Girl Next Door Ch. 01

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Among other things, the following contains a scene of male masturbation. If that’s going to bother you, skip to chapter 2. As should be obvious from the text, all characters are at least 18.

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Chapter 01: Poolside

I have always had a bit of a strange response when someone uses the phrase “the girl next door”. I know what people mean by it, of course, a girl who’s pretty but seems attainable. My answer has always been, “You know, even supermodels live next to someone.”

There is of course, a reason for my answer. Her name is Patricia. I’ve always called her Trish, she prefers it to Pat, and has always hated Patty. I’ve known her my whole life. I mean that in the most literal possible sense. We grew up as next door neighbors, but to say we knew each other from a young age is an understatement. We were born the same day. Her mother went into labor almost immediately after watching my mother be driven off to the hospital.

As kids, we were friends. As we got older, she was always my best friend, and I was hers. Strangely enough, since her folks sent her off to Catholic school and I went public, we were never in the same school after kindergarten, but outside of school, we always saw a lot of each other. We would talk to each other about things we wouldn’t mention to anyone else. I held her hand, literally and figuratively, through every idiot boyfriend and heartbreak, she helped me through everything from my parent’s divorce to my first hangover. Through high school there was never anything romantic between us, we were more like a particularly close brother and sister than anything else.

Now, I said there was never anything romantic in our relationship, but I’m still a guy, and I’m not blind. It had not escaped my notice as we grew up that Trish is gorgeous, and I will admit that she had been the subject of more than a few of my masturbatory fantasies. She was even in a few commercials as a kid, but she never had an interest in doing that stuff for a career.

The status quo in our relationship held for years, until the summer after high school, when things started to change. It was a few days after both of us turned 18, early August, and the middle of a nasty heat wave. Temperatures had hit triple digits for a week straight. Fortunately, we had a refuge from the heat. Trish’s parents had an in-ground swimming pool in the back yard, and I had an open invitation to make use of it, since I was also the one who took care of the basic maintenance on it.

On this particular day, Trish and I had been hanging out in her pool for a while, splashing around, cooling off, and generally having a good time. She was wearing a dark blue bikini. Nothing particularly skimpy, but she still looked amazing in it. I had a baggy pair of board shorts. That is where the problem started.

If one was being generous, they could say I’ve always been slender. That’s almost true. Skinny is a more descriptive term. I had started to fill out a little at that point, but there still wasn’t much to me. At 5’8″, I barely topped 120 pounds at that point in my life. Like I said, skinny. For my lack of muscle mass, I was pretty fit though.

Trish and I had been messing around in the pool for a while, when I decided to get fancy with the diving board. I’d gotten to the point where I could pull off a few tricks off the board pretty well, and, I admit, I was showing off.

Trish was clinging to the side of the deep end of the pool, I was up on the diving boar and yelled a quick, “Hey, watch this one!” Two quick running steps on the board and a front flip into the pool followed. I didn’t hit the water right though. Actually, I hit it too right, my body entering like an arrow, my hands pointed above my head.

The reason this was a problem was the baggy shorts, which were not tied tightly enough to keep their grip on my near-nonexistent hips. I plunged through to the bottom, my shorts stayed on the surface. I wasn’t quick enough to stop them, and I came to the surface about ten feet from where they were.

Or, I should say, where they should have been. By the time I came up and wiped the water out of my eyes so I could see where my mixing clothing had gotten to, and turned so I was pointed in the right direction, Trish had already gone into mischievous action. She had swum the few feet from the wall to my floating clothing, grabbed them, and headed back to the wall. She was hauling herself out of the pool, my shorts in hand, and laughing as I yelled, “Hey!”

She backed away from the pool, grinning down at me with her perfect smile, and laid my shorts on one of the deck chairs. “Just come and get them.”

I looked up at her with a mixture of annoyance, trepidation, excitement. Annoyance is the easy one to explain, she’d just run off with my shorts. The other two take a little more thought. Trepidation because I’ve always been a little shy, and the last time Trish bahis firmaları had seen me naked, both of us had been too young to care more than the extent of ‘hey, yours doesn’t look like mine’, and I had not had great experiences with the very few girls who had seen me naked in the recent past.

