Chapter 1

The attraction of one human being to another. It can be overwhelming, rarely of our own choosing, and can know no boundaries. One glimpse and you are captured.

I’d been aware of her presence since before she was born. My daughter and her mother, both young teen mothers-to-be who’d become friends at our new church. As a young girl she obviously took after her mother’s rather attractive appearance, especially in the earlier time when she possessed the glow of pregnancy, and the mother in turn looked much like her grandmother. I was captured.

Sometimes you can spot that seed that will at one point blossom into fully developed beauty. When Emma Watson made her first appearance in a Harry Potter movie she was still a child but she had it. Looking back over the images of her youth, there was that point at age fourteen when she became a woman. From then until now little has changed in her appearance and she is recognized as one of the most beautiful women in the world. Similarly, gazing through the photography of Bella Thorne shows that she had that seed, transforming into a stunning beauty that at fifteen had a killer body, looking no different than say Amanda Righetti, who was nearing thirty. Unfortunately, it now appears that many in Hollywood took their turns having their way with Miss Thorne as a young teen, until she was used up and spit out.

There was another young lady at church who caught my eye. Not a classic beauty, but she stood out amongst her peers. Every week I craved getting even just a few seconds to see her face that showed so much maturity, how her neck and shoulders lost their baby fat and made her look like a woman. Over only a year or two she shot up in stature, her bosoms developed and by fourteen she was perfect, but soon her ass grew to an ungainly size. Their attendance became erratic and I hoped she hadn’t noticed my glances and been creeped out. I thought of trying to get a photo before they disappeared for good, but I couldn’t figure out how not to be discovered in capturing her image. And then Fiona was gone.

How to get that photograph that would aid a fading memory? It would not do to simply raise up the camera when a beauty came into sight. To be much less obvious I decided to take everyone’s picture. When at the motorcycle convention, take five shots of the old bearded guys with their bikes but also a few of a family, along with their daughter, approaching on the sidewalk. If ever questioned, any of those I intended to keep for my special collection would be mixed with hundreds of perfectly artful legitimate shots. That turned out great when my girls were cheering. I took them, the football players, all the girls, and the people in the stands, home or visitors. It was a thrill to see some of their fellow cheerleaders giggling at the candid shots of them I donated for the slideshow at the banquet, the same shots I used to entertain myself at home.

Every week we sat in the pew behind her family. I was usually able to sit directly behind her. Close enough that I could reach out and touch her hair, if my wife wasn’t sitting beside me. Close enough to smell her hair when we stood to sing. Close enough to take her hand, smile and say “Good morning” during greeting time.

With some the attraction is physical why for others it’s simply the awe of their beauty.

My eldest granddaughter has a friend a bit older than she is. When the girl first came to our house her mere presence caused me to get hard. I’d certainly fail a polygraph. My blood pressure would shoot up and I could feel the sweat forming on my brow. My head would be filled with images of me bending her over a table, mercilessly taking her from behind. Whenever I lay in bed and stroking myself hadn’t gotten my member to full attention, I could always think of Lacy. Maybe she noticed, noticed the power she has over men, as she calls me by my first name and seemingly looks me over when she is near, maybe trying to spot an erection.

But it’s not that way with her. She’s just simply beautiful and I find it hard to look away. I was counting down the years until she’d hit develop into a woman, how old I’d be when she was fully legal, and hoping she wouldn’t think I was a perv. Maybe I’d have a chance before I died of old age?

I was anxiously awaiting the picnic at the lake in August. I had the camera and developed the strategy. I could finally get some photos. I clicked away, at her at a distance and many others both near and far. I turned to see her walking up a log in her one-piece only ten feet from me. As I swung around the camera she posed and smiled. My heart melted as I thought “Oh, the little minx” - but when I got home was generally disappointed. She wasn’t there yet. I couldn’t get it up. The pastor’s son’s girlfriend had the spectacular body that hers was yet to develop into. I even had great close ups of Melody’s ass in a bikini that I would never have an excuse for if my wife asked to see the pictures I’d taken, and those would be the ones I satisfy myself with late at night.

For several months during the virus we were all at home and I so missed seeing her. How much had she changed in the time apart? Finally, the services were opened again and even though we would all be in the gym, my wife managed to select a group of chairs that again was right behind her family. Not two feet but twelve, although still I was enamored of her long slender legs under a dress that ended just below her knees. Later on that day there was a presentation so I had an excuse for my camera. Being away and back for a new style service, I took the opportunity for several pictures of those on stage who were directly on the other side of her. Between shots, I could leave the camera near my chest, pointing straight ahead, straight at her. When she turned and smiled, was it at me or to get the attention of my granddaughters? Nevertheless, I clicked. She greeted her mother, and I clicked. She was on stage, and I zoomed in and clicked, as well as at everyone else, to camouflage my true intent.

Her eyes. Her eyes are simply gorgeous. I could zoom in on just the top half of her face and feel movement down below. A couple times she seemed to be staring straight into my lens. Did she know what I was doing? She showed no discomfort. Was she a good church girl, or had she already become a sexual creature, watching the same porn we’d caught our granddaughters, younger than her, sneaking onto their phones? Had she seen those images of naked dancers holding their dongs? Did she, like Lacy, know her effect on men? Men like me.

Only time will tell.

It was only two months after I first wrote those words that it was again time for the August picnic at the lake. Emma was twelve but still undersized, smaller than my eleven year old granddaughter Ashley and both of them shorter than ten year old Tammy. She’d gained a few inches but was still under five feet tall, with thicker thighs and just a hint of breasts. My physical itch had started.

I spent time in the water, out by the rope, staying as close to her as I could. Once again in a one-piece, I thought she was showing off, doing back flips in front of me, her head disappearing below the surface as she arched her back, her chest and belly thrust up out of the water as her legs followed. Such a perfect form.

I chatted her up, listening to her complaints of sharing the house with her two pre-school sisters. Tammy came by and they competed over how long they could hold their breath under water.

One of the boys from the church who was twelve or thirteen could look at nothing else as he kept trying to garner her attention. I was just hoping her thigh or butt would brush my leg or hand below the surface as she darted by.

After a while I headed for the shore and sat with my wife. “My husband, out there with the teenage girls.”