Meghan and her mum Julie moved in next door to me towards the end of August. The property is a furnished rental, a 3-bed, 2-bathroom home, sitting in a quiet cul-de-sac on the edge of a town in the Midlands of England. I’ve lived in the street for twenty-plus years. I was married for twelve of them and divorced for the rest. Life catches up with you sometimes; a decision to be single for a few months led into a year or more, and suddenly it’s eight years, and I’m wondering if I’ll ever find a partner again. So I watched with interest as a self-drive van and a car turned up and three women and a man got out to start unloading the belongings of my new neighbours. At first, I wasn’t sure exactly who would be living at number ten. The only thing that caught my eye was the youngest female. I guessed her age at twenty or so. One thing to say: she was tall. Very tall. I guessed about six feet and perfectly proportioned. Not skinny and not heavy, with blonde hair hanging straight past shoulder level. The Saturday was hot, and the girl wore denim shorts that showed off legs that went forever.

By late afternoon, the van disappeared into the distance, leaving the girl and a woman I assumed was her mother to stay behind. During the day, I went out to the shops and did what my mum always told me to do: bought a ‘welcome to your new home’ card. I didn’t bother with flowers or any kind of gift; I didn’t want to look like a single man making moves on them, and dropped the card through their letterbox the next morning when I took my dog for a walk.

As I returned home, the mother came out to say hello and thank me for the card. I found out a few things: her name’s Julie, she’s in the process of a divorce, the daughter is Meghan, they’ve moved to the town for Julie’s new job and have rented for a year whilst they get their bearings on the area. I offered to help if she needed any local knowledge, and that was about it for the first meeting. I saw the pair of them around a few times over the next week, a couple of times to say hello but nothing more. They seemed friendly enough, but both were very well-spoken, what some might call posh. Definitely not like the locals, who had an edge of Black Country twang when they talked. Think Peaky Blinders and you’ll get the drift. Julie and Meghan sounded more like they were close relatives of the Royal Family

It was nine days later that I got my shock—Monday morning. For local kids, it was the first day back at school after the summer holidays. I was standing at my home office window, drinking coffee and summoning up the enthusiasm to switch on my laptop.

Meghan appeared, walking down the short garden path to the road. I almost choked on my drink. She was wearing the uniform of the local high school. Blazer, white blouse, blue-and-red tie, pleated skirt, white socks, black shoes. She had a bag slung over her shoulder, a phone in one hand, and her hair tied back in a ponytail. The blazer was dark blue, which indicated she was in the Sixth Form. My brain was in lockdown as I tried to match the school uniform to the six-foot-tall blonde I’d half-fantasised about over the past few days. I shook my head, unable to believe Meghan was young enough to still be at school. Julie hadn’t said anything about her age, and I assumed she was in her early twenties, maybe a uni student at home for the summer break.

How wrong could I be?

Later that week I bumped into Julie as she got back home from work. We had a brief chat; how was she settling into her new job? Was the house okay? Oh, and how old is Meghan? I thought she would be at uni, not at school.

Julie laughed; Meghan, she told me, is sixteen and starting her first year of A Levels.

Tall for her age was all I could say.

“Six feet one inch the last time I measured her,” Julie said. “Which was a month ago, so she could quite easily be taller. It’s a struggle to find clothes that fit her—especially the school uniform. The trouble is, moving here has upset her. She's got no friends.”

I made the right kind of sympathetic noises. Meghan, she said, was spending more time in her bedroom than was healthy. She’s missing her old school friends and counting down the days until half-term, when she had plans to go and stay with one of them. I asked if Meghan liked dogs; she could walk mine a couple of times a week to get her out of the house. I could pay her. Julie jumped at the idea, which was why, over the next few weeks, I got on friendly terms with Meghan as she took Rosie for walks one evening a week and on weekends.

Now we get to the interesting part of the story. Sorry for boring you, but context is important. Sixteen-year-old girls aren’t normally comfortable in the company of fifty-year-old divorced men, and how Meghan came to end up naked on my sofa doesn’t come down to her being a slut or me being a babe magnet. It comes down to circumstance, friendship, and saying the right thing at the right time.

It was mid-October; the weather had decided in typical UK fashion to drop autumn on us in spectacular fashion. The wind blew from the north with a chill that froze the soul, and the rain came in like bullets on a Normandy beachhead. It was the end of a school day. I’d been out to the dentist and got home to see Meghan huddled under the open front porch of her house. She looked like a drowned rat, soaked to the skin, and shivering with cold.

