Chapter 1

My selection of a lounger at our community swimming pool was strategic, and it had nothing to do with swimming. I had no intention of getting into the water. I was there to ogle the girl of my dreams. A girl I yearned for, but who would not notice me even if I were the only person in an elevator with her.

Tiffany Johansson and I lived in the same development and were both going to be seniors in the same high school when the summer break soon ended. She was closer to her eighteenth birthday than her seventeenth, so Tiffany was old to start her senior year of high school. It had something to do with the cutoff date for entering kindergarten all those years ago. The cutoff was December 31^st and she was born on January 1^st, so she had to wait another year before starting kindergarten. If Tiffany had been born a day earlier, she would have started school a year earlier and now be finished with high school. Actually, coming into this world at 3:45 a.m., she only needed to be born less than four hours earlier. Tiffany hated being the oldest in her class throughout her school years and, once again, she would be the oldest student in her grade.

Except for me. I was twenty years old.

Unlike Tiffany, my situation had nothing to do with my birthday. And it wasn’t because I was dumb and had to repeat grade levels. When I was thirteen, I was run over by a speeding car while riding my bicycle. I had no recollection of the impact, but they told me I was broadsided. My bicycle was crushed underneath the car wheels and I bounced off the windshield and sailed over the roof of the car, landing behind it. They thought either on my tailbone or flat on my back. And the back of my head slammed into the pavement. It was horrendous.

The recovery caused me to miss two and a half years of school. After months in a coma, I had grueling physical and mental therapy that kept me out of school. Thankfully, the only scars were the ones on my back from multiple spine surgeries and the one on my scalp where they had drilled through my skull to get at my brain. Unless someone looked closely, the scar on my head was hidden by my thick, dark hair which I kept long for that reason. Those were the visible scars. The emotional ones were worse.

Once I had received the large settlement from the insurance company, my parents moved us to a new city because it had a world-renown facility for my therapy. I had to leave the few friends I had. As if everything wasn’t bad enough, I was now all alone. Without friends when I needed them the most.

After the therapy, I had become overly timid and shy. Very self-conscious. One would think being the oldest boy in the class would have given me confidence and a swagger, but the opposite was true. I was withdrawn. It didn’t help that when I returned to a new school in a new city, I didn’t know anyone. The other kids were young and hurtful, calling me a freak and a zombie because they had heard that I had come back from the dead. One would think my larger size would have intimidated them, but I was still relearning to walk so I guess they had felt they could outrun me. Which they could. They even played a game—a game for them—where they shoved me from behind and ran away while I was walking in the hallways. That always brought a burst of laughter from the others nearby, especially when I fell, which was often in the beginning before I regained my balance and full strength in my legs. As the kids got older, those cruel games and name calling stopped. They had simply learned to ignore me. I had no friends, was lonely, and lived in the solitude of my fantasies.

Tiffany Johansson was my current fantasy. Although I yearned for her, I had never had the courage to speak to her. Or to most girls for that matter. I had only gone on a few dates, and they were always blind dates set up and forced upon me by my parents. They were all disasters. I was always awkward and baffled on those dates, not knowing what to say. Afraid to say anything. Typically tongue-tied. I never had a second date. Not once. I was terrified to call the girl for a second date and, the few times my parents intervened, the girl always said no. Actually, “No way!” although they were probably thinking, “No fucking way!” How did I know what they had said? I had eavesdropped from another phone on our landline. I hated myself for listening and having to endure that humiliation. It would have been better not to know the truth. All it did was give me less confidence and made me more withdrawn.

It wasn’t that I was ugly or had pimples or something else disgusting. I was tall and lanky. Not football material, but not skinny. I was older and bigger than the other boys in school. And I was told I was cute by my parents. Not that I could believe them. They were the same people who had made excuses as to why my blind dates didn’t want to go out with me again. Did I say excuses? Lies. But when I looked at myself in the mirror I didn’t see a grotesque boy looking back. Actually, a young man. My deformities weren’t physical. Well, I did have the scars on my back which is why I was wearing a polo shirt at the community swimming pool and never went into the water.

Tiffany, on the other hand, was perfect. Her wavy blonde hair usually flowed halfway down her back with some hanging in front of her shoulders and caressing her cheeks. It was platinum, the lightest blonde hair I had ever seen. In the pool, however, her hair was pulled into a ponytail to keep it out of her face as she frolicked in the water with her friends. The beads of water clinging to the tips of her long blonde eyelashes made her emerald eyes sparkle and my dick twitch. Living in the same community and going to the same school, I had known her for years. Well, had seen her for years. I had never spoken a single word to Tiffany Johansson. Even the two times we were in the same class. Not even a “hi.” But it wasn’t until recently that I started to hunger for her.

Not that long ago, Tiffany had the typical stick figure thin young girls had. Skinny legs. No hips. Flat butt. No chest. But over the past two years or so, she had filled out. Her long legs were now curvy. Her hips and tiny waist formed an hourglass. And not only her hips. Her backside was no longer flat. It was now round. To my delight, and also frustration, the tiny hot-pink bikini she wore left half of those round buttocks exposed. Some would say her breasts were too small, but not me. They were perfect on her. Firm and standing out with no need for a bra, although I never saw her without a bra. And the upper parts of her breasts weren’t completely covered by the bikini top. In fact, every time she sprang up from underneath the water like a breaching whale, I expected the water to yank her bikini top down and for a nipple to pop out, but it never did.

My favorite times watching Tiffany in the pool were when she climbed out to dive back in. The sun glinting off the beads of water clinging to her smooth, bronze skin gave her an angelic glow. And in her tiny bikini, she was mostly skin.

I had chosen the lounger that provided me the most advantageous view of her climbing out of the swimming pool. When Tiffany lifted a foot onto the pool deck, the same thing happened every time. Her legs spread and the front of her tiny bikini bottoms stretched against her pussy. The material wedged into the cleft which caused one side of her shaved labia to pop out. That skin was white, not bronze like the rest of her because it was always covered. Tan lines were sexy, like when a girl stooped and the back of her bathing suit slid down. Even if I didn’t see her crack, just knowing I was seeing what was normally hidden was a thrill. But as sexy as tan lines were, this was more. I was seeing her pussy. Well, part of her labia. But that whole area was her pussy to me. The most treasured part of a girl.

Standing with her back to the pool and her front toward me, Tiffany looked down. She bent her knees and pointed them outward as she slid her middle fingers underneath the crotch of the bikini bottoms. Then, pinching the garment with her thumbs, she pulled outward, spreading the pink material so that it once again covered the pale skin that was not meant to be seen. And when she turned to face the pool, the index fingers of both hands snaked underneath the back of her bikini and pulled outward before letting it snap back onto her perfect rump. With my strategic position, that simple pull left a gap that allowed me to see underneath the bikini and more of her naked buttocks. It was for a split second, but my imagination saw more than I actually had. Knowing that I saw part of her pussy and most of her round rump caused my dick to expand inside my swimming trunks. Thankfully, they were baggy and not Speedos. But even then, they didn’t hide my hard-on. I was bigger than my classmates in many ways. I flung a large pool towel onto my lap.