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Let me just say, with all enthusiasm I can gather in my body, that this is my last year of high school. In fact, it’s the middle of the second semester, so I have another three months or so before I’m officially free. I have matured over the last four years. Now I’m serious, I really have.
In my freshman year, I first began wearing make-up and was eyeing all the senior boys. That’s where all my trouble began, in my freshman year. Throughout my freshman, sophomore and junior year I did a mess of stuff I’m not particularly proud of now: as a freshman, flashing my boobs to senior boys for $20, sneaking with my then-boyfriend into the boys room and smoking cigarettes, spray painting a teacher’s car and getting sent home several times for wearing “inappropriate clothing”.
But this year was different. I recently had turned 18 and I hadn’t been in any serious trouble, I cooperated for the most part with my teachers, was a player on the tennis team and for some reason, got damn good grades.
Our neighbor Mike had lived next door to us for years and he was aware of all the trouble I had been in in my first three years of high school. He must’ve heard the screaming matches I’d had with my parents, and I am sure my mother, who had nothing better to do than to gossip, had gone to him complaining about what a difficult child I was. Throughout those years, whenever I’d run into Mike, we’d talk a little bit about nothing in particular. He was the only adult I never hated throughout those years. I know it was because he was aware of all my troublemaking and yet he never spoke of it – he never put me down, never scolded me, never talked down to me like some adults had done, never dismissed me and told me I was difficult and would get “nowhere”.
That particular afternoon, it was about 2:15 and myself and the other girls of the tennis team got off of school early because we had a tennis match at the Redwood High School, which was about half-hour a way.
I went downstairs to the girls’ locker room and changed into my tennis uniform which was a white tennis skirt and a white polo t-shirt. Our skirts were the type (of course) with white panties sewn into them, to slide over our real panties. “Bloomers” we called them, because when our pleated skirts billowed open it looked like we were a flower “blooming”.
Some girls took the bus when we had out-of-town matches, while some of us drove our own cars. I personally had no choice in the matter. My situation was this: gas prices in our area were high – about $3.75/gallon and my car had an empty tank. To add to things, I had about a week and a half till my next paycheck. So to sum it up, I had to walk or rely on my parents wherever I needed to go until my next paycheck. Of course, in this situation, I would be taking the school bus to Redwood.
The other girls surrounded me in the locker room, dressing and undressing, gossiping and talking and the like. My girlfriend Kate was beside me dressing, slipping her skirt/bloomers combination over her panties, talking to me about her boyfriend Justin. Well, more like complaining about Justin. She asked me why I didn’t have a boyfriend and what ever happened to what’s-his-name a while back.
“Kate,” I told her, exasperated. “Jake and I broke up two months ago. I’m just taking a break from guys for right now.”
“I know, and that’s cool and everything,” she said. “But aren’t there any guys around that you even want to go out with?”
“None that I can actually date,” I stated.
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” I smiled mischievously. “I got a thing for Mr. Bradley.”
“Mr. Bradley! The calculus teacher? Ugh!” she exclaimed. “But he’s, like, really old and gross!”
I laughed, “Not to me!”
We laughed a little bit and hurriedly finished getting dressed. By that time, many of the girls had filed out of the locker room and had jumped on the bus or in their cars. Kate said she was going out to the bus. I told her I’d meet her out there, I just had to use the bathroom real fast.
When I flushed the toilet I realized the locker room was completely quiet and that everyone else had already left. I ran out into the locker room, washed my hands real quick, grabbed my book bag and tennis racket and ran out to the front door of the school – just in time to see the school bus chugging down the highway.
“Grrr!” I screamed, and slammed down my racket. I had missed the bus. Now what was I going to do? I had no other choice then to walk the half-mile home. I didn’t bother to change out of my tennis outfit, because it was one of the few clean outfits I still had, and I groaned again, realizing I’d have to do a huge pile of my dirty laundry when I got home.
It was a very pretty day in mid-March and after throwing my laundry into the washing machine, I went out to the porch to do my homework. I laid on the porch swing reading some stupid story about some stupid battle in some stupid war we had fought centuries ago. I was attempting to finish my reading assignment without nodding off, when I heard a car door slam nearby. güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri I jolted my head up to see who it was. I knew it was way too early in the day for my parents to be home. Instead I saw Mike, who had just pulled into his driveway next door. Happy for the distraction, I went over to see what he was up to.