“Meghan!” I got her attention as I stepped out of my car. “What’s up?”

“I forgot my key,” she said, wiping rain from her face. “The spare isn’t where Mum said it would be, and she’s not answering her phone. She said she had a meeting this afternoon in Birmingham, but I don’t know what time she’ll be back.”

“Do you want to come into my place while you wait for her?” I asked.

“Can I?” She didn't hesitate and was already moving, a long stride taking her across the narrow strip of grass that separates our properties.

Inside, Rosie greeted Meghan and me as if she’d been left alone for a month. Meghan dumped her bag on the floor and kicked off her shoes as I said,

“I’ll get you a towel, and I have a hair dryer somewhere. It belonged to my ex, and she never asked for it back.”

“Thanks.”

As she speaks, Meghan takes off her blazer; it’s soaked through, and the white cotton of her blouse is damp enough to stick to the shape of her upper body. I get a glimpse of the lace pattern on her bra through near-transparent material, and the delightful curve of one breast. I tear my eyes off the vision and go up to sort out a towel and the hairdryer. I stick them in the spare bedroom and then, on a moment’s inspiration, dig out a pair of thick socks, a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, and fleece jogging bottoms. Back downstairs, I told Meghan where to find the towel and dryer, adding that she still looked wet through and I’d put out some spare clothes if she wanted them. I said I would put the heating on, and she could put her wet uniform over the radiator to help dry it out.

I put the kettle on, made a mug of hot chocolate, left it on the kitchen table along with a plate of chocolate Hobnobs, gave Rosie a treat, and waited for Meghan to come back down. I half-expected her to still be in her school uniform, unwilling to change out of it and into my spare clothes. As it was, she walked in, looking warm, dry, and gorgeous in my clothes, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the drink and biscuits.

“Are those for me?”

“Yep.”

“God, you’re a lifesaver.”

I watched her devour the biscuits. “You must be hungry.”

“Starving,” she said around the last mouthful.

“Want some more?”

“Can I?”

I gave her the whole packet, and that’s when Julie called her back.

Meghan said, “Where are you?... Still?… When do you think you’ll be back?... I’m at Mike’s; he’s given me a hot chocolate drink and some Hobnobs. Okay, I’ll tell him. Bye.”

She ended the call and said, “Mum doesn’t think she’ll be home until seven. Am I okay to stay here until then?”

“Of course,” I smiled. “I can cook you a proper tea if you want. There’s some chicken in the fridge. I can do a stir-fry.”

“No,” Meghan dazzled me with her smile. “It’s fine. These Hobnobs will keep me going.”

I'm not sure if that smile lit something in me or if the fire had already been smouldering. I had quietly shelved my fantasies of Meghan when I found out her age. Now, suddenly, they were back.

“If you have any homework to do, you can use my office upstairs,” I told her. “Or the kitchen table. Whichever suits.”

“I have a night off from homework on a Thursday,” Meghan said. “I’ve already done anything that needs handing in tomorrow, and the rest can wait until the weekend.”

“Fair enough.”

She reached for another biscuit, and that’s when I realised that her breasts moved with the kind of freedom a bra doesn’t allow. I dragged my eyes away. She must have stripped right down out of her wet clothes. I glanced at the kitchen clock, over two hours until her mother gets home.

“Talking of homework,” I said. “How’s school?”

“Shit.”

“Oh.” There wasn’t much I could say to that. “That good?”

“Worse.” Meghan gave me a flat look as she chewed her biscuit and washed it down with some hot chocolate.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. I could see her thinking, staring down at the table and coming to a decision.

“I don't know if Mum ever said, but my last school was private. I was a boarder. Coming from there to here has been shit. Right from day one.”

“The other kids?” I asked, thinking back to my school days and the food chain of bullying.

“And the fucking teachers.”

That made me blink.

“What?” Meghan challenged me. “Never heard a sixteen-year-old swear?”

“I’ve heard plenty of kids swear,” I said. “But for most of them it’s just an adult word. It sounded like you meant that.”

“I did. First day, I walk into my form room for registration and Mr Gosling, my form teacher, says, ‘Oh, you must be the new girl. Bit of a comedown from your private school, isn’t it? Twenty thousand a term, I heard?”

“I didn’t realise you’d come from a private school,” I said.

“With this accent?” She pointed at herself. “That made me the target for everyone. Not just the posh girl, but the six-foot-tall posh girl. I’m a freak according to most of the other students, and the teachers are no better.”

“You mean they should have left their politics at the school gates.”