As I’ve said before, I was pretty scrawny at that age. Add scrawny plus shy, plus the fact that my closest friend went to a different school, and it’s easy to add up that I wasn’t exactly the most popular kid in high school. I had some friends, but none all that close. I’d dated a few girls, but only two relatively serious. But one part of me was anything but scrawny, and my total lack of body fat only added to that.

The first time I was with a girl and things got to the point where my pants came off, her words were, and I quote, “No fucking way. That thing is not coming near me. You’d split me in half.” The second girl was, in a way, worse. She had been all too happy to see what I was packing. I lost my virginity to her, but afterwards she got to be smothering, and everything was about the sex. Maybe I wasn’t your typical teenager, but even then I didn’t want to feel like I was just a walking sex toy for someone.

Back to the story. I was treading water, naked, and looking up and my oldest, dearest friend, who held the ultimate power of being the person who had my shorts. That was the trepidation, that I wasn’t sure I was comfortable with getting out of the water and letting her see me.

Then there was the excitement, a feeling I tried hard to deny to myself at the time, but which was definitely there. The girl I’d been fantasizing about for years had just effectively asked to see me naked. OK, it wasn’t an overtly sexual situation, and she seemed to be teasing me (non-sexually) more than flirting with me, but I still had an incredibly gorgeous girl standing by the side of the pool looking down at me.

I guess I should take a moment here to describe the girl who was looking down at me with a wicked sparkle in her eyes. She was a little taller than me, somewhere between 5’9″ and 5’10”. She had a perfect, at least to me, face. Her mouth was full without being overtly provocative, and expressive. Whatever she was feeling, she showed it openly. Her nose and chin were finely carved, well formed and neither too large nor too small for her face. She had a high forehead, long, wavy, honey-gold hair, and a pair of eyes that were large, long-lashed, and the most shocking emerald green I’ve ever seen that didn’t come from contacts.

Then, of course, there was the body, which was enough to make any guy with eyes want to drool. She was trim, athletic, with nothing over-exaggerated, but everything in perfect shape. Her arms were long and lean, her waist narrow, but flaring into hips that were pleasingly wide from bone structure and muscle, not fat. Her chest was, again, at least to my mind, perfect, her breasts large enough to be a handful, small enough to ride high and perky with no sign of droop. Her legs were long, lean, and tapered down from strong thighs to narrow ankles and surprisingly small feet.

Eventually, I came to a decision on what I would do, but I made token resistance, calling out to her, “Come on, just give ’em back, OK? Please?” The way she smiled at me in answer let me know she was not going to relent, and she recognized my sigh as the acquiescence it was. I swam easily over to the ladder, considered for a moment trying to haul myself out and cover up at the same time, and decided against it. If she was going to provoke this, she was going to get the full show.

Although the cool water had the anticipated effect on my member, the twinge of excitement at the situation was enough to counteract it. If anything, it probably made me look even bigger than I am since it pulled my balls up tight to my body. With one last sigh of internal preparation, I set my hands on the railings of the ladder, and pulled myself out of the water, stepping quickly up onto the pool deck.

There was a challenging gleam in Trish’s eye, and a little smirk on her mouth, when she saw both my hands on the ladder. Apparently she’d thought I’d go through the awkward motions of pulling myself up with one hand and covering up with the other, but she wasn’t backing down since I’d decided to go the other route.

So, up onto the pool deck I went, my eyes locked on Trish’s face, wanting to watch her reaction, wondering if, and how, this moment would change my relationship to the girl who had always thought of me as her brother. As the water sheeted away from my body and I stepped clear of the ladder, Trish’s fiercely green eyes went wide, and her mouth went into a little ‘O’, which she quickly covered with one hand.

Somehow, the balance of power in the situation had just tipped, and I just smiled at her, crossing my arms over my chest as I said, “So… can I have my shorts back now?” My words were said with a little bit of a teasing tone to them. I wasn’t trying kaçak iddaa to make this into a more sexual situation.

