Pretty Little Summer Dresses

Let me introduce myself, my name is Robert; well, most people call me Bob. I'm 53, five feet eleven with short salt and pepper hair. I keep my hair short as if it grows to any length at all it just starts to go wild. I'm single; well divorced, so yeah single and although I don't work out, I've managed to maintain a decent figure despite my penchant for a few beers. Looks-wise I understand that I'm about average; no Adonis but a long way from Frankenstein's monster. I've been told that my best feature is my crystal blue eyes. My ex-wife used to call them come-to-bed eyes. I like to think that my best feature is encased in my trousers and I've never had any complaints on that score.

Since my divorce I've had to get myself a new place; my little bachelor pad. It's a tiny two bedroomed flat near the centre of town, with the second bedroom used as my office. Oh yeah, I'm a self-employed accountant who works from home unless I'm at a client's premises. Once my ex had finished taking me to the cleaners I didn't have enough left for anything else but it's home and it's handy being so close to the town for business and for pleasure.

Now, about my problem. We are going through one of the hottest summers we've ever experienced and, well, everywhere I turn I see these young women of all ages from late teens to mid-thirties wearing them. Yes, those damn, pretty little summer dresses. Sure, they come in a variety of colours and designs but they all have extremely short hemlines and many of them are low cut. My eyes are popping out on stalks every time I walk down the High Street; if I'm not eyeing up a nice pair of long legs, imagining what's at the junction of the thighs I'm catching glimpses of boobs, some braless and bouncing, others restrained and pushing against the thin material holding them in. My dick seems to have a permanent hard-on as I walk down the street and I have noticed a few of the young ladies sneak a peek at my bulge.

Now rumour has it that there are a percentage of young ladies that actually prefer an older man; a sort of father figure if you like. But how do I know which ones they are? It's not as if they wear a badge saying "I'm into older men"; if only they did that would help my fantasy come true. So I just take in the sights and masturbate to my memories of all that young flesh.

Today I'm going to continue with my morning ritual. I hate being stuck in the flat all day, so I start every morning with a coffee at one of the coffee shops in the High Street. I don't really care which one it is and I often end up in one where the pair of legs I have been following enters. This morning, however, I'm gasping for some caffeine, so I just enter the nearest one to my flat. The place is real busy and tables are at a premium; I order a Caffè Americano and look for a seat. Spoilt for choice, I can either join a dowdy looking middle-aged woman who has a table to herself or there is a table with two early twenties young women wearing those dresses. Decision made, I approach their table and ask if they mind if I join them. They stop their conversation, look up at me and gesture to the seat. I sit and place my coffee down, opening up one of the shop's newspapers. I turn a page occasionally but I'm not reading; my eyes are fixed on the girl to my right. Her dress is one of the low cut ones and I have a lovely profile of her right breast; it looks soft and inviting and I am imagining peeling down the top of her dress and encasing her nipple in my mouth. If she were to move slightly I might just get to see a hint of the nipple I desperately want to latch onto.

I take a sip of my coffee, my eyes never leaving her breast; she moves so that the top of the dress gapes a bit; damn she's wearing a bra. Still I got more of an eyeful and I would certainly be jacking off thinking of those boobs when I returned home.

My phone rang and I took it out of my trouser pocket and checked it. Good, not a creditor -- it was Gerry, one of my customers.

"Hi Gerry, what can I do you for?" I asked.

"Same old bad jokes eh Bob?" he responded, "I was wondering if you had a few minutes to pop by the office this afternoon. I've got the latest set of our figures for you to check."

"Sure Gerry, I'll get there for around two," I said. We exchanged a few pleasantries and I put my phone on the table and picked the newspaper back up, not that I'd read a single word of it. The two girls were in animated conversation but keeping their voices low. Every so often the focus of my attention would lean closer to her friend giving me a better look down her top; that breast would haunt me for the rest of that day, it looked so mouth-wateringly good.

I finished my coffee, put the paper down and left the shop. Walking back to my flat, I had one hand in my pocket discreetly stroking my cock. I'd got about half way home when I realised my hand was in the pocket where my phone should be; I checked my other pockets, nothing and then it hit me. I had put it down on the table and then covered it with the paper as I left. I rushed back to the coffee house and walked to the table; the two girls were just getting up, ready to go. The one whose breast I had been ogling saw me and said, "Are you looking for your phone? I handed it in to the girl behind the counter." With that the two of them walked out of the door and were gone.

