Eye of the Beholder

"Well, you are somebody," I said, brushing a hair away from her face.

I found myself leaning towards Joyce, bringing my lips to hers. It was just a brief peck, but she didn't back away, and it felt good.

"I shouldn't have done that," I told Joyce, getting up from my crouching position and sitting back up.

"I liked it," Joyce said softly, smiling the tightest smile posible and after a pregnany pause, went on. "That man - the garbage man. I hate him."

"Me too," I admitted. "I hate Mary more though, because she was the one that broke her vow, not him. How did you find out about him - them?"

"I would watch him show up just after you would leave for work," Joyce explained. "He would stay for an hour and then get back in his truck and drive away. He did that for months."

"I guess he had a regular route or something," I said. "Anyway, Mary told me as she left that the reason she didn't want me any more was because I didn't have a big cock - excuse my bluntness -like he apparently does."

"Does that matter?" Joyce asked.

"I guess so, or maybe she just said it to hurt me," I told her. "Who knows?"

"I," Joyce said with considerable difficulty. "I let him do things to me too."

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Chapter Seven: A busy guy.

"You did?" I managed to ask after what seemed like an endless silence, and Joyce bit her lip and nodded.

For some reason I felt crushed. I had thought that Joyce was a sweet and innocent young thing, and now it seemed like I had stumbled headlong into falling for another one of the garbage man's sperm banks.

"I didn't want to," she said, sensing my disappointment.

"What happened?" I asked.

"A couple of years ago, I was out in the back yard," Joyce explained. "I heard a noise by the side of the house. When I peeked around the corner, I saw him. He had his thing out, and was stretching it and pulling on it."

"What?"

"Then he started peeing," Joyce said. "I don't know why, but I watched him while he did it. I know that sounds sick, and I don't know why I did. I had never seen a man's thing before, and I guess I was curious. When he was finishing, he looked up and saw me. I turned and ran to the back door while he called out to me. When I got to the back door, I realized that I had locked it, because the front door was still open. He came around to the back and found me."

"What did he do?"

"He asked me why I was running away when I should have been running towards him. He backed me against the wall over there," Joyce said, nodding over to the siding at the back of the house. "He had his thing out again, and he pulled my hand down to it and told me to stroke it. He told me that he would tell my parents that I was spying on him unless I did stuff to him."

"Like what?"

"He wanted me to have sex with him, but I wouldn't do it. Then he tried to make me give him oral sex. I didn't even know what he was talking about back then and I told him that I was a virgin. Finally, he said that if I did him with my hand, he wouldn't tell, so I did. While I jerked him off, he had his hand under my shirt and down my shorts, telling me that I should let him be my first."

"That was it?" I said, and Joyce nodded.

"He shot his stuff all over my leg and the patio and left. I never told anybody about this before," Joyce said. "Too ashamed."

"That wasn't your fault, Joyce," I told her. "He was just taking advantage of you."

Just like I was, I thought to myself. The only difference would be that I would never lean on her to do it.

"I should have just screamed," Joyce said in retrospect. "He wouldn't have done anything like telling my parents. He was the one being disgusting by peeing outside, but I didn't think of that at the time. Too scared."

"I don't blame you," I said. "He's a very intimidating looking man."

"He's disgusting," Joyce said. "He made fun of me while he felt me up. Said that he couldn't look at my breasts or else he wouldn't stay hard."

"And that's why you're so self-conscious about yourself?" I asked. "Because that predator made wise cracks? Trust me, he was turned on by you, but he was just trying make you feel scared and intimidated."

"Well, it worked."

"If it's any consolation, I find you very erotic looking," I told her.

"That's because it's dark out here and you can't see me."

"Nonsense," I said, running my hand over the soft down on her forearms. "Don't think that all men are interested in all of those silicone queens you see out there. Plenty of us like girls that have small breasts like you do."

"I don't have small breasts," Joyce said. "I have no breasts."

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Chapter Eight: Show and tell.

"I swore that when I got old enough that I would get implants," Joyce explained. "Now that I can, I'm scared to do it."

"It's invasive surgery, Joyce," I told her. "You should be a little frightened by it, especially when it's so unnecessary - or at least that's the way I see it. You're the one that has to live in your body, though."