She blinked a few times, and then laughed. It was nervous laughter, not scornful, fortunately, and I knew her well enough to know the difference. She shook her head, “Wow! Chris, I had no idea!” She looked down at me, curiosity more evident than anything overtly sexual, and asked, “Have you ever measured that thing?”

For some reason, although the initial ‘reveal’ hadn’t gotten to me, her comment and question made me blush, and I answered truthfully, “No.”

Her eyes gleamed, which was my only warning, before she turned, snatched up my shorts, and ran for the back door of her house. She called over her shoulder, “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

I let out a sigh as I watched her run. I had to admit the sight of her running off in that little bikini was worth watching. I wasn’t concerned about being caught. Our parents were all off at work, she has no siblings, and my only brother is older and was no longer living at home at that point. The pool area of her back yard is screened on two sides by trees and one by the house. The only other house or yard that could possibly see where I was standing was my own, and I knew that there was no chance of anyone being home there for several hours.

While I waited for her to return with my shorts, and wondered exactly what she’d run off for, I settled down onto one of the deck chairs, using towel as a seat cushion. Now that the initial concerns were gone, I was actually kind of enjoying myself. It was very freeing, and pleasurable, to be outdoors and nude, feeling sunlight and the light breeze on parts that had never seen either.

Just as my mind was starting to wander, I heard the door open and close, and looked up to find Trish, returned with my shorts, and something else in her hand. The ‘something else’ turned out, a moment later as she waved it, to be a measuring tape, the flexible kind used for measuring someone for a garment. Her mother sews.

I blushed again, realizing quickly what she intended, but not knowing how things were going to proceed. She waved the measuring tape again and said cheerfully, “Found it! Now… time to see just how big that bad boy you’ve got is.” It was her turn to look just a little sheepish as she started to reach out, reconsidered, and handed me the tape, “Uh, OK, um, here. Now, um, measure along the top, right from your body to the tip.”

Apparently, there were still limits, a thing which I found both strangely comforting and somewhat disappointing. I wasn’t surprised though. She had always been a very loyal person, and she was dating someone at that time. Apparently, at least in her mind, it went too far if she actually touched me.

I licked my lips, a bit nervous to see the results here, and nodded. I leaned all the way back in the deck chair, not wanting to lose size to the curve of my body (I may have had trouble because of my size before, but vanity is vanity), and set the mettle tip of the tape way at the top of my shaft. Unrolling the tape carefully and making sure it followed the curve just right, I didn’t try to cheat and get extra distance by positioning. Holding it in place, I did my little part to contribute to the mischief of the day and said, “Here, you read it, I can’t really see from here.”

Trish, nodded, biting her lower lip in a very cute expression that she always had when she was either nervous or planning something mischievous. Leaning in close enough that I swear I could feel her breath across my circumcised head, but still not touching it, she said, “OK… wow. Seven and… three quarters. That’s quite a piece of meat.”

Hearing the note of desire in her voice, small but there, was almost enough to make the measurement change right then and there, but nerves at the situation helped me keep control. As I started to pull the measuring tape away she shook her head, “Uh-uh. Now girth.” She looked at me, and gave me a conspiratorial grin, “Believe me Chris, that is just as important.”

I gave her a blank look and said, “Girth?” I knew the word, but for the life of me couldn’t think how I was going to measure it.

She grinned and said, “Just wrap it around the thickest part. I want to see how big around.”

I complied, wrapping it around the head and making sure there was no slack to ruin the measurement. She leaned in again to read the measure, and I tried desperately to not think how close her mouth was to my cock, just so, once again, the measure wouldn’t rapidly start to increase.

Softly, almost reverently, she said, “Let’s see… right about 6.” She looked up at me then, and stood back up, pulling away. She looked up, a habit she had if trying to do a mental calculation. You’d never know from looking at her, but Trish was always a wiz at math. “If I’m right, and assuming it was perfectly round, that’s just under 2 inches across.” She looked me in the eye then and repeated a word she’d been kaçak bahis saying a lot that day. “Wow.”

I pointed it out to her, “You’ve been saying that a lot since I lost my shorts, you know.” She had the good grace to blush, and look away.

She looked back a moment later, “I’ve just… I’ve never seen a guy that big before. And, well, I’ve never really had a chance to look at a guy soft, you know?”

