I knew the moment Leah Finley and her daughter Samantha moved into the small house across the road from me that my life was going to take a very interesting turn.
I'm Ken Yates, and I live in a semi-rural area outside a mid-sized Southern city in a small house located on three acres of land. It's not too far from where I work the second shift as a foreman at a nice-sized manufacturing plant, and that's part of the reason why I was living alone at the time.
At the time that Leah and Sam moved in across the road, I had been divorced about three years, largely because my ex-wife got tired of me being gone almost every night. When our daughter turned 14 and was old enough to baby-sit her younger brothers, my wife started going out with friends from work, and that led to her having an affair.
I suspected something was wrong right from the get-go, and after the third time of her coming home after 1 o'clock in the morning, I confronted her. Claire's the worst liar in the world, and she confessed.
Once I got over my initial anger, we sat down and talked, you know, like adults. It was pretty simple, really. The spark had gone out of our marriage. Claire needed someone who could be with her on a regular basis, and I wasn't able -- or willing -- to change my work schedule to accommodate her needs.
It wasn't working, and after she stepped out on me I also had trust issues. So we hammered out a divorce settlement we could both live with and went our separate ways.
I adamantly refused to pay alimony, but I was agreeable to letting her have primary custody of the children and paying a generous amount in child support. The flip side of that was that she had to buy out my share of the equity in our home, for which she had to refinance the mortgage. Everything else -- court costs, attorney's fees, savings and checking accounts, etc. -- we split 50-50.
Although she got custody of the kids and the house, I got unlimited visitation and we arranged it where they spent every other weekend with me. I tried as much as possible to be a part of their lives, and for that reason, Claire and I have always been cordial toward each other, but she's not my best friend, the way she was when we were dating and earlier in our marriage.
That saddens me some, but that's the way life is, and you just have to make the best of it. One thing that helped was that I made damn sure her married boyfriend didn't get off scott-free. I fucked up his marriage the way he'd helped fuck up mine.
I even fucked his ex-wife once or twice, after our divorces, but once we got past our need for revenge, we realized that we didn't have anything in common, so we moved on.
Once I agreed to let Claire keep the house, I needed a place to live, and found this little place that an elderly couple had had for years. It was small -- about 1,200 square feet -- and fairly old, but they'd kept it in tip-top shape, so I took my share of the equity, put a hefty down payment on it and moved in.
It's perfect for me. It's easy to maintain, there's a modest barn where I keep all my tools and stuff, I have room for a nice vegetable garden and there's a large stand of woods at the back of the property that I have permission to camp, hunt or fish on.
When the kids were a little younger, I used to take them back there camping, and the boys and I still go out and look for deer. We've seen some, including a nice eight-point buck that comes through periodically, but never during hunting season.
The little house directly across the road from mine was the only neighbor within sight, and it had seen two occupants before Leah and Sam moved in.
The people who were there when I moved into my house were a young couple who were only there a couple of months. The wife was pregnant and they were staying there until they could buy something a little bigger.
After they moved, another young couple moved in and they were trouble. For one thing, they liked to party, and they often had loud gatherings that went on well into the night.
Now, I have become a creature of some habit. My shift at work runs from 3 o'clock to 11, I get home at 11:30 and I'm in bed by 12:30. I'm usually up and out of bed by 8 a.m., I take an hour of so to have coffee and a light breakfast, then I take a few hours to do whatever personal business I have to attend to, then start getting ready for work around 2 o'clock.
I do not function well without at least seven hours sleep, so after several nights of being kept awake by loud revelry from across the road, I called the sheriff. Of course, that got me on the bad side of the husband, who was a little psycho.
And as time went on, I heard him and his wife fighting, to the point where he beat the crap out of her one night. The wife came barging on my porch, begging for help, and I let her in. Psycho soon followed, but he suddenly got real understanding when he saw me in the doorway with my deer rifle in hand. After that, I started keeping a loaded pistol on the bedside table, but fortunately, they split up and moved before I had to use it.
After that, the place stood empty for almost two years. I made a deal with the guy who owned the property to occasionally go by and do some light maintenance -- things like keeping the grass mowed, making sure it wasn't vandalized, that sort of thing. It was a little extra cash that I could use for walking-around money.
It was a Saturday in the summer and I was off work when I saw a loaded van pull in to the driveway in front of the house. Two women got out and started unloading, soon to be joined by a pickup truck with another load of their stuff. This vehicle was driven by a fellow that I soon learned was Leah's older brother, who'd come from out of state to help them move.
I'd already talked to the owner, who said he'd finally sold the place, and he asked me, strictly as a favor, to look after the place and the new owner. Once I got a look at Leah and Sam Finley, I was all for it.