I looked wistfully after the two girls; the one I hadn't paid any attention to was a bit on the large side for my tastes, I liked my women small and curvy. The object of my affection was just my type and now I could take in her pins; they were shapely and looked like they led the way to heaven. As they disappeared out of sight I went to the counter and recovered my phone, before repeating my journey home.

Once home I entered the bathroom, unzipped my flies and rubbed one out while picturing that breast in my mind. I then entered my "office" and got on with my day's work before making my way to Gerry's office to carry out some work for him. Gerry's workforce is male dominated, and the few women there are all forty plus and not anything to fantasize about. He has, however, just taken on an apprentice, Niamh, who was helping out in the office where I was checking the books. An unexpected distraction; 18 years old with a slim figure, light brown hair which she wore in a pony tail and a devastating smile which would warm the cockles of anyone's heart. And, guess what, she was in one of those dresses; flowery, short and in the right light, somewhat translucent. It took me twice as long as it should have to check Gerry's accounts and my cock was straining against my trousers.

On the drive home I was imagining her in my bedroom as I slowly stripped her young body naked and kissed the entire surface of her skin, finishing up at her young inexperienced pussy. Once in my front door, I whipped out my cock and proceeded to the bathroom where I came within seconds of rubbing it. As I came, I imagined coating Niamh's innocent young face with my cream.

After cleaning up, I went to the kitchen to prepare my dinner for the evening. In this hot weather I generally have a small cold assortment; pork pie, Scotch Egg that sort of thing with a small salad as a gesture to a healthy diet.

I settled down in front of the telly for the night searching for something interesting to watch and was still channel hopping when my phone rang. I checked my watch, seven fifteen -- no-one usually rang me at this time and I was expecting it to be a PPI or accident claim call. When I answered the phone, a female voice said, "Hi."

"Who is this?" I enquired.

"This is the voice belonging to the breast you were staring at in the coffee shop this morning," came the reply.

"Oh," said I, "sorry about that. I couldn't help myself. I am sorry."

"So, what is your name, not so secret admirer," she asked.

"Umm, Robert," I said, "but most people call me Bob."

"Well Rob," she said, "would you like to see more of me?"

Fuck me I thought, I want to see all of you. "I would love to see you," I replied.

"Are you doing anything tonight?" she then enquired.

"As it happens, I am free tonight," I responded. I'm free every fucking night I thought.

"Good," she said, "meet me in Vino Vino at eight thirty. And don't be late or I won't be there."

"No problem," I said. I would need to check my bank balance to ensure that I had enough money; Vino Vino was the most up-market wine bar in the town and one in which I had never set foot.

I was about to ask her how she got my number when the phone went dead. I opened up my banking app on the phone and checked the balance; shit, looked like I was going back into my overdraft. I must get around to chasing up some of those outstanding Invoices.

I had about an hour to kill before I needed to leave, so I shaved, jumped into the shower and then selected my outfit. What to wear for this sexy young lady? I decided to go with a pair of light grey chinos and a light blue shirt; casual, that's what girls go for these days, isn't it?

Checking my watch it was eight o'clock. Half an hour to go. I was like a cat on a hot tin roof, I couldn't settle and was pacing up and down. A sudden thought; shit, how was I going to recognise her? Her face had not been the focus of my attention. A brief glimpse of it when she was leaving the coffee shop but even then my eyes had been drawn to the opening in her dress. Got it! Make sure you get there first and then she would have to come to me.

Checked my watch again; five past. The wine bar was about ten minutes' walk away. If I left now I'd be there at eight fifteen, eight twenty. I could have a glass while waiting for her to show up; that way I would certainly not be late, and she would need to find me.

In my eagerness to get to our rendezvous I was walking faster than was usually the case; as I walked through the door and up to the bar the clock on the wall said eight twelve. I sat on a stool and waited to be served. I ordered a glass of house white, God even the price of that was about twice the price I usually paid for a bottle at the supermarket! I sipped it slowly, turned sideways on the bar stool so that I had a decent view of the door and waited. Every time the door opened I checked to see if it was her. Most people arrived in couples, so it was easy to dismiss them. Eight thirty came and went; my glass was half empty and I was wondering if I'd been pranked. I'd finish my drink and leave; go back and watch an old Schwarzenegger film and get drunk.

