I am Lucky Smith. With a name like Smith, my mother must have figured I needed a first name that was a little different. Since my father was nowhere to be found, she wanted to give me a bit of an edge over the crowd. It must have worked. Except for my selection of a wife, I have become quite successful in life.
Mother also instilled in me a frugal nature. If I wanted something above the normal things like clothing, shelter, and food, I had to work and save for it. Instead of just giving me an allowance, she would pay me for small chores around the house. As I grew older, I began doing odd jobs for the neighbors. I started saving most of my income from those jobs right away. Thus, I have never been in debt. I am not rich, but I do own some property and live rather comfortably.
By the time I was married at twenty years of age, I was six foot one inch and two hundred fifteen pounds of self-confidence. I owned a two story stone house. It was located on fifteen acres of land on the edge of a mid-sized southern town. There was a large pool behind the house and a hot tub in a room off the kitchen. After marrying, my wife and I raised a couple of steers a year for consumption, and had several German Shepherd dogs, a horse, and a pony. The dogs were more pets than security, but they knew who belonged on the property and who didn’t, especially after dark.
My wife had been a beautiful, tall, blonde, eighteen-year-old bride. A little over a year after we were married, she gave birth to our equally beautiful blue eyed, blond, baby girl. The baby reminded us of a piece of fine jewelry, so we named her Tiffany.
A year later, my wife left us both. She had not lacked for anything she had needed. I just refused to allow her to spend money at the local malls like it grew on trees. I came in one day, and she told me she was leaving.
"I’m tired of being a wife to a cheap-skate. I’m also tired of being a mother to a whinny brat. I’m out of here!" With that, she picked up her bags and walked out. She soon hooked up with some jerk with a shiny new sports car and left town. After five years, I divorced her for abandonment. Neither Tiffany nor I have heard from her in the last fifteen years.
In the mean time, Tiffany has grown into a beautiful sixteen-year-old young lady. Like her mother, Tiffany is tall. She stands about five foot ten inches tall, has straight blond hair that reaches to the middle of her back, a slender torso, shapely legs, and is growing a nice set of C cup breasts. I know her breast size because, since I am both mother and father, we go clothes shopping together. I think she wants me along only because I have the checkbook. I’ve offered to let her have the cash, but he says she enjoys torturing me when we go shopping. She’ll shop at what seems to be every store in the mall. She’ll hold up the underwear she wants and loudly asks for my opinion. "Daddy, do you think this will look good on me?"
Though she is a beautiful girl, she is also my daughter, and I’m not thrilled when she does that. I want to dig a hole in the floor and crawl in it. Then, guess who gets to pay for the clothes.
In addition to the house and the property it sits on, I also owned a dozen rental homes in my home county. My rentals are almost always rented out to dependable families. Once in a while, one of my renters will get a little behind due to some unforeseen problem. Usually, a brief rent reduction or forgiveness will get them over the hump and they get back on track. As a result of treating my renters with respect and care, I seldom have vacant or damaged properties.
The daughter of one of my long term renters has become Tiffany’s best friend. Mitali Singh is also 16-years-old and lives with her parents about two miles down the road. She is a lovely young thing of Indian decent. Though she has lived in America all her life, her parents have instilled in her the values they brought with them from their homeland. This was good, except they had turned their daughter into an ultra shy girl. She seemed petrified of the any of the boys she would meet.
I have seen poor Mitali’s reaction when a boy came up to her to say hello. She had gone with Tiffany and I to the mall. One of their male classmates came up to the girls and greeted them.
He politely said, "Hi Tiff! Hi Mit!"
Tiffany struck up a conversation with him about school stuff. Mitali practically hid behind Tiffany and me. Try as he might, he simply could not get Mitali to give him the time of day. She clung to my arm for the rest of the trip to the mall.
Tiffany had spoken to me several times about how she felt sorry for Mit. "Dad, poor Mit could be so popular if she’d just lighten up a little."
