Six months have passed since myself and my lovely boyfriend Simon gained the keys to our first house. We met three years ago after I completed a two year university course in financial planning and matinence. I landed a deputy manager's position in my local branch of a very large bank, all by the age of 23. We live in a quiet little cul-de-sac. A family of four lives on one side and an elderly couple lives on the other. The Sanders are lovely and helpful. Mr. Sanders is a spritely seventy two and still runs his own hardware shop in town.
One morning, I head for the bus stop, catching the number 42 into the town centre, a variety of retail workers, office workers and the odd misfit. I love people watching. I notice people watching me sometimes; mostly men. My business outfit consists of a blue skirt that drops just above the knee but rides up when I sit, white blouse, blue blazer with the bank's logo sitting on the lapel and of course a thick heel. I am very good looking with ample bosoms and strong legs from cycling 50 miles at the weekend. My dad was Italian so I have that naturally tanned olive skin and big hazel brown eyes.
The day is full of the usual credit card and mortgage applications, Irate customers but you do get lovely old people bringing in their loose change, trying to explain to them that they are 10p short of ten pound. I leave the bank at five thirty and head for the bus station in the pouring rain.
I get to the bus station, due to flooding there are no buses running.
"Shit what am I going to do?"
I ring Simon who is at the hospital with his dad. He offers to pick me up but I tell him to stay with his dad. I walk about half a mile to the taxi rank but the queue is enormous. My clothes are already soaked so I decide to walk home, about a two and half mile walk. 'Why don't I just cycle to work' I thought to myself. A mile up the road the weather worsens. A car splashes through a large puddle, soaking me even more. As I am about to give up hope, I hear a car horn and a van pulls up.
"Do you want a lift, Amanda?"
It was old Mr. Sanders.
"Oh thank you so much, Mr. Sanders." I said as I climbed in his van.
He didn't speak, he was just staring at my legs. My skirt was so wet it was stuck to my thighs, my blue panties were on clear view. I slip my blazer off shaking it. My white blouse stuck to my ample chest. my nipples poked through my bra and blouse.
"Let's dry you off, Amanda."
He opens a new pack of handkerchiefs.
He pats my legs down with a clean handkerchief. He starts at my calves moving up to my knees. I could tell he was starting to enjoy it. As his handkerchief dried my thighs he lingered, moving the handkerchief in a circular motion, every rub of his hand ended with a tighter grip until he had a full grip of my thigh. I was starting to feel aroused. He goes to stop, but I grab his wrist. I don't say anything, just look at him, guiding his handkerchief over my panties. my nipples grew but not from the wet cold rain. His handkerchief moved up wiping the water from my fringe, my eyes just stared deep into his. He leant towards me to wipe water droplets from my cheek which dripped from my hair. I took this as an act to kiss me, I leant towards him and planted a kiss on his lips. Our puckered lips linger on each other, I open my mouth he responds and slides his tongue into my mouth. I could taste coffee on his tongue. We are still sitting at the side of the road in his van. I grip his hand, loosening his grip on his handkerchief and guiding his empty bony hand back onto my knickers. He rubs over my vagina through my wet knickers.
"These knickers are soaking wet from the rain, Amanda."
