Mr. Kircher

In the second half of my senior year, my body blossomed. Before then, I had a dancer’s shape: long-limbed and a bit too lean. But then I gained 15 (much-needed) pounds which all appeared in my bosom, hips, and ass. It didn't make a difference in my social life at school, as I was still regarded as nice but shy girl who the boys never noticed, even as I adjusted my wardrobe to take advantage of my new curves. But while my peers didn't appreciate the new me, I noticed that grown men had. Still being somewhat shy, it embarrassed me as much as it thrilled me.

As summer began, I returned to my job at the local grocery store’s video section. Men who'd looked past me last year would stare at my chest as I checked out their DVD. I'd catch them quickly diverting their eyes from my as when I'd turned back around. Some of them came off as creepy while others I'd think about later in bed.

Mr. Kircher, who I knew from the summers before, surprisingly fell into the second category. He wouldn't qualify as most high school girl’s ideal older guy crush: he was in his 40s, tall and gangly. He had a beard, hairy arms and also was losing his black and grey hair. Mr. Kircher would be perfectly cast as an awkward college professor, but had this goofy charm to him, too. That he reminded me of my late father also caused me to have a soft spot for him. When he'd look at my new body, it was the look of a lonely nerd dreamily appreciating a long-time crush.

And he was either a serious movie kick that summer or it might have been my curves that drew him back.

When he came in right before closing one evening to return a movie before incurring a late fee, I hatched a crazy idea that was no doubt inspired by my surging hormones. Nobody else was in the store, so I was able to chat with him until closing. As often as I caught him looking at my breasts, I figured his decision to return a movie at the last minute wasn't an accident. He offered to walk me to my car at the back of the lot, which I accepted with a smile.

When we got to the parking lot, which was mostly empty, I asked him which car was his. When he indicated the black BMW, I suggested that he drive me back to my car. By the time he pulled up next to my car, I had engaged in some small talk with him that gave me a reason to stay in the BMW with him. After a minute, he turned off the engine.

As the nervous small talk died down, and I had studied every detail of the BMW’s interior, I looked at him directly in the eye. “Do you think I'm pretty?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“I wish the boys my age did.”

“I can’t see why they wouldn’t? You’re very pretty and, forgive me for saying this, but you have a beautiful body.”

“Thank you,” I said, blushing. After a few seconds, I said, “What part of my body do you like the best?”

“Um … you have a very nice bottom and … well, I am a boob man and yours look like they would be amazing.”

“Yes, they’ve grown a whole cup size since Christmas break.”

“I’ve noticed that they are bigger than they were last summer.”

“So were you checking me out last summer, Mr. Kitcher?”

“Ha - I’m not a dirty old man. I like to admire beautiful things.”

I smiled at him and held his gaze.

We leaned toward each other and kissed tentatively. His whiskers both tickled and excited me. I had only kissed two boys and neither of them had much need to shave. The sensation of kissing a grown man gave me a thrill in my loins. The prospect of sharing with him a maturing but undeniably young body, a type of body he'd never experienced before, made me feel flush. Our kissing had progressed to deep hard kisses and I suddenly felt his left hand brush against and then lightly touch my right breast through my shirt. I flinched from surprise and the new sensation of having someone else’s hand touch my large breasts. He drew back and began apologizing. Maybe it was his conscience talking because my assurances that it was ok didn't seem to help.

So instead I quickly pulled off my top. He froze, transfixed by my D cup breasts. I had had to wear an older bra that night because my newer ones were all in the wash. That meant that the cups were too small and the top halves of my breasts bulged out. I leaned forward and reached behind me to unlatch my bra. I sat back with it still covering my breasts loosely. Mr. Kircher licked his lips. I shrugged my shoulders and let it fall down my arms to my lap. My breasts hung lower than I'd want but that was because they were so dense; they still maintained a very attractive shape. My nipples pointing outward just a bit. With the natural increase in mass, my areoles had also gotten larger and now were attractively a few shades darker than the surrounding skin.

I stole a look at his crotch and saw that he had a noticeable erection. I looked at him; he was still staring at my bare chest. I felt flush with my exposure and his obvious lust. It turned me on to see how my breasts were affecting him. I loved that I was finally showing them off to someone. I turned back in his direction.

“You can touch them if you want. I've never had anyone touch them without my bra and a shirt on. I haven't even had many touch them that way too much, either,” I said and then giggled.

He tentatively reached out and cupped my right breast in his hand. I felt my nipple harden against his palm. I sighed with the unique sensation of someone else’s hands on my bare skin - it felt even better than when I played with my breasts. His touch was soft but firm as his hand massaged my tit. When a finger found my erect nipple, it rubbed it and sent chills through my body.

I reached up and touched his beard and pulled him down for a quick kiss and then directed his mouth to my breasts. His reluctance melted away and he grabbed them both. As he squeezed one breast, he was sucking on the other’s nipple. As he then pinched that nipple, he lapped at the other.
Everything felt amazing - so much better than some boy pawing at and slobbering on them. My nipples were so hard between his lips, his nippling teeth, and his finger tips.

I ran the fingers of one hand through the hair at the back of his neck and rested it there. I placed the other on his leg and felt the hair there as he continued to feast on my breasts. Part of me so badly wanted to reach further down and touch his cock. I'd never really touched a mature one. I'd didn't want to count touching that boy’s penis at the pool in 7th grade, which was under the waters on a dare. But another part of me was still scared to make that move. Though my pussy had begun to feel so empty and hungry, I didn't really want to do anything that would wind up with me getting fucked in this car. This all was still spur of the moment and while I was really enjoying it, I didn't want my first time to be like this.

