It had been a couple of years since the Meyers had moved in next door to me – Jim, Karen, and their teenaged daughter, Abigail. They were decent, friendly folks, for the most part. After the blizzard last winter, Jim and Abby had taken pity on their older neighbor and helped me shovel out my driveway. In return, when they bought their daughter her first car, an old Honda Civic, I helped Jim fix it up when it broke down a few months later.

All of us worked at Clinton State University. Karen and I were professors – she in nursing, and myself in economics. Jim worked as an academic advisor to the athletics department. Abby had just finished high school, and was going to start at the University in the Fall, though she hadn’t decided on a major yet.

I was sitting out in my backyard with my laptop, listening to CCR, and revising a paper examining whether local market trends could predict urban decay. Or at least, that’s what I intended to do, but mostly I was just enjoying a beautiful Saturday in August with a nice cold beer for company. I thought about Helen, as I still did from time to time. I could almost picture her, happily bent over a flower bed, wrist-deep in the soil. The way she’d look up at me, surprised and laughing as I gamely patted her ass. But Helen had passed away nearly five years ago, and the flower beds had grown over with grass and weeds.

A waving hand above the fence line interrupted my aching daydream.

“Hey, Jack, have you got a moment?” Jim’s voice called from the other side of the fence.

“Sure, come on over.”

Jim opened my gate, and walked into the backyard. He was wearing a pair of shorts, sandals, and a black T-shirt featuring a skull with a mohawk haircut and the words ‘The Exploited’ above it. I assume it was some punk-rock band, but it seemed out of place on a guy at the upper-end of his 30s with a steady job and a family. In my opinion, he was too old to pull off ‘cool’ anymore, and should instead try looking more dignified instead. But I kept my opinion to myself.

“How’s it going?” I asked. “Beer?”

“No thanks, Jack, I’ve really only got a few minutes, and I need to ask you a big favor, man.”

“What’s up?”

“Well, it’s Karen’s mother,” Jim explained. “She’s been sick. Breast cancer, y’know? Anyway, seems like things have taken a bad turn. It’s not looking too good.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” I thought about Helen, and her own battle with cancer. The chemo, the radiation, the pain meds that made her confused half the time, the hair loss, the sickness, the loss of dignity, the fragility. I’d been there with her through all of it, those final months – the hardest months of my life. And when she finally did go, it was almost a mercy. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

“Yeah, the doctors are saying it’s really aggressive. She’s maybe got a month left. Maybe weeks.”

“Shit,” I said. “That’s really rough.”

“Yeah…” Jim drifted off for a second into his own thoughts, and then suddenly returned, “Anyway, I’m going to take Karen up there to look after her mom, and make arrangements, and everything. And we talked it over, and decided that it was for the best that Abby stayed here.”

“Uh huh,” I nodded.

“You know, she’s starting school in a couple of weeks, and who knows how long we’ll be up there. Besides, there’s not really much for her to do there. Her friends are all here, and she’d just be bored. We’re going to have our hands full with Karen’s mom, so it just makes the most sense.”

“Sure, sure,” I agreed.

“Anyway, we were wondering if you’d just, you know, look out for her. She’s never been on her own for so long before, and we’d just appreciate if you could keep an eye on her, and make sure she’s alright.”

“Yeah. No problem.” I thought that Jim and Karen were a little too indulging of their kid, anyway. She was 18 years old. Old enough to take care of herself. When I was that age, I’d left home and was supporting myself. But kids these days were spoiled, and they didn’t get a chance to develop the same sense of independence and resilience that we did in my generation.

“Hey, thanks, man,” Jim said, clapping me on the back. “You have no idea how much we appreciate it.”

He reached into his back pocket, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to me. It was thick and heavy. When I opened it, I found it stuffed with twenty-dollar bills.

“Come on, Jim, that’s not necessary,” I protested. I had already made my mind up to leave the girl to herself unless the house was burning down. We were both too old for babysitting.

“Take it,” Jim said, pushing the envelope. “There’s three hundred there, just in case she needs anything. She’s got some money, too, and the house is stocked with food, so she should be alright, but we didn’t want to take any chances, you know? Anyway, you’ve got our number if there’s an emergency.”

“Sure, don’t worry about her,” I reassured Jim. “I’ll make sure she’s fine. Go take care of Karen’s mother, and you take care of Karen, too. I went through it with my wife, and I know how hard it is. So anything I can do to help, I’m glad to do it.”