Like many teens do, Tiffany and their friends had shortened her friend’s name from Mitali to Mit, and it had stuck.
She continued, "The boys we know are good guys, Dad. Most of them have come to our house." Tiffany said she couldn’t remember how many times she had asked Mit to go with her to the mall, the local burger joint, or just come over and join a pool party. Her friend never wanted to join the crowd. In fact, Tiffany was surprised Mit had agreed to go along to the mall that day.
Mitali always seemed comfortable around me though. She was very respectful when she was in our home. She laughed and could be a delightful young lady. However, she practically froze up when she was at our home and boys her own age came by to visit. Mit was a pretty girl, but she had zero self-confidence.
I, like my daughter, felt sorry for Mitali. She was missing out on so much the average American teen should be enjoying during their high school years. It wasn’t that her parents wouldn’t let her do things. Mitali was simply too bashful to join her peers after school.
It was a cold and rainy Saturday afternoon in late September. Tiffany wasn’t home with her normal house full of friends. She had gone with her cheerleading squad to a cheer competition about two hundred miles away. I didn’t expect her home until late that night. I had come to enjoy the solitude on the rare occasions I had the house to my self.
Suddenly, my quiet afternoon was interrupted. There was a soft barely audible knock on the door. From the knock, I knew it was Mitali. When I opened the door, the rain was pouring down and poor Mitali looked as if she had been drowned. Her long shiny raven hair lay flat on her head and down her back. Her clothes were soaked through and rain dripped off her nose and chin. She was shivering like she was freezing to death.
Holding the door open for her, I told her, "Get in here, Mit, before you drown." As she stepped in, I asked her, "Honey, what are you doing out on a day like this?"
The shivering girl responded, I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Smith. I have been out of school for a few days. I was hoping Tif could give me our assignments so I can catch up."
"I’m sorry, Mit. Tiffany isn’t here. She’s out of town today with the cheerleaders. Didn’t she tell you?"
"Oh yeah. I guess I forgot. I’m sorry to bother you." Mit then turned toward the door to leave.
"Hold it right there young lady. You can’t go back out in the rain like that. You’re already soaked and cold. Do you want to catch pneumonia or something? Why don’t you go up to Tiffany’s room and find your assignment papers. I’m sure Tiffany won’t mind. While your up there, find a swimsuit to wear. Then go get in the hot tub and warm up. I’ll call your mother and dry your clothes while you soak in the hot water. Then, I’ll take you home later. OK?"
"Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother to you."
"It’s no bother, Mit. Now get up stairs. You know where Tiff’s room is." I insisted Tiffany’s friends did what I told them when they were in my home. Otherwise, they would not be invited back. Mit was the only one who seemed to prefer being told what to do rather than make decisions on her own.
As Mit headed up the stairs toward Tiffany’s room, I picked up the phone and called Mrs. Singh. She quickly agreed with my plan. "Mitali should stay there until she is dry. It will give me a chance to go to the store while she’s out. Maybe Mr. Singh and I will have dinner out, if we have the time. Thank you so much for looking after Mitali, Mr. Smith."
"Mrs. Singh, if you’d like, I can have Mitali stay here the rest of the afternoon and evening. I’ll feed her something and bring her home later tonight when you and Mr. Singh get home from your dinner. That way you and Mr. Singh can have a nice evening out. Just call me when you get home. Would that be alright with you?" I asked.
Mrs. Singh sounded excited. "Oh Mr. Smith, that would be wonderful. My husband and I have not had an evening alone in years. Are you sure Mitali won’t be any trouble?"
"Of course she won’t be any trouble. I usually have a house full of teens, and Mitali is the most polite teen that comes here. She is always welcome. Now, you and Mr. Singh have a nice evening and don’t worry about a thing." I hung up and put on a pot to make some hot tea for my chilled guest.
