I knew the moment Leah Finley and her daughter Samantha moved into the small house across the road from me that my life was going to take a very interesting turn.
I'm Ken Yates, and I live in a semi-rural area outside a mid-sized Southern city in a small house located on three acres of land. It's not too far from where I work the second shift as a foreman at a nice-sized manufacturing plant, and that's part of the reason why I live alone.
I was divorced about five years ago because my ex-wife got tired of me being gone almost every night. When our daughter turned 14 and was old enough to baby-sit her younger brothers, my wife started going out with friends from work, and that led to her having an affair.
I suspected something was wrong right from the get-go, and after the third time of her coming home after 1 o'clock in the morning, I confronted her. Claire's the worst liar in the world, and she confessed.
Once I got over my initial anger, we sat down and talked, you know, like adults. It was pretty simple, really. The spark had gone out of our marriage. Claire needed someone who could be with her on a regular basis, and I wasn't able — or willing — to change my work schedule.
It wasn't working, and after she stepped out on me I also had trust issues. So we hammered out a divorce settlement we could both live with and went our separate ways.
I adamantly refused to pay alimony, but I was agreeable to letting her have primary custody of the children and paying a generous amount in child support. The flip side of that was that she had to buy out my share of the equity in our home, for which she had to refinance the mortgage. Everything else — court costs, attorney's fees, savings and checking accounts, etc. — we split 50-50.
Although she got custody of the kids and the house, I got unlimited visitation and we arranged it where they spent every other weekend with me. I tried as much as possible to be a part of their lives, and for that reason, Claire and I are cordial toward each other, but she's not my best friend, the way she was when we were dating and earlier in our marriage.
That saddens me some, but that's the way life is, and you just have to make the best of it. One thing that helped was that I made damn sure her married boyfriend didn't get off scott-free. I fucked up his marriage the way he'd helped fuck up mine.
I even fucked his ex-wife once or twice, after our divorces, but once we got past our need for revenge, we realized that we didn't have anything in common, so we moved on.
Once I agreed to let Claire keep the house, I needed a place to live, and found this little place that an elderly couple had had for years. It was small — about 1,200 square feet — and fairly old, but they'd kept it in tip-top shape, so I took my share of the equity, put a hefty down payment on it and moved in.
It's perfect for me. It's easy to maintain, there's a modest barn where I keep all my tools and stuff, I have room for a nice vegetable garden and there's a large stand of woods at the back of the property that I have permission to camp, hunt or fish on.
When the kids were a little younger, I used to take them back there camping, and the boys and I still go out and look for deer. We've seen some, including a nice eight-point buck that comes through periodically, but never during hunting season.
The little house directly across the road from mine had seen two occupants before Leah and Sam moved in.
The people who were there when I moved into my house were a young couple who were only there a couple of months. The wife was pregnant and they were staying there until they could buy something a little bigger.
After they moved, another young couple moved in and they were trouble. For one thing, they liked to party, and they often had loud gatherings that went on well into the night.
Now, I have become a creature of some habit. My shift at work runs from 3 o'clock to 11, I get home at 11:30 and I'm in bed by 12:30. I'm usually up and out of bed by 8 a.m., I take an hour of so to have coffee and a light breakfast, then I take a few hours to do whatever personal business I have to attend to, then start getting ready for work around 2 o'clock.
I do not function well without at least seven hours sleep, so after several nights of being kept awake by loud revelry from across the road, I called the sheriff. Of course, that got me on the bad side of the husband, who was a little psycho.
And as time went on, I heard him and his wife fighting, to the point where he beat the crap out of her one night. The wife came barging on my porch, begging for help, and I let her in. Psycho soon followed, but he suddenly got real understanding when he saw me in the doorway with my deer rifle in hand. After that, I started keeping a loaded pistol on the bedside table, but fortunately, they split up and moved before I had to use it.
After that, the place stood empty for almost two years. I made a deal with the guy who owned the property to occasionally go by and do some light maintenance — things like keeping the grass mowed, making sure it wasn't vandalized, that sort of thing. It was a little extra cash that I could use for walking-around money.
It was a Saturday in the summer and I was off work when I saw a loaded van pull in to the driveway in front of the house. Two women got out and started unloading, soon to be joined by a pickup truck with another load of their stuff. This vehicle was driven by a fellow that I soon learned was Leah's older brother, who'd come from out of state to help them move.
I'd already talked to the owner, who said he'd finally sold the place, and he asked me, strictly as a favor, to look after the place and the new owner. Once I got a look at Leah and Sam Finley, I was all for it.
Wanting to be a good neighbor, I walked over and offered to help, and was soon helping haul their stuff into the house.
At first, Leah Finley looked at me with some suspicion, but Samantha Finley always looked at me with the most brazen look of lust I've ever seen on a woman. It was pretty obvious to me that she was a true hottie; the only problem was the fact that she was only 16.
As for Leah, I really had no interest in her, and she certainly had no interest in me — or any other man. Oh, she was good-looking enough, but she just appeared to be... how do I say it?... She just looked washed out.
They were both quite tall, about 5-foot-10, and slim. Leah, in fact, was too thin for my taste, plus she had a kind of pinched look and she rarely smiled.