“Thanks a lot, Jack,” Jim said. “You’re really a good guy.”

He shook my hand, and then went back to his house. Two hours later, their Ford Explorer backed out of the driveway and began the long drive North.

For the next two days, I didn’t see or hear Abby. The only indication that she was alive was the coming and going of her car in the driveway. That was good enough for me. And I was sure that the last thing a teenaged girl needed was her fifty-eight year old neighbor spying on her to report back to mommy and daddy. Besides, she always impressed me as a good kid with a responsible head on her shoulders. She wasn’t the type to get into serious mischief when her parents were gone.

It wasn’t until Tuesday afternoon when Abby made an appearance. I was upstairs in my home office, sorting through a bunch of complicated charts and graphs. The office was located in the back of the house, and consequently the window looked out over my back yard, and gave me a pretty good view over the fence of the Meyer’s yard as well. Whereas my yard was covered with neatly mowed grass, theirs had been given to a swimming pool surrounded by concrete.

I was distracted from my work from the sudden sound of a loud scraping noise. I peered out the window to see the brown-haired girl un-self-consciously dragging a big plastic lounging deck chair around the pool and into the sun. She was wearing a blue and white bikini set, which showed off her youthful curves fairly prominently. I wondered whether she’d have worn that swim suit if her parents were home.

Unintentionally, I found myself admiring Abby’s figure. She wasn’t fat, but she wasn’t just skin-and-bones, as seemed to be the trend for a lot of girls these days. She had a more classical figure, with full breasts, and beautiful round buttocks.

I caught myself perving out over the neighbor girl, and mentally reprimanded myself for being a dirty old man. Jesus, she wasn’t even half my age. I shook my head, and returned my attention to my work spread across dual computer monitors. Still, I couldn’t help but cast occasional glances out the window into my neighbor’s yard.

Abby brought over another chair, in which she set a thick black towel, and on top of this she rested her phone. The phone was playing some kind of loud obnoxious hip hop where they shout the ‘N-word’ every other line. She reclined in her chair, wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, stretching out, and clearly enjoying the feeling of the sun on her skin.

I thought to close my window to the offensive music, but something prevented me. I told myself that I was just enjoying the warm summer breeze too much, and that the music wasn’t really that bad if I kept an open-mind to it. In truth, I was nervous that the sound of the closing window would draw attention to my presence. Even though, I hadn’t really done anything wrong, I was afraid of giving the impression that I was spying.

After a few minutes, Abby got up from her seat. She looked around as if making sure the coast was clear. As her eyes grazed across the window screen, I instinctually ducked out of sight. I felt pretty damned silly hiding from this teenaged girl, but I didn’t want to get caught even in this innocent bit of voyeurism.

When I built up the courage to cautiously look into the Meyer’s yard again, I guess Abby must have been satisfied of her privacy. She’d gone back to lounging in the deck chair, but this time had abandoned both the top and bottom of her bikini. I greedily observed her firm round breasts, with the largish pink nipples, followed the slight soft curve of her belly down to her navel, and the small smooth mound between her pale-pink thighs.

I felt myself getting excited – a familiar tingling, and twitching at my groin, which happened less and less often these days. I knew I should just leave the girl alone. I should allow her the privacy she believed she had. After all, at nearly sixty, shouldn’t I be expected to have a little bit of maturity and self-control? Still, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her for very long.

Very little happened in the next fifteen minutes as her phone cycled through several more profane songs. I reflected that when Country Joe had led the crowd at Woodstock in the F-U-C-K cheer, it had seemed revolutionary and liberating. Today, it was just obscenity for the sake of obscenity. Halfway through this musing, Abby rolled over onto her stomach, with her soft round buttocks in the air. Her legs were slightly spread, and between them I could glimpse the lips of her vagina. My mind abandoned its discourse on cultural atrophy, and became occupied by the fantasy of kneading her ass with my hands.

My erection was growing harder. Abby seemed to be totally oblivious of my presence, so what would it hurt if I were to just reach beneath my desk, and give the aching part of myself a bit of attention? I began to encouragingly rub my cock through my pants. It responded by twitching and growing even harder. Finally, I undid my pants, reached inside and pulled it out. Well, hello old friend, I thought to myself.

I began to lazily tug at my hard on, feeling myself becoming even more excited. Just the thought now that my cock and her pussy were both exposed now, sharing the same breeze, the same sunlight… The thought didn’t last too long. After a couple of minutes, Abby turned on her side and grabbed her phone.