I did know, unfortunately. As I said, we talked about everything, and I was well aware of what she had, or had not, done with boyfriends before. And if all she’d seen naked were her boyfriends, I could well imagine how she’d never seen one soft.

My mind followed that train of thought for few moments, so it took me a while to realize she was nibbling her bottom lip again, an impish gleam in her eye. I only had a split second, but somehow I guessed what she was about to say. I was right. “You know, that makes me wonder… If this is how big you are soft… how the hell big are you hard, Chris?”

I both didn’t like where this was going and really liked where this was going. I wasn’t sure which was the dominant feeling. So I just answered truthfully. “Uh, again, I never measured. But… bigger. Quite a bit bigger.”

She started lip nibbling again. I knew I was in trouble. In case you can’t tell, I’ve never been great at telling Trish ‘no’. And she said, “Well, let’s measure.”

I coughed and looked nervous. “Um, Trish, I don’t know about that.” I paused and smiled a little sheepishly, “For that I’d have to be hard. And for that…” I just blushed, and couldn’t finish the thought.

She giggled, “Oh, come on! I want to see! Please.” She looked at me with those sparkling green eyes. I had no chance.

But I wasn’t a complete pushover. I looked at her, “You know, you’ve seen an awful lot of me already today. And now you’re asking me to get myself hard for…” I paused, reconsidered my next word, as saying ‘get myself hard for you’ didn’t seem quite the right thing, and then finished, “… so you can measure it. I’m feeling like things don’t balance out right about now.”

She gave me a look that was mostly pout, and which almost won her the argument by default. I held my ground enough though, that she said, “Fine!” She grinned at me and said, “Then why don’t we do a little balancing. You get me a measurement when you’re hard, my suit goes over there with yours.” She said it with a self-confident little swagger and, I admit, at that point I had to make a deal quickly because she’d won, I was starting to rise.

So, leaning forward in my chair to try and give a little cover to the expansion that had already started, I said, “Deal.” And then I added, only half teasing, “But if you lose the suit first the other part would be a lot easier.”

She gave me a little smirk, but nodded. I watched in rapt attention as her hands went up to the tie on her top. A quick tug and the dark blue fabric of her top fell away, revealing to me for the very first time the set of perfect breasts I’d been fantasizing about for years. My jaw fell open. They were perfectly formed, and apparently I wasn’t the only one a little excited, because her nipples were pulled tight and poking out before the breeze ever hit them. Not that an August breeze could’ve made them stand like that anyway.

Then she stood up, and her hand went to the tie for her bottoms. Never mind getting hard, I thought I might explode then and there. She drew the fabric away slowly. I may never know if she was nervous or just teasing me, or maybe both. But a moment later she threw both parts of her suit over on top of mine and stood fully revealed. Her sex was beautiful, not shaved smooth but neatly trimmed into a small round patch above a slit that was trim, the inner lips just barely poking out.

I must have made a sound of appreciation because she laughed. She smiled, “OK, now you stand up. No fair hiding the view.” Glancing down I realized she was right; I had unconsciously placed my arm to block my member from her eyes.

Too late to turn back, I did as she bid. I stood up, and put my hands on my hips, letting the view speak for itself. She looked down. I think it was unconscious on her part, but the tip of her tongue poked out, wetting her lips. My cock stood up further. She nodded, not saying anything. I think both of us were at a loss for words. I wanted her. God, how I wanted her, but I wasn’t willing to breach the wall of our previous closeness, to risk our friendship by moving wrong in that moment.

She broke the silence first, with a teasing comment, “Well, I guess there’s no question that you like the view.” She pointed to the measuring tape. “Now, I want a number, mister!” She smiled at me, the same smile I had always known. I don’t know whether that was a comfort or came close to breaking my heart, that we were standing there both naked, me obviously aroused, and she was giving me the same sisterly smile she always had for me.

I looked away for a moment and she said quietly, “Chris? You going to measure or not?”

I looked back at her and gave a sheepish smile, “Ah, Trish, you’re going to have to give me a moment here. I… um, it isn’t ready to be measured.”

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