Accidents

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Guardian tempted and seduces girl (or is seduced?)
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It was an accident that brought us together. A lucky accident? Maybe. A dreadful, unwanted, appalling accident? Certainly.

Her parents were my best friends and my neighbours, and when I heard about the crash I went to her house to see if there was anything I could do. It was a matter of luck that she was not in the car, with the rest of the family. She was getting ready to go out to a concert with a friend, a present for her 18th birthday.

She was distraught of course, and could not sleep alone in the house. After a dreadful night I needed to get some sleep myself, and she did not want to be alone, so she came next door with me. I found her later, when I got up, asleep on my couch. She stayed there for the next few days, while I arranged the funeral, and was there when the solicitor's letter came for me. I was surprised to learn that I was her parents' executor, and at the Solicitor's office I was even more surprised to find that all their property was in trust for her, and I was the trustee until she was 21. If she had been under eighteen I would have been her guardian. I was humbled by the confidence they had shown in me.

A few days later I was humbled by the guilt of a momentary betrayal of the trust my friends had placed in me to care for their child. She didn't want to stay in the house her parents and sister had so recently and suddenly been ripped from, so she had gradually moved some of her things over to my house, taken over the spare room, and bit by bit brought her clothes and possessions to it, and of course there was no en suite, so she used the shared bathroom. When I caught a glimpse of her, wrapped in a towel, flitting back to what I now thought of as her room, I had an instant of curiosity and arousal. Her bare legs and shoulders, her damp hair curling around her face and neck, darker with the water on it than her natural brunette, her slim feet with a flash of red at the toes, all registered in my mind along with a fleeting desire to see what the towel concealed.

I stood in shock when I realised what I had just felt. I was embarrassed, although she had not seen me, and could not know how my heart had suddenly lifted. It was an inappropriate thing to think, a bad thought. I tried to reject it, but I am too sensible not to realise that to do so is silly, (no matter how odd or unwelcome it is to be turned on by something, you have to admit that you were turned on by it) so I tried to rationalise it away (no big deal, she is young and pretty and nearly naked, and you are after all a man, even if you are nearly old enough to be her father, and have known her since she was a kid, you have to admit that she isn't a kid any more, so don't be surprised, but do be careful).

Even so, it nagged at me. For days afterwards I would glance at her and unwanted thoughts would fleet across my mind – she was eighteen now, and had been living in my house for a couple of weeks, and even though the disruption and grief of her sudden loss was beginning to subside, and she had decided to go back to school, there had been no boys calling round to check up on her.

Why not? Her girlfriends had been over. So she didn't have a boy at the moment? Had she ever had a boyfriend? Had he ever had her? (bad thought) Is she a virgin? (Bad thought.) A lesbian? (Bad Thought) could that blonde girl who has been over three times this week and I saw kiss her on the cheek and hug her at the funeral be a Girlfriend, not just a girlfriend? (very Bad Thought) Or maybe she is Bi? (Very Bad Thought, especially when thinking about the cute blonde and a three-way fling potential).

I found her one afternoon asleep on the sofa, curled up in her school uniform, tie loosened and top button undone, hair tumbling in red brown curls across her face, beatific smile upon her lips. It was the happiest I had seen her for weeks. Her legs were curled up and I realised that if I walked around the other end of the couch, say, to go to the kitchen, and glanced back I might be able to see her panties. (Very, Very Bad Thought).

A week later, she bent over to pick up a piece of tomato that had slipped off the chopping board in the kitchen one evening as we prepared dinner. Her jeans were tight and smooth and the shape of her thighs and ... (Oh So Very Bad Thoughts)

Time passes and reality sets in. My obsession lifted, as custom staled her less than infinite variety, and her sorrow and anger and bitterness and aggression played themselves out. It was a strange relationship. I wasn't a parent or really any kind of authority figure so she had nothing to rebel against, but I wasn't a confidante or friend either. Yet we were more than flatmates, or mere acquaintances. I suppose I offered her continuity in a world that had been utterly torn apart. So when the "A" level results came out and she got the grades to go to to the university of her choice (surprisingly good really given the disruption of her studies and mental state) I was there to congratulate her when she opened the envelope. At which point she burst into tears, and flung herself at me.