“Yeah?” I heard her say as the music cut out. “Sure… Okay… No, it’s totally cool… Yeah, they’re gone…. Cool…. Okay, I’ll be right there…”

She hung up the phone, stood, and got dressed in her bikini again. So much for that, I thought as the girl headed into her house. The show was over. I was disappointed, of course, but also slightly relieved. I tucked my waning penis back into my pants, again chastising myself – this was no way for an older man to behave around a young girl. With a long sigh, I returned my attention back to the curvilinear regressions and distribution graphs that I’d been puzzling over all day.

I only managed to write a few more sentences for the rest of the day, and those were like pulling teeth. My mind refused to focus on distribution charts and regression models. Finally, I gave up, and headed downstairs. I took a small detour to the fridge for a beer, and then settled into my favorite chair, an old leather Lazy Boy my wife had bought for me as a gift when I got tenure. I turned on the TV and flipped to the local evening newscast.

Thirty minutes later, there was a knock on my door. I grunted, got up, hoping to get rid of whoever it was quickly, so I could make it back in time for the lottery numbers.  The knock came again, impatiently, just as I reached the door.

“Hold on to your horses,” I shouted. “I’m coming.”

I swung the door opened and was surprised to find Abby standing on the other side. Her outfit was only slightly less revealing than her bikini. She was wearing a pair of tight cut-off jean shorts so high that the bottom her pockets were visible. Her shirt was light and loose, displaying an immodest amount of her bountiful cleavage. I suppose it was supposed to be shocking, but all the kids these days were dressing like fucking hookers. I thought of my own grandfather griping about mini-skirts and long hair on men when I was a teen, and decided to not to say anything now.

“Hi Jack,” Abby said. It was always ‘Jack’ with her. Not Doctor, or even Mister Ruttager. She simply assumed we were on a first name basis, as if we were buddies. I again lamented how basic respect and decency were so foreign to this generation, and again reminded myself that I sounded like all the cranky old fogies I used to mock as a kid (though never to their faces).

“Hey Abby,” I responded. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m bored,” Abby complained, stepping past me into the living room, and collapsing onto the sofa. Her long bare legs stretched over the arm of the couch and kicked lazily at nothing. I followed her back inside and resumed my seat in my chair.

“What happened to your friend?” I asked.

“Friend?” Abby repeated.

I felt a sudden panic wash over me, worrying that I’d just revealed that I’d been watching her poolside and overheard her phone conversation. What would she think of me? I frantically searched for some plausible explanation that would let me off the hook. “I just assumed, you’d be wanting to hang out with your friends this summer,” I deflected. “Not with an old fart like me.”

“They’re too busy with their boyfriends,” Abby complained, pouting.

“Ah,” I said thoughtfully. “And you don’t have a boyfriend?”

Abby sat up and slowly, sullenly shook her head. “I mean… it’s like all the good guys at school hardly even notice me.”

“I find that hard to believe,” I said looking over her young body. “You’re not an unattractive girl. Surely you must get some attention.”

“Not from anyone, I’d want to go out with,” Abby returned. “High school boys are so stupid.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. Inside my head, I added ‘Dressed like that, what do you expect?’

“Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner with me,” Abby asked, abruptly changing the subject.

 “Didn’t your parents leave food for you?”

“Yeah, but nothing good. Mom got fat, so now she’s trying to force all of us to go on a diet. She got a bunch of high fiber low calorie shit that tastes like cardboard and sawdust. It’s disgusting, and totally unfair. It’s not like I’m the one who hates the way her body looks.”

I allow my eyes another wander over her body. Sure, she’s not super-model thin, but I’ve always been of the opinion that women should have a little padding when you squeeze them. Suddenly, I find myself reflecting back to her display by the pool this afternoon, and I have to force myself to distraction. On TV a talking suit is recapping the Cardinals – Jays game. I pretend to be interested in the score.

“…I want some real food,” Abby groaned loudly, sensing that my attention was drifting away from her.

“So, why don’t you go get some?” I asked.

“My car won’t start again. It’s the worst.”

“Well, I can take a look at it for you,” I offered, standing. “Let me get my toolbox.”

“Can’t we do that later?” Abby whined. “I’m so hungry. Let’s go get something to eat.”