"I just wish I had the kind of body that boys would look at, at least a little."

"I'm not a boy, so I really don't count," I told her before confessing. "I look at you - a lot. I find you very attractive."

"You're just being nice," Joyce decided.

"I am nice," I said in agreement. "I'm honest too. If I were 25 years younger, I'd be all over you."

"Why?"

"Because you're very smart, and a wonderful conversationalist. You've got a good sense of humor, and I find you very attractive, despite what you think about yourself."

"No," Joyce said. "I guess that I mean, what does being older have to do with it?"

"I dunno," I said, keenly aware of how close we were to each other. "I guess I feel like some kind of predator. You know, like that show where that Chris Hanson catches these guys preying on underage girls?"

"I know. I've seen it," Joyce said. "I'm not though. Underage I mean. When you kissed me before - I liked that. I was kinda hoping you would do it again."

So I did. This time, it wasn't a peck, but a real honest to goodness kiss. It had been so long since a woman had kissed me with passion, that I felt momentarily lost, before I began responding with the same level of excitement that Joyce was showing.

"Whew," I said after our lips finally came apart. "You're an amazing kisser."

"Uh - do you want to - I don't..." Joyce said, searching for words.

"Would you rather come over to my place?" I asked.

"No, could we stay over here?" Joyce asked shyly. "In case my Mom calls?"

I followed Joyce into her house. Up the stairs, her bottom just inches from my face, and then through her kitchen and living room before going up another flight of stairs and into her bedroom.

Joyce's bedroom wasn't much like I expected a teenage girl's bedroom to be like. Absent were the pictures of the year's model of heartthrobs, and instead were pictures of flowers and animals. The only concession to youth was her name in magnetic letters on her make-up mirror.

Joyce had turned the lamp on for a moment, but only long enough to light a candle before turning it back off.

"Too much light - isn't good," Joyce said nervously.

"I can see fine," I told her, and moved over to her.

The hairs on her forearms were standing straight up even before my hands slid over them, and she shivered at the touch of my fingers against the goosebumps on her skin.

"Cold?" I asked, tempted to suggest she take off her damp bathing suit.

"That too," Joyce said, and as if she was reading my mind, reaching behind herself, and the soft sound of a zipper being pulled down made me shiver now.

Her eyes never leaving mine, Joyce's hands went to the shoulder straps of the suit, and with frightened deliberance she let the top of the suit fall down.

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Chapter Nine: Joyce's beauty.

As the suit came down, and the thickly padded cups of the garment fell off of Joyce's chest, I admit to being stunned for a moment, but made sure I did not let it show, because the way Joyce was looking at me, I was certain that if I had shown any evidence of feeling what she was fearing, it would have crushed her, and that was the last thing I wanted to do. Besides, Joyce was beautiful.

Joyce was also flat-chested, just as she had announced. There was perhaps the slightest swells around her breast area, but for all intents and purposes, Joyce had no breasts.

She had nipples, though, and they stuck out like bullets - surprisingly thick stubs more than an inch long. Crimson nipples that were centered on half dollar-sized aureolas. Nipples that my hands were drawn to like magnets, and as I let the tips of my fingers circle the bumpy surface, I spoke in a breaking voice.

"You're so beautiful," I said, my eyes returning to hers, and her big brown eyes were shimmering, tears seeming to be welling up in her eyes as she stood before me. "I wish that for just one moment you could see yourself like I see you."

Joyce threw her arms around me, hugging and kissing me as our damp bodies met. Joyce's suit fel down off of her, and as we clung together, there was no mistaking the fact that I was indeed very aroused by her, and when she felt my hardness poking at her through the suit, she seemed to relax.

"Are they sensitive?" I asked Joyce, and when she nodded, my kisses went down her cheek and neck and across her chest to those prominent nipples.

My tongue licked the tip of her taut stub before my mouth surrounded it, nibbling and sucking the entire bud while Joyce gasped and held my head tightly to her chest. Her nipples seemed to swell even more under my oral assualt, and as I went back and forth between them, I felt Joyce's hand working my cold swim trunks down.

Size was never something that occupied much of my thought process, at least not until my ex-wife had delivered her caustic coments my way, but now I found myself filled with self-doubt, not unlike Joyce must have been feeling herelf moments earlier.

