The entire weekend was dedicated to celebrating her 18th birthday and the beach house was full of family and friends, all wishing her a fabulous birthday and the best in the years to come. The group had headed down the coast to Mariano's for dinner, but she started feeling queasy after too much cake and too much wine so I offered to take her back home. By the time we got to the house, she had fallen asleep. Rather than wake her or carry her all the way into the house, I put her on the bed in the cabana and I stretched out on the chaise by the pool, intending to finish my last beer and go to bed. Her cell phone started ringing and I jumped up, running inside to silence it. Her boyfriend Bobby's name came up in the caller id. I let the call go to voicemail and tucked the phone back into her purse. Bobby. . .what did she see in that creep?
We first met nine years earlier when I was 24 and had been out and on my own for a while. She was a kid and barely knew who I was then. However, I had noticed her and been sexually attracted to her even at her young age, so I deliberately kept my distance. Of course, we had seen each other over the years, you know, holidays, birthdays, and had a friendly, cordial relationship. Seeing her again this weekend though had ignited those old yearnings and, with a sharp stab of jealousy, I wondered if she was having sex with Bobby, imagining what it would be like to be with her.
I watched her sleeping as I unzipped and absently stroked myself, fascinated by her burgeoning womanhood and sexuality, remembering how she was the last time that I had seen her. My last visit had been four years ago and she had been a young, slender tomboy with naturally curly, reddish brown, shoulder length hair tied into a ponytail. Her hips and breasts were now beginning to fill out, and she had long, shapely, athletic legs, huge brown eyes that sparkled when she laughed and the longest, thickest eyelashes I'd ever seen. Damn, what a difference four years had made.
I heard her whimpering in her sleep and knew she was likely having an alcohol-fueled nightmare. I walked over to her and wrapped my arms around her, whispering that she was safe, that I was here. She turned in my arms in that blissful state of half sleep and clung to me, burying her face in my chest. Even in her distress and anxiety, I wanted her. I held her, brushing her damp hair from her face, feeling my arousal grow. Before I realized what I was doing, I lifted her face and kissed her warm, trembling mouth. She instinctively gave in to the kiss and opened her mouth as my tongue hungrily invaded that warm, moist place. She moaned when my hand moved under her shirt to her breasts and gently caressed her hardening nipples.
A soft, faint mewling sound escaped her lips and, in my eagerness and excitement, I roughly pinched her nipples. Her eyes suddenly flew open as she realized what was happening. She looked at me with confusion that swiftly changed to comprehension. Her body stiffened and she tried to pull away, but I tightened my hold and rolled on top of her, pinning her beneath me and holding her wrists above her head with one hand. She kept struggling under me, inadvertently getting me even more aroused, telling me to let her go.
