It's about 10 AM and the doorbell rings.
Probably just a delivery, I'll get it in a minute
.
But it rings again, so I leave my office at the back of the house to see who's at the door. As I come down the hallway I can see it's Laila, the 18 year old black girl from next door. (I know she's 18 because her birthday is exactly a month before mine, and we've been invited to some of her birthday parties, mostly when she was younger. They moved in when she was 10.) I also know that she went off to college in the fall, so it being mid-January I'm wondering why she's home.
"Well hello, Laila," I say as I open the door. "You must be on a long Winter Break."
"Hi, Mr. Mark. I actually
should
be back at school, but...I lost my scholarship." Then hurriedly, "So I'm out trying to raise money. Do you have any work I could do, like shovel your sidewalk or walk your dog?"
"I'm sorry, hon, when Billy saw it was snowing this morning I promised he could shovel the sidewalk and driveway when he gets home from school."
Billy's 12, and Laila has babysat him and his younger sister many times. And yes, I've had the dad-does-the-babysitter fantasy MANY times about her; but sadly, she never needed a ride home, we just had to (rather,
got
to, when it was my turn) watch her walk next door and get inside safely.
"And ol' Rex here doesn't like the cold much these days. But come in and I'll tell you how I got through school."
"Yes sir, I'd like that. Mom said you were the first in your family to go to college, just like I am."
So we sat in the formal living room at the front of the house, shades open, perfectly proper, and I told her how money was tight in my family (Dad was a steel-mill worker and Mom was a secretary) and how back then we didn't have the Hope scholarship, and how there weren't many non-sports scholarships for working-class white kids, so after what my parents could afford, I had to get creative with earning the balance.
As I was saying all this Laila was taking off her hat, gloves, and coat, because it
was
pretty warm in the house. She had on a knit long-sleeved turtleneck (the thin kind, I don't know what it's called, but thin stretchy, smooth material), and on top of that a V-neck t-shirt with her school's logo. Which gave me a good reason to look directly at her chest, and while I used to think she went braless in the summers just to tease me and the boys in the neighborhood.
But I guess this girl just didn't like to wear bras, because staring back at me was one of the most gorgeous mounds of woman-flesh I'd seen in a while, with just a hint of her large nipples making themselves known, even through both layers of fabric. (I know from the interracial porn I've watched, as well as, um, field observations, that many black women seem to have pretty large nipples, and Laila seems to also.)
I must've caught my breath or paused because Laila asked, "What were you saying about work-study, Mr. Mark?"
I should probably tell you more about Laila: you've heard the term "tits-on-a-stick"? That's Laila. I've observed with keen interest as she grew up, and by this past summer she had solid C-cups. Not necessarily round and firm C-cups, but the kind that are a bit saggy, but there's a lot of meat there, y'know? The kind with some movement to them. The kind where at the pool with her bikini tops cinched up tight, they spilled over the edges, but when the straps were looser you could see just how long they really were.
As a man I like ANY kind of breasts (don't say
you
don't!) but those kind particularly melt my knees. She's probably 5 foot 7, can't weigh over a buck-ten, long legs and short torso, and a cute little booty. Not big like many black girls, but bubbly like a hot white cheerleader might have, plus a bit more. She would be a 9 or 10, but her face is kind of plain; not ugly by any means, just not what you'd call
pretty.
But when she smiles she's prettier, so I like to make her smile.
"Oh, yes, work-study, that's a good option. I worked in the Biology lab a couple semesters and that paid pretty well, so ask the school about those opportunities."
As I'm saying this she's licking her lips, which
do
look pretty dry from the windy cold outside. Or is she teasing me, sending signals? I honestly don't think so, because she's never done anything like that before, at least that I've picked up on (though I
can
be pretty dense though, as my wife Ann has told me). But she IS 18 now, so maybe she's just been waiting... Over the years I've gotten the impression that Laila is a "good" girl, kissing and maybe petting with boyfriends, but likely saving herself for marriage. Her family goes to church every Sunday, so that's probably how she was raised.
I then confessed to Laila that working for money, especially
while
going to school is actually pretty hard, so I ended up selling myself to Uncle Sam in exchange for a full scholarship. She asked how that works and I said, "Let's go back here to the TV and I'll show you about ROTC. I went in the Air Force as an officer and it was the best decision I could've made at the time."
