Oh My God...have I died and gone to heaven?
The girl, still wearing her school uniform, was stood on my front doorstep; the girl of my hot, illicit dreams. Given the age gap between us, many people would have said my fixation on her was a perversion, but I didn't think so! She spoke, but I was so taken aback by her being there that my brain didn't register her words. It was the first time I had spoken her without there being somebody else close to hand...
"I'm sorry, Bronwyn, what was that you said?"
"I said my school is fundraising to send a team to the hockey nationals by selling these chocolate bars, would you like to buy some from me?"
"Oh, oh, of course I would. How much are they?"
"Two dollars each..."
"I'll take five..."
"I only have three left..."
"Ok then, I'll take three..."
I delved in my pockets for money, but I only had a fifty dollar bill.
"Wait there for a moment; I'll have to get some change..."
"I've got change..."
"Enough for a fifty...?"
"Oh no, I suppose not..."
"Ok, Stay right there; I'll be back in a second..."
I left her standing on the doorstep and made my way down the hall to my bedroom to where I knew I had some loose change on my bedside table. My mind was in a whirl. I had her to myself at last! Oh Sweet Jesus, was this really, finally happening? How could I get her to stay for a while? How long could I keep her talking? Fuck, I'm getting an erection!
The Morgan family immigrated to New Zealand some seven months ago from Wales, and took over the house next door to mine; David and his wife Megan, their two sons Evan and Melvin, and their daughter Bronwyn. My eyes latched onto the daughter two days after they moved in; my internal radar, so finely tuned to the presence of nubile females, drew me to look out of my window just as the family was getting out of their car after food shopping. She took my breath away; petite, long dark hair held up in a ponytail, a flash of pale, slender thigh as she scrambled from their SUV's back seat, a tight, rounded little butt and small high breasts, which were mere tennis-ball bumps on her chest. She was a perfect little gem, quite young looking to be sure, but with an assured air about her. I remember thinking "Oh My God! I am so going to enjoy watching you young lady!"
I finally met her in person for the first time when David Morgan invited me around, along with a crowd of other people from our street, for a "getting to know you" barbeque two months later, but I already "knew" Bronwyn. I had pictures of her; lots of pictures...
One of the first things the Morgan family did when they were finally settled in was to rig up a basketball hoop over their garage door. The constant thump and crash of the ball on the concrete driveway and against the backboard soon began to drive me crazy. Ok, I wasn't at home all that often, but when I was back from an assignment overseas I needed peace and quiet to help me recharge my batteries. I was getting so fed up with the noise that I was on the verge of asking David and Megan to take the hoop down, until one day I looked out of my window and saw that this time it wasn't the two boys making the racket; it was Her. Utterly entranced, I settled into a nearby chair to watch the carefree movements of her lovely young body. I marvelled at the inviting bounce of her tiny mounds and wished she were not wearing a bra. My mouth watered when her top and skirt parted company to show a flash of smooth belly. I moaned out loud with lust at the swirl and cling of her cotton skirt on her slim thighs. And when it flicked up to reveal taut inner flesh as she jumped in the air to let the ball go, my hand gripped my cock through my pants in an instant. Tantalising almost-glimpses of panty-clad bottom almost tipped me over the edge as time after time she bent over to pick up the ball, as young girls carelessly do when they have no idea they are being spied on.
All too soon the magic show was ended by Megan's call to Bronwyn to "Come indoors and wash and change before dinner", leaving me with my throbbing hard-on clamped in my fist and all thoughts of complaint banished from my mind.
Thereafter, whenever I heard the thump and crash of the basketball, I went straight to my lookout post with the hope that Bronwyn would be the one causing the commotion; only now I also had my digital video camera set up to film her. More often than not it was the boys, and I would retire dejected. But sometimes it was indeed her; often on her own, but sometimes with a school friend or friends -- two or three additional young bodies to lust over should have been a bonus, but in reality I only had eyes for her. Sometimes she was still in her school uniform and at other times she had on cargo shorts or a skirt and a top. On one stunning day she was dressed in a two-piece bathing suit; too young-girl-modest to be called a bikini, but electrifying enough to me to almost make me cum involuntarily as I captured her. Her mother didn't like her being out "undressed" like that in public and she was called indoors to "get some clothes on" quite quickly.
