed a quick call to her parents to make sure they were OK and that they were well on their way. Confirming that, she put her hair in a ponytail, put on a skimpy yellow jogging bra, yellow panties, sky blue jogging shorts and white running shoes. She hopped out of the house and spent some time in the front driveway stretching, making a good show of it. She caught a glimpse of the curtain moving from Mick and Harry's house and knew they had seen her. She took off jogging, trusting that they would be keeping an eye out for her return.
She ran her normal three-mile route, finding it hard to control her pace. She was anxious to get back and get started. But she was also nervous. What if they said no? What if they called her parents or laughed at her? But she reminded herself that the odds of that were slim. And if they did, better them ridiculing her than her college peers. She wasn't a risk taker by nature, but she considered this less risky than going to college unprepared. With renewed resolve, she sprinted the last quarter mile to the house, then walked slowly, hands on hips, her normal cool down routine. She wanted badly to look at their house and see if they were looking, but she didn't dare stare.
She stopped on the sidewalk, making sure she was in clear sight, and began to stretch. She arched her back and pulled her arms behind her. She bent over at the waist, feeling her shorts ride up. She stood on one leg, pulling the other up, holding her heel to her ass. All were legitimate stretches she used in her athletic career, but they were also terrific teases. As she turned, she caught a glimpse of Harry in the window and tried to hide her smile. The big man was watching. She was willing to bet Mick was too. It was officially show time.
She walked to the door and then made a show of frantically feeling her shorts and fumbling around, obviously missing her keys. The door really was locked and her keys really were inside. But she had done it on purpose. Just like days before she had told her parents that she "didn't need a babysitter, but jeez, if someone has to check on me, just give Mick and Harry the spare house keys. Will that make you feel better?"
So, there was nothing suspicious about her marching over to their house, skin glistening with sweat, and knocking on their door. Harry answered it and she noticed him fighting to keep his eyes up, looking her in the face.
"Hi Meg," he said. "Good run this morning?"
"Hello Harry," Megan smiled. "Well, it was a good run until I realized I locked myself out of the house. Mom and Dad have been gone for only a couple hours and I'm already messing up. They gave you the spares, right?"
"Ha, ha!" Harry laughed. "Yes, my dear, they did. Just one minute."
