The Girl Next Door

Christopher sat on his back porch, staring off into the dark. He could hear crickets chirping on the other side of the screen, and, as he lifted a glass of whiskey to his lips, he wished like hell they'd quiet down. He'd had a long day. Trying to stay busy, he'd cut the front grass, trimmed bushes, fixed a broken shutter, and filled in a groundhog den being dug at the corner of the patio.

He'd done good, hard physical labor to keep his mind off his wife. Today was Emily's birthday. She would've been 40. The big four-oh, and he would've rubbed it in, the way she'd done when he reached that mark not long before... before...

"Fuck," he said, out loud.

Emily had been dead for two years now. Cancer. It'd been quick -- if that can be considered mercy. She'd gone from a beautiful, athletic, seemingly healthy woman to a scarecrow in a matter of months.

Em was his muse. He'd written everything for her, and she'd pushed him to submit his work; to find an agent; to get published. His success was due to her as much as to him. And yet, somehow, he always felt his work failed her; his words -- any words -- were inadequate to describe her -- his love for her; what she meant to him.

When she left him. No, he corrected himself, it hadn't been a choice. It's not like she abandoned him. She died. That's it. If it weren't for Mr. C, she'd be sitting next to him with a drink of her own. Or, maybe on his lap. He could still feel her there. Still recall the smell of her.

"You're not doing a very good job of not thinking about her," he said.

For several months, he did nothing; hardly even bothering to drag himself out of bed. He'd barely strung together three words since night fell on his world. He couldn't bring himself to write. His agent and his publisher had called for a while, but gave up. A half-finished novel sat on his hard-drive, collecting cyber-dust. And, he rarely even thought about it anymore.

His mind drifted, and he remembered making love to Emily. She still excited him, and he realized his cock had hardened. He wiggled in the chair, and reached down to adjust himself, stroking his shaft a few times as he did so. Grumbling, he determined that he couldn't recall the last time he'd cum.

Rising, he went in the house, and made his way upstairs to his office. Sitting down at his computer, he opened a file. A video started playing. The scene began with Tori Black -- a young brunette porn star who reminded him of Emily -- wearing a skimpy black bikini, and strappy black heels which clicked across a hardwood floor. Panning up, the camera followed her, focusing on her gorgeous ass.

His right hand fell into his lap. Tori knelt on a couch as a man approached. He grabbed her hair and slapped her ass. Chris pushed down the front of his sweat pants, letting his cock pop free. Freeing his balls as well, he let his fingers caress the wrinkled skin, then trace up along the stiffening shaft.

From there, things moved too quickly. Though he tried to control himself, enjoying the sight of a woman being pleasured, only a few minutes passed, and as the couple on the screen began fucking -- Tori moaning loudly -- Chris closed his eyes, envisioning Emily riding him. His balls tightened and he groaned. His body convulsed, and he came. Wanting to avoid making a mess, he cupped his hand over the tip of his cock, and blocked the cum as it shot out. The sticky goo dripped off and rolled down his shaft.

As his body relaxed, he opened his eyes. Tori clawed at the couch as the man, kneeling behind her, drove his cock deep into her pussy. Letting the video continue, Chris reached out for a box of tissues. His breathing returned to normal in the two minutes it took to clean himself.

Clicking the X, he closed the window, and stood up. He noticed his curtains were still open. Looking out, he could see across the driveway to the house next door. Luckily, the curtains were closed in the window directly across from his.

"Should probably remember to close those, or turn out the light, next time," he thought.

He did both, then walked out of the office, toward the bathroom, needing to make a stop there before going to bed.

The next afternoon, Chris rolled the lawn mower into the back yard. He bent over to snag the ripcord and yanked it, starting the machine. Beginning a shrinking square pattern over the patch of grass, he approached the fence between his property and that of the Strong family.

Ten years ago, they'd moved in next door; only six months after he and Emily. Charlie, a colonel in the United States Air Force, met Vivian while stationed in Taiwan. They'd brought with them three precocious young daughters: Hailey, 8; Samantha, 9, and Michelle, 10.

Emily and Chris quickly became unofficial aunt and uncle to the girls. They'd watched them grow up. But, when Em left, Chris pulled back, having minimal contact with the family since -- though he still cut their grass, and kept an eye on the house, when Charlie deployed.

Currently, Charlie was in Germany. He could've taken his family with him, but two of the girls were already in college, and Hailey would be starting in the fall. Charlie decided to leave them State-side rather than disrupt their studies.