I would soon learn that she'd just been divorced, and it hadn't been pleasant. She was very religious and her husband had been a bit of a rounder. Apparently, she'd gotten religion after they married, and he wasn't willing to stop carousing to follow her into the faith. He'd started running around on her, and she'd finally gotten fed up with it.
Sam was their only child, and when they split up, she went with her mother, since the dad apparently worked off-shore and wasn't in a position to take care of a teenage daughter. Leah, meanwhile, found a job at Wal-Mart and had moved here from the next state over.
I could tell right from the first that Leah had her hands full with Sam. I should stress that it didn't seem like anything major, like drugs or violence. In fact, Sam was quite intelligent and a pretty good athlete. She made good grades and quickly earned a starting spot on the high school basketball team.
But she was quite different from her mom. For one thing, she smiled, and she smiled a lot. And when she did, it was one of those sultry, come-fuck-me smiles. She also wasn't quite as thin as Leah and her tits were a little bigger.
I knew this because Sam immediately started making it point of lying out in the front yard to get a tan, and she always seemed to do it on the days when I was off work, where she knew I could see her.
I'll admit it; she made me hard, all the time. Sam Finley had a certain feline grace about her that was incredibly erotic, and she knew the effect she had on me — and every other man she came into contact with.
I should say here that Sam wasn't what you'd call a knockout, as far as her looks went. Her face was kind of long and her mouth was a little big, but her eyes made up for a lot of whatever deficiencies she had about her looks. Added to her devilish smile, it gave her a very seductive look, and she always had the high school studs sniffing around.
Of course, since I'd been doing routine maintenance on their house before they moved in, it was only natural that I'd continue to help with odd jobs that needed doing.
I had a small tractor with a mower attachment that I used to cut my grass, and I volunteered to cut their yard as well, an offer that was accepted. When their water heater blew up, I was the one they called to help fix it. A cabinet door needed replacing, and I was there.
And every time I was there, especially on the rare occasions when Leah was gone, Sam flirted with me openly...
As long as I was getting laid on a semi-regular basis, I could fend off her flirtations, but not long after New Year's one year, I broke up with a woman I'd been going with on a casual basis, and for some reason I just couldn't seem to connect with another one.
At this time, Leah and Sam had been living across the road about 18 months, and Leah had gotten comfortable with me being right there. She even asked me to keep an eye on Sam when she was working, so apparently she trusted me. If she'd known that I often jacked off to the image of her daughter doing wicked things to my dick, I doubt if she'd have been so trusting.
After Claire and I divorced, I dated some women casually, and had some pretty intimate relationships with a couple of others, but it wasn't always easy for me to catch a single woman.
For one thing, I'm not a big drinker, never have been, and I'm just not much into bar scenes. And even if I was, I'm kind of leery of women who frequent bars, because in this day and age, you can't be too careful.
Plus, I'm usually a relationship-oriented person, not someone who goes for a lot of one-night stands, although I have had a few. And, finally, I'm just not a bullshitter. I don't have a naturally-flowing gift of gab that makes women fall down at my feet.
So when I broke up with this last woman, I hit a dry spell, and went into a bit of a funk. I was pushing age 45, and while I was in good shape, I wasn't sure if I still had what it took to make a woman happy.
I'd been living alone for 41⁄2 years and I was starting to get settled into that bachelor's nether land, where you're too set in your ways to change, but too young to just give up on having a decent relationship with a female.
By this time, Samantha was a senior in high school and my youngest son was a junior, and like Sam he was on the basketball team. He didn't start, but he played just about every game. He was good for about three or four points, several rebounds and four or five hard fouls a night.
I had arranged it with the plant to move my days off to Fridays and Tuesdays, because that's when most of the school's games were played. Cole also played football, so it worked out to where I could attend most of his games.
Since the girls always played before the boys, I got to where I'd also go watch Sam play, and as always I was fascinated — and more than a little aroused — by the way she moved.
She was a good player, good enough to get some attention from small colleges and junior colleges, and she always seemed to pick me out of the crowd. When she did she always smiled that dick-stiffening smile.
It didn't take Sam long to start confiding in me, and I became a sounding board for all of her frustrations with her mother. Leah made Sam go to church with her and tried to restrict her dating, issues that Sam complained about bitterly.
I had to walk a fine line between my carnal desires and my adult responsibilities. On the matter of church, I sided with Sam, but on the dating issue, I leaned toward Leah.
I tried to impress upon Sam the pitfalls of having sex before she was ready, the threat of disease and possibility of pregnancy that could derail a young life that I believed had some potential.
I don't know whether she heard what I was saying or not, but I don't think she had a serious boyfriend, although I know she dated a lot.
After basketball season, Sam got a scholarship offer from a junior college in another part of the state, and she invited me to join her and her mom in a celebratory dinner at a local steak house.
Leah sat across from me and Sam sat on my right. About halfway through dinner, I suddenly felt a soft hand slowly snaking up my right leg under the table. Of course, my cock immediately sprang to life. I tried not to give the game away, but it seemed Leah was off in her own world, and was oblivious to the little seduction dance her daughter was performing.