 “Fine,” I relented. It seemed like the path of least resistance. Besides, I was feeling hungry myself, and hadn’t planned dinner. That had always been Helen’s department. I was never talented in the kitchen, then, and hadn’t learned much since I’d been on my own and had to fend for myself. “Where do you want to go?”

“Fat Dick’s,” Abby replied excitedly. Fat Dick’s was a bar and grill in the campus village next to the University. It was usually packed with undergrads on the weekends, but this was Tuesday and summer when most of the students had gone home, so it was bound to be relatively quiet.

We got into my old red Ford pick-up, and drove to the restaurant. Abby pouted for a few minutes because I wouldn’t allow her to screw around with my radio, and forced her to listen to old geezer music like the Stones and Fleetwood Mac. But she quickly got over it, and by the time we got to the grill, she was back to her usual chatty self.

The place was mostly empty, save for a group of grad students at the back loudly debating the pros and cons of a Marxist view of capitalism. I could certainly school them on a thing or two, but I decided to leave them be. Likely, they’d turn up in one of my classes in the fall, and I could correct their misconceptions then. Instead, we got a table near the front where the windows were open to the street.

The waitress, who was dressed only slightly more modestly than Abby, brought menus and asked us for drinks. With a mischievous glint in her eye, Abby ordered a Sam Adams. The waitress shot me a look, and when I didn’t protest, gave a subtle shrug and took the order. I ordered a coke. I studied the menu – typical burgers and chicken wings kind of fare – hoping to find something that wouldn’t aggravate my heartburn too much.

When the waitress returned with our drinks, she placed a tall golden glass of beer in front of Abby, and the darker non-alcoholic beverage in front of me. Abby kept looking at me as if she couldn’t believe I’d let her get away with drinking underage. The excitement on her face quickly turned to anger, as I switched the glasses, and took a long drink of the Sam Adams.

“Hey!” Abby protested.

“What?” I asked innocently.

“Do you want me to bring you another?” the waitress asked helpfully.

“Maybe check her ID first,” I suggested.

The waitress got flustered. “Oh, yeah. Can I see your ID, ma’am?”

“Snitch!” Abby accused.

I smiled smugly and took another drink.

“I’m so sorry,” the waitress apologized. “I just thought…”

“It’s alright,” I said reassuringly. “No harm, no foul.”

“Thanks so much. I really didn’t mean to… It’s only my second week here. Anyway, what can I get you to eat?”

I ordered a trio of tacos, and Abby got the black and bleu burger with bacon. By the time the food arrived, my trick with the drinks had been forgotten, and Abby was happily chirping away about some drama her friends were having. I was only half-paying attention, wanting to finish our meal quickly and get back to the privacy of my home, where I could be safe from staring at cleavage every time Abby leaned forward, which she was doing quite a lot of. I suspected it was intentional, like some kind of game to her, but it just made me uncomfortable.

In fact, the longer I sat across from her, the more I was unable to get the image of her laying out naked in the sun out of my mind.  I kept picturing her breasts and the hairless pink mound between her legs, and began to imagine my hands running over the soft teenage flesh, squeezing it, letting my fingers dip in between…

Just as the last French fries and tortilla chips were disappearing from our plates, a couple of the guys at the back decided to plug a few quarters into a juke box. They argued about their first selection for a minute, and then a hip-hop beat started to pound from the speakers above our heads, accompanied by a cheesy simple synth melody.

“This is my jam!” Abby cried out, jumping up from the table.

“Sit down!” I demanded.

Abby ignored me and began to dance to the music. Not just regular dancing, but a seductive sort of dancing involving a lot of bending over and spreading legs and so on. Though I thought both the dancing and the lyrics (“Baby, I’ll lick the clit just like candy, and drink up your juices as if they was brandy…”) they did nothing to diminish the erection I was concealing beneath the table.

And in the middle of this lewd display that I was powerless to stop, and uncertain I really wanted to end anyway, the waitress came back with the check. She took a glance at Abby’s gyrating, and then shot me a quizzical glance.

“She’s not my daughter or anything,” I said defensively.

“Oh?” The waitress answered, raising an eyebrow. She again observed the teenager moving her body seductively, and then the man, forty years her senior, sitting and watching her.  “Okay,” she said. “Anyway, I’m sorry about earlier.”

“No problem,” I said, feeling dirty and embarrassed beneath her gaze. Fortunately, it didn’t last much longer.

“Have a good night,” the waitress said with a wink and a knowing smile.