Mit soon came down the stairs wearing one of Tiffany’s long white fluffy robes. Mit was only about five foot three inches compared to Tiffany’s five foot ten inches. Tif’s robe nearly reached the floor on the smaller girl. She smiled as I told her of her mother’s plans to go out with her father. Still shivering a little, she smiled and said, "Maybe I can stay until Tif gets home if you don’t mind, Mr. Smith."
"That may be quite late Mit, but, you can stay for a while this evening." I handed her a cup of hot tea and added, "Here, drink this. It will warm your insides while the hottub warms the rest of you. Would you like burgers and fries for dinner?"
"That will be fine, Mr. Smith." She replied.
"Mit, will you do me a favor?"
She answered, "Yes, Mr. Smith. What is it?"
"Please stop calling me Mr. Smith. As long as you’re polite, and you always are, please call me Lucky. Will you do that for me?"
"Yes, Mr. Smith, er...I mean, Lucky."
"Thank you, Mit. Now, get your butt in the hot tub and soak a while. Don’t get out until you are all warmed up."
"Yes, Mr. Smith. I mean Lucky. Thank you for being so nice to me." The teen then turned and headed to the hot tub room.
When she had gone to the hot tub, I gathered her wet clothes from Tiffany’s room and tossed them in the dryer.
Mit soaked in the warm hot tub for nearly half an hour. When she got out, she went up to Tiffany’s bathroom, removed her borrowed swimsuit, and dried herself off. She then came down into the kitchen still tightly wrapped in Tiffany’s robe. She offer, "May I help fix dinner?"
"If you’d like to help, you may. Do you want a salad with your burger and fries?"
The teen asked, "OK. Do you want me to make it?"
I smiled and nodded at her. "You’ll find everything you need in the fridge or pantry."
As Mit made us a salad, the robe she had borrowed from Tiffany began to loosen a bit. A gap had developed down the front to the robe’s belt at her waist. When she turned just the right way, I could get a brief look at her chest. It appeared Mit was developing a nice pair of breasts.
I couldn’t help but look longingly at the teen’s chest. I thought to myself. ‘What a tasty looking young thing you are. My God, it has been far too long since I’ve ogled a nice set of tits.’ I paused my thoughts then continued. ‘What the hell are you doing? Are you some kind of pervert? She’s your daughter’s friend and only sixteen. Knock it off!’ I forced myself to look away just before she turned to face me.
With a wide grin, she said, "Salad’s ready."
I replied, "So are the burgers and fries. Let’s eat!"
As we ate, we chatted about Tiffany’s and her school activities, and why Mit had come out on such a nasty day to come to my home. "Honey, if you had called before coming over, I could have called Tiffany, found out what you needed, and brought the school work to you. Of course, then I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to have such a lovely young lady as my dinner guest." I glanced into the robe’s opening between her breasts. I could see the inner curvature of her breasts. "Speaking of lovely, you sure do make that robe look nice."
Mit looked down and gasped. She quickly pulled the robe together. "I am so sorry Lucky. Please forgive me. I didn’t know the robe was so open." The embarrassed teen was stammering as she stood. "I really am sorry. I should probably go now."
I stood as well and went around the table to Mit. The poor thing was shaking with embarrassment. I gently took the trembling teen into my arms and hugged her. "Mit, honey, it’s alright. Please don’t go. I’ll take you home if you insist, but I’d really like you to stay for a while. I enjoy having you here. Please stay."
Mit buried her head in my chest and sobbed as she said, "I’ll stay, but I am still sorry I exposed myself in front of you."
"Mit, you didn’t expose yourself. The robe you are wearing covered you. All I saw was a little cleavage of a very pretty girl." I was trying to calm her.
With my arms still snugly hugging her to my chest, Mit looked up and asked, "You really think I’m pretty?"
Looking into her dark eyes, I told her, "Of course I do. You are a very pretty young lady. If I were younger, I would be proud to have such a pretty girl as my girlfriend. Why would you even ask such a silly question?" I asked.
