Retirement Project - I Build It, and They Come.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft, ft/ft, Consensual, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Fiction,
Desc: Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 1 - The day of my retirement has come, inevitably, and I need a project to keep myself busy. I decide to build a spacious indoor pool. A neighbour's daughter seems especially interested, though I can't help noticing she doesn't really have the build of a swimmer.
The day of my retirement came, in the end, and I have to admit I found it quite traumatic.
For forty years I’d had the same rhythm to my life: five days a week going to work, followed by the weekend; then the next five days at work, and so on and so on.
Now suddenly there was the weekend, and then nothing.
I’d read about the different ways retirement can affect people, but I hadn’t taken it too seriously. I suppose I was surprised it had arrived, even though it was so utterly predictable. Old age had crept up on me.
It was inevitable that I’d be sixty-five one day, but some part of me thought it would never happen to ME. Inside I still felt quite young. David Whitaker was not old, surely?
I’d been given a lovely retirement do at work, with lots of people saying how we must keep in touch, but I didn’t really think we would. My wife was the sociable one and I’d lost her a few years before. Our two sons had emigrated: one to Canada and one to Australia, so I saw them once a year at best. I’m not an easy mixer and I tend to keep myself to myself.
My house was my kingdom, set in a large plot and screened from the road and neighbours by trees I’d planted years before. Generally I enjoy my own company and while I was working it had been enough. I’m on friendly terms with my neighbours but I don’t see much of them – living on a busy road we mostly go out in our cars and so it’s a case of a friendly wave as we pass.
For a few weeks I slipped into depression; I’d become a lonely old man with no sense of purpose, and nothing seemed worthwhile. I hit the bottom though, and then gradually came back up out of it, bit by bit.
I got a dog, in fact two dogs, so I had company and creatures who needed me and returned my affection. They made a lot of difference.
I spent more time with my computer and joined some forums, and got a lot of support and encouragement. It’s amazing the difference it makes just knowing that others have the same problems as you. There was some good advice too, and the best advice of all was to start a project.
I’ve always liked water, right from when I was a little boy, and I like DIY, so eventually the project I settled on was to build a swimming pool.
I went through my finances with my retirement lump sum, and I found I had enough, if I did most of the work myself, to build a pool in its own building, attached to the house.
Well doing the work was part of the idea, so I set to.
Searching online for ideas I saw lots of houses with small pools in small rooms, looking pretty unattractive and useless, and I was determined to make mine different. It was going to be a place to relax, enjoy, spend quality time in; and the pool was going to be long enough to swim proper lengths.
There was going to be a lounging area with a hot tub and a TV. In fact I half expected to abandon my existing living room for the pool room.
So I did my own design with a glass front facing south over the garden, made up entirely of patio doors. I hired a digger and dug the pool and the wall foundations, bought the materials, and the filter, heat pumps, dehumidifier and everything. I learned to lay bricks, do the tiling, plumbing and electrics.
It took fifteen months, then I had a pool company come in to finish off and commission it.
Finally the great day came: it was done and the water was warm enough to swim in. I wore myself out doing lengths or messing about, seeing how long I could stay under water, throwing a coin in and diving for it, practising different strokes. I brought the dogs’ beds through and settled down on the vinyl-covered mats to watch some TV. It had all worked out.
Next evening I was lazing in the hot tub, watching TV, when the doorbell rang. I put on a robe and went to answer it; there were three children in the porch.
I only half recognised them, so I was glad that they introduced themselves as being the Mellors’ children from directly across the road. There were two girls and a boy, between perhaps fourteen and seventeen years old.
I missed their names – I’m hopeless like that – but they were very nice children, very polite, who’d come to invite me to a party at their house, that their parents were holding for people on our rather busy road to get to know each other better. I said yes, of course. By now the need for company had banished my bashfulness.
So the next Saturday I went over and had a very pleasant time, I must say. Paul and Amanda were very friendly and it was good to meet everyone. After an hour or so the children came in and I was, fortunately, reintroduced to them: Vicky, the oldest, Laetitia, and John.
