Chapter 1: The Young Entrepreneurs
The divorce was easy enough, we didn't have kids and our possessions were limited. The most difficult part was remaining in the same small college town, teaching at the same small college, having common friends and having to deal with one another regularly on campus. Being fresh out of graduate school, the tensions of being assistant professors, writing our requisite books and articles took their toll. Before it became too late, we decided divorce was the best answer. Though there was no deep animosity, the awkwardness was enough to make me want to move away and start anew.
I was lucky enough to get an offer from a big university out west, moving away from New England. It was a big party school, a very different "learning" environment than the liberal arts college I was teaching in, but the move offered an administrative position with new research opportunities, with a hefty increase in salary. More strategically it provided the necessary escape I was seeking.
Over the internet I was able to locate a rental property, not knowing anything about the city. As it turns out, I lucked out, more than I could ever have imagined! The neighborhood was single-family homes, middle to upper-middle class professionals.
The house was one of the smaller ones in the neighborhood, but it had a pool, a necessary item in the summer heat. I moved in early summer, wanting to escape the small town and the constant presence of my ex. As my possessions were limited to cartons of books, my desk, and a futon, I rented a small trailer, attached it to the back of my car and drove across country. I arranged to meet with my new landlord at the house the day I arrived. It was a mere 100 degrees when I drove into the driveway, and it was only the beginning of summer.
I was greeted by a very welcome site when I rang the doorbell. My landlord was there with her boyfriend and she was sexy as anything, though stuck-up and a bit ditzy. I couldn't say she was beautiful, she was attractive, but her body was one of those that we'd jokingly say was built for sex. She was wearing tight half-pants that accentuated an amazing ass, with a loose open blouse flowing over a tight halter top that did nothing to hide her humongous tits. I mean humongous. I was guessing a 40 or 42 ddd. It was a difficult task not to stare and I was busted a few times by her, who didn't seem to mind, just giving me a smile. I was also caught by her boyfriend who also just smirked at me, even raising his eyebrows, knowing that a guy couldn't help himself.
After showing me the intricacies of the house including how to take care of the pool, though there was a pool cleaner that came once a week, they left. I did manage to unload the futon, some sheets, and clothes that first day, spending the rest of the afternoon sleeping and cooling off in the pool. The next morning I unloaded the rest of my stuff and lounged around in the afternoon, staying inside and enjoying the a/c. Having just moved in the last thing I expected on a hot Saturday afternoon was the doorbell to ring.
I was still a little sweaty from unpacking boxes of books; wearing just shorts I wasn't sure I should answer the door or not. Given I had some music blaring whoever was out there knew I was home. Being in my late 30s, I worked hard at not letting my metabolism get the better of me. I worked out regularly and loved to cycle, though I certainly was not muscular, I remained on the thin side and my legs showed proof of my regular cycling.
I grabbed a tee shirt on my way to the door and was slipping it over my head as I opened it, nearly gawking at the sight in front of me. A young teen girl stood there wearing very short shorts and a tube top, barely covering her abundantly ample breasts. She was also sweating and had a large plastic storage container by her side. She had shoulder length dusty brown hair, a bit frizzy, and a pierced belly button along with a pierced nose.
I couldn't take my eyes off of her and fortunately she didn't wait for me to say anything, jumping right in explaining something about raising money, being a Young Entrepreneur, and winning a prize. It all sort of floated by me as I regained my composure, though hardly able to take my eyes off her breasts.
Given I was standing there with the door open, letting all the heat in, or more importantly, letting all the cool a/c air out, and that she was obviously hot and sweaty, I did have the wherewithal to invite her in, though she hardly needed my prompting as she was already picking up her container and slipping past me. I did hear enough that her name was Jessie and that she was a senior at the local high school. Offering her a glass of cold ice water Jessie went into rapid fire with her spiel about an entrepreneurial competition to sell different items and whoever were the top three sellers would win a prize of a free trip to Disneyland. She also started going into a story of her poor family and never having the opportunity to travel, obviously as a marketing tool to gain a potential buyer's sympathy. I didn't need anything more than the view of her cleavage, particularly as she leaned down to open her container, staying there to add effect, no doubt an intentionally chosen marketing tool as well.
Inside the container were a collection of cheap things, all available at the Dollar Store, though she was selling them for $6 each. I gawked at the price, prompting her to enter into a spiel about it being like a donation, fund raising for a good cause. I didn't want to know who would be making the profit, as I'm sure it wasn't her.
I kneeled down in front of the container to get a better look at the candles, dishwashing scrubs, air fresheners and other assorted junk, but more to get a better view of her breasts. She knew I was enjoying the view, leaning down a little further to show off her enticing cleavage even more. "Are you tempted?" she asked.
"Oh, most certainly. It is hard to pass up such an opportunity to get a closer look," I replied, peeling my eyes away from her breasts to look into her eyes.
She was laughing, knowing that she was about to make a sell, seemingly not minding the obvious innuendo.
"So, tell me, how has business been? Are you making many sells?"
"Not nearly as much as I need to, it's been a lil slow."
"I'm curious, if a guy opens the door, what has been your percentage of sells?"
Jessie cracked up laughing, as I exposed one of her selling techniques. "I hate to say it but 100%!"
Now it was my turn to laugh. "Not surprising! We are such easy creatures to manipulate, aren't we?"
"No comment!"
She was still laughing, making her tits bounce, adding to my enticement and to my boldness.
"Yeah, well, with a view like that, who can resist? It doesn't bother you having such older guys staring at your breasts?
"Not at all, I kind of like it," she replied, blushing, but still laughing.
"They do look very enticing. Your boyfriend is one very lucky dude!"
"Ha, if he only knew. He doesn't appreciate my breasts at all, he's always too busy trying to get elsewhere!"
"Now that is criminal! Boys have no sense of the real value of a beautiful woman's body."
"Yeah, well, they do like to look, and try to touch, but when it comes right down to doing something, they seem to only want one thing, well three things."
"Three? What three things?"
Now, for the first time since I opened the door five minutes earlier, Jessie was quiet, blushing deeply, and chuckling to yourself.
"Come on, now you've piqued my curiosity. You can't leave me hanging?"
"Oh god, I can't believe this. Why am I always opening my big mouth? OK, all they want are blow jobs, to try and have sex, and finally, to cum, usually on my tits. ... There, how is that?"
"Wow! Well, at least they make some use of your beautiful breasts!" That got a small laugh out of her. "Try to have sex? Does that mean you're a virgin?"
"Well, yes, I'm saving myself..."
"But you do have oral sex?"
"Well ... it isn't quite the same thing, yes, I do; it's ... well ... I gotta do something!"
