"Can hardly back out now" Emeline told herself.
Just for a second she glanced across at her own bedroom window, not twenty feet from where she now stood in her neighbor's palatial suite across the way.
For his part, Keith Leighton remained seated in the bedroom chair, gazing with unabashed lust at his teenage visitor. Cognizant of the fact she was now of legal age – after all, he had attended at the behest of her parents, the girl's eighteenth birthday party just a week earlier – he aimed to make at the very least, a down-payment on the years of aggravated tease he had endured watching her grow from a cutesy pre-teen to the curvy young schoolgirl that now stood across the room from him.
Dressed as she was in that short denim skirt teamed with a simple though tight-fitting rose-colored top, one could hardly be surprised were the man's thoughts to be aired aloud. She had come here of her own volition, dressed somewhat provocatively as usual. Slim with shoulder-length curly brown hair, yet standing only five-two, she would have appeared to any onlooker to be no more than fifteen or sixteen.
Aware from an early age that her next-door neighbor always seemed to be somewhere close-by when she was outside playing, she began to see a pattern to his activities as she moved into her teenage years. If she was hanging clothes out, he would call out "Hi Emmy" over the fence. Not infrequently, he would walk up to the grocery store when she would be running errands for her mom. Always the same breezy "Hi Em," or "How's School?" She began to enjoy the attention.
Why he and his wife had no children of their own she couldn't say but what was obvious, whenever any opportunity came-up for him to talk to her, he would seize the opportunity with considerable relish.
Moving into her mid-teens she sensed her neighbor's interest in her developing body. More than once she noticed him at the upstairs window when she was sunning herself by the pool. Didn't take much in the way of geometric application to figure out that in his case, the angle of incidence between her swim-top and cleavage was pretty much equal to the visible hypotenuse down her rear cleft when she would bend over to retrieve a towel. She made it a habit in fact (whenever he was there at least) to thus accentuate if not prolong any such body movement.
Keith himself was once even caught-out by his wife in as compromising a position as may be envisaged. Seated in his chair near the open window, staring down at the young girl's barely-clad rear-end, he was jerking himself to glory courtesy of both the visuals and his own rampantly impure thought-processes, when his spouse walked in.
"Keith Leighton!" she squealed in abject jealous rage. "Are you spying on that little pre-teen hussy next door again?" then, walking to the window as he feverishly tried hiding the evidence of his indiscretion, she stood there hands-on-hips. "I knew it – she's walking round in just her bikini...and only fifteen years old too – what's wrong with you Keith?"
It was less than eighteen months later that she left him.
Three years on and Keith's fantasies had evolved big time. No longer was he satisfied by the frequent display of the girl's cleavage and a deal of orgasmic solace brought on by imagining her in multiple provocative poses in his own bedroom. Here was a man on a mission. To put it succinctly, if not quite crudely – he wanted his hands inside her panties!
Nor had Emeline reached her tender eighteen years without some radically wayward hormonal input. From sixteen onwards, she had orchestrated many a satisfied moment in bed, imagining herself to be the submissive plaything of her admittedly good-looking neighbor. Simply the thought of him watching her through her bedroom window dressing for school some mornings, made her so hot she was still moist at recess. To ensure the continuity of this particular fantasy, she had of late, taken to leaving her bedroom curtains agape slightly, so that any and all post-shower activities including tugging up her panties and hooking her bra together were fully visible to her favored voyeur. Had her father known, he would either have spanked his daughter senseless or set up a spy-cam on the far wall...perhaps both!
Only two days earlier Keith had (for once accidentally) run into the girl at the corner store and learned that both her parents would be away for the weekend, having to attend a relative's funeral unexpectedly. In a moment of rash opportunistic enthusiasm he had then asked the girl if she might like to come over for dinner the following night. "We could maybe watch a movie" he had offered as an afterthought.
Despite coming up with a blush of significant proportions, Emeline had replied, "Oh, sure...why not?" to which he had needed to grip the nearest display rack for support. The die was most certainly cast!
All of which brings us back to the opening paragraph.
"Dinner" had been a fairly quiet little affair. Few words beyond some idle chatter although both of them sensed that the likelihood of a movie actually getting played was on the remote side. Keith was finding it difficult to drag his eyes away from the young girl's breasts while Emeline's hands betrayed her extreme nervousness.
"You know, I can see right into your bedroom sweetheart," Keith mumbled in desperation.
"You want to come upstairs and see?"
In terms of a subtle verbal exchange, he may as well have asked her to remove her skirt and top and go sit on the fridge with her legs spread – it's pretty much what he had in mind anyway! Breaking off eye contact but nodding perceptibly she then followed him to the staircase, allowing him to take her arm and lead her to where they both had in mind to go.
"Did you leave those curtains open deliberately Emeline?" he asked her quietly.
Still looking across at her home and fully aware he would have been staring at her rearward figure, she took her time answering.
"Sometimes," she giggled. "Why? Did you enjoy looking at me?"
"I have to be honest Emmy – yes I did! Does that make me a bad person?" he asked.
Once again, a brief hiatus ensued.
"Not really," she answered, turning around to face him. "I did tease you!"
"You still are," he grinned.
"How's that?" she asked, genuinely curious.
"Just by being here," he told her. "You must know how I feel sweetie?"
She simply shrugged her shoulders.
"You're old enough to be my father," she muttered, a sexy smile still hanging around that pretty mouth. "You shouldn't be thinking like that about a schoolgirl!" If she had been in possession of a lollipop right at that moment she would have struck the appropriate pose.
He stared at her – quite at the end of his tether.
"Come here," he whispered.
She sidled over to him standing right in front of the chair. Raising his hands he cupped both her rear cheeks, behavior that in other circumstances would have signified a degree of retaliatory action, if not some sharp verbal admonishment. Emeline simply stood there.
The sensation of fondling the young girl's bottom rendered him almost catatonic. In his wildest dreams, nothing could have felt this sexy. That she was just standing there letting him – was more than he dared hope.
So far as Emeline was concerned, to have what amounted to a middle-age man patting and feeling her backside was something of a major arousal factor. Never having had even a boy touch her intimately, this was totally new territory and one she intended to explore further.
Sliding both hands up the back of her skirt however brought forth a soft cry of surprise.
"You really shouldn't be doing this Mr. Leighton," she muttered, yet making no move to retreat.
Direct contact with the girl's panties, the gentle curvature of her bottom, the warmth of her body, all contributed to his burgeoning desire. Given her close proximity now, the girl's breasts jutted but inches above seated eye-level. What he would have given to be able to suck them right at that moment.
Emeline was breathing hard. She could hardly believe she was allowing this man to molest her like this and yet her body was dictating the pace. She was prepared to go farther she knew!
"Would you sit on my lap Em?" he asked softly, with little hope of her acquiescence.
