Author's Note:
This short piece is a little different from my other stories. I created it as backstory for something else on which I am working and decided to publish it. Look for more in the near future, as well as a much longer series about an older, much more experienced version of Kat, the main female character in this story.
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"Hey, Mr. P.," a girl's voice called from the front of the garage. I peeked my head around the open hood of my old truck to take in an eyeful of Kat Dennison, the teenage daughter of my next-door neighbors. The blonde-haired girl waved from the garage door, and I returned the gesture, doing my best not to stare. Short shorts and a pair of spiky heels lent her legs a long, toned look. A thin t-shirt, loose everywhere except across her chest, revealed that the girl wore no bra. This was not the first time Kat had come over without one, but I had never seen her nipples protrude quite so much.
"Hi Kat," I said, forcing my gaze to her face. Bright, cornflower blue eyes met mine. Her smile widened, stretching soft, full lips and dimpling her cheeks. Had Kat's face looked more like her mother's, with its high, well-defined cheekbones, she would have been perfection. But her more rounded features were a feminine version of her father, giving her a cute appearance rather than pretty. Still, with the luscious frame her ripening had bestowed on her, I suspected she would have no problem attracting men.
"Working on your truck?" she asked, walking from the sun to the shade of the garage. As she approached, the effort required for me not to stare at her prominent nipples doubled. Feeling guilty, I met her eyes again and nodded, sure I had imagined her puffing out her chest right before my gaze shifted.
"Mrs. Page and the kids are at her mom's, so it gives me some chance to do some maintenance I've been putting off."
"Can I help?" she asked. Part of me wanted to tell her 'no' so maybe she would leave, saving me from having to force myself not to look at her enticing young body. But another part, one not as swayed by guilt or propriety, did not want her to leave at all.
"Sure," I shrugged. I had been teaching Kat about cars since the Dennisons first moved in next door. She proved to be a quick, eager student, and I had even helped teach her to drive by the two of us taking my old truck on the backroads. But something had changed recently, and it was not just her clothing.
"Yay," she said, giving a little jump that caused her braless tits to bounce and my heart to beat faster. "What can I do?"
"Can you get me the 5/8" spark plug socket?"
"You got it, Mr., P.," the teen grinned. She headed for the toolbox, and I watched her ass. That she had inherited from her mother, who might have had the best ass I had ever seen, at least before Kat's grew in all the right places. Not too big, but rounded enough to fill out her tight shorts perfectly and wiggle in a way that made me wish I was eighteen again.
"Here you go," she said, giving me the wrench and leaning over the truck's fender to watch what I was doing. Her loose t-shirt neck gave me a view of the creamy white tops of her full, and no doubt firm, young breasts. I concentrated on fitting the socket over the spark plug, but I could not get the image of her smooth flesh out of my head.
"When will Mrs. P. be back?" the blonde girl asked as I worked on replacing the plugs.
"She's staying the night at her mom's."
"Is everything okay?" Kat reached out and touched my arm as she spoke, and my skin tingled where her smooth fingers brushed it.
"Oh, yeah," I said, not looking at her, afraid she'd see the red that I was sure had invaded my cheeks. "It works best this way. It's an almost three-hour drive, so a long day. Also, the less time I spend with my mother-in-law, the better we get along. So, it makes sense for them to stay overnight and me stay here."
"My mom feels that way about my gran-gran. That's my dad's mom."
"In-laws can be tricky."
"My parents are with Cameron at some boring debate thing. I didn't want to go, so they let me stay home. They'll be home after nine tonight, maybe later."
"Oh, okay," I said, my mind matching the racing of my heart. The absence of her parents and younger brother explained the more risqué than normal attire the teenage girl wore. It also meant that not only were the two of us alone, Kat was making sure I knew it.
I told myself to stop imagining things, afraid I was bordering on dirty old man territory. But a few seconds later, Kat said, "I was kinda hoping you could help me with something," bringing me right back there.
"That depends," I replied, keeping my tone neutral. "What do you need help with?"
"It's sorta... embarrassing."
"Umm... well, just take it slow. And if it's too embarrassing, maybe wait until tomorrow and talk to Mrs. P. when she gets back."
"I, um, need a guy's help. I mean, I've already talked to some of my friends about it, but they can't help me the way I want."
"Okay, I guess..." I said, wondering what kind of help she could need, ignoring my more perverted thoughts.
"Thank you," she beamed, bouncing again. This time, it was all I could do not to stare openly at the motion of her unrestrained boobs. "It's my boyfriend, Clarke. He's... he wants... well, what every guy wants. I'm not sure I'm ready, but I don't want him to dump me."