It was now eight forty-five and my glass had one last sip left when a voice beside me said, "I hope I didn't keep you waiting."

I turned and looked into a pair of big green eyes; "No," I said, "I was just about to order another drink; what would you like?"

"Why not just get a bottle of the Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc and bring it to the table. It's cheaper that way," said the voice of experience. "I'll go find us a table."

I watched her walk away. Tight little black number that accentuated her bottom beautifully; two nice handfuls of arse to grab in the throes of passion. My attention was broken when a voice behind me asked, "Can I help you sir?"

I reluctantly turned and looked at the barman, ordered the wine and paid for it. I swear my bank card twitched at the price of a bottle. Let's hope I get to see what's inside that dress, I thought, to justify the expense of the evening.

I picked up the ice bucket containing the wine, together with the two glasses and went in search of her. She was seated at a corner table next to the front window. As I approached I took in how stunning she looked and wondered, why me? I placed the wine bucket on the table, opened the bottle and poured us both a generous glass.

"Cheers, umm,,," I started.

"Jessica," she supplied, "but you can call me Jess. Cheers Rob."

We clinked glasses and I took a long sip whilst drowning in her eyes. I broke out of my trance to ask the question that had been bugging me.

"How did you get my number," I asked.

"Easy," she said, "when you left your phone behind this morning I just dialled myself using your phone and, hey presto, I had your number. You really should lock your phone, or anyone can use it."

I smiled. "But if I'd done that, I wouldn't be here with you now," I responded.

She smiled back. "You have a point," she said.

"So," I asked, "What did I do to get this lucky?"

"Wellll," she said, "I caught you staring at my body earlier and, what can I say, I like my figure to be admired. Let's just say I'm a sponge for admiration."

I looked her over again; anyone in their right mind would admire that body.

"You sure look like you have a body deserving of admiration," I ventured, bringing another smile to her face.

We entered into some small talk, during which she discovered that I was a divorced, self-employed accountant while I found out that she was the daughter of a multi-millionaire and therefore could not be bothered to seek a career as she lived off her allowance. The sort of girl I would normally call a spoilt brat, but I was certainly not going to mention that tonight.

During the second glass of wine, Jess excused herself to go to the ladies, I turned my head to watch her arse as she walked away and noticed that a couple of other guys were watching her sashay between the tables as well -- one of whom got a punch on the arm from his date.

As she returned to the table something dropped out of her hand under the table.

"I'll get that," I said -- white knight to the rescue. When I went under the table to retrieve the fallen item, I noticed it looked like a dark piece of cloth. I picked it up; it was silk, and I realised it was her knickers. I looked across at her legs; she was sitting with them splayed apart. Her pussy was on full view to me and I licked my lips at the thought of burying my head there later that night. I had a quick sniff of her knickers before carefully extracting myself from under the table and casually handing them back to her.

She smiled. "You certainly took your time," she said.

I looked at her and blushed. I was used to being in control at all times but here I was like a puppet and she was pulling the strings. There is certainly something I'd like her to be pulling but it wasn't my strings!

"Did you enjoy the view?" she asked, "I certainly hope you took the opportunity to sniff what's awaiting you later."

"God, you're sexy," I said, "and I certainly want to admire the rest of your body as soon as possible."

"Let's finish our wines and go to your place," she said, "Daddy wouldn't like me bringing a guy your age home."

I winced at that but downed my wine and we exited the wine bar. Once out the door she put her arm around me and I reciprocated. I turned my face towards her and she raised her head to mine as my mouth made first contact with her ruby red lips. She sighed, and her hand went to my backside and cupped a cheek as her tongue snaked out of her mouth and into mine. Our tongues wrestled playfully, briefly and then she broke off the kiss and we were under way, double quick to my flat.

As I was fumbling with the keys, her phone went off. I just got her side of the conversation, but it didn't sound like good news. As she put her phone away she looked up at me.

"Sorry, Rob, there's been an accident. I've got to go," she said.

She came into my flat and dialled a cab and waited.

Apparently, the girl she had been with that morning had been a passenger in a car involved in a collision and was in hospital. Naturally Jess wanted to see if her friend was okay. Shit, I thought, of all nights for crap drivers to be on the road.

When the cab arrived, she pecked me on the cheek and left. I went to the fridge, pulled out a couple of beers and stuck on an Arnie re-run; back to plan one I thought in a sullen kind of mood.