So we move to the family room (which you can't see from the front door) and I use Google on the smart TV to show her what college ROTC scholarships are about. The idea of going into the military doesn't really interest her though, so she finally tells me what she was planning to tell me if I'd said yes to shoveling the walk or walking the dog: that she and her mom had come up with the idea of working for people, but with half of the pay being for the work and half being a loan.
In her words, "So for example, if you'd normally pay someone $10 to shovel your sidewalk, then you'd pay
me
$10, but
also
$10 more, which would be a loan. I'd give you a receipt -- see, my mom bought me this receipt book -- and when I graduate college and get a good job I'll pay you back. That's a good plan, right?"
She's very excited about this, and actually has a pretty good sales pitch. She uses her hands a lot when she talks, and between the shaking of her arms and them bumping into her boobs I've got a bit of a hardon from watching her tits bounce. Which I hide by (hopefully) nonchalantly putting a throw-pillow in my lap.
But was that the hint of a knowing smile I caught?
So here I am, a 45yo white guy, living in the suburbs with the wife, dog, and two kids, good white-collar job that lets me work from home several days a week, and I'm fantasizing about seeing this sweet young ebony teen who I've known since she was 10, naked. Not only
seeing
, but
doing
things to her naked body. Very naughty things, using my hands, my tongue, and this boner that's now full grown.
But she just seems so sweet and innocent, how would I, or even
could
I, convey any of that to her? I decide that she's
not
coming on to me, and if I say anything out of line to her she'll tell her mom, and maybe her step-dad, and then at the very least I'll lose some good neighbors.
Those tits though...!
Finally I tell her she'll probably just have to get two or three jobs and work through the summer, then she'll be able to go back to school for at least next year. She says she has a 20-hour job at McDonald's (minimum wage), but that it's hard to find a job these days, let alone one that pays decently.
"A pretty young lady like you shouldn't have trouble getting a job if you find the right
man
ager," putting just a little emphasis on the "
man
" in manager; enough to be deniable if she objects.
But she picks up on it, and with an impish grin she asks, "Do you really think so?"
"Oh yes, hon, you have a body that men, I mean, a lot of
other
men, would enjoy looking at." (Hoping she'd never seen my gaze lingering just a little too long the times I've been around her.)
"But I don't want to have sex with some old white man [that kinda hurt] just to get a minimum-wage job!"
"But Laila, you don't
have
to have sex with anyone to get a job, you just have to make them think there's the
possibility
of sex with you. Or even just that they might be able to touch you someday."
"Just touch me? You're crazy! They'll want to 'go all the way'."
"Trust me, sweetheart, you could sell just a look at you for as much as you're making in a day at McDonald's. But you're a good girl and you don't want to do that I know, so just let me tell you, as an 'older white man' myself, how --"
"I didn't mean
you
, silly!"
"I know, I was just teasing. So do this, go into the guest bathroom there, take that sweater off, but put the t-shirt back on."
With an excited "Okay!" she bounds off to the guest bathroom.
What an ass in those tight jeans!
Laila comes back, breasts literally bouncing under her t-shirt (no bra, remember), with a huge smile on her face, and I just about pass out. This girl I've lusted after since she was 16 is in my family room in tight jeans, a t-shirt, no bra, and a coy smile on her face. And another indicator of her excitement: her big nipples are more erect than before and starting to strain against the fabric.
"Ahem, there now, see, you go and apply for a job looking like
that
, and
any
man is going to want to immediately hire you. He doesn't even know anything about you, but he's hoping he'll be able to get close to you someday." She blushes.
"Now I know you have sexier clothes at home than that old t-shirt, things that show off your -- uh,
endowment
-- better, but we can work with this. So, pull that shirt down tight and tuck it into your jeans."
I make a point of turning my head away while she does this, but am not-so-secretly watching her out the side of my eye. I think she notices, but plays along. She doesn't unbutton her pants to tuck the shirt in, and they're quite tight, so her luscious tits are putting on quite a jiggly show. "Okay, done!"
Turning back, "Oh wow, very good. Well then, let's move over to the kitchen table and pretend we're doing an interview."
Once seated, I tell her to lean forward with her hands clasped, elbows on the table, looking intent and interested. She does this, but it doesn't have quite the effect I'd wanted.
"Laila, move your chair as close to the table as possible, and when you put your arms together, kind of have your, um, you know, your
chest
in between them and above the edge of the table."
Oh yes, like that, hon! I SO wish I could bury my face in that cleavage right now.
"Yes, that's great. Now look down. See that? Men go crazy for a view like that. I mean,
non-married
men."
But I think you already know that, you little tease!