Although I still looked on, there were the occasions I did not like. These were when she was playing against her brothers -- both of them bigger and stronger than she. I hated the casual way they placed their hands anywhere on her to push her out of the way, often putting an arm around her, seemingly to palm a breast or squeeze her tight butt. Those boys literally got me steaming with envy!
And then David introduced me to his daughter at the barbeque...
"And this is my daughter, Bronwyn...the light of my life..."
And a burning flame in mine! I thought, if you only knew the true extent of my feelings towards your daughter, David, you'd go bananas! But of course I kept that to myself...
"It's her birthday today...she doesn't look like it, but she's old enough to vote now, aren't you luvvy. Say hello to Mister Hicks, Bronwyn..."
Whereas her brothers, Evan and Melvin had simply muttered "Hi" when David introduced us, Bronwyn solemnly held out her hand to shake mine, looking up at me curiously with her big dark eyes. Her voice was soft with that melodic Welsh lilt that is so attractive on a woman's lips. A tingle, like an electric pulse, shot up my arm when our fingers touched. I wondered if she felt it too...
"Oh Da, give up making such a big thing of my birthday! It's stopped being cool! Pleased to meet you Mister Hicks...sorry, but he's been telling people about it all day."
"Old enough to vote...? That makes you eighteen...!"
My goodness, that blew away my estimate of her age! I hoped the shock didn't show in my face!
"...congratulations on your birthday anyway, and it's a pleasure to meet you too Bronwyn. But I'd much prefer it if you call me Ray instead of Mister Hicks, because if you keep on calling me that, I shall have to call you Miss Morgan, which is rather OTT formal don't you think?"
Bronwyn giggled delightfully...
"Alright, it's a pleasure to meet you Ray!"
If I merely lusted over her before, I was now head over heels in love! Shit, I felt like a kid just about to ask his first girl out on a date! And I was still holding her hand in my big paw! What must her father have been thinking? Reluctantly, I let go of her. My own hand felt cold and empty.
For the next couple of hours my eyes zeroed-in on Bronwyn whenever she appeared. Every time I looked at her, her eyes were on me. And every time she saw me looking, she turned away. But later in the afternoon she saw me sitting alone and came to speak to me again...
"I've brought you a beer, Ray. It is one of yours, isn't it?"
She held the dewy bottle out to me with both hands in an attempt to stop our fingers making contact when I took it from her. But I made sure that they did...
"Yes, thank you very much. It looks like one of my Heineken's; nice and cold too."
I nodded across to where, with orange juice in hand, David was chatting to another of our neighbours...
"I see you and your parents don't drink..."
"We're Chapel, see...very Welsh...no alcohol...and Church twice every Sunday as well as during the week. But my Da is a bit more open than some back home...he lets guests bring drink to barbeques like this, as long as it's in moderation..."
I found it really cute the Welsh way she split the word "Chapel" so that it came out as "Cha-pel" and "moderation" became "moder-ayshun"...
"Do I hear that you aren't all that rapt with being "Cha-pel"...that's Methodist isn't it?"
"That's close enough...and very strict it is too...but it's not as bad as it used to be a hundred years ago...
"I've read some classic stories about Wales and Chapel folk being mean and bitchy to each other...but, your mother and father seem very nice...and you..."
Her cheeks took on a pink tinge...
"Oh thank you...we're not like that at all, but you should meet my Nana and some of my aunties!"
I laughed wryly and shook my head...
"And I take it reaching eighteen is not quite what you expected either?"
She shrugged noncommittally, making her firm little boobs jiggle interestingly under her dress, and setting off that familiar stirring in my groin.
"The trouble is, my parents treat me like I'm too old to be a child, but still too young to be taken seriously...my Da won't even let me learn how to drive!"
"Gee, that's a bit tough seeing as most youngsters in New Zealand learn to drive at fifteen. And about the "not quite grown up" thing, I know the feeling; I went through it the same and bloody frustrating it was too -- pardon the language. So when do you think people will start taking you seriously?"
Bronwyn beamed a smile that made the sunshine seem dim by comparison...