I wanted to correct her, to set the record straight, but she’d already moved back to the bar to pick up another round for the guys in the back. I turned over the check and saw that she’d comped our drinks. I decided to tip her generously, hoping that maybe that would buy my redemption in her eyes.

The song ended, and Abby returned to the table.

“Ready to go?” she asked.

“Just give me a couple of minutes,” I said, attempting to will my boner away. Jesus! I hadn’t been this uncontrollably hard since I was… well, since I was Abby’s age.

“Why? What’s wrong?” she asked, leaning forward, and showing off those amazing tits again. 

“Nothing,” I snapped back, knowing she could see the discomfort in my face. “I just need a minute.”

“Did you like my dancing?” she asked again. The mischievous look had returned to her eye.

“It was fine,” I answered shortly.

“Just fine, hmm?”

Suddenly, I felt toes exploring the inside of my thigh.

“Stop it!” I hissed at her, swiping her foot away with my hand. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I know you were watching me this afternoon,” Abby admitted in a whisper. “Did you enjoy the show? I’ll bet you did.” Her foot returned, pressing further between my legs, and finally rubbing against my rigid cock. I was too shocked to do anything - totally frozen in my seat with the revelation that I’d been caught perving out over my teen neighbor.

The waitress returned again to our table, and Abby straightened in her seat. “Do you need anything else?” she asked in a tone that implied that it was time for us to get the fuck out.

“No, we’re good, thanks,” I said.

She left us alone again. Abby and I sat quietly together. She contemplated my face, while I contemplated what the hell I had been doing with my life that had led me to this. More than anything, I missed Helen. I was somehow certain that if she had still been alive, I wouldn’t be in this predicament. I felt angry that she was gone, and angry at the cancer that had taken her from me, and angry at the teen girl who was tormenting me with her youthful sexuality and angry at the passive aggressively judgmental waitress, and angry at knowing that mostly I was projecting my own guilt onto her. And while I was sitting there feeling angry at everything, I realized that my erection had faded to the point that I could stand inconspicuously.

“Are you mad at me?” Abby asked toward the end of a mostly silent drive home.

“Not really,” I said. “But you can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” Abby asked as she reached across the driver’s seat and began to rub me through my pants.

“I’m serious,” I said, swatting her hand away. “I mean, it’s flattering, but why the hell are you messing around with a guy older than your parents?”

“You really don’t want me?” Abby asked, frowning hard. Tears were beginning to form in her eyes.

“It’s not that, it’s just… we can’t. I’m too old, you’re too young. Your parents asked me to look after you for Christ’s sake!”

I pulled into my driveway and put my truck in park.

“What’s the matter with me?” Abby asked, openly crying. “Everyone has a boyfriend, but me. And I can’t even get the old widower next door to be interested in me. There has to be something wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” I argued. “You’re beautiful.”

“Then why do you keep rejecting me?”

“You’re… I’m just too old for you.”

“But you’re not! You’re like a thousand times cooler than the guys at school, and you’re so smart and experienced with everything, and I just thought… maybe you could teach me.”

“Teach you?” I repeated.

“I’m going to be in college this Fall, and I’ve never…”

“Never… Oh! Never?”

“Not really,” Abby said shaking her head. “I’ve kissed and had a guy grab my boobs once, and another one touched me down there a bit, but that’s it. I’ve never gone all the way with a guy, and I’m worried that if I don’t know what I’m doing when I get to university, everyone will make fun of me. And… and I just want to know what it feels like.”

The way she said it reawakened my cock. “Jesus,” I swore. “Abby, listen, I get it, but I can’t give you what you want.”

“Why not?” Abby argued. “You just said I was beautiful.”

“You are, but…” My head was feeling clouded, and I was having a harder time justifying why I shouldn’t. I knew it wasn’t right, but I couldn’t explain why in a way that she could understand. “We just can’t,” I said finally.

“Will you at least walk me into my house?” Abby asked, seeming to give up. “It’s dark, and I don’t think I locked the doors when I left.”

“Yeah, kid,” I agreed. “I can do that.”

We got out of my truck, and I followed Abby to her front door. She opened it easily, having really not bothered to lock it when she went out. We lived in a pretty safe neighborhood, but you never knew what hoodlums might be creeping around these days. Abby switched on the living room light and then made her way to the kitchen. I followed close behind her, feeling conflicted. I hadn’t had much of a sex life since Helen passed, and here was this nubile young thing practically begging me for it. And the more time I spent with her, the harder it was becoming to resist temptation.

