NOT MY WORK
A found tale which have edited and hopefully improved.
One of my best friends was a girl named Kim. She’s of unusual parentage being half Iraqi, her dad and half Vietnamese, her mother. She and I had been in the same year since she moved into the area. We had often been seated in class together because of the alphabetizing of our names, and therefore were often project partners. One year we had a particularly complicated science project to accomplish and we decided it would be better if we did our work at each other’s houses as we didn’t have enough time during school hours.
About a week before our final project was due, we were working at my house. My father had taken a one week trip to go visit my Mum’s parents up North, so that left my Grand dad, Ken, who lived with us, since Mum had run off with a piss artist as Dad called him, in charge of the house, more like the garden, he loved growing and nurturing his tomatoes.
Kim and I were both 15. Her and I were labouring away at our project, when my Grandfather had emerged from the downstairs bathroom having taken a shower. He still looked damp and was carrying a towel poking at his ears, wearing only a pair of loose fitting sweatpants. He sat down on the faded couch near where we were working, making sure he was getting the warm drying sunshine beating through through the wide open French windows, observing and querying our progress. He could see we were at an impasse, and suggested we take a break. He suggested I go and get some lemonade for Kim and I from the fridge, and grab him a beer. I had yelled back from the kitchen that there was no beer in the fridge. He told me to check the fridge in the garage, where we kept our excess drinks and meats, and anything else that didn’t fit in the kitchen unit. I headed through the utility and round the back, and on the way I went to the bathroom, then made my way back to the living room. All told I was gone about five minutes.
When I got back, Ken and Kim were chatting. I stopped for a second to sneakily listen to what they were saying. Basically, she was telling him about her other hobbies, particularly about her dance classes.
“I would really like to see what you have learned so far. Why don’t you show me your best?’ he said. She started to protest, mostly that she couldn’t dance without music. He got up, and turned on the radio to Radio 1. I decided to walk back to them and hand out the drinks. I sat down as Kim got up to give us her show. She danced for a few minutes but stopped, saying she felt kind of weird about dancing for us.
“Just relax a little, maybe some beer would help.” he chuckled, offering the can he had opened. Amazingly she took a big gulp of it. He asked me to go bring up the rest of the six-pack from the garage so I left, and got them. When I got back, Kim was finishing off the first beer. I handed him five beers. He took one, and passed out one to Kim and I, and told us to drink up. I nursed mine, while Kim and him both chugged theirs down. Kim was obviously feeling the effect of the alcohol on her slight young body.
The music was still playing and he suggested to Kim she should be relaxed enough now to continue dancing for us. Lo and behold she was, and she started swaying to the music. She was dancing provocatively, especially for an 15 year old. My father told her she looked very sexy dancing the way she was making her giggle. He asked her if she wanted to be shown how to dance really sexy. She giggled again and nodded and I frowned ... we had work to do. Ken stood up. Now Grand dad is 72, six feet tall, wiry and muscled in a rangy sort of way. His hair had thinned to give him a monkish look and his bald pate was shining. I like him a lot ; he was good fun, but fun wasn’t in my mind because I could see a tented bulge in his pants. Had he been playing with himself in the bathroom I wondered or had our casual attire started something. Kim saw it too and her eyes locked on it. Kim isn’t the brightest spark like street wise, together with the fact she leads a very sheltered life with her strict mixed race parents, so I guessed she thought he really liked what she was doing.
Ken walked over to her and told her he was going to show her how to dance really sexy. He got behind her and put his hands on her hips. He was towering over her and guiding her body to an suggestive dance. Her hips were swaying, knees bending, her whole body moving to the seductive sounds of the music from the radio. Ken’s hands were all over her, manipulating her lithe form into an arousing display. Clearly it was arousing because I was very excited by the performance.
Grandad started dancing with her, very closely. Her dense, long black hair was flicking his bare torso while his groin rubbed up and down her pert butt as they moved and swayed together.
“That’s the sexiest dance of all, is if you were a stripper,” he snickered, whereby he proceeded to lift up her glaringly white T shirt. Kim meekly complied; I was stunned and I was granted a view of her erect dark nipples. They were so dark and big, like pieces of coal in a broth soup. Unlike me she had no real breasts to speak of, just slight bumps on a sleek, lissome dark toned body. Kim’s ribs were sort of exotic and I could see the muscles of her chest and stomach contract and release as they continued to sway.
“Ken ... I feel a bit funny, like we shouldn’t be doing this.” she told him glancing at me. I just shrugged
“You’re OK ... feel good though?”she nodded. His bony gnarled hands were on her hips. “Hey Kim, if it feels good, how can it be bad? You really want to stop?”
In her alcohol laden and aroused state she found no flaw in that logic. He then began to slide her pants down exposing the top seam of her white cotton underwear. She bent forward to drink more beer then wriggled out of her skin tight pants, almost robotically. Ken was crouching behind Kim, helping her, glancing round, looking into her face. It was as if there was nothing behind her eyes, just a look of confusion and pleasure. Her breath was rapid, the way breathing becomes when sexual tension fills the air. His face was near her butt, and he planted little kisses on her panty clad arse. At the same time his large hands slid along the taught skin of her lithe legs. I saw and heard her gasp. I was riveted to the expression on her face, helpless lust.
Then his hands reached the tops of her hips, he put a hand inside and in front of her panties. She moaned at the invading digits. I could see his hand moving back and forth, rubbing her hairy mound. A legacy from her ancestry, she had a massive curly black bush, often suffering taunts and jokes in the school showers, which she stoically ignored and it escaped the top and sides of her panties. It bulged her panties out but now I could see the material of her already tight underwear become tighter as his hand took up space moving lower to her sex. She gasped and continued to breathe in that lusty manner. No more real sounds came from her little mouth as she was sexually toyed with by my grand father, other than that of her ragged breath.
Ken smiled across at me knowingly, taking a quick glance at my crotch which was more or less hidden the way my legs were folded under me on a couch. Like Kim I was also wearing skinny black tights and a bright red T shirt.