“Yeah.” She takes a deep breath, and her boobs move like two puppies in a sack.  “And all because my Dad fucked his PA.”

“Oh, that’s why the divorce.”

“Yeah.” The mug bangs down hard on the table. “Sarah the slut. I always liked her when I met her. Just shows. It's why I'm here.”

"Here?"

"With Mum, and at a new school. Dad said he couldn't afford to keep me at Saint Mary's for my A Levels now he's with her."

I tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t make her any angrier. Before I could, she said,

“And now she’s pregnant. I went to see my Dad the weekend before we came down here, and there’s Sarah, hand on her tummy, and I’m supposed to say ‘congratulations’, as if I mean it. Dad’s there: ‘You’ll have a little brother or sister soon.’ No, Dad, I’ll have a half-brother or half-sister, and I will not be buying them any gifts. Ever.”

Meghan’s on the verge of tears. “And I can’t talk to Mum about it because she’s already fucked up by the divorce, and I don’t think her job is going that well, and all my friends are miles away, and…and…”

“Do you want a hug?” The words are out before I can think to stop them.

“A hug?”

“Yes. Sometimes a hug can work wonders.” I decided to go for it. In for a penny, in for a pound.

She gave me a long, hard look before she said, “Go on then.”

I leant back on the work surface and stayed there as Megham stepped close. She’s a shade taller than me, and her arms slid around my neck as mine went around her waist. Her body pressed up against mine. Soft, and warm. Meghan’s chin rested on my shoulder, and I could feel her breathing. For a time, maybe twenty seconds, we didn’t move, and then I felt her relax as the tension eased from her body. She sighed close to my ear and said,

“I think you might be right.”

“There’s always a first time.”

She chuckled, turned her face to me and said. “Is this some sort of chat-up line you use all the time?”

“No, but seeing as how it’s worked so well, maybe I should use it more often.”

“But not with teenage girls. It could be seen as inappropriate.”

“Really?” I tried to keep my voice light, but everything about the situation was making my body tingle.

“Yes.”

I thought she might pull back. Instead, she settled against me a little more.

“Is this inappropriate?” I asked.

“No. This is nice.”

I ran my hand up and down her back like I was comforting her, which I was, but I also checked for the outline of a bra strap. There wasn’t one. I tried to stop myself from shaking.

“I’ve never been this close to a man before. At least one who’s not related to me.”

“No?”

“No.” Thoughtful.

“No boyfriends ever?”

“Nope. Never kissed a boy.”

“You will one day.”

“I have kissed a girl.”

“You have?” I pull back and look at her. This close, I can see her complexion is flawless. Her cornflower blue eyes hold a hint of amusement as she looks down at me.

“Don’t get too excited. It wasn’t a lesbian thing. At boarding school, all some girls talked about were boys. So we had to be ready to kiss a boy by practising kissing each other.”

“Didn’t help much in the boyfriend market,” I said.

“No.” Meghan rested her head onto my shoulder again. “Though Lulu, one of my friends, always claimed to have done things.”

“What sort of things?”

“She said she sucked off the school’s head gardener at our summer party when our GCSEs were complete.”

I managed not to fall over. “What?”

Megan is laughing. “The look on your face.”

“Well, you can hardly blame me. Here I am, in my kitchen, hugging a teenage girl and she’s talking about….” I trailed off, and Meghan finished the sentence for me.

“Blow jobs,” she said.

“Jesus.” This time it was my turn to put my head on her shoulder.

“I didn’t believe her. Some girls did, but I didn’t.”

“You know, when you mentioned inappropriate things, did you consider that discussing Lulu's sex life with me might be just that thing?”

“I wanted to see your reaction.”

I shook my head. “And was it worth it?”

“Yes,” Meghan laughed, took a breath, and kissed me.

It was only a brief contact, little more than a peck, but the atmosphere in the room changed.

“What was that for?” I asked.

“I wanted to see what kissing a man was like.”

“And what did you think?”

“I couldn’t tell. It was too quick.”

I held her gaze, not wanting to break the moment. “You could try a longer one.”

“Yeah.”

Longer, gentle, her lips soft and pliable. Something stirred. Meghan broke the kiss. I’m not sure who was shaking more: me, or her.

“Oh, god.” Meghan rested on me again. I so wanted to run my hands down her back and onto the cheeks of her bum.

It was time to either get out of the situation or commit. Meghan made the decision.

“You know, I think you might have hit eleven on the scale of inappropriateness.”

“What do you mean?”