Mit started to sob. Beginning softly, her sobs built to a full-blown cry. She buried her face in my chest again and sobbed as the tears streamed down her cheeks.
As I stroked her long silky black hair, I tried to console her. "It’s OK, honey." As her crying ebbed, I asked, "Why all the tears, Mit? Gee, I didn’t know telling you you’re pretty was going to cause you to cry."
I hugged her tightly and gave her a light kiss on the top of her head. She seemed to relax a little.
After a few minutes, she spoke softly. Still sobbing a little, she said, "Lucky, I must confess something. I knew Tif was out of town today. I wanted to talk to you. I really want to be friends with the boys at school. My parents have told me to stay away from American boys because they all only want one thing, sex. I’d still like to have a boyfriend someday. I am just too shy and afraid to get close to them. Whenever I’m around a boy my age, I get super shy and can’t say a word. I know all the kids at school think I’m weird. Besides, who would want a girlfriend like me? I don’t even know what a boy wants from a girlfriend. Heck, I don’t even know much about myself, let alone a boy."
Mit paused to sigh deeply and catch her breath. She then asked, "Do you really think I’m pretty? I know I’m not as pretty as Tif."
Releasing her from the hug, I took her hands in mine and held them between us. I spoke softly to the teary teen. "Mit, are you comfortable here alone with me?"
"Yes, Lucky. That’s why I came to see you. I don’t know why, but I feel good being here with you. Why?" She asked.
Squeezing both of her hands in mine, I told her. "If you’re comfortable with me, come. I want to show you why I think you are a really pretty girl. Come with me." I put my right arm over her shoulder led her to my master bath. The master bath has a large mirror.
Standing fully clothed behind her, and holding her shoulders in my hands, I faced her toward the mirror. "Mit, what do you see?"
She responded, "I see a short, fat, plain, girl."
"I don’t think your looking at the same person I am. I see a very lovely young lady that will be a desirable heart breaker when she comes out of her shell."
"No I’m not! No one will ever want me."
Placing my hands on either side of her jaw, I lifted her face so she had to look straight into the mirror. I firmly insisted, "Yes, you are! You have a very pretty face. Your dark eyes are alluring and will captivate your admirers. Whether you know it or not, you do have admirers."
She was surprised and asked, "You really think I have a pretty face? I have admirers?" She didn’t seem to believe me.
"Yes, I do think you have a pretty face, and I know several of the boys in your school who think so too."
She protested, "But I am getting fat."
"No, you’re not! I hope you forgive me for this, but I want you to really look at yourself." I slowly began pulling her borrowed robe open and off her shoulders.
She said nothing, but tensed and crossed her arms over her chest holding the robe closed.
"It’s okay Mit. You don’t have to do anything. Just stand here and look at yourself." As I continued to apply a slight pull to open the robe, she slowly lowered her arms. With her arms down by her sides, her hands clinched into fists at her hips, I slowly parted the robe and pulled it off her shoulders. I slid it down her arms and let it fall to the floor.
She was shaking again. With me standing close behind her, Mit starred into the mirror at her nude body.
I stared too. She was a truly beautiful young lady. She stood five foot three inches and probably weighed a little less than one hundred pounds. Placing my hands on both of her shoulders, I told her, "Let me tell you what I see." As I stroked her hair, I told her, "Your raven hair is long, soft, and silky, and is enticing as it flows over your shoulders and down your smooth back. It frames your lovely face like a dark halo and feels so soft when it’s stroked. Your eyes are dark reflective pools a guy could get lost in. Your olive skin seems to glow."
Sliding my hands down her torso, I continued, "You have a shapely body. Your legs are shaped perfectly and meet a temptingly cute rounded butt." I gently patted her butt. She smiled at my reflection in the mirror as I slid my hands around her hips and up her soft belly as I continued my assessment of the lovely teen. "Your belly is soft and nearly flat. You are not fat!"