She was in floods, and almost collapsing in grief, and clinging to me for support as the words tumbled out. "It just isn't fair, it just isn't fair. Why did she have to die?"

I hugged her and hushed her, and cradled her as she wept and sobbed, "Why did Tilly have to die after I was so mean to her?"

It was the first time she had spoken of her sister since the crash.

Suddenly her unspoken feelings were being released. It was a deluge of words and sobs."I called her horrible names because she was snide at me before they went out. I said she was a slut and a whore because she suggested I might get to go back stage at the concert and snog the boys in the band for my birthday, but she was only joking, and anyway what does it matter that she had slept with all those boys? If I had been in the car with her and I died would it have mattered that I have kept myself this way and never let them do those things she did, and I never, I never... I never lived, but she did, she had fun, she had a real life! And then it was over, and she was gone and.. At least she lived before she went. And here I am still the same, living on without having a life, going to University and knowing nothing, too proud to be kissed, too busy getting a career to have a boyfriend, and for what? To be wiped out tomorrow by a lorry with a broken brake, like them? Oh I wish I could take it back, I wish I could have been like her and snogged those boys and taken them to bed, and done all the things she did, and never said those things to her."

I was not sure what to say. I was shocked at the revelations, the power of her feelings, the trembling struggling body in my arms, clinging to me. So I muttered some banality about it being alright, and she stiffened in my arms and pushed her head back to look me in the eyes and spoke in a voice that was dreadful to hear. "It isn't alright, I said those things but I didn't mean them. I was jealous and spiteful. I wanted so much to be brave like her, to be able to get close to a boy, to be pretty and attractive and to be able to take my chances, but I never was and I still can't do it." She burst back into tears at this point and sagged against me. I hugged her again, but this time I had something to say, since I could easily deny some of the things she said.

"But you are pretty and attractive, you are beautiful and clever and fiery and wonderful, and brave as anyone I know. I can't believe that the boys aren't throwing themselves at you."

Through sobs I could make out her reply "But I don't know what to do, I don't want to be like her and let them use me, but I feel so, so..." she broke off in a shuddering frustrated gurgle. She moved a little back then, her hands came round from my sides, and gathered against my chest, her head was down. For a moment I thought she was about to push me away, and I loosened my hug to let her go, but her head snapped up and she looked at me fiercely as her hands gripped the front of my shirt.

She kissed me.

It was a hard lipped, fierce kiss that took me by surprise. I didn't have time to think, and I didn't know how to respond, and she pulled away suddenly, and looked furiously at me.

It was startling, the look in her eye, something searingly soul deep. Anger, fury, but not hate, something painful. It froze me.

Then she did it again. It was the most unloving and vicious kiss I had ever had. A hard pressure of lips and teeth against mine, almost painful. I let my jaw relax, my mouth open a little, pulled back to seek a comfortable position, but it was like being attacked. She pulled back again suddenly.

"Damn it!" she yelled and pushed away from me, flinging herself across the room and out the door, running up the stairs and slamming her bedroom door.

I really didn't know what to do.

Except of course to fall back on the old maxim that built an Empire, as my mother used to say: when in doubt make tea.

I left it a while, but it was perhaps only fifteen minutes later when I knocked gently at the bedroom door and said "Katie, darling, I've brought a cup of tea. Will I leave it out here for you?"

I heard a movement and her voice saying "No, its okay, you can come in."

She was sitting on her bed, red eyed, face blotchy, crumpled tissues on the floor. She smiled bravely. "Thank you, Sean. Mum always made tea when we had a row. It was her way of saying it was okay, she wasn't angry. Took her a few hours sometimes."

"Well, I'm not angry. That wasn't a row anyway."

"No, No, didn't think it was. Although I thought you might be angry. Because of what I did."

I smiled, and sipped from my mug, and shook my head "Let me tell you, no man has ever got angry because a beautiful young woman kissed him. Well not unless she did it in front of his wife."

She looked at me then with a serious frown. "Why haven't you got one? A wife? Mum always said it was a shame you didn't marry. She said you were such a nice guy, she couldn't understand why some girl didn't grab you."

I shrugged. "Never found the right girl. Or she never found me. I nearly did. Couple of times I thought I had, even asked one to marry me. Things didn't work out."