"Twenty-one seems to be good; people have to treat you like an adult then, don't they? So until that happens I can be all moody and hot tempered, just like teenagers are expected to be, and I can make people's lives hell!"
"I can't imagine for one second that you'd do anything like that...!"
"I suppose you're right...I've been brought up to be a "nice little chapel girl.""
"Don't be in a great rush; "nice little girls" are nice. Being adult, with all that entails, like work and relationships and stuff, will happen soon enough..."
"But I'm fed up with waiting. I want to take control of my own life!"
"Aaaaargh...the wild impatience of youth...!"
"You're not at home very much are you, Ray; what do you do? And you're quite old and not married; why not?"
Her sudden change of tack and barrage of questions surprised me. So, she had noticed I am away from home a lot, quite often for a long time, and the lack of women around. For some reason I felt compelled to open up, no matter how candid the questions were...
"Hey! Steady with the "old" bit; I'm nowhere near "over the hill" yet!"
"Well, how old are you then?"
"Thirty-three... And as for not being married, you're right...
"Are you gay...?"
If you had any idea of the hours I spend lusting over you, young lady, you'd never ask me that question...!
"And I'm not gay either...I just haven't got around to meeting the right woman yet...sometimes I wonder if I ever will..."
"Hmmmm... So what kind of work do you do?
"I work for the Government..."
She pulled a face...
"That sounds boring."
"Oh, it's not boring at all. I get to travel overseas a lot and see lots of nice places and meet lots of interesting people...some of them not so "nice"..."
"That sounds better. So what is your work?"
"It's a secret. If I told you I'd have to kill you!"
Raymond Hicks Man of Mystery, that's me! In reality, I am only an officer in the Customs Service, and I get seconded to work with governments in South East Asia to catch drug dealers before their filthy product hits our shores. Still, I have found "the man of mystery" ploy useful in pulling the birds in the past!
"Oooooo! Are you a spy?"
I drew my finger across my throat in a silent answer.
"Hurrrumph!" was her contemptuous reply.
Bronwyn turned away and left me to admire the tight, indignant jiggle of her buttocks as she stomped off. But for the rest of the time, whenever our eyes met, she smiled and gave me a surreptitious little wave. I had made progress! And when it was time to leave, she came to stand with us while I was thanking David and Megan for their hospitality. When her parents moved off to return to their other guests, she held out her hand with a smile to shake mine...
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mister Spy!"
There it was again - that tingle...
"And it was lovely to meet you at last, Miss Curiosity Killed the Cat!"
"Meet me at last...?"
"Ummmm, I have a small confession to make...I have noticed you before today..."
Bronwyn's cheeks quickly became quite flushed as, with downcast eyes, she traced small circles on the pathway with the toe of her patent leather shoe. Realisation suddenly struck home: I saw it now; the way they made her dress, the plain hairstyle, the way they shielded her from the real world. Her shoes even had ankle straps for chrissakes! Bronwyn's parents were deliberately keeping her "childlike"! But, to what purpose? How could she put up with it? No wonder I first thought she was younger than she really was!
But, for all that, she was persistent...
"I'm going to find a way to make you tell me, you know..."
I'll tell you everything if you let me take down your knickers and kiss your juicy little pussy, I thought! But, discretion prevailed and I only grinned...
"I'd better go before you get the thumbscrews out...see you later!"
I felt her eyes boring into my back as I walked away. My mind was spinning: "You should have kissed her, Ray; just a little buss on the cheek to wish her a happy birthday. I wonder how she would have reacted!"
I did see Bronwyn from time-to-time; usually with her parents, or passing in the street with some of her girlfriends from school, occasionally with one or both of her brothers, but never alone. And I continued to make my movies of her at the basketball hoop.
Now she was here on my doorstep; all by herself!
"Are you alright?"
I jumped, startled from my reverie, and spun to see her framed in my bedroom doorway. The girl had followed me inside! My heart leaped in my chest and I felt a heavier thickening in my groin and my cock straining against the confines of my shorts, which surely she must have noticed.
"You were gone so long; I wondered if you had forgotten me...you still haven't paid for my chocolate bars."
"Oh! Gosh! I must have been daydreaming! No, I hadn't forgotten you..."
Far from it...!
"Here's your money; six dollars wasn't it?"