Wanting to be a good neighbor, I walked over and offered to help, and was soon helping haul their stuff into the house.
At first, Leah Finley looked at me with some suspicion, but Samantha Finley always looked at me with the most brazen look of lust I've ever seen on a woman. It was pretty obvious to me that she was a true hottie; the only problem was the fact that she was only 16.
As for Leah, I really had no interest in her, and she certainly had no interest in me -- or any other man -- at least at that point in her life. Oh, she was good-looking enough, but she just appeared to be ... how do I say it? She just looked washed out.
They were both quite tall, about 5-foot-10, and slim. Leah, in fact, was too thin for my taste, plus she had a kind of pinched look and she rarely smiled.
I would soon learn that she'd just been divorced, and it hadn't been pleasant. She was very religious and her husband had been a bit of a rounder. Apparently, she'd gotten religion after they married, and he wasn't willing to stop carousing to follow her into the faith. He'd started running around on her, and she'd finally gotten fed up with it.
Sam was their only child, and when they split up, she went with her mother, since the dad apparently worked off-shore and wasn't in a position to take care of a teenage daughter. Leah, meanwhile, found a job at Wal-Mart and had moved here from the next state over.
I could tell right from the first that Leah had her hands full with Sam. I should stress that it didn't seem like anything major, like drugs or violence. In fact, Sam was quite intelligent and a pretty good athlete. She made good grades and quickly earned a starting spot on the high school basketball team.
But she was quite different from her mom. For one thing, she smiled, and she smiled a lot. And when she did, it was one of those sultry, come-fuck-me smiles. She also wasn't quite as thin as Leah and her tits were a little bigger.
I knew this because Sam immediately started making it point of lying out in the front yard to get a tan, and she always seemed to do it on the days when I was off work, where she knew I could see her.
I'll admit it; she made me hard, all the time. Sam Finley had a certain feline grace about her that was incredibly erotic, and she knew the effect she had on me -- and every other man she came into contact with.
I should say here that Sam wasn't what you'd call a knockout, as far as her looks went. Her face was kind of long and her mouth was a little big, but her eyes made up for a lot of whatever deficiencies she had about her looks. Added to her devilish smile, it gave her a very seductive look, and she always had the high school studs sniffing around.
Of course, since I'd been doing routine maintenance on their house before they moved in, it was only natural that I'd continue to help with odd jobs that needed doing.
I had a small tractor with a mower attachment that I used to cut my grass, and I volunteered to cut their yard as well, an offer that was accepted. When their water heater blew up, I was the one they called to help fix it. A cabinet door needed replacing, and I was there.
And every time I was there, especially on the rare occasions when Leah was gone, Sam flirted with me openly.
As long as I was getting laid on a semi-regular basis, I could fend off her flirtations, but not long after New Year's one year, I broke up with a woman I'd been going with on a casual basis, and for some reason I just couldn't seem to connect with another one.
At this time, Leah and Sam had been living across the road about 18 months, and Leah had gotten comfortable with me being right there. She even asked me to keep an eye on Sam when she was working, so apparently she trusted me. If she'd known that I often jacked off to the image of her daughter doing wicked things to my dick, I doubt if she'd have been so trusting.
After Claire and I divorced, I dated some women casually, and had some pretty intimate relationships with a couple of others, but it wasn't always easy for me to catch a single woman.
For one thing, I'm not a big drinker, never have been, and I'm just not much into bar scenes. And even if I was, I'm kind of leery of women who frequent bars, because in this day and age, you can't be too careful.
Plus, I'm usually a relationship-oriented person, not someone who goes for a lot of one-night stands, although I have had a few. And, finally, I'm just not a bullshitter. I don't have a naturally-flowing gift of gab that makes women fall down at my feet.
So when I broke up with this particular woman, I hit a dry spell, and went into a bit of a funk. I was pushing age 45, and while I was in good shape, I wasn't sure if I still had what it took to make a woman happy.
I'd been living alone for 4½ years and I was starting to get settled into that bachelor's nether land, where you're too set in your ways to change, but too young to just give up on having a decent relationship with a female.
By this time, Samantha was a senior in high school and my youngest son was a junior, and like Sam he was on the basketball team. He didn't start, but he played just about every game. He was good for about three or four points, several rebounds and four or five hard fouls a night.
I had arranged it with the plant to move my days off to Fridays and Tuesdays, because that's when most of the school's games were played. Cole also played football, so it worked out to where I could attend most of his games.
Since the girls always played before the boys, I got to where I'd also go watch Sam play, and as always I was fascinated -- and more than a little aroused -- by the way she moved.