"But you're not gay or anything are you?"

I nearly choked on my tea. "No! Why, did you think I might be?"

"Not really." Katie looked down. "Mum fancied you, you know."

It was a good job I wasn't drinking anything at that point. After a moment of silence I said, gently, "No. I don't think so. Okay we flirted a bit, but that was all just fun. I flirt with everyone."

"No, really." She looked up. "She told me once, last year. I asked her if she had ever been tempted by another man, not dad, and she said yes. She said she had been really tempted years ago by a bloke at work, and then she said 'and of course there is always Sean. If it wasn't for your dad I would grab him with both hands.' She was serious."

I was surprised, but said "Nah, she wasn't saying she fancied me. We are good friends. Were. We were good friends. I suppose its true, if it wasn't for your father being about, well, maybe we would have been a couple, married, all that. But that's not the same. I loved her, you know, and your dad."

I had tears in my eyes.

Katie shook her head. "No, she fancied you. She said so. She said you smelled nice. She said she nearly jumped you on News Years Eve a couple of years ago. She meant it."

My mind flashed back to a midnight kiss that had lasted half a second too long. Jackie's big green eyes, so like her daughter's, wide with shock at the feeling that moment dragged up. My cock hard in an instant against her body, the smell of her hair. Christ, it was true. I knew it then. I had known for years, but I would always deny it.

Katie was still looking at me. She reached out and touched my hand. I looked up at her. "It's okay Sean. She loved Dad, but you are an attractive man. The thing is, now I keep thinking why didn't she do it? Like Tilly and her boys. Tilly had fun, and like me, Mum didn't. Why not? Now she can't. She loved you, she should have, well, shown it. Had fun with you. When she could. It is such a waste, so many lost opportunities, so many things she should have done and enjoyed. And you, poor you, never had that. It's not right."

"It would have changed things, Katie. Changed things between Jackie and me, and between her and your father, and I don't know how it could have been right again between him and me. I know he was a very understanding guy, very liberal, very open minded, but there are some things that are too primal. Sex changes things, and we all had too much friendship to loose for the sake of lust."

"But we don't." said Katie.

"What?" I said, not sure what she meant.

"We don't have anything to loose." She said and slid across the bed, and brought her body against mine and her face close.

And she kissed me again.

It wasn't fierce this time. It was so soft at first I almost wasn't sure her lips had touched mine. Her hand on my shoulder was hesitant, her body moved to mine but it was only until the lightest pressure of our clothes against each other was transmitted through to our skin. It was almost not a kiss at all. It was the most beautiful kiss of all.

Gently, softly, she pressed a little more. I couldn't resist. It wasn't just lust, although that was sparked and flaming in a second. I was simply lost in the moment, and each new sensation that I noticed added to the splendid disorientation. This was not real. It was a dream that made no sense.

Her hands travelled round me to pull herself closer. I felt her arms tighten, her bosom press against my chest, her knee against my hip, fingers in my hair, nose on my cheek, her breath hot and sweet. Her lips were warm and soft and wet, tasting of salt tears, sweet tea and sudden passion. Her hand came to my chest, and gripped me, feeling the muscles beneath my shirt as she ran the other hand down my back. The kiss deepened, pushed my head back, and more firmly pressed my mouth. My lips had opened, and so did hers, and I felt a tongue-tip flick against my lower lip before she grazed it with her teeth. My hands had found their own way to her back now, pressing through jumper and tee-shirt to feel the ripple of flesh and bones, and bra strap, as they moved up to her shoulder blades and pulled her closer.

It was a tipping point. I broke the kiss and looked into her eyes from a few inches away. They were full of pleading and desire. In that instant I could let her go, say "No", release her gently and kindly and talk to her about finding boys her own age and how inappropriate it was for me to kiss her. I could let her down gently, thank her, tell her I was flattered, but I couldn't take advantage of her, that I thought of her as my own child, that I loved her like a daughter.

All the things that I should have said. But I couldn't.

Those green eyes, so like her mothers, that soft pale face, and throat, surrounded by red curls, a picture of beauty. And desire. She wanted this. And it was not just that she wanted someone to kiss her, to make love to her. She wanted it to be me.

It was.