“Hi Mike!” I waved as I approached him.
“Hey Mary Anne,” he said forcing a smile. He looked like he felt terrible. He looked more saddened than anything else.
I gently touched his bare arm with my hand, “What’s wrong Mike?”
“Ugh,” he groaned. “Today is my birthday. Damn it, I’m just getting older and older. I don’t mean to be cranky with you, Mary Anne. It’s just such a drag.”
“Oh,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry. Say, I baked a caked a couple of days ago. It’s not exactly a birthday cake or anything, but would you like a piece?”
He smiled, “Mary Anne, that would be wonderful. I’ve had a terrible day at work and this birthday thing just made everything worse.”
“Well, come on inside,” I grinned. I lead him across our lawn and up the stairs into the house. We walked into the kitchen. “You take a seat right there,” I said, pointing to a chair at the table.
“Thank you so much Mary Anne, this is so nice,” he said, taking a seat where I suggested.
“It’s no problem. What would you like to drink? We have milk, cola, lemonade and water.”
“I’ll take a Coke, thank you,” he said.
I took the cake out of the fridge and cut out a big slice for him and set it on one of our nicer plates. I think it’s fair to say that I liked Mike. I would call it a feeling of affection for him. My very slight attraction to him was almost imperceptible. It wasn’t a feeling of being madly in love or anything like that.
I poured some Coke into a glass with ice cubes, fetched a fork and a few napkins and brought his snack out into the dining room where he sat.
“Here you go,” I said, setting it in front of him.
He looked up at me with a smile, “Thank you so much, Mary Anne. This type of treatment really makes an old man feel good.”
I responded with a wave of my hand and took a seat next to him, “Don’t be silly. I don’t think you’re old at all.”
“Do you know how old I am?”
I paused, “Well, no….But you don’t act or look old.”
“You want to guess?” he said with a chuckle. “Anything you say couldn’t make me feel any worse.”
“Well, I would guess maybe 40 or 41?” I said
“Close,” he said. “I turned 45 today.”
45, in my opinion, was not old at all. And I told him so. I’ve always had an underlying attraction towards older men – this, of course, I did not tell him. In a very subtle way, I studied him while he ate his cake. He was somewhat unusual looking. His slight ugliness was on the verge of handsomeness. I had never been this close to him before and I decided that he was even better looking up close, and I felt somewhat squirmy sitting next to this older man. He liked me; even if it was in a platonic sense, he did like me. And this pleased me. He remarked on my tennis outfit and asked if I just come back from a school match.
“Well,” I sighed. “Our team had a tennis match up in Redwood, but I missed the bus. My car is pretty much kaput until I get my next paycheck and then I’ll be able to fill it up. It doesn’t matter really though, that I missed the match. I’m not very good anyway.”
He shook his head, “Now that, I’m sure you are definitely wrong on. I remember when you’d hit the ball back and forth with your friends out in the street- you had a lot of talent and grace, even back then.”
I looked at him and smiled, “Thanks.”
He looked at me, his dark eyes caught on mine for a moment. He looked into my eyes then down to my lips. It looked like he wanted to kiss me. Eyeing his empty plate, I asked him if he was all finished – and broke our moment together. I silently cursed myself for ruining such a sensual moment.
I took his plate and glass and put it in the sink. I sat down beside him again and we resumed our conversation. Somehow we got into talking about our dating lives. I explained to him my situation and he complained to me how it seemed he never dated.
“I had asked a woman out a couple of weeks ago,” he said bitterly. “But she turned me down.”
“Why did she do that?” I asked, almost outraged at the idea.
He looked at me, surprised, and then spoke, “She said she didn’t respect what I do for a living.” He said rolling his eyes with a chuckle.
I giggled lightly, “Well, not all women are obsessed with a man’s career.” I said, resting my hand on his shoulder nearest to me.
He looked down at my hand and then up at me. “Getting a little fresh, are we?” he teased in a quiet voice.
“Do you mind?” I asked.
“No, not at all,” he smiled.
My heart was thumping a mile a minute just looking at him. I looked into his eyes. I saw a feeling of longing, but also of fear. I decided to make my move very slowly, as to give him a chance to pull away if güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri he wanted to. I scooted my chair closer to his and tilted my head very gently, my lips close to his, he gave me no sign that he wanted me to stop. So I leaned in more and pressed my soft lips against his. Our lips stayed closed for a minute, but I was surprised when he took the initiative and opened his mouth up to me, softly taking my face in his large hands.
