Moira was just eighteen, and very much a virgin. She hated the thought of sex - she thought it was dirty, and although she'd gone out with boys a few times she'd immediately broken it off when they'd tried to kiss her.
The only man she loved was her father, and when her mother died she'd been deliriously happy looking after him. In the evenings she'd often sat on his lap and he'd cuddled her, stroking her hair and kissing her on the forehead. Sometimes his hand accidentally touched her breast, and she'd hugged him even tighter.
But then her father had re-married. Moira's step-mother was only a few years older than she was, and she hated the woman. She couldn't bear thinking about them in the bed they'd so often shared together, and the things she probably did with her father, and soon she moved out into lodgings, sharing a room with another girl, Sally. Now she worked in an office, and her only relaxation was playing the violin in an amateur orchestra.
It was there that she met Eric - he, too played the violin, and she took to him immediately. He was an accountant, and well over twenty years older than her - about her father's age, in fact, and in some ways rather like him, and they soon found they had lots of interests in common. He took her to a couple of concerts, and once to a film they both wanted to see, and it somehow seemed natural when they held hands in the cinema.
Then he suggested that they went for a walk in the park one Sunday afternoon, and go for tea later. Moira bought a new frock specially for the occasion - the hem came to well above her knees, showing off her superb legs and slender ankles, and for her it was daringly low-cut, affording more than just a glimpse of her magnificent breasts.
She always wore rather short skirts - it went back to her school days, when the skirt of her school uniform left at least two-thirds of her thighs exposed. She knew that her father admired her legs, and she liked him to look at them. Most of her friends changed out of their uniforms when they got home from school, but she usually left her short skirt on, so that her father could enjoy seeing her legs. She'd take off her school blouse and her bra, though, and put on a thin sweater - she liked it when her father glanced at her breasts moving freely beneath her sweater. Often when she sat on his lap he'd rest his warm hand on her bare thigh, and sometimes stroke it gently. She'd feel the lump in his trousers, but that was because he loved her, and she'd rubbed her bottom against it to show him she didn't mind.
She knew that she had a beautiful body, but refused to think about it, although she was aware that she often got admiring looks from men: she was tall, with dark shoulder-length hair, and thanks to dancing lessons since she was a child she moved gracefully. She didn't know why she'd selected this particular dress, but she knew that Eric wouldn't be cross - their relationship was purely platonic.
They met as arranged, and walked hand-in-hand for a while, but then it started to rain. Eric's flat wasn't far away, and he suggested that they go back there for tea, and perhaps continue their walk later when the rain stopped. It wasn't raining that heavily, and they started to run, and they were both laughing, out of breath, when they arrived at the flat.
Eric gave her towel to dry her hair, and a shirt of his to put on while her dress dried. While she was changing he prepared tea, and found a few stale cakes to go with it, and then they sat side by side on the sofa after he'd put on a classical record.
They drank their tea and listened to the music. Moira felt very happy and contented, sitting with him like this. The shirt left most of her thighs bare, and she liked it when she saw him glancing at her legs - it reminded her of the way her father had looked at her, and it was nice to think that she was pleasing him. Then the record ended - after he'd changed it he sat down again and put his arm round her shoulders. That was nice, too.
Then he tilted her face towards him with his free hand and kissed her on the lips. She hesitated for a moment, then eagerly pressed her lips against his, feeling her breath coming faster, and he took her hand.
He smiled and told her to let her lips relax, and open her mouth a little, and she did as he asked, and soon she felt his tongue probing against her teeth. Then suddenly it was in her mouth, and she'd never realized that kissing could be so pleasant. They kissed like that for several minutes, and then he felt his hand on her bare thigh. It reminded her of when she'd cuddled with her father, and she covered his hand with her own. It was so nice, being with him like this, and knowing there was nothing sexual about what they were doing.
Moira had foolishly arranged to go to the cinema that evening with Sally, her room-mate, and soon it was time for her to leave to catch her train. Eric stood watching as she took off his shirt, and she liked him seeing her in just her bra and panties. She deliberately fussed with her hair for a few moments, seeing him stare at her like that, before she put on her still-damp dress, and then he walked with her to the station. It seemed natural for him to take her in his arms and kiss her goodbye, and she pressed her soft young body against him as once more his tongue insinuated itself into her mouth.
They'd arranged to go to a concert together the following Saturday evening, and afterwards he suggested that they go back to the flat for coffee. Once again they sat on the sofa together, and after they drank their coffee he took her in his arms and kissed her. She was wearing a crisp white blouse and a slim blue skirt, and after a few moments she felt his fingers fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. It didn't matter - she knew it meant nothing, and then his hand was inside her blouse cupping her breast. He managed to free it from the cup of her bra, and it felt nice when he fondled her bare breast and played with her nipple.