It was late February when the Widow Woman and her Nubile Daughter came to live in the house next door. And naturally, since I had my well earned reputation to maintain as the local, eligible bachelor, I cast my blasΓ© eye over them.
Although the Widow Woman herself was fairly presentable and I reckoned that, while I would never be so cruel as to oust her from my bed - if by some accident I found her in it, she didn't appeal sufficiently to be added to my list of planned future conquests.
But the Nubile Daughter was different. There was something that made her most beguiling, almost irresistible. Deep down I sensed within me a greater lust for her than any other female I'd yet chanced upon.
However, being well aware of the dangers inherent in cradle snatching, I determined I would be wise to ignore her - at least for some months. This, with some difficulty, I managed until mid-summer.
Around July the hedgerow separating the gardens to the rear of our properties had become in urgent need of clipping. So, as a responsible householder I took measures to correct the situation.
Slaving in the hot sun I had reduced about half of the shrubs to a shade below head height when I spied Nubile Daughter walk down the garden on the other side. From the small blanket she was carrying it appeared she intended to sun-bathe in some secluded spot. But it was her clothes, or rather lack of them, that caught and held my eye. All she was wearing were a thin crop top - through which I could clearly see her heavy, ripe, pleasure promising breasts and sharp nipples - and a brief thong that clung tightly enough to outline her mound and its coveted furrow. My shorts were suddenly a couple of sizes too small.
As I gazed after her a quiet voice asked, 'Are you watching what I think you're watching?'
Startled I looked over the hedge to discover Widow Woman crouched weeding a flower bed. 'Yes, your daughter,' I admitted, self-consciously.
'Do you want her?' She said, sotto voce.
'I would if she were not too young,' I murmured.
'That's a social attitude, not a natural one.'
'I've heard that before. The theory that says a girl's ready when nature decides she's ready, not when the law decrees.'
'I know, and as a guardian of the law you can't afford to break it - or at least not get caught. Still it's no longer a problem. She was eighteen last week, and she's looking to become a woman. All she lacks is the right man.'
'Oh!'
'It could be you.'
'Nah, she'll want some fellow nearer her own age.'
The Widow Woman gave a low chuckle. 'Men don't have a clue what women really want. I'll bet you've never noticed the way she looks at you.'
'She hasn't said anything.'
'And you males are supposed to be the hunters? Press her enough and I guarantee she'll let you take her maidenhead.'
'And you won't mind?'
'Why should I? Better she gives it to a man I know than some yahoo. I'll even arrange it - for a consideration.'
I might have expected it - no free lunch. 'Well,' I said, 'I'm sure she'll be worth it. Name your price.'
'Two for one.'
'I'm sorry, I don't get it.'
'Every time you screw her, you lay me as well.'
'Not together?'
She chuckled again. 'Who knows what pleasures the future may hold. But no, not for now. I'll trust you to keep count and pay up in good time.'
I nearly jumped for joy. Without hesitation I agreed, 'You've got a deal. Just let me know when and where.'
I looked across to where Nubile Daughter was now stretched out, eyes closed, shapely boobs gently rising and falling. I glimpsed a few dark hairs sticking out from under her thong.
'While you're about it,' I remarked, 'tell her I'm not the only one that will need a shave before the big occasion. I've a preference for bald pussies.'
'Alright, I'll mention it. . . And I'll bell you this evening about a time and place.'
'Righto, Wanda. It is Wanda, isn't it?'
'Yes, Bob.'
Somehow I finished cutting the hedge, though my mind was in a whirl. Did she mean it? Was I actually going to get to play with those firm young tits, and empty my balls into that pristine pussy?
-oOo-
I spent that evening blankly staring at the TV screen without the slightest idea what was showing. Would Widow Woman really fix me up with Nubile Daughter, or was she setting me up? I'd just about decided it was all a hoax and I would be better in my bed, albeit alone for once, when she rang.
'Saturday. Sometime in the afternoon.'
'Good, I'm on early shift and finish at lunch time, so the afternoon's perfect.' I attempted to keep my eager craving hidden.
She laughed, 'Not too strenuous a shift, I hope.'
'Nah, I'll take it easy and keep plenty in reserve. Where do you suggest I do the deed?'
'Here I think, then you can make it appear casual and no big deal. We won't set a time. Just arrive and let it happen.'
'Sure.'
'And don't forget our bargain. I'll come over to your place in the evening for my share.'
'Oh! Okay, sure.'
I was being manipulated but it was either agree or risk losing what was likely to be the fuck of a lifetime. So, fancy the Widow Woman or not, it looked as if she was going to finish up in my bed after all. It was a price I'd willingly pay, or so I told myself.
-oOo-
Thankfully Saturday morning was routine with no sudden emergencies, which enabled me to pretty well get by on habit, my mind being totally occupied counting down the seconds to my conquest of Nubile Daughter. Shift complete I had a bite to eat - literally a bite, I couldn't face food. Though a strong whisky helped to steady my nerves.
My nerves! What was happening? I was like a teenager on a first date. Where was the debonair bachelor about town, with a tally of notches on his bedpost testifying to his proficiency? My myriad of previous conquests would be mystified - and laughing hysterically.
At last the momentous hour arrived. Carefully showered and shaved I debated what to wear, and what to take. In the end I decided that if it was to appear casual and unplanned a pair of shorts would suffice in the summer heat, as well as being easily shed. And for a gift a bottle of wine might help with any ice-breaking that was required. So booted and spurred - only metaphorically, she wasn't yet ready for rough riding and I must needs be gentle until I had her broken-in and schooled - I made a beeline toward my target.
Smiling broadly Wanda met me at the door wearing a thin wrapper with, I was sure, nothing underneath. 'She's waiting in the garden.'