The Girls Next Door

by Losgud

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft, Mult, Consensual, Pregnancy, .

Desc: Sex Story: The title rather spells it out. This is off the Losgudian path and may not be your cup of expected tea. But is it hot? Hell, yea! If a little young, but not pedo, and no virgins were sacrificed to make these pages. The story rolled out and presented two endings. I hate that sort of metafiction shit, but what can you say? The 2nd ending requires the addition of some obvious family codes. Loyal readers/repliers, please read the endote.

I was way back in the kitchen when I started hearing weird metallic tapping sounds. I ignored them, figuring it was nothing and would stop, nothing to stop me from putting the clean dishes back up into the cabinets

But the noise kept repeating, insistently. Finally I poked my head around the corner, and clearly saw someone standing at my front door, knocking. I didn't have a doorbell. There was a brass pineapple knocker to one side, and this person was actually using it. Instead of just rapping on the glass like everyone else.

I thought about it, enough to remember that the only people I could think of who used the knocker would be the girls next door. Out trolling the neighborhood selling shit for Girl Scouts or clubs at school. Then I remembered the always polite Jehovah's Witness douche-bags, pulling back to be better hidden.

My front door was the original, not very energy efficient, a big pane of glass from knee to head. The add-on aluminum storm door held an equal pane. I could see someone thus framed, but moving like a cat through the darkened house towards the pane of brightness, I could hardly i.d. the figure I was slowly approaching.

The long hair gave me a clue, the stature hinting at one of the girls next door. Indeed, as I closed in I saw it was Ellen, the middle sister. She had to be fifteen, nearly sixteen by now. It was hard to recognize her, because I still thought of her as the pretty five-year-old girl I moved in next door to a decade ago when I got my house.

But there she stood, on the other side of the glass, shifting around and looking agitated and worried. Her honey hair was darker and lanker because it was still shower damp.

I opened the door, and she started babbling about a hair dryer, and how she was going to be in so much trouble.

"Calm down, Ellen. And explain."

"Oh, Mr. Hank," she moaned.

I finally got it out of her. It was one of their Daddy's laws that they were forbidden from plugging hair dryers into the socket beside the sink. She had, having a shower and home alone and forgetting, and it sounded like she'd tripped a breaker.

I said it sounded easy, and I'd be happy to help. Ellen was ecstatic, clapping her hands and jumping up and down. Parts of her wobbled like jello.

I felt like a total pervert, enjoying her movements, taking in the show as I followed her from my house to hers.

It was weird, over the years, watching the girls next door go from little girls to, frankly, hot teens. Maggie, being the eldest, went first. And, boom! Even so, I'd been shocked when Ellen went from the tall and pretty and lanky girl-next-door selling Girl Scout cookies to, well, having a bust to make her big sister jealous. Not that Maggie had any real reason to complain. Except that Ellen's were bigger. From what I could tell, glimpsed through clothing a porch away.

I knew what I was I was looking at, because she'd put them on display at last summer's block party. The apparel was like the debutante party for the new girls on the block. She wore a shirt so slutty her dad would've never let her out of the house, if only he hadn't been away at the time conducting some business.

I followed Ellen over to their house. Not only was her hair still damp, it was obvious she'd just thrown on some clothes to come fetch me. Her t-shirt was so old and small I could see she'd been too rushed to bother with a bra. Bottoms were the closest pair of running shorts which happened to be as old and worn smooth and thin as her shirt. In my universe, girls her age didn't buy thongs, so the smoothness of her hind view hinted she'd skipped panties as well.

She was in a hurry I told myself. Not that I didn't enjoy the view following her down the sidewalk, watching her wonderful little ass waggling. I also saw how she glanced back a couple times, to make sure I was still following. Each time, her face beamed with her cute grin, and then she seemed to put a little extra wiggle in her walk.

For sure I'd take the little show as payment for flipping a tripped circuit breaker. It wouldn't be but five minutes between power-on and me back home having a monster jack-off session, especially if I got a nice close thank-you hug.

Not to sound like a pervert or anything. Under-age girls weren't my profession. But to get a sweet little thank-you, sure I'll take the golden ticket and go home, inventing the rest of the story, while having a little fun. But I had no interest in seeking out any further fun than that.

Once she led me inside, Ellen sort of turned towards me, questions all over her face.