At first, she just teased me, running her fingers up my leg, to my thigh then pulling away. I looked over at her several times, but she just looked away as if nothing was happening. But right before the waitress brought the check, as Leah went off to the ladies room, Sam slid her hand all the way up to my crotch and squeezed my throbbing-hard cock.
I looked over again, and this time she met my gaze, giving me such a lascivious grin that I almost came right then.
"That kind of stuff can get you in trouble, young lady," I said.
"Maybe, but this tells me you like it," she answered, giving my hard cock a soft squeeze.
"Sam, I'm more than twice your age," I said, just a hint of desperation entering my voice.
"And you're the sexiest man I know," Sam said. "Mr, Ken, you might as well give it up. You're going to fuck me, later if not sooner. I've wanted you since the first time I met you, and I usually get what I want. Think about me tonight when you get in bed and stroke this nice fat cock."
"Oh, I do, all the time," I said in a choked voice, just as Leah returned to the table.
After that, I tried to avoid situations where I was alone with Sam, and succeeded mostly. Still, Leah called a couple of times asking for help with something or another, and Sam would be there giving me the most unnerving looks.
The spring passed, and Sam turned 18. She had a couple of her girlfriends over for a sleepover, and I could only imagine what went on after Leah went to bed that night.
Then it came time for Sam's graduation. I was invited and decided to go. As it happened, I met Sam's dad for the first time, and we got along all right. He seemed like a nice enough guy, although you could tell that he liked to party a bit.
It was the first Tuesday in June when things were finally kicked up a notch. I was off work that night, so I had the day pretty much to do whatever I wanted.
Leah was at work, and she'd asked if I'd bring my mower over and cut their grass, and I said I would. Sam had gotten a part-time job at a sandwich shop, and I figured she'd be at work also. I slipped on a pair of baggy gym shorts, a loose-fitting tank top and my sneakers, and drove the tractor over
I was wrong about Sam being gone to work, however.
I'd finished the front and was starting on the back when I saw something that made me pause. Sam was laying face-down on a lounge chair on their back deck with a very skimpy bikini on. The ties to her top were undone and I could see her tanned, naked back covered with oil.
But what threw me for a loop was what she was doing. I noticed that her position was a little odd, that her hips were slightly raised. Then, as I got closer, I saw that she had one arm under her body and her hand was in the bikini bottoms doing a brisk number on her pussy.
My cock went from zero to 60 in a split-second, and even as I watched, I saw her body sort of shake, then she looked up at me with that evil grin and slowly, deliberately pulled her hand out of her bottoms and licked her fingers clean.
Then she got up and walked back inside like nothing had happened. She just held the top over her breasts, but managed to look back at me right before she went in the back door.
That broke me, as far as continuing to resist Sam Finley. I made up my mind then and there that if she wanted me to fuck her, I was going to do just that.
I managed to concentrate on finishing the job at hand, then parked the tractor in front of the house and walked up to the door. I knocked, and Sam answered the door dressed in a hot pink bra-and-panty set.
She smelled freshly-showered, she'd put on some make-up, including a lot of eye shadow, and her brown hair was piled at the back of her head in a loose ponytail. She looked good enough to eat.
"I was wondering what was taking you so long," she purred as she let me in.
"I had to finish the yard," I said. "I just came in for a glass of ice water."
"Um, yeah, I can get that," she said, glancing down to where my cock was hanging low in my shorts.
After she brought me my water, and I'd chugged about half the glass, she looked at me with those seductive eyes.
"Did you enjoy the show?" she said. "Would you like to see me do it again, just for you?"
I just nodded dumbly as she led the way into her bedroom. I sat down on the rocking chair in her room while she crawled onto her bed. She sort of knee-walked her way over to the side of the bed closest to me, staring at me in abject lust.
"You don't know how many times I've come imagining you stroking that hard cock for me," she said softly. "How much I want to see it and watch you shoot your cum everywhere. I've creamed over the thought of you filling my hot little box with it, fucking me hard and filling me with cum."
"You're a nasty little girl, you know that?" I said in a low voice.
My cock was throbbing hard as I watched Sam play with her breasts through the satiny material of her bra.
"Oh, I know," she whispered. "But only for you. I've been waiting for you, waiting for a real man to fuck me, not some pimply-faced jock. But first, I want to watch you, and I want you to watch me. I'm gonna show you just how nasty I really am."
With that, she reached back and unhooked her bra and tossed it aside. She hefted both of her tits in each hand, showing me her round globes.
They weren't real big, but they hung real nice on her chest. They were capped by a pair of dollar-sized areolas that were a rich brown color, with fat nipples that were stiff as nails.
She squeezed them, then rolled the nipples between the thumb and forefinger of each hand, and I could tell she was getting real turned on. She looked me up and down, and her gaze lingered on my rampant cock, which was already leaking profusely at the tip.
"Go on, Ken, take it out," she whispered. "I want to see it. I want to see you."
I still wasn't quite sure what I was getting into, but by this time the little head was doing most of thinking for me, so I slowly peeled off my tank top and slid my shorts to the floor.