Growing closer to the chest-high, wooden, shadow-box fence, he spied someone kneeling on the other side. Two someone's, as a matter of fact. He quickly deduced the two female forms were working in the flower bed on their side. Vivian's smiling face appeared above the fence as he reached it. She was joined by Hailey. Two sets of brown eyes sparkled at him.

"Hey, Mr. M," Hailey sang out as he killed the engine.

"Hi," he returned, noticing, for the first time, how beautiful the girl had become.

Taking after her father, Hailey hardly even looked Asian. She looked... American... he thought, then silently chided himself for the idiocy of it. They were all American. The kids were born here, and Viv had worked hard to become naturalized.

Hailey stood about 5'6". Very little of her petite body was hidden by the black spandex short shorts and sports bra she wore.

"Good day, Chris," Viv said, bowing her head slightly, an old habit she still carried.

"Hello, Vivian," he replied, running a hand over the three days growth of beard on his face. "How are you today?"

"I am well," she responded.

As they spoke, the other two daughters, Samantha and Michelle, walked out of the garage. Both wore shorts and bikini tops. He averted his eyes, glancing once more at Hailey. She beamed at him, and he noticed the nipples of her perky 32A breasts were hard, pushing out against the dark material. Raising her arms, she adjusted the scrunchy holding back her shoulder-length raven hair. The action lifted her breasts, as if she were displaying them for him.

The other girls approached and greeted him before their mother asked the three young women to give them some privacy. Obediently, they climbed the steps to their back porch, and poured themselves some water as they gazed toward the fence, wondering what their mother was saying.

"Tomorrow, I am flying to England to meet Charlie," Viv announced.

"Nice," he allowed, not knowing what else to say. "I'm glad you'll get to see him."

She smiled at him.

"I will be gone for five days," she said. "Would you please watch the girls?"

"I..." Chris began.

"I do not mean baby sit," she interrupted. "Just watch the house while I'm gone."

"Of course," he agreed.

"They have been told to throw no parties," Viv stated. "And, no more than two guests at any time. They are good girls. They will listen."

Chris nodded his understanding.

"Still," Viv continued in a conspiratorial whisper. "It is good to have a spy."

He laughed loudly, and she grinned.

"I'll cut your grass when I'm done here," Chris offered. "If that's OK with you."

"Thank you, Chris," she said. "That will be OK with me... if I can send over some dinner later."

He knew not to protest. She wouldn't take no for an answer. Besides, her cooking was better, by far, than anything he'd ever had at a Chinese restaurant.

"I would like that," he acknowledged.

Vivian gave him another small bow, and turned to walk away. She had a grace to the way she moved -- as if she were gliding over the ground. As the girls surrounded their mother, Chris re-started the mower.

By the time he finished both yards, he was covered in sweat. He'd fought to avoid staring at the girls as they worked with their mother. He'd had to keep himself from eyeing her, too. It was easy to see where the girls got their beauty. After refilling the gas tank, he put the mower in the garage, and then dragged his tired ass into the house.

He stopped in the kitchen to chug a Powerade. Then, needing a shower, he climbed the steps. Standing in the bedroom, he peeled off his stinky, wet clothes. He dropped them in the hamper and turned. Through the window, he noticed Hailey, kneeling in her yard. Bending over, she pressed some flowers into the soil. Chris' eyes traced over the curves of her body, lingering on her ass. It was perfect. She was perfect.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered.

On her hands and knees, Hailey rocked back and forth several times, patting the dirt, then pouring on water. Chris realized his cock was hard. It stuck out in front of him, and his hand was wrapped around the shaft. Part of him wanted to turn away; ashamed of acting like some dirty old man, playing with himself while ogling a young girl. But, he didn't retreat. He remained, watching her, and jerking himself.

Hailey wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, then turned. Her face lifted, and she seemed to look right at him. Chris tried to keep from ducking out of view. Slowly, he stepped away from the window. Embarrassed, he headed for the shower, stopping to shave first.

As he stood under the spray of hot water, he decided she couldn't have seen him. No way. He'd been hidden in the shadows of the room. It was just his imagination. He succeeded in convincing himself. His thoughts returned to Hailey's body, and his hand once more found his hard cock.