I loved the feeling of being near him, his face so close to mine. One thing I loved to do was to nibble and kiss on a man’s neck. So naturally, my lips moved away from his and down to his neck where I nuzzled my nose and continued kissing on him. I heard him groan and felt him weave his fingers into my curly head of blonde hair.
“Oh Mary Anne,” he moaned. “Wait, wait – we can’t go on like this.”
I pulled away, disappointed. “Why not?”
“Mary Anne,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I’m 45. You’re only 18. This just isn’t right. I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”
“But I’m the one who made the first move,” I said.
He stood up, “I know, I know. Look, we just can’t do this. I’m sorry, Mary Anne.” He quietly tucked his chair under the table and went into the living room, leaving through the front door.
I sat there, feeling so confused. If I was too young, why did he let me kiss him in the first place? I had given him plenty of chances to pull away from my advances. I really didn’t know what to feel. I wasn’t angry – I really couldn’t be angry at Mike. In a way, I was glad he had put a stop to things. It showed he was a gentleman and actually took my youth into consideration. I guess overall I felt disappointed.
The next morning I woke up (I love it when that happens) and felt a feeling of dread come over me when I realized I’d have to walk past Mike’s house to get to school. Of all times for my car to be bone dry, I thought to myself, shaking my head. How embarrassing, not so much as to throw myself at an older man, but to be thrown under the bus by this older man! My feeling that morning was one of anger. I was mad that he had rejected to me. Mad that he didn’t see me mature enough and old enough to be worthy of his affection.
I got up and got dressed in small white cotton panties, my 34b white bra, and slipped a white t-shirt up over my head. Then lastly, I slipped on a pair of denim daisy duke shorts. One thing I did like to do with my hair, is pull the sides back to the middle of my head and clip it with a bow. This morning I chose a baby blue colored bow and brushed my hair and put it into place. I brushed my teeth and then went downstairs.
When I came down, my Dad had already left for work and my Mom was sleeping in, as it was her day off. I fixed myself a quick breakfast then headed off to school.
Once outside I noticed Mike’s car was still in his driveway. Damn. I decided to walk fast, but my plan failed when I heard Mike’s screen door open. I ignored him and continued to walk past his house. I heard his footsteps behind me, almost jogging, and he jumped in front of me, stopping my walk.
“Mary Anne, please we have to talk about yesterday,” he said looking down at me with such a saddened look on his face.
I looked up at him angrily, “What’s to talk about? You obviously don’t like me, and that’s all there is to it.”
He looked hurt by my words. “Mary Anne, of course I like you. Our…our kiss never would’ve happened at all if I didn’t like you.”
I looked at him with a confused expression. He seemed as confused as I probably looked. He just seemed so conflicted. Our kiss yesterday tore up his conscious, and now he’s standing here professing his affection for me? I didn’t know what to say or do.
His words took the place of my confusion. “You’re one of the prettiest, sweetest girls I’ve ever known. Can….can I kiss you again?” he asked quietly.
My baffled expression unwrinkled and I smiled up at him and nodded. He gently tucked my hair behind my ear and held my face in his hands. His eyes didn’t leave mine. In his eyes danced 100 emotions. There was guilt, lust, longing, confusion, conflict. But he gave in to the most powerful and tilted his head and leaned down to kiss me. My hand snaked up to his neck and held him behind his ear. I played with his short, dark hair with my fingertips, the nails polished in pink. We opened our mouths up to each other and I whimpered in pleasure.
He pulled away and chuckled, “I don’t want to make you late for school. Actually, it’s pretty hot out already. Can I drive you to school?”
I giggled, “That’d be great. You have no idea how sick I am of walking!”
He laughed, “I can imagine!” He held the passenger door open for me and I got in. He got into the driver’s seat and started up the engine.
We talked a little bit about tennis, as he was on his tennis team when he was in high school and other tennis-related things. I felt flattered that he would open up that section of his life to me, even if it was something as impersonal güvenilir bahis şirketleri as tennis. I moaned and groaned to him about how I would never be a very good player and how my tennis skills sucked.