But she was so young. And a virgin, too. What business did I have taking the virginity of someone forty years my junior? I felt like I should know better. Be the responsible older adult. Besides, what would Jim and Karen think of me if I was to deflower their little girl. True, she was eighteen years old, and technically an adult, but still, I’d be known to the neighborhood as a pervert – a dirty old man taking advantage of sweet innocence and spoiling it.

“Come on, Jack,” Abby was saying. She grabbed my hand and pulled me.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked.

“We need to make sure no one’s upstairs,” she answered.

“I’m sure there’s no one…”

“But I won’t feel safe until we check it out.”

I let Abby lead me up the stairs. One by one, we flipped on the lights in the bedrooms. She even insisted that we search the closets. Finally, we ended up at her bedroom. The bed was big, unmade, and covered with stuffed animals. Across from it, there was a dresser, backed with a mirror and covered with various make up products. On one of the bedside tables, next to a lamp was a purple vibrator. Both of us caught sight of it at the same time.

“Whoops!” Abby shouted, lunging for the toy with genuine embarrassment. “I didn’t mean for you to see that.”

“It’s okay,” I said. After everything else that had been revealed tonight, the fact that Abby took her pleasure into her own hands was hardly surprising. However, the thought of her inserting the buzzing device between her thighs, letting it run along her slit to her clitoris, arching her back at the intense feelings, and stifling a moan or a scream, these images wouldn’t leave me alone.

“Listen, I’d better get going,” I said, already feeling that familiar tightening sensation in my groin.

“What’s the hurry?” Abby asked, eying the growing bulge in my pants. “I mean, I know you said you weren’t into me, but it looks like at least some of you is.”

She stepped forward and pressed her body against mine. Her arms were thrown around my neck, and she kissed me hard on the lips. The force of it put me off balance, and I stumbled backwards and tumbled onto her bed with Abby on top of me. She straddled me and began to grind against the hardening protrusion behind my zipper.

“Abby, no, stop,” I said half-heartedly.

“It feels good, though,” Abby argued. “Doesn’t it feel good to you?”

“Yeah, but we can’t… we shouldn’t…”

“You keep saying that, yet here you are.”

With that, Abby removed her shirt, exposing her full tits. They were even more spectacular up close than they were from a distance. I watched them hypnotically swinging as Abby moved her pelvis over mine. I tried hard to resist every instinct I had to reach up and grab them, but Abby bent forward, grabbed my wrists and guided my hands to them.  I could feel her nipples hardening against my palms as I gave each breast a gentle exploratory squeeze. Abby moaned softly as my fingers began to circle her areolae, giving a subtle flick, or pinch here or there.

“How long, Jack?” Abby asked. “How long have you wanted to feel them? Do they feel good?”

“Amazing,” I said, and then remembered myself. I yanked my hands away from Abby’s body. “No! This is wrong!”

“Says who?” Abby asked. “It doesn’t feel wrong to me. It feels very right.”

She leaned forward and kissed me again, her bare breasts pressing into my chest.  I felt her hands slide down my shirt, and inwards towards my fly. Her fingers teasingly traced the length of my erection, up and down, base to tip and back again. Then there was a quick tug as my zipper came down, and her fingers reached inside, wrapping themselves around the thick circumference of my cock. In the next instant, it was out of my pants and standing freely in the light of her bedroom.

“This feels very right,” she said, as she descended my body until her lips met the tip of my erection. She experimentally darted her tongue out for just a taste. Then it flicked out again, a little longer this time. Within a minute, I was engulfed in her mouth, with her tongue sliding along my shaft, and her hand cradling my balls.

“I thought you said you’d never done this before,” I said.

“I haven’t,” Abby admitted, extracting my saliva-soaked head from her mouth. A silvery strand connected with her lip, stretched, then broke, falling against her chin. She wiped it with her forearm.

“Well, you’re pretty good for someone with no experience.”

“Just because I haven’t done it myself doesn’t mean I haven’t read about it or seen it in porn and stuff.”

“So that’s what passes for sex ed these days, huh?”

“Quiet, old man,” she said, and returned her attentions to my cock. After a minute, she tried to deep throat me, but came up quickly coughing and gagging. “It’s too much,” she sputtered.