I suppose I could have used the Seinfeld episode excuse, of being a victim of "shrinkage" after exiting the pool, and I silently cursed my ex for putting these thoughts in my mind to begin with.

I also remembered that this was no ignorant and totally inexperienced girl I was with either. She had held the cock of the very man who had used it to take my wife away from me, and now her hand was moving toward my supposedly inferior member. I had prayed for this moment to happen for days, and now that it was coming, I was petrified.

"Nice," Joyce whispered in my ear as her hand surrounded my erection and slowly stroked it with a warm grip. "You're very hard."

We moved toward her bed without ever breaking eye contact, and as we moved onto the bedding I cursed myself for ever harboring the stupid doubts I had.

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Chapter Ten: Exploration.

Our hands explored each other's bodies with tenderness and loving detail. I loved the thick and soft triangle of hair that graced her womanhood. My fingers first raked through the delta, and then I kissed my way down her lean frame until I was inhaling the sweet nectar of her pussy.

My mouth caressed the lush fur, and then my tongue darted inside of Joyce. Her hands clenched my scalp tightly as I tongued my way up and down her labia before finding her clitoris, and when I did, Joyce went into a frenzy. Her legs were quivering and her entire body writhed beneath me, but when she came, she made the rest of her movements seem tame.

I held her butt cheeks in my cupped hands - both raising them and holding her tightly against my mouth - and as she came her body began bucking much like a bronco would. Hips bouncing off of the bedding and her back arching, Joyce squealed as her hands clutched at everything within reach. Pillows, sheets and my scalp got torn at as she convulsed in a fashion that was so erotic that it was all I could do to keep from having an orgasm myself just by being a part of it.

Her body was still going through what seemed like little after-shocks long after my tongue had slid back outside of her. I rested my face in her rich forest for few moments, inhaling the delicious musky aroma that wafted out of Joyce, before climbing up to the top of the bed.

"I guess you came," I noted dryly, and Joyce giggled as she plucked a stray hair off of my cheek.

"I'm so hairy down there," Joyce said. "Too hairy everywhere."

"No, you aren't," I assured her. "There was a time in this fair land when women were actually allowed to have hair between their legs, as well as other places. Matter-of-fact, the first thing I noticed about you was the lovely down you have on your arms."

"Really? You like that?"

"Very sexy," I assured her, sliding my hand down between her legs and playing with the stubble that had been visible outside of her bathing suit. "I also saw this."

"Guess I'm not as fastidious as I should be," Joyce said. "I wasn't expecting to be naked in front of anybody either. I never have before, you know. Naked, I mean. In front of a guy."

"I'm honored, and millions of other guys don't know what they're missing."

"I mean, I've done stuff with guys, but always had some clothes on. Usually my bra. Guys don't usually want that to come off."

I gave Joyce a disapproving look, reminding her that I didn't want to hear any more of her self-depreciating talk.

"Are you a virgin, honey?" I asked her, and when she nodded, I nodded back.

I thought that her first time should be with somebody special, and so I put away any thoughts of climbing on top of her, but since I was still very aroused, I was hoping that at least Joyce would offer a helping hand. Again, it seemed like she was reading my mind.

"If I do this wrong or badly, please tell me. Okay?" Joyce said, just before she raised herself up on her elbow and kissed my chest, before heading down my body.

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Chapter Eleven: Another first.

Joyce pulled her long hair back over her shoulder as she took my cock in her hand, and gave me one last look before bowing her head and taking my cock in her mouth.

Her lips began moving up and down my dick slowly, her wet mouth feeling so good on my member. Joyce looked up at me a couple of times, hoping for a sign, and I moaned and nodded while watching her moist lips take in more of me with every trip down.

"So good," I whimpered as her mouth went almost all the way down the shaft and her forehead grazed against my pubic hair.

Confident, Joyce began bobbing up and down faster, and her lips provided more pressure. Her hand had snaked down between my legs and she was now rolling my balls in her palm.

"So good," I repeated, running my hand through her hair while I enjoyed the sight of my cock being made love to in the flickering candlelight.