I placed the coins in her outstretched palm. My fingers brushed hers and a frisson of energy passed between us.
"So how are things at school? Are you settled in alright?"
Bronwyn shrugged, making no move to return to the front door, "Thank you... Oh, school's Ok...a bit boring at times."
"Hmmm, that doesn't sound too brilliant! What's wrong? Don't you get on with the other ki...students? It's hard changing schools sometimes, let alone countries...""
"They're fine...it's just that I'm so far ahead...the school put me in the top class in year 13, but I feel as if I'm light years in front; and I'm cruising. My Da's thinking of pulling me out and sending me to University early..."
"UK schooling is that much more advanced then?"
"It was at the church school I went to back in Cardiff!" Bronwyn pouted, "Trouble is, because I still look about fourteen or fifteen years old, everyone treats me like a baby...well, almost everyone."
"When I first saw you I thought you were maybe a year older than that..."
"See, there's the proof..."
"Anyway, we know differently now..."
Now it was my turn to do some personal questioning...!
"Just about...but not everyone at school treats you like a kid?"
"Well, there is one boy who was nice to me right from the start...Murray Wilson...he's turned nineteen."
"Is he your boyfriend then?"
Bronwyn's soft cheeks went a light shade of pink, and she started to draw circles with the toe of her shoe again. Being friends with a boy must have been a very new experience for one as protected as her...
"But you'd like him to be?"
"Has he ever tried to kiss you?"
She wriggled with embarrassment...
"Did you let him? Did you like it?"
"It was nice..."
"Was it the first time you've ever been kissed...?"
"Did he kiss you just the once, or...?"
"Several times, on different days...he walks me home from school when he doesn't have cricket practice...and we pass this little park...the first couple of times we just sat on a bench and talked...and then one day he put his arm around me and kissed me...he kisses me every time now..."
"Do your parents know about this?"
"No, of course not...!"
Aha! So you hide things from your parents!
"Are they long kisses, or are they just little pecks?"
How long will it take her to baulk at my probing...?
"It seems like they last a long time..."
"And when he is kissing you, does he touch you...like on your chest?"
Bronwyn glanced up at me with a shocked look in her eyes...
But the deeper flush on her cheeks told me that perhaps my long shot was very near to the mark. Being at a co-ed Kiwi school, and mixing with boys socially for the first time, this Chapel Girl was learning about life, lust and sex...fast!
"He does, doesn't he?"
"Well, yes...after the third time...but why are you asking me these things?"
I let her question pass...
"Aha! And I'll bet you like it in just the same way as you like him kissing you?"
Bronwyn didn't answer, choosing instead to stare down at the carpet.
"And when Warren is..."
"Ok, Murray, and when Murray is touching your chest, do you start to feel as if you've wet your knickers?"
I knew I shouldn't be asking for such intimate details to this sweet, innocent young miss, but my brain was not listening to sense; everything was now being run by my libido! In any case, body language seldom lies: her somewhat hunched shoulders and the way she now stood with her toes slightly pointing inwards, plus that she continually peeked up at me from under her eyelashes; all these things were a dead giveaway! Bronywn found me attractive, and she was probably getting a secret thrill from my line of questioning...
"It's Ray, remember? Don't fuss too much about it if you do...all it means is that you are getting turned on."
"Yes, I think you get sexually aroused..."
"Stop it, please...!"
I wasn't about to stop...
"Do you get sexually aroused often...like at night when you're in bed...thinking about Murray perhaps?"
"Not about Murray..." Bronwyn muttered. Her cheeks were now bright crimson with mortification. I resolved to leave that answer alone for further exploration later...
"And does he do anything else?"
"Like, do you let him put his hand up your dress?"
The vehemence of her reply told me she was telling the truth...
"But, he has tried...?"
With a beetroot red face and downcast eyes, in a subdued whisper, Bronwyn answered...
"Yes...but I stopped him..."
"How far did you let him get before you stopped him?"
"Almost up to the top..."
"Why did you stop him then...when he was almost there?"
"It was wrong to let him touch me!"
"But all the same, you didn't really want him to stop..."
"I felt if I didn't stop him I was going to explode! And I was embarrassed about...I didn't want him to know..."
"You don't mind me knowing how wet you get though?"