I forced words out of my dry mouth, doing my best to ignore my growing arousal. "If you're not ready for something, don't do it."
"Yeah, I know. But I think I might be ready for, um, other things."
"Oh. Well, that's... something."
"When you were my eighteen, if your girlfriend wasn't ready for, you know... sex... what would have been enough for you not to look elsewhere?"
Kat almost whispered the word "sex," and her face took on a pink cast at the same time. Her apparent embarrassment, as well as a wave of protective feelings, aided me in repressing what I knew to be inappropriate lust for my young neighbor. I pondered how to answer her question.
"If he's pressuring you, he's not worth keeping," I said, giving in to my protective impulses.
"You sound like my mom," Kat pouted, arms crossed under her breasts. "What do you think as a guy? What would you have thought when you were my age?"
The thought that I would want to fuck her came to my head unbidden. I pushed it aside, attempting to craft an honest but also responsible answer.
"As much as I could get, I guess," I said, wishing I had come up with something else. "But I would not have pushed."
"Did you ever get a blowie from a girl?"
It took me a moment to understand what she meant, as I had never heard anyone refer to a blowjob like that before. Several more seconds past before I could formulate a response.
"When I was your age? There was a girl I dated who... we explored each other in, um, several ways."
"But she went down on you, right?"
"Yes, she did. But she wanted to, um, explore. I would never have pressured her to do it." As the words left my mouth, I cringed at the truth they hid. I had not directly coerced the girl in question, but I knew she had felt pressure anyway. And I had happily let that pressure she put on herself lead to benefits for me.
"And it was enough?"
"It was more than enough," I grinned, then remembered I was talking to my teenage neighbor. "But if she had not wanted to..."
"I don't know how to, um, give a blowie," the suddenly shy blonde said, her eyes locked on the garage floor. "I want to... I mean, I want to make him happy and all, but... what if I'm not good at it?"
"I'm not sure we should be having this conversation," I told her, although I could no longer ignore that my semi-hard dick wanted nothing more than to keep it going.
"But I need your help. All my friends, at least the ones who've done it, say guys will like it no matter what. Some of them gave me pointers, and I've watched videos on the internet too, but... I think I need to practice first."
Kat's fingers stroked my forearm. Shining blue eyes met mine, and I saw a plea in them. But my mind could not accept what my body, especially my cock, already had.
"I've heard some girls use cucumbers," I said, thinking back to my wife telling me about how she practiced giving head before her first time.
"I've done that," the teen said. "But cucumbers can't tell me whether I'm doing a good job or teach me to do it better. I need a man for that. A man who I know is a good teacher. I need you."
"Kat, I can't... we can't..."
"Please, Mr. P. I need your help."
"Okay. But no one can know." My erection throbbed in my jeans at my words, and my heart hammered. Deep down in my mind, my conscience attempted to object, but I ignored it.
"It'll be our secret, Mr. P. Promise," Kat squealed, then she hugged me, her firm, young breasts pressing against my lower torso, her lower abdomen against my rigid cock. I hugged her back, stroking her soft hair, not thinking about any possible consequences.
"We can go inside," I suggested, breaking the hug. "Maybe use pillows from the couch for you to kneel on..."
"Can we do it in your truck? Clarke has a truck, and that's probably where I'd do it with him."
I hesitated, watching her chew her bottom lip as she waited for my answer. What she proposed made sense, but I suspected it would be easier for her to learn, as well as more pleasurable for me, if we were both comfortable. However, now that I was committed, I did not want to mess up the chance to be the first guy this sexy young thing went down on.
"Sure," I said. "It'll be a bit more awkward, but it will prepare you for... later."
"Thanks," Kat beamed, giving me a kiss on the cheek before running around to the passenger side of the truck. Watching her ass giggle, I wondered if Clarke knew how lucky he was.
I closed the truck's hood, hit the button to shut the garage door, walked to the driver-side door, and opened it. Kat, her cheeks pink again, sat on the bench seat and stared straight ahead, hands in her lap. For a moment, my guilt returned. Had Kat not pushed out her chest at that exact same time, I might have backed out. But the sight of those firm, round tits encased by only her thin t-shirt proved to be too much. I buried my doubts and slid into the truck.
"If we're parking, we need some music," I told her, turning the key to accessory so the radio would come on. "Is classic rock okay?"
"I guess," the girl shrugged, still looking out the windshield rather than at me. That allowed me to watch her boobs bounce with the shrug.
I turned up the radio, took Kat's hand as gently as I could, and moved it to the bulge in my jeans. Her fingers lay there for a second or two before she moved them away.
"I'm not... um... can we make out first?"
