This story, as is all stories, isn't written for everyone. If you enjoyed it, thank you very much and you're welcome. If not, thank you for visiting.
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My name is Pam. Frankly I like Pipper. It sounds more upbeat and it has two syllables. Pam sounds like someone hitting dirt with a hammer. My dad's name is Stuart but everybody calls him Stu. Dad's a widower. I don't know if they have a name for me without a mom. Maybe momower. Maybe not.
Our next door neighbor's name is Foster. He's a widower too. He and dad are great friends. They go fishing sometimes so early most people are still asleep. Foster loves fish and has it to eat as a staple all the time. He buys them fresh or frozen at the fish market and filets them himself. I never smell fish on Foster. Probably because he showers a lot. Foster is my go to guy after dad. He knows stuff like dad does. We're great friends too.
I'm 19 years old. Almost 20. Dad is 42 and foster is 38. Foster gave me my first glass of wine, the day I turned 18. I was never really interested in wine before. I was in the backyard and he brought two glasses over. Not a lot, just enough to feel it. We sat and talked and sipped. I really liked that wine. I asked him what kind it was and he said, 'Grape wine'. We both laughed crazy at that and I almost spilled mine. You had to be there. He does that to me sometimes. Makes me think.
We live on the outside of a good sized city, not gigantic. It only takes about 15 or 20 minutes to get to great shopping and entertainment. I'm an anthropologist. Actually I will be shortly, about a year or so. I work at the museum on dead people. Really old dead people, some thousands and thousands of years old. The work is engrossing to the extreme. It has a lot of 'wow' factors. Sometimes I work in this big glass enclosure where visitors can walk around on the outside watching us.
I've been horny of late. I think it started with me working on the skeletons. A big man stretched out in the nude right beside me. Well, if it's a skeleton it's nude. I could visualize him in all his glory with his rippling muscles and sinister eyes and big dong-a-long sticking up between his powerful thighs. I would sit there in my shorts brushing dirt and dust away squeezing my buns and working my hips, masking everything in my movements. You haven't lived until you've felt around in a guy's crotch knowing what was there and nobody knowing what you're doing.
I did catch the eye of a really nice looking guy watching me once and almost peed in my pants. I was just building up a nice concentrated squeeze in my crotch and he eyed me right at the pinnacle. It made me think more about all the sex I was missing. I'm not interested in getting into heavy dating and I don't want a serious relationship leading to marriage yet. I started thinking about Foster. I'm more something or other around older men. I seem to relax more and they seem to be more attentive. I understand the attraction both ways and that was great with me. Worked.
The museum built a model of one of the skeletons I worked on with outside flesh and hair and all that stuff. His dong-a-long isn't long enough. I think they figured it was shorter to reduce the chance an animal could bite it off or a female's cervix wasn't that far in in that era. Maybe it was just shorter when down and very long when up. I'll have to stroll by and tickle him and see what happens. A girl can dream.
I think I'm entering a long stretch of horny hormones. Dad doesn't have many women friends and Foster doesn't either. For people pleasure I mean. There's a solution here if I can get it going. I, of course, am smarter than all the men in the city combined so I decided to see if I could kick up a little interest between us. Since I live in the same house as dad it gives me a big advantage with dad and Foster isn't related so that's an advantage with Foster.
Foster's house isn't immediately next door, about a full house and a half away. Just enough that he's private and so are we. There's a few small evergreens between us with all the lower branches cut off so it's easy to walk under them, a soft bed of needles from years past on the ground, some ferns. There isn't many so it's quite open. Sometimes I can see deer eating the green stuff. There's a small worn path between our houses.
Dad's a professor at a local college. He teaches Construction Trades. Academically we talk at cross purposes so we don't usually get into discussions in each other's profession. He does bring work home but tries not to. Same with me. It gives us more free time. We were at the farmer's market having lunch. The array of foods they have there is amazing. You can graze for hours if you have enough room to put it. First thing was to get dad comfortable with me playing around with Foster.
I said, "Dad, have you noticed Foster's kind of more private lately, quieter?"
"Now that you mention it," he said, "he might have slacked off a little. I left a message on his answering machine and he hasn't called back yet."
"I think he's kind of lonely," I said. "Nobody to talk to. I've been trying to give him a little more company. I could get more personal, kind of, you know, pull him out, see what he says." I realized what I said and bristled but dad didn't react.