When he finished with my breasts, he kissed me deep and hard on my mouth. His tongue was aggressive but not overwhelming, and I tried to keep up with it. His hand ran down the small of my back, pausing at the top of my pants, before his fingers slipped under my panties’ waistband and continued down on my ass, following my crack. I moaned loudly and he began kissing my neck while squeezing my ass. I noticed that I was so wet that I momentarily worried that I'd pissed myself. If I didn't do something soon, I knew I'd be soon pulling down my pants and begin him to fuck me.

I pushed on his chest and said, “Mr. Kircher, we need to slow down.”

I swear I heard him whimper, which made me feel bad. I didn't want to be a prick tease. His hand slowly withdrew from the back of my pants. He leaned back into his seat and managed a smile.

“It's not a problem, sweetie. We got a little carried away, didn't we? Did you enjoy that?”

“Oh my God, yes. Too much! I'm so sorry …”

Though apologizing for making him stop, I didn't make a move to cover myself.
Again I looked at his tented shorts. He certainly wasn't trying to hide it; he probably wanted me to notice.

“Does that hurt?” I asked.

He chuckled. “It's more uncomfortable than painful. I'll be fine.”

I had absentmindedly started to pinch one of my nipples while looking at his bulge.

“Are you going to jerk off later?”

He sputtered at my frank question before admitting that he would.

“Can I see it?”

“Well yes of course,” he stammered.

He undid the button on his shorts and pulled the zipper down, hooked his thumbs under his briefs, and pulled them over the end of his cock. He pushed the shorts halfway down his thighs. His hard cock arched from its base to his bellybutton, approximately 7 inches long. Once I'd experienced other cocks, I realized that Mr. Kircher had larger than average girth. His cock was darker than the rest of his skin, as were his balls, which were drawn up tight to his groin. His hairiness shocked me.

I leaned up and took a good look. I bit the end of my lip. I looked at him and he was watching me. I thought of how it'd feel in my mouth. I imagined watching it disappear into my pussy. I pictured it spitting cum on my breasts.

“Do you want to touch it?”

I nodded.

“I'd love you to,” he said. He pressed a button and reclined his seat. I did the same thing and then put my hand high up on his thigh. His erection twitched. Its tip looked wet. My hand moved up to the base of his cock. When my fingers moved over it, I heard him inhale sharply. I stuck my thumb under his shaft and held it in my grasp. It felt warm and hard but with a little give. One of his hands found a breast and squeezed it. I began to stroke him. I ran the heel of my thumb over his head and returned to rubbing up and down his shaft.

I felt his hand abandon my breasts and slowly slide down my belly. I wasn't going to stop it from reaching my pussy. It was yearning for stimulation. His fingertips slide under the front of my pants now. I undid the button with my other hand and quickly used both to lower my pants past my hips. My panties - thin and white with little flowers on them - peaked out. Before resuming my grip on his cock, my hand cupped his balls for a few seconds. When the strokes began, his fingers breached my underwear. They felt soaked and I hoped he wouldn't be grossed out, which I would realize later was a silly worry.

His fingers glided through my pubic hair, over my clit, and pressed my labia. A tingling sensation spread from my pussy, down my legs and up my belly. His middle finger slipped between my lips and worked around the entrance to my sex.

“Oh, yes. Mr. Kircher that feels so good.”

When he adjusted his hand to work two fingers deeper into me, the realization that I as getting fingered caused my pussy to contract against his probing fingers. I concentrated on his hand and mine, rubbing his hard cock. I imagined my hand was my pussy and he was screwing it. The end of his hand consistently pressed against my clit, which caused my pussy to flood with juices. His fingering made sloppy, squishy sounds as they poked in and out of me. I felt like I was dizzy and warm all over. If this was what 2 fingers felt like, I couldn’t imagine how good his cock would feel. But no: not here tonight. I’d have to distract him before he made me unable to hold myself back.

I loosened my grip and started jacking him off with vigor. After a handful of seconds, he began to pant and his penis pulsed. He withdrew his fingers from my pussy. “Keep doing it like that,” he begged. I felt his cock contract as he held in his orgasm. When I moaned for him to cum for me, he flinched and a spasm of sperm squirted out of his darkened head. I kept stroking as it ran down my thumb. Then a quick succession of three blasts shot out, coating his hairy belly and running down his side. When he’s finished, I continue to hold his cock, feeling it soften and contract. I watch his scrotum loosen and his balls sag downward. Using two fingers, I smeared some of his cum around on his belly, mixing it with his amble body hair.

“Thank you,” he said barely above a whisper. I lean over him and kissed him on the mouth. My breasts pressed against his chest.

“What can I do for you?” he asked. I so wanted him to finger me more and suck on my nipples as he did so. I wanted to feel his erection against my belly and have him cum all over it like he did his own belly. I even wanted to take it in my mouth, which had never really appealed to me before. But I was already running behind and would have to explain to my mom my tardiness, if she was still awake.

“Nothing tonight, Mr. Kircher. I need to get home. And you need to clean yourself up.” I smiled and kissed him again.

“When do you work again?”

“Thursday, 6 to close. Maybe you should come in a rent a movie at say, 9:55? I’ll come up with an excuse for my mom that’ll allow me to not have to hurry home.”

“Yes, I can’t wait. I want you to know I enjoyed this a lot.”

“I did, too,” I said and gave him a big smile. After I pulled up my pants and put on my bar and shirt, I stepped out of his car and walked to mine, looking forward to Thursday night.


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