“I guess some things, you just have to learn by experience,” I said, then commanded Abby to turn around so that her ass was directly in front of my face. There was barely enough material to cover her pussy mound. I ran my finger along it and felt her damp heat radiating through the material. I repeated the motion several times, then reached around the front to unfasten the button there. Her shorts came loose and with a little pull, easily slid over her ass and down her thighs.

I encountered a pair of soft bald lips, that were flushed hot pink. I again let my finger trace the crease several times, each time, dipping a little further within. It wasn’t long until my fingers were covered in her hot slick juices. I sucked them clean, then went back and spread her lips revealing the small cute button of her clitoris. I put my lips to it and gave it a little kiss. Immediately I felt Abby’s body respond in an excited shiver.

“Oh my god, whatever you just did, do that again!” Abby insisted.

I did, and this time, I quickly flicked out my tongue over her clit. Abby squealed with delight. Slowly and deliberately, I began to probe her pussy with my fingers, while I worked her clit with my tongue. In return, Abby slipped my cock back inside her mouth, as much as she could take, and began to jack me off with her hands. With my skill and experience, it wasn’t long before I felt Abby’s body tense up, then shudder violently over me. Her thighs squeezed my cheeks hard, making my lips pucker. She let out a loud, drawn out “OH MY GOD!” as she climaxed.

As soon as her body began to relax, I crawled out from underneath her. I then flipped her on her back and pulled her to the edge of the mattress. Part of me was worried about losing my erection, but mostly I felt like I needed to be inside her that instant. I pushed my cock against her slippery crevice, letting it sink in. Slowly, gently, I began to move in and out, each time getting a little deeper. Each time, Abby moaned and gasped.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Does it hurt?”

“A little,” she admitted. “Not really. It feels good, too. It’s just kinda… tight.”

I remembered she said she was a virgin, and while I’m not the biggest guy around, I’m don’t have anything to be ashamed of, either. For a first-timer maybe my size could be a little difficult at first. I went slowly, patiently, until I’d sunk my full length into her hole. I’d forgotten how amazing teen pussy could feel. So soft and inviting and amazing. Gently, I pulled out to the tip of my cock, and then pushed back in – a little easier this time. Then again. And again. After a few minutes, I was thrusting into Abby’s pussy with gusto. She was moaning and groaning like a porn star.

‘The old man still has it,’ I thought to my self, watching the waves of ecstasy cross Abby’s face as I filled her full of my cock. But at the pace I was going, I quickly tired myself. I told Abby to get up, and I took her place on the bed.

“Oh, I always wanted to try this position,” Abby said enthusiastically as she climbed over top of me. I felt her reach between her legs, grab my still-hard cock, and guide it into her wet slippery pussy. Slowly, she lowered her body on to me, until I was fully inside her again. “Oh my God, I love this! I’m like totally in control.”

“Yeah, you can do whatever makes you feel good.”

Abby began to ride me, experimenting with different angles and movements. The one she seemed to like the best was taking me deep inside her and grinding her pelvis into mine. My hands lifted up, and explored her body, playing with her bouncing tits, holding her hips, running across her stomach, kneading her ass, reaching between us to rub her clit.

The whole time, Abby muttered a continuous string of sex-babbling: “Oh my God, yes, that feels good, so fucking good, Jack, fuck, yeah, right there, right there, mmm, give it to me Jack, deeper, oh good, fuck, you fill me up so good…” I could tell she was nearing her second orgasm, because the volume and pace of her babbling increased. I looked up into her young face and saw how she was genuinely enjoying herself, with a sincerity and passion that only seems capable to adolescents. Her eyes were closed, her hair and tits bouncing wildly. “Yes yes yes yes yes. Oh fuck!!! YES!!!”

She pushed her body down into me, and I felt her pussy spasming around my cock. The sensation sent me over the top. I grabbed her hard by the hips and exploded up inside of her, pressing myself as deep as possible. Warm jets of cum shot from my throbbing cock deep into her tight teen pussy. It had been so long, I thought it would never stop cumming. I could feel the orgasm deep in my balls, and all the way back to my prostate. Finally, the moment faded, and I came down breathing hard and relaxing into a cushion of stuffed animals. Abby climbed off of me and lay beside me, also catching her breath. She put her head on my chest and tangled her fingers in my gray chest hair.

“Was I good?” Abby asked, looking up at me.

“Yeah, kid,” I said, patting her on the head. “You did great.”

“Thanks, Jack.”