The back doorbell rang just after 6:00. Opening the door, Chris found Hailey there, holding a bowl. Steam emerged from the towel covering it. Hailey had put on a pair of cut-off denim shorts, but still wore the sports bra. She smiled at him.

"Hey, again, Mr. M," she said. "My mother asked me to bring over your dinner."

He was getting lost in her eyes.

"Thank you," he managed to say.

They stood speechless for a moment.

"It's kinda hot," Hailey complained.

"Oh, sorry," he stammered, taking the bowl from her.

Placing it on the table, he turned to invite her in, but she'd already stepped inside. She leaned against a chair, her arms wrapped across her stomach, which squeezed her small breasts together.

"Thank you, Hailey." Chris managed to say. "And, please, thank your mother for me."

"My pleasure, Mr. M," she cooed.

The way she said it, made him stop. He examined her face.

"Is there anything else you need?" she inquired.

It took him a few seconds to collect his thoughts.

"No," he told her. "I think I'm OK."

For a moment, her expression changed to disappointment. Then, she smiled again.

"Well, I'll leave you alone to eat," she said, turning and almost bounding out of the house.

Chris' eyes followed her ass as she went.

"I am going to hell," he swore to himself, when she disappeared from view. "A very special hell."

That night, as Chris sipped at his third glass of whiskey -- he couldn't remember the last time he'd had three in one night -- he noticed the crickets were strangely mute. For a second, he wondered about it, then cocked his head, and listened.

"Who's there?" he challenged.

A gasp sounded in the darkness, and he heard movement near the screen door. It opened.

"It's Hailey," a voice disclosed.

"Are you OK?" he asked, worried her late night visit might indicate trouble. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said.

"What are you doing here?" he prodded, gently.

"I just wanted to talk," she claimed.

She sat down near him. He could smell her perfume... her hair... the scent of her. It was almost... intoxicating. Hailey remained silent. He let her be so for a full minute.

"What would you like to talk about?" he pried, at last.

She let out a long sigh, then inhaled deeply, as if gathering her nerve.

"Do you miss Aunt Emily?" she asked.

The question hit him like a brick. It took several moments to compose himself enough to speak.

"More than anything," he acknowledged.

"What do you miss most?" she continued.

"Everything," he answered, his voice nearly cracking.

"But...," Hailey began.

"I can't pick one thing," Chris interrupted. "There are a million and one things. Her brilliance; her laugh; her sense of humor; her eyes; her crooked nose; her lips; her hair..."

"Do you miss having sex with her?" Hailey pressed.

"Excuse me," Chris sputtered.

In the dim light, he could just make out her face. She'd put on glasses, and changed her clothes; now wearing a denim skirt and a halter top. She opened her mouth as if she were about to repeat herself.

"That's not an appropriate question, Hailey," he said.

"Why?" she argued.

"Because that's none of your business," he scolded. "It's private; between me and..."

He didn't say her name. Hailey put her hand on his arm.

"And, you're too young for..." he started.

"I'm not a child," she sniffed.

She cringed at the sound of her own voice.

"I'm 18," she proclaimed, quietly. "Almost 19."

"I know," Chris consoled her. "It's just that we shouldn't be talking about this."

Her hand fell from his arm to his leg, and she leaned against him.

"But," she whispered, "you still need to cum sometimes."

"Hailey," he blurted, and stood up. "We..."

"I saw you," she said.

"What?" he asked.

"Last night, in your office," she divulged. "I watched you masturbate."

"I..." he tried.

"And, again today," she crowed. "You were watching me in the backyard."

"No," he denied, almost convincingly.

She rose to her feet and stood close.

"I saw you cum last night," she told him. "I saw it come out."

He shook his head.

"And, today," she confessed. "I bent over so you could see my ass. I couldn't see your... cock. But, I know you were stroking it."

"Hailey," he objected.

She put her right hand on his chest, then let it slide downward toward his whiskey.

"Can I have a sip?" she requested.

"Absolutely not," he fumed. "You're definitely not old enough to drink."

"Well, I guess I could go home and tell my mother you were jerking off to me today," Hailey threatened.

"Are you trying to blackmail me, young lady?" he demanded.

"No, Mr. M," she said. "I'm trying to fuck you."

"I'm way too old for you," he pointed out. "You should go find a boyfriend. Someone your age."

"I tried that," she scoffed.

Danger sirens blared in his head.

"Don't you think I'm pretty?" she tested.

He tried to dodge the question. Her hand returned to his arm.