I kissed her again. A brief kiss, deliberate and gentle, and then said "Katie, I have loved you since you were born. But I never thought I would do this. Are you sure?"

"Yes, Sean. Yes. I've dreamed of this."

The next kiss lingered, and I took her more closely into my embrace, pulling her knee across my legs, bringing a hand down onto her bottom, drawing her to me, ending with her sitting astride me, legs spread, the crotch of her jeans against the hard lump in mine, my hands spread across her back, her breasts crushed against my front, my tongue flicking out to touch hers.

The kiss developed intensity and technique. She was learning, experimenting, and enjoying it all. When I kissed her earlobes she shivered, and when I went for her throat she threw her head back and sighed.

I kissed down into the neck of her jumper, and back up to her mouth, then repeated the move on the other side. I pulled at her collar to expose more skin and planted kisses where I could. She got the idea, and without a word reached down to pull her tee-shirt and jumper off in one go. I helped, and took the moment to admire her. Neither of us said anything, but it was then that I knew it was really going to happen. I would take this girl, right here and now, then and there, I would make her a woman. I would make her mine.

We were back in close embrace, and kissing, but now my hands could travel over her soft skin, feel each muscle in her back, slide down her long, slim arms and over her hands, my fingers meshing with hers for a moment before running back up the sensitive underside, stimulating her wrists, the inside of her elbow, the inner flesh leading to her ticklish armpit, and passing the side of her breast, still enclosed in her soft cotton bra.

She began to return my kisses on my body when I ran a line down her neck and across her shoulder, and I felt her lips on my ear and my jugular, and round to my throat. For the first time I heard a catch in her breath, and a deep noise in her throat as she breathed in passion. She pulled at the collar of my shirt, and fumbled a button open and sank her nose into the hollow of my collarbone as she kissed me again and inhaled deeply. She murmured "You do smell good," and raised her head, kissing my lips again "You smell great."

I kissed her throat and ran another line of kisses over her skin, straight down this time, between her breasts, into the cleavage of her bra, brushing the inside curves of her quite well developed bosom, and breathing in deeply to catch the smell of her breasts. Warm and sweet, comforting and sexy. "So do you," I said and brought my head back up to look her face and we shared a smile before we had another kiss.

She had her hand inside my shirt collar, round my neck, holding herself to my lips, but now it slid round onto my chest, and she undid another button and then a third to let her reach more skin. I undid another as she put two hands on me, feeling the muscles and then touching my nipples. They went hard beneath her palms, and she pulled one hand away and looked down at the dark crinkled lump beneath. "Oh," she said "It is all wrinkled up."

"Yes, boys nipples do it just the same as girls." I said, and daringly brushed a thumb over her breast, rubbing her nipple through her bra, and making it peak a little more.

She giggled.

"And boys like having them kissed, just like girls do," I added.

"Oh." she said and looked serious.

I wondered what the follow up would be as she hesitated for a heartbeat. Would she say she had never had her's kissed? That she wanted me to do it?

She leaned forward and kissed mine. It was lovely, and my already nearly hard-as-it-can-get cock got just a little harder. I sighed. "Mmnn, that's nice, thank you."

She moved to the other one. It put her breast just over my hand, and I reached a finger up to touch the bare skin above her bra cup, running it down the curve into the hollow between both soft mounds, and round inside the cup to brush up over her nipple. She jolted in shock as my finger rubbed across her hard tip, and made a little gasp, but went back to sucking at my chest, and pushed herself a little against my hand. I read the signal correctly as an invite to do it again, and do more.

With one hand on her breast outside the bra, squeezing gently, I probed the other cup with a finger and found her other nipple, gently rubbing around it. She hummed in delight against my chest, and came up to kiss my mouth, pulling the straps of her bra from her shoulders and flipping the cups down as she moved, baring her breasts for my hands, although I couldn't see them.

They were soft and firm, her nipples felt large and hard, and her tongue in my mouth was insistent. Her hands were pushing my shirt back off my shoulders, and we embraced with bare nipples against bare chest as I struggled to undo my cuffs and throw off the shirt altogether. She reached behind her to unclip the bra, and then we tumbled together on the bed, me dragging her down on top of me so she was straddling me, her legs parted around my body, her crotch against mine, soft against hard.