“I just can’t seem to get the hang of the forehand,” I whined. “And my serve – well, we won’t even go into that for now.”
“It’s just a game,” he said. “What happens really doesn’t matter at all. But you know, I must admit, I’ve been wanting to get back into the sport myself the last couple of years.”
“Why haven’t you?” I asked, looking at him. He looked so nice as he drove, the sunlight dancing on his face, the smile he wore when we were talking.
“Well, with work and everything, it’s been hard to squeeze it in. I haven’t had to work as much though lately. I’m already feeling pretty burned out and had my boss cut down my hours a little bit. I’m enjoying having a little more free time.” He paused, “Mary Anne, can I suggest something?”
“Well, I know you want to improve your game, and here I am and I want to get back into the game – how about you and I become tennis buddies? You know, meet-up a few times a week and knock a few balls around.” He pulled into the school’s parking lot and put the car in park. “How does that strike you?”
I grinned widely, “I would love that!”
“So would I…Say, why don’t I give you my phone number? You can call anytime you want, and if I’m not home you can always leave a message.”
I blushed, “I-I would like that a lot, Mike.”
He began to search his wallet for some kind of paper he could put his phone number on. I opened up my book bag and opened my literature book to page 223 and handed him a pen. “Here, you can just write in my book.”
He chuckled, “Okay, sounds good. I don’t want them to make you pay for the damage though.”
“Nah, it’ll be fine, they’ll never know the difference.”
I closed my book and slipped it back in my book bag with my pen. I sat there awkwardly for a minute when I realized I didn’t have too much time to be awkward, as I was almost late for my first class. I gave him a hug and a shy kiss on the cheek, thanking him for the ride. I got out and slammed the door, walking up the steps to my school.
Right after lunch, I had physics class, which I considered to be my most boring class. So it was no surprise to me when Mike entered my mind and I started to think of him. Very explicitly, I might add. I was startled by my thoughts, because though I had always had a slight crush on him, my thoughts of him had never been so raw and so sexual. I imagined him sitting on a sofa and unzipping his slacks so I could ride him wildly like an animal. I unconsciously began to doodle his name in my notebook, with hearts around it. I almost giggled out loud at the school-girlishness of my actions.
Kate, who was across the aisle from me, must’ve noticed me squirming and passed me a note which read: “You’re wiggling like a worm! You got your mind on something?”
And I realized how short a time it took for me to have fallen for Mike. Two days ago, I saw him as just the nice guy next door. But what had happened over the past day and the kisses we had shared made me realize I cared for him and appreciated him more than I had thought.
I ripped out a piece of paper to write a note back to Kate which read: “Well, I don’t want to give you too much info – but I could use a dry pair of panties at the moment!”
And me with my horrid timing, the teacher noticed me passing my note across the aisle and scolded me. She then took out the yellow pad of paper that I knew so well. After a moment, she ripped off the top sheet and told me to come to the front of the room and read the sheet. I was to be at the detention room today at 3 o’clock sharp for 30 minutes of copying rules from the school rulebook.
And so the end of the day came and my detention was in session, and it was soon over and I looked out of one the windows and saw that it was raining hard. I suddenly remember Mike had given me his phone number. I went to my locker to search for his number and called him on my cell phone. He picked up the phone after a couple of rings.
“Hi Mike, it’s Mary Anne.”
“Hey Mary Anne, what’s going on?”
“Nothing much. I was wondering if you’re not busy or anything, maybe you could pick me up at school? It’s raining so hard out and I’m still stuck here because I had a detention.”
He said it would be no trouble. I thanked him and we hung up.
I waited at the front doors of the school. A few minutes later his car pulled in the lot. I opened up the door and ran to his car in the pouring rain. I slid into the passenger seat, shivering.
He gave me a sympathetic look, “Aw, here, I’ll turn the heat up.” He fiddled with the dials in his car and it soon became warmer. We headed on home.
“Thank you for picking me up, I really appreciate it,” I said, looking over at him.
“Oh, it’s no problem,” he said in a squeak of a voice. He was acting a little bit off.
“Are you alright?” I asked him.
“Y-yes, I’m fine.”
There was definitely something going on in that brain of his. But what had changed since this morning? Nothing that I could think of. Then it dawned on me. I looked down at my wet t-shirt and noticed my nipples were poking out suggestively from my top.
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