"Show me where you plugged in the hair dryer," I spoke gently. She got back her smile, and tugged briefly at my hand to draw me upstairs. Once up the stairs, she led me down a hallway to a door, apologizing, "It's one bathroom for three girls, so sorry for the mess."

I couldn't really tell. All the bathroom lights were on the same circuit as the sink outlet she'd blown so those bulbs were dark. I touched her shoulder lightly. "A flashlight would be really handy right about now."

Ellen jumped to serve me, running back down the staircase. And then she was gone forever. My eyes adjusted enough, so I ventured in. I could see enough that she'd blown a GFI outlet. Pressing the reset did nothing.

Then Ellen returned, enthusiastic, touching my forearms as she handed over a flashlight. "I put in new batteries!" she beamed.

The beam, though now unneeded, was indeed bright. From the way my feet felt, I'd thought the bathroom was carpeted. In glimpses I saw how the floor was tile, mostly carpeted over with peeled off panties and such and sleep tees.

I of course wanted to sink to my knees and be a dog, dig my nose in.

"The problem is in the basement," I announced, ankle-deep in undies.

The lights in the basement were off as well. The switches I flipped did nothing, though I left them on. It was weird they were on the same circuit as the upstairs bath. I'd seen power in other parts of the house. You'd have to ask the guy who did the wiring. I really could've used the flashlight in my own hand, but Ellen seemed so intent on having that job, and actually helping, that I didn't want to dampen her enthusiasm.

We finally found the electrical box. I knew from stray neighborly conversations over the years with Ellen's father that the house had old wiring. I wasn't expecting a fuse box, though. Who didn't have circuit breakers? This house, with old boxes of spare fuses of differing amperes set in a row on the little shelf of the foundation.

I didn't even know what I was looking for. I really needed the beam of the flashlight in close, and Ellen was quick behind me, providing the illumination. To do so, she was right up against me, intuiting my thoughts, pressing up behind me. It was an inefficient operation. But it felt so nice to have the twin pillows of her chest pressed against my back, that I decided to work with it.

Ellen was like a backwards shadow, mimicking my every move but by pressing up against my back, instead of fleeing from my front. Her breasts followed against my lower shoulder blades, and I swear I felt her nipples hardening. Tracing lines against my back's motions.

I finally found a blackened fuse, replaced it, and then the basement was aglow. It was a biblical success--and then there was light! Nevertheless, the flashlight was still focused on the fuse box, and her tits were still focused behind me, cushioning my spine.

Finally I just had to turn around and make her take a step or two back.

"Think we're done with the flashlight," I smiled.

Ellen clicked it off and set it down. Then she stepped back forward and engulfed me in a hug. "Thank you so much," she murmured. This time her breasts were crushed against my front, and one of her thighs slipped a slight slide between mine. "I can't thank you enough," she paused to give a chaste kiss on my lips. She looked up at me, her face a mask of anticipation. I returned her chaste lip-kiss, but then her tongue was in my mouth and she was unabashedly humping my leg.

"Are you serious?" I gasped when she let me up for air.

Ellen just nodded, eyes and mouth wide and eager.

"But what about everyone else?"

"Daddy said he has late deliveries, and to not wait dinner. Maggie came home long enough to change clothes for work. She'll be even later selling popcorn at the theater. Abby has Track practice after school, so she won't be home for another two hours."

I was quickly understanding that unless I said no, I'd soon be having sex with this hot little fifteen-year-old I'd known and lived next to since she was just starting kindergarten. Ask yourself. Look at your stupid acronymic rubber bracelet. What Would You Do?

You'd be honorable and true to your wife. You wouldn't betray your girlfriend. Even if you lived alone, and were truly alone, no way would you open that door with an under-aged angel who happened to live next door. You wouldn't be that stupid, would you? Who doesn't have better sense than that?!!

That's what you'd like to think, and would insist, but try that one on when the little vixen is rubbing your dick through your pants.

I made my choice. I slunk a hand up between us, then rudely squeezed her left tit. "So what are we doing still down in the basement? Let's go mess up your bed."

Ellen gasped, but was clearly pleased at my brazenness. Having made such an initial play, at her young age, mine was a very welcome response. Even I could see that.

.... There is more of this story ...

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Story tagged with:
Ma/ft / Mult / Consensual / Pregnancy /