She edged back and looked down between us. “I mean that.”

I’d known my cock was stirring, but hadn’t thought it was enough for her to notice.

“Shit, I’m sorry, it’s just…”

“It’s okay,” Meghan said. “I kissed you.”

“I started it. I offered you a hug.”

“Then we’re both to blame.”

I couldn’t have stopped myself if I’d wanted to. A movement of a few inches and our lips touched again. Meghan took a surprised breath, enough for me to slip my tongue across her lips and into her mouth. For a second, she held back, uncertain, then responded. Our tongues danced, our bodies ground into each other.

We broke apart. I was speechless. Meghan looked shocked. I felt like the world was about to collapse onto me.

“Meghan, I’m sorry.” I stepped away from her. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

She shook her head, and for a moment I thought she was going to scream at me. Then she said,

“I liked it.”

“It was still wrong of me. You’re sixteen years old. I’m fifty.”

“No.” I saw a smile dawn on her face. “I liked it. Kiss me again.”

Meghan came close to me, still smiling. My cock was semi-hard, and my heart was pounding. She reached out, her arms going around my neck to pull me in like a fish on a lure. This time the kiss was softer. No demands for attention, just two people coming together and sharing themselves.

“Oh, god.” Meghan rested her head on my shoulder. I had my hands on her waist. I fought a desperate need to touch her all over.

When she pulled back, Meghan said, “Can I touch your penis?”

I wanted to say no. I wanted to say that this had gone too far. Instead, I nodded.

Meghan’s hand slipped down to cup around the bulge in my trousers. I closed my eyes. She explored my length, even as it grew bigger and harder to her touch. My briefs were restricting my cock, and I winced as it fought for room that didn’t exist.

“Is something wrong?” Megan saw the look on my face.

“My briefs haven’t got enough space.”

She giggled and squeezed me. “If you need more space you should take it out. That way I get to see it?”

“Oh, Meghan…”

“Please?”

My balls are aching. I can feel my whole body charging up for the coming storm. I took Meghan’s hand and led her into the living room. My legs were beginning to shake. I sat on the sofa.

“Are you sure?” I was looking up at her. She was a goddess, tall, blonde, and beautiful. I could see the outline of nipples through the borrowed sweatshirt. Her face was flushed, a dusty pink tone to her cheeks

“Yes,” she said as she knelt at my feet.

I undid my belt, unzipped. Pushed trousers and briefs down and sighed in relief as my cock found freedom.

Meghan’s eyes widened. A hand came out to rest on my hot shaft. She moved, rolling my cock against my stomach with the palm of her hand. Pre-cum leaked out. My balls jumped. Meghan didn’t take her eyes off my cock.

“It’s wonderful,” she said.

I took her hand and guided her fingers around my cock. Showed her the movement I wanted.

“Like this,” I said, and sat back with a groan. 

“Is this ejaculating?” Meghan asked, fascinated by the pre-cum that leaked down the shaft.

“No,” I just about managed to get the word out. “That’s just pre-cum, it’s like a lubricant.”

Beyond her hand, I was watching Meghan’s breasts sway to the rhythm she had reached. The nipples were more prominent now. Seeing them, I felt a twinge in my cock, a rising heat that made my heart beat faster. I pulled my jumper and shirt off until I was naked before her. Meghan looked at me.

“I don’t want to get any cum on my clothes,” I told her.

“Oh.” Her hand paused on my cock. “Should I get undressed too?”

“If you want to.”

“I think I do. I’m getting really warm.”

I took over pumping my cock as she stood, and almost unloaded as she lifted the sweatshirt and T-shirt off. Her breasts were perfect handfuls, tilting up with rose coloured nipples. Her abdomen was flat, and a second later she stepped out of the jogging bottoms. She wore nothing beneath them. Her pussy was covered by a fine sheen of natural blonde hair. I could see the outer lips of her sex were loose and open.

Meghan knelt again. Close enough that her cool flesh rested on mine as she took over pumping my cock. I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to cum too soon, and just looking at her naked body was pushing me to the edge.

“Meghan,” I gritted my teeth as my abdominal muscles tightened. “Whatever happens, don’t stop.”

She looked a little bit scared. “Okay.”

“Faster,” I said, almost weeping.

Her hand sped up, and that was enough to fill my shaft with heat that rushed from base to tip. I clung to it, not wanting the feeling to end.

“Aaah…” My body jolted. Cum spat from my cock, spraying onto my stomach and chest. I hadn’t shot my load like this in years. Meghan’s hand was slick, coated in my seed, as it continued to pump me.