I was slightly surprised, though not disappointed, that Laetitia didn’t immediately go off somewhere after the introduction but stayed to talk to me. To my relief I found I was actually doing a lot more listening than talking, because she was a very friendly extrovert person and talked easily and at length in response to any question.
She was very engaging, very pretty, with longish dark hair and hazel-brown eyes with a hint of green, a small turned-up nose and a wide mouth that was mostly smiling. She had a very mobile face, with her features all on the move as she talked, and she waved her hands about captivatingly to express herself. I found her magnetic.
Also I have to admit that part of my smile back at her was because I couldn’t stop myself thinking of a short version of her splendidly old-fashioned name: Titty.
Because her tits were very prominent. Not large, especially, but jutting. She was wearing a thin pullover that shaped itself over them as though moulded, and they formed two highly visible cones high on her chest that I had to make an effort not to stare at.
It had been many years, decades even, since I’d been to bed with a woman, but I’d never lost my interest in them. Laetitia was far, far too young for any serious interest, obviously - only sixteen perhaps - but she was very sexy; it was impossible to deny.
I was just trying to work out how aware she was of her breasts and the effect they were having on me, when Paul and Amanda came and joined us, as the party started to wind down. I’d been enjoying listening to Laetitia but I’d been starting to think it was time to go; however they seemed quite keen to keep chatting.
After some village gossip and chit-chat the conversation drifted round to the children, and how keen they were on sports and the various school teams they were all on, swimming among them. My antennae were just starting to twitch, since for one thing Laetitia didn’t seem to have the size or shoulders to be a competitive swimmer, when Paul brought up the subject of what I’d been doing.
“Gather you’ve been busy,” he said, “ all the deliveries and whatnot. And a pool builder’s sign I think we saw.” The pool company had taken the opportunity to advertise themselves with a sign on the verge at the end of my drive.
“Yes, I’ve been building a swimming pool,” I said, fighting off the urge to start boring them, like a lonely old fart, with all the details of the build, “in a pool room, you know. Just finished as a matter of fact.”
“Oh wow how amazing!” said Laetitia, “I bet it’s fantastic.”
As hints go, I supposed there had been worse. Certainly many with less appeal.
“You must come over sometime,” I took the hint of course, trying not to sound too keen, “and have a look; bring your things if you like.” I took in all of them with the invitation.
“We’d love to, thank you,” smiled Amanda, “one evening perhaps?”
After another minute of well-mannered negotiation I was going to see them all on the Thursday, Vicky and John too. Vicky in a swimming costume would be no hardship either, to be absolutely frank. Amanda looked in pretty good shape as well, come to think of it.
I was glad I’d put on a reasonable amount of muscle with my building activity, since my body had been pretty slack while I was a sedentary desk worker. Now, even though I had less muscle than I’d have had when I was younger, I was not in bad shape.
I swam a lot, obviously, and practiced my tumble turns. It was all a bit foolish how much I wanted to make a good impression. The Mellors had lived opposite me for about four years, after all, so common sense said they would come, be nice about my pool, and go back to their totally separate lives afterwards.
Anyway Thursday evening arrived and they all came over. After the pleasantries they got changed and we all jumped into the pool. I made an effort to concentrate on Paul to make sure I didn’t ogle the girls, which would have been all too easy since they were in excellent shape.
They were in one-piece suits, and Laetitia’s suit flattened her tits somewhat, so when after a while she came up to me in the shallow end I was just about able to stop my eyes wandering down.
She smiled winningly at me. Somehow I felt she would only be smiling that particular smile while she was facing away from her family.
“This is a lovely pool,” she said, “so luxurious, and so private; you must have all kinds of plans for it.”
Plans? I just planned to swim in it. I couldn’t think of a response. And I was distracted by her manner, and her closeness to me, which were both a bit intimate.