"Mr. Marlowe," she said. "I don't want boys my age. And, I'm tired of watching porn, playing with my pussy, and buying batteries for my vibrator."

"Jesus Christ," Chris lamented.

"Are you an ass man?" she mewled.

"What?" Chris returned.

"The girl in that video had a great one," Hailey observed.

Before he could respond, she pulled her skirt up to her waist and spun. She wore a black thong, and his eyes followed the strip of fabric as it disappeared between her butt cheeks.

"How does mine compare to hers?" she sought.

"Where is your mother?" he inquired, hoping that mentioning Vivian would deter Hailey.

"Asleep," she answered. "She's leaving early tomorrow."

"You should be in bed, too" Chris lectured, then cringed.

Hailey let out a giggle.

"I mean, in your own bed," Chris stammered. "Alone."

"You want me to go?" Hailey asked.

Even in the darkness, he could see the disappointment on her face.

"I'm sorry," he soothed. "It's for the best."

"But..." Hailey protested, "I want to stay."

"I know, honey," Chris said, trying to be gentle, "but it's a bad idea."

Without another word, Hailey whirled and stomped out. The slamming screen door sounded like a gunshot in the night.

Chris slept fitfully. His mind constantly turned to Hailey. Sometime after 4:00, he gave in and masturbated, once more picturing her; imagining the feel of her on top of him; of being inside her; of hearing her cry out as she came. When he finished, he cleaned up, then fell into a deep sleep. Awakening well after noon, he showered and left the house to run errands.

By the time he got home, the heat of the day beat down on him. He trudged up the stairs, intending to put on some shorts. Unconsciously, he glanced out the window, and was about to continue with his task when he froze.

Hailey lay in the middle of her back yard, stark naked, atop a towel. Her oiled body glistened in the sunlight, and Chris stood transfixed by the sight. Even at this distance, he could make out tan lines caused by the outfit she'd worn while gardening the day before.

"Holy shit," he croaked, as his eyes traveled up and down her lithe body.

He leered at her for a minute before she bent her knees and spread her legs, allowing him to see the bareness of her pubic area. His cock ached to be set free from the prison of his jeans, and without thinking he rubbed himself through the denim.

Darkness fell, and Chris, drink in hand, once more occupied his chair on the porch. A thunderstorm approached. He could hear the rumbling, and see lightning brighten the distant clouds.

"Coming in fast," he remarked, to no one.

Emily loved the rain. She'd always enjoyed having sex outside in a light shower, or next to a window during a maelstrom. A breeze kicked up, carrying the smell of the on-coming rain. He heard the first drops slap the wooden planks of the uncovered portion of the deck. Then, he detected another sound -- a rustling. He waited.

"Mr. C? May I come in?" Hailey asked. "It's raining."

"I think you'd better go home," he urged.

"Please," she begged.

The wind increased, driving the spray through the screens, wetting Chris.

"I can't go home in this," she pointed out, looking down at the ground.

Chris relented. He stood slowly. Hailey stepped onto the porch. She wore a yellow raincoat which fell to her knees. The hood concealed her face.

He led her inside, to the kitchen. She opened the slicker. Underneath, she wore a matching set of pink, mesh underwear. Chris' gaze fixed on her dark areolas. Her nipples were hard.

"Why did you come here dressed like that?" Chris demanded, trying to keep his voice even.

"I..." she began, off-guard, thinking him angry. "I'm sorry."

She recovered her nerve before he could respond.

"Maybe you should spank me for being so naughty," she cooed.

"Honey, I know you think you have feelings for me," Chris said, trying to maintain his position as the grown up in the situation, "but, you're way too young to be chasing a guy my age."

Hailey turned to hang up her jacket, exposing her ass to him. As she had the night before, she'd chosen a thong. Chris' eyes lingered on her cheeks. He licked his lips and coughed.

"Are you OK, Mr. M?" she purred, raising her eyes to his.

"Yes," he grumbled. "I'm fine."

Hailey stepped toward him.

"Last night, you didn't answer me," she reminded him.

His cock steadily stiffened in his sweatpants, and he realized he wanted this girl. His mind attempted to retain control. It was wrong. He knew that above anything else. She was as close to a niece as he had. But, another voice reminded him she isn't family. And, she is 18.

"Can I see it?" she asked, noticing that he was trying to cover his crotch.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" he questioned, not believing it had come from his mouth.