“Fuck…” I shouted, cumming again and again. She was milking me, torturing me.

Finally, I put my hand on her arm to stop her, and my world calmed a little.

“Oh, god…” Meghan looked from her hand to me.

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t speak. I leant forward, kissed her, and said, “Go grab a kitchen towel to wipe your hand. Bring me some as well.”

She went into the kitchen with a dazed expression. Came back with the entire roll. “I wasn’t sure how much you needed,” she said.

I wiped up as fast as possible as Meghan cleaned my cum off her fingers. Neither of us spoke. I didn’t want anything to break the mood. As soon as I’d got rid of most of the cum on me, I stood, took Meghan by the arm, and turned her to sit where I’d been a moment before. It was my turn to kneel. I eased her knees apart and ran my hands up her long thighs. When I reached her hips, I gave a little tug and slid her to the edge of the sofa.

“Mike?” Her eyes were wide open. I could see the uncertainty in them.

“It’s your turn,” I said softly.

I leaned over her. Kissed her on the lips once more and then let more kisses trail down her neck, onto her chest and then onto a breast. Meghan whimpered as I took a nipple into my mouth, teasing it with my teeth. I crossed to its pair, did the same, and then ran my tongue down her body, over her navel and into the soft flesh at the joint of her thighs.

Meghan yelped as my tongue worked into the folds of flesh, penetrating her outer lips and making contact with sensitive inner flesh. I stroked her thigh with one hand as the other spread her labia wide, feasting my eyes on the hot pink of her sex. She was leaking, and I lapped at her cream, tongue pushing into her.

“Mike…Mike…Mike….” A hand grasped at my hair, not to pull me away but to push me closer. I feasted on her. Licking and sucking, hearing her rising moans. I moved, seeking her clit, making contact. Meghan shouted, and when my tongue lapped across her bud, she shouted again, half-sitting to try and push me off. I held her down, worked my tongue around her clit and felt her body begin to lose control.

She came under my tongue. A whole-body orgasm that rocked the pair of us. One of her legs hooked around my shoulder. Cream oozed out of her sex. I scooped it up and swallowed it. Meghan continued to thrash, driven by the waves of pleasure I was generating. It was my finger on her clit now, my lips and teeth back up on her nipples, sucking hard. 

“Mike, please…oh, god…oh, god…”

Meghan’s back arched and this time her voice filled the room with a drawn-out cry of pleasure that made my cock twitch. That was it; that was the one I wanted for her. I slipped my hand off her pussy and stroked her thighs and stomach, watching the flush of excitement that had turned her face bright red slowly fade. Her eyes opened.

“Oh, my god, Mike. That was incredible.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” It was a lame thing to say, but Meghan seemed happy with it.

“Enjoyed it?” She sat up and kissed me. “I more than enjoyed it. That was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

I kissed her in return. “And I can say the same about your handjob.”

“Really?” She looked embarrassed. “I didn’t actually know what I was doing.”

“That’s what made it so special.”

I moved her so she lay along the sofa, her legs stuck out at one end as she was so tall. I snuggled down beside her, one eye on the clock to make sure nothing disastrous happened, like her mother turning up. She put a leg over my waist, hooking my lower body close to hers, and asked,

“Can we have sex?”

I almost laughed. “Not tonight, you’ve drained me, and it will take more than a few minutes to recover. Plus, going all the way shouldn’t be done in a rush. I want to make it special for you.”

Meghan smiled at that and kissed my neck. 

“When?”

I sighed. “Slow down. Even in my wildest dream, I wouldn’t have thought this could happen, but it has, and we just need to be careful.”

“Like wearing a condom?”

“There’s no need for that. My ex didn’t want kids, so I had a vasectomy years ago.”

“So, what do you mean, careful?”

“Finding the right time. Not doing anything to make your mum suspicious.”

“Okay.”

Meghan was silent for a time. I just lay there and enjoyed how close she was to me. The shape of her, the warmth of her. It felt so good my heart almost burst.

We were ready when Meghan’s mum arrived to collect her. Julie looked surprised to see her daughter in my clothes, but a bag full of damp school uniform gave her the reason and reassured Julie that nothing odd was going on, even if it was. Julie said thank you for rescuing Meghan from the rain. I said it was no problem, and Meghan was welcome any time. Julie didn’t think anything of that, and missed Meghan blowing me a kiss as they walked back to their house.

I closed the door and sank to the floor. This was a day never to forget. I had the feeling that a few more like it were heading my way.