It was a little inappropriate: quite apart from her parents being a few yards away, swimming up and down. She could have been my granddaughter, our ages were so far apart. As so often my social skills failed me and I just smiled gormlessly at her, hoping she’d say something else, that I could respond to.
“It must be so great, being able to swim all the time,” she obliged me, “it must really improve your swimming.”
“Well yes, I think it will,” I smiled back, thinking she was quite a confident character.
“It’s so long,” she continued, “almost as long as the one at school, and you can just practice, turns and everything, without people getting in the way all the time.”
She had moved so close to me I was starting to feel the warmth of her thigh, even through the water. I couldn’t help picturing the thigh, which I’d seen before she got in: it was beautifully shaped and very slightly big in relation to her upper half. There was quite a lot of muscle on it, extending more front-to-back than side-to-side, if you see what I mean.
Her pelvis was a perfect match for it, curvy and feminine, narrowing deliciously into her waist. In her swimsuit it all made her shape incredibly arousing, with her tits, even a bit squashed as they were, just finishing it off.
She was looking steadily up at me. She was quite gorgeous, as though made especially for sex by some benevolent but slightly naughty god.
I suddenly knew that if her thigh touched me, by moving another half an inch, I’d have a hard-on. What a nightmare that would be, right in front of her parents! Suppose it wouldn’t go down before they all got out and I, as host, had to get out too?
“Well you must come over and practice, by all means Laetitia,” I blurted, trying to back away but finding I was jammed into the corner.
“Lettie,” she grinned naughtily at me, moving away just a little. I could have sworn she was laughing at my impending panic.
“Lettie,” I acknowledged.
“Thank you so much,” she said, “that would be lovely. Would Sunday afternoon be alright?”
I could only smile and nod, knowing she’d just brazenly manipulated me with her sexy little body, but of course I didn’t really mind.
Anyway we all swam for a bit longer, before everyone started getting out. We got dressed and had a cup of tea, and I managed to ask enough about the children’s end-of-year exams to find out that Lettie either was sixteen or would be next term, with Vicki (with an I, definitely not with a Y Amanda said with a smile) two years ahead in school. Then Paul and Amanda stood up and started thanking me for having them over.
“I see you’ve been Lettied,” Amanda grinned at me, “don’t let her be a nuisance.” She ruffled Lettie’s hair affectionately.
“Not at all, no,” I was trying to find the right thing to say, “you’re all welcome, any time.”
“Well just be firm with her, and the others if they come,” Paul finished, shaking my hand. Between the lines it was understood that only the children, and perhaps only Lettie, would be coming back. Well Paul and Amanda were barely more than half my age; we were friendly neighbours not friends. The children would come for the pool and I could indulge them, if I wanted the company, or not.
I replayed the scene over and over again during the next two days. One angle that occurred to me, as I reviewed it, was whether Paul and Amanda had been actively offloading some of their dynamic younger daughter onto me and my pool? I could imagine her being a bit of a handful sometimes, and somewhere she could expend some of her energy might look just the ticket.
I had no idea how right I was. She came halfway through Sunday afternoon, on her own and with a rolled-up towel under her arm.
“Hello,” she smiled at me, “is this OK, really?” It was a politeness; there was no trace of doubt in her voice.
“Yes absolutely,” I couldn’t help beaming at her - this sexy girl who’d come to swim with me. I showed her the downstairs loo where she could get changed, then swam with her for twenty minutes or so. She laughed happily as she splashed about, tried floating, threw a coin in and dived for it, and did a bit of breaststroke with her head up. She was having a good time, without doing any serious swimming.
When we got out we dried and she lay down on the mats, without asking, still in her swimming costume, and gave me a sexy smile. At least, I found it sexy though I couldn’t imagine it was meant as a come-on. I put the TV on and lay down with about five or so feet between us, offering her the remote. She kept smiling at me as she flicked through the channels.