"I've thought he needs that for some time," he said, "but use a bigger towel."
"Ok," I said. "I'll see if he's going to be home tonight. Maybe he could use some girl company. He doesn't have any that I know about. A girl can always give a guy some company without giving him some company. It's a gift we have. I do it to you all the time and I'll bet you can't think of a single one. Other than when you did catch me in the hall with that small towel on."
"That wasn't my fault," he said. "I saw a girl looked just like you on the runway at Atlantic City once, even smaller towel. You could have another profession there."
"Maybe that's what Foster needs," I said. "Don't you tell him I said that. I don't want to be beholding. Besides, I'm saving all my towel displays for you. You're entitled." Dad had a really nice smile and took another bite of his sandwich. I took a bite of mine and smiled back. I really enjoy dad and I teasing each other.
***
I called Foster to see if he was busy and could I come over later, about 8. He said sure and see you then. Foster is about 5ft9 and has a skater's body. Thinner waist from swiveling back and forth and stronger legs and thighs. Nice shoulders and nice hair, not long, and no beard or mustache. He dresses a little youngish since he skates. Thin loose shorts for movement. He skates around his pool for practice. It's designed for that. I'm almost 5ft8 and normal build, shoulder length hair.
I put on a black knit bra, front hook, open wider and lower for gowns, very light weight, and a pair of loose shorts. Legs just above mid-thigh but they pull up sitting down, a pair of light panties. Not tight in the legs or waist. I had on a light weight, button down the front, blouse. Breath mints and a very faint hint of something girly for his nose. I undid some of the top buttons on my top on the way over.
Foster was watching the baseball game when I got there. I gave him a kiss on the cheek and we caught up quickly and sat down. He had sodas ready. Habit of ours. We talked about the game and his garden. He runs an agricultural center for the county which he absolutely loves to do.
He usually sits on the sofa on the right hand side. His side table and lamp is perfectly set up with lots of storage space and little shelves on the bottom. It's on wheels so he can push it out to get to the shelves. I always sit next to him. About a year ago I asked dad if it would bother him if I spent more time with Foster. He said Foster might like the company and he thought it was a great idea. Since then I've popped in and out a lot.
I've been girl playing with him off and on. A couple of times he's responded, putting an arm around my shoulder. Maybe a little close to the edge of my breast. Once I held his hand with mine and the weight pulled him down into my breast more. He caught his breath so I know he liked it. Maybe he was shocked I did that. I kept his hand messing with my breasts and nipple for almost an hour.
We got settled watching the game and I noticed him looking between my breasts where the buttons were undone. I slouched down a little with my legs on the ottoman so he had a better downward look. I said, "Would you mind if I played with your thighs. I've never played with a man's thighs. I was going to ask dad but he might gross out. I play with mine sometimes and it really is a turn-on.
Foster's skate shorts were settled down over his dong-a-long. It came over on his thigh on my side, not that far from the bottom edge of his shorts. If he rose to the occasion he might come out and find my fingers. It moved a little while I was looking at it. Slouched down a little he couldn't see where my eyes were looking. He paused a little and said, "Works for me. Thighs are always a great place to wind up your motor."
I smiled at him and stuck my tongue out but just the tip. At the same time I put my fingers on top of his thigh and slowly lowered my whole hand down. He was hairy and warm. My fingers were draped over on the inside. I squeezed him but mostly left my hand right there. After a couple of minutes he reached over for something on his table and at the same time moved his right leg out a little.
I said, "Let me know if I don't do something you like while I'm doing something I like."
"You're already doing something I like," he said. He put his arm over my shoulder like before. His hand hanging down just on the inside of my arm. With me slouched down, even a little, he had a nice reach. I let my fingers explore his thigh more, bumping up against the bottom of his shorts. I also got my fingers way over and down in between his thighs, bumping into his balls, but lightly. After about 10 minutes I reached up and got his hand and let the weight pull him more into my breasts.
This time I had him a little more over just below my nipple. Big difference. At the same time I curled my fingers up under his shorts under his bump. It was just above my fingertips. I could just feel his sack whispering on the back of my fingers. His bump starting to be a mole hill so I took my fingers out of his shorts and settled them right on top of his mole hill and squeezed and ran my fingers up and down.