While I wanted it to last much longer, I could hold back no longer, and I warned Joyce that I was going to cum. She paid me no mind, continuing to go down on me as I came. I heard her choke a little as my seed spurted down her throat, but she kept going, lips sliding up and down while she churned my nuts roughly.

I may have more intense and satisfying orgasms in my life, but if I had, I couldn't recall them. Pulling Joyce off of my flaccid dick, I smothered her with kisses before wrapping my arms around her and holding her tight.

"So good," I repeated, and that was both for the wonderful act as much as for the way Joyce had made me feel like a man again, after way too long a time.

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Chapter Twelve: Next?

We rested in each other arms for a time, before nature called and I had to pad off to the bathroom. When I returned, Joyce was on her back, hands behind her head and staring at the ceiling, which I noticed for the first time had constellations painted on the black background.

"I didn't notice that before," I told Joyce. "Your solar system up there. Guess I was busy looking at other magnificent sights."

Joyce crinkled her nose, but at least didn't say anything critical about herself, so I took that as a good sign. After checking out Orion, I rolled onto my lip and observed Joyce's lithe body. So androgynous, yet so sexy, at least to me.

On a whim, I reached over and ran my hand across her chest before sliding the back of my hand through the deep recess of her armpit, feeling the coarse stubble aginst my skin. Joyce giggled and tried to put her arm down, but I held it back against the pillow.

"Told you I'm hairy," Joyce said.

"Too bad this isn't still the psychedelic era," I noted with a trace of sadness, lamenting my long-ago past and the great relationship I had with my ex before we got married. "You would look so sexy with unshaved armpits."

"Oh god!" Joyce said. "I look enough like a boy as it is. I won't forget to shave tomorrow before you see me."

The fact that Joyce mentioned a tomorrow at all gave me a warm feeling, and I told her so.

"If you want, tomorrow night I'll shave them for you myself," I offered, almost mentioning that was something I used to with my ex on occassion, and back when it mattered it was something we used to enjoy a lot.

"That sounds kinky," Joyce said.

"I have experience," I did inform her. "I've done it before, so you don't need to be afraid. If you feel you must do it, I'm willing and able."

"What else do you want to shave?" Joyce asked.

"Nothing else," I assured her. "Your legs are smooth, and I wouldn't touch the other area for anything, because it's too beautiful just as it is."

"Well, if I let you do that tomorrow night, you will have to do something for me."

"I'd be glad to."

"Anything?" Joyce asked.

"Absolutely. You name it."

"Make love to me tomorrow night."

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Chapter Thirteen: Making love.

I couldn't believe my ears when Joyce had told me that, but when I pressed her on the matter - actually almost trying to talk her out of it for some strange reason - she remained steadfast.

"I want you to make love to me," Joyce said. "I like you a lot, and you say you like me."

"I do," I said, almost telling her that waht I was feeling felt much stronger than that.

"Then it's settled," Joyce said.

That it was.

I was shaken all the nextday, feeling like I had just gotten off of a carnival ride or something equally bad on the equilibruim. What I was going to do later that night weighed heavily on me.

Not just because of the age differential, although that was part of it for sure. It's just that when you live next door to someone for so long, and watch them grow up - suffice to say it's a long journey from watching a little girl playing hopscotch to taking the clothes of her as an adult.

Her parents. I knew them fairly well. What would they think about their good old neighbor George jumping the bones of their virgin daughter? What would I think if it were me?

Thank goodness Mary and I had been unable to breed, was my only thought, in more ways that one.

When the time came, I walked over to the back door and saw a note on the glass, saying that the door was open and come right in. I was careful to take the note off of the door before I went in, and called out her name as I walked through the house and up the stairs to Joyce's room.

I had brought a bottle of champagne and a couple of glasses, but all of that was forgotten when I knocked on her bedroom door. The door opened a little awhen I tapped on it, and as it did, Joyce rose from the edge of the bed were she had been sitting.

"Wow," I whispered, stunned at the sight of her.

She was wearing a tiny white lacy nightie that covered everything but hid nothing. It was as if Joyce was surrounded by a fine mist, and she looked every bit a vision of beauty.

Her hair was shiny and straight, and fell down her shoulders and back. She was wearing the most nervous smile imaginable, and was looking at me for approval, as if she didn't know how stunning she looked.