“What do you feel like?” she asked. She clearly had no doubts about being welcome to stay. I could imagine with her character she’d probably never once experienced being unwelcome.
“Oh, whatever you like,” I replied, blanking the very idea it might be innuendo.
But she kept smiling and channel-hopping, and somehow there was an atmosphere growing. She rolled slightly towards me. It was hard not to glance at her from time to time. After a while I found myself gazing more at her than the TV.
Normally I’d have been much more discreet, but there was something about her that made me not bother trying to hide my admiration for her sexy body. She was a very open person, and very confident, and the situation was what she had contrived, after all.
I mean here she was, alone with a single old man, whom she didn’t know very well, in his house, half naked, and there was not a hint of anxiety about her. Her parents hadn’t worried either. Lettie wasn’t someone I could imagine as a victim at all. And I was sensing that she was completely aware of the sexuality of her body and the effect it must be having on me.
As I stared at her she glanced over at me, smiled, and went back to looking at the TV. I took in her body all over again: nice square shoulders not that wide, lean arms, slender neck, arresting face with that nose and mouth, full eyebrows.
Then down again to her pert tits, so high and prominent, her small waist, all her upper body quite slight, really, then her pelvis a bit bigger, stronger, curvy and inviting. And her legs, with quite a lot of muscle on her thighs, such a shape, and nice big calves to go with them.
Her swimsuit stretched revealingly over her prominent mons, her cameltoe quite clearly defined. Wasn’t there normally a lining to help that?
I shifted a bit to get comfortable, realising as I did that I had the beginnings of an erection. With wearing my usual brief-style trunks it was rather obvious. Lettie looked over as I moved, and her eyes were drawn to it. I held my breath – it was definitively inappropriate.
She rolled right over onto her side, towards me, coming nearer and presenting me with a very sexy profile. My cock expanded a little more. She looked at it, and spoke.
“Can we do a deal, Mr Whitaker?” she asked.
“Deal?” I was taken by surprise. “Call me David, please.”
“David. The thing is,” she paused, “I’m a lesbian. I have girlfriends. Only girlfriends. But Mum and Dad don’t know, so I can’t take them home, not to do anything, and it’s the same with them.”
She speeded up, knowing that I’d be starting to feel I’d been taken advantage of.
“So, well I can see you like girls, my age, you know, and so I wondered if, well, if I brought girls here, whether that might be nice for both of us?”
My mind flip-flopped several times in the next millisecond, between absurd disappointment that Lettie wouldn’t be interested in me, on the one hand, and on the other hand the prospect of teenage girls being brought round.
“So you don’t like men?” I found I needed to know a bit more about it. I hardly knew a thing about lesbianism.
“Well I don’t find men sexy, just girls,” Lettie explained with no embarrassment at all. “I don’t ‘not like’ men, it’s just that girls get me going and men don’t. Same as you I expect.”
She smiled at me, looking for my reaction to that intimate detail. “So I don’t mind you looking at me or anything, I wouldn’t mind if we were nude or anything, but it doesn’t turn me on. To turn me on we’d need to have a girl here. And I’m guessing that would turn you on as well. So...”
I gawped at the confident little teen.
“Why don’t I show you?” she asked. “Have you got a computer?”
I got up and went for my laptop. When I got back I plugged it into the big TV through the long cable I’d installed, and set the laptop down between us.
With the display duplicated on the TV I passed Lettie the mouse.
“I’ll find some girls that I like, and let’s see if our taste is the same,” she said. I was starting to get over my disappointment already.
Lettie went straight to a site full of pictures of girls in bikinis. Some videos too.
“This one’s nice,” she said, starting a video of a girl standing on a beach, just in the sea. The girl had no idea she was being filmed and was playing laughingly with a little brother, while some pervert with a long lens and a good tripod had recorded her lovely young body for the world to drool over for evermore.
The girl had broad, straight shoulders, a small waist, and a pert, nicely muscled ass. Smooth, tanned skin. A delicious shape and completely lean. Her smile was really pretty too. She played and paddled, her delectable body in a little bikini tied with bows.
We watched the video, two or three minutes long. Lettie watched it intently till it finished. “Gorgeous, don’t you think?” she asked.
I nodded. The girl was, undoubtedly. I had to admit that Lettie’s unapologetic lust allowed me to enjoy the vision where before, on my own, I would have felt guilty and probably switched away.
Lettie played another one, quite similar, then ran through some photos. All the girls she chose had tits, hips and waists, but they all conveyed that sense of girls who were not yet in their twenties. They were lean, lithe, and innocent.
She opened another site, where girls were in lesbian poses. Naked, tanned and lovely, they were arousing each other; kissing, stroking and fondling. I shifted on the mat, and as before realised the reason for my discomfort was my cock swelling in my trunks.
Lettie looked across and smiled. “You can let it out if you like, I won’t mind,” she said easily. “They’re supposed to be sexy, that’s what they’re online for. You can play with yourself even, it’s OK. We’re sharing aren’t we?”
Not taking her seriously I gave her the obvious riposte: “I will if you will,” I challenged jokingly. She smiled confidently back into my eyes.
Then Lettie was stripping off her costume, as I watched in disbelief. She pulled each strap off each shoulder, slid them down off her arms, exposing her fabulous breasts, then lifted her pelvis off the mat, and in a moment had pushed the swimsuit down her legs and pulled her feet through.
Her body was so arousing it should have been a state secret, not casually revealed to an old man who happened to have a swimming pool.
She looked at me for my reaction, with a self-assured smile, then back at the screen. She was quite happy to be nude; I realised she’d set up my challenging little riposte.
I pulled off my trunks anyway and lay there, hardly breathing, with the young lesbians on the screen and teenage Lettie naked right there next to me. God.
Sixteen, probably. At the most. She had a lovely little brunette bush at the top of her mesmerising thighs, trimmed neatly to fit inside her swimsuit.
Her body looked even more sensational naked. Her tits were incredible, sticking up like perfect cones even on her back, topped with large, dark-pink areolas and big nipples. Seeing her fine, slightly brown skin flow uninterrupted from her torso into her pelvis and thighs made me groan slightly, it was so sexual.
She started playing a video of two girls in a shower, washing each other and then kissing, caressing and finally fingering each other to a very beautiful pair of orgasms. While it was playing Lettie started playing with herself, opening her legs and sliding a finger in and out of her pussy, while caressing a tit with the other hand.
She kept playing sexy girl-on-girl videos, one after another, for perhaps half an hour, slowly finger-fucking herself and rubbing her wet thumb over her clit. She was gasping quietly.
I nursed my erection carefully, close to an orgasm all the time. It was an other-worldly experience; one that I’d never imagined might happen to me, in a million years.
Lettie looked over.
“So do you accept?” she was an ace negotiator I realised, “the deal?”
“Yes,” I could only gasp by this time.
Lettie was squeezing one of her flushed tits, which were looking more wonderful than ever. Her strong pelvis was lurching around as she thrust two fingers in and out, her gasping even seeming to be in time with the teen girl who was about to cum on screen. Finally she arched off the mat, her hand working furiously as she climaxed.
I came with her; hard, my sperm splattering right up my chest for the first time since my forties. My senses surged with half-forgotten euphoria as I came and came, pumping my desperate cock while my eyes feasted on the naked teen cumming furiously right next to me, in real life.
As my senses gradually returned after my greatest orgasm in years, possibly ever, I gaped, amazed, at my new ... well, partner, really.
She looked over; flushed and excited from her cum. Not amazed though. She just seemed distinctly satisfied with events, on every level.
For myself I could hardly believe it. But it was true. It had happened. I’d masturbated naked with my neighbour’s sixteen-year-old daughter, as part of some deal. And this wasn’t the end of it...
“I think we should start with Janie,” she said, looking at my cock, “I think she’ll like you.”