As I placed both hands on her stomach, I pulled her back to my upright body. "You are simply changing from a kid and developing into a young woman. Now, about your most notable feature as you stand here. You have a wonderfully full and perky pair of breasts."
It was all I could do to resist sliding my hands up and fondling Mit’s fine young breasts. They were at least C cups if not more. They seemed to promise to become even larger. Her areola were a puffy dark brown, and her nipples stood out like small pebbles. My will power was being strained to its limit. I desperately wanted to squeeze Mit’s tits, or pet her dark pubic bush.
Forcing myself to calm down, I paused to let her look at herself with a different perspective. I then asked, "Now what do you see, Mit?"
"Maybe I’m not so bad after all. Do you really think I have nice breasts? You don’t think they’re too fat."
"Oh honey, I think they’re perfect. I’d love to hold them if I were your young boyfriend, and you’d let me."
"You want to touch my breasts?" She seemed surprised I’d be interested in her ‘fat’ chest.
"I’d love to if you’d allow me the privilege. That’s the trick to boys, Mit. They will do whatever you let them do. Most of them will not do anything you don’t’ want them to do."
"Lucky, please touch my breasts. I want to know what it feels like to have them touched by a hand other than my own."
"Are you sure, MIt?"
She practically begged, "Yes Lucky, please. Touch my breasts."
I slowly slid my hands up her smooth flat belly. I carefully cupped a breast in each hand and gently squeezed.
Mit moaned and laid her head back on my chest.
I asked, "Are you alright, Mit?"
"Yes! That feels nice. It makes me tingle all over. Why does it do that, Lucky?"
"Mit, honey, haven’t you and your mother had a talk about sex yet? You should have already had that talk about sex and the changes your body is going through?"
"No. Every time I asked her a question about things like that, she changes the subject or tells me to wait until I’m older. How old do I have to be to ask what’s happening to me?"
I continued to gently massage her tits as I answered the teen. "I don’t know, Mit. Tiffany and I have been very open and have talked about the changes her body has been going through for a long time. We talk about her body and natural feelings all the time."
"I know. Tif and I have talked about it. She told me you answered her questions whenever and whatever she asked."
"I’m not her mother, but I’m the closest thing to a mother Tiffany has. So, I figured it was my job to make sure she knew what she needed to know as she grew and changed." As I spoke to Mit, I firmly squeezed her tits.
Mit groaned and softly asked me another question, "Will you answer my questions too, Lucky? Please." She turned to face me and put her arms around my torso. Her breasts were crushed to my belly. She looked up at me with pleading eyes. She begged me, "Please."
"Mit honey, that is really your mother’s job. But, if she won’t answer your questions, I’ll try to give you the answers you need. Please understand, I may not know all there is to know about a girl’s body, but I’ll do my best. What do you want to know?"
"Remember, I told you it felt good while you handled my breasts, and it made me tingle all over?"
"Yes, honey."
"Well, it... I... I mean... it made me... uh... tingle between my legs too. Why did my nipples get hard and why did it tingle down there?"
"Wow! You do get right to the point don’t you? Well, your nipples getting hard and the tingle you feel are both natural reactions of your body. As I fondled your breasts, your body responded to the pleasant sensations it was feeling. Your nipples hardened in response to my touch. As I continued fondling you, your body began preparing for sex. Whether you have sex or not, your body will prepare itself for it. You don’t have much control over your body’s responses to sexual stimulation. If you reach down and feel between your legs, I think you’ll find you may be getting a little wet there. Go ahead and do it. See if you’re getting wet."
"Mom told me it was nasty to touch myself like that. She said I was never to touch myself there unless I was taking a bath."
"You mean you’ve never even played with or explored yourself? You’ve never made yourself feel tingly?"
Hanging her head as if in embarrassment, she replied, "No, I haven’t."
"Would you like to? It can feel real nice."
"I don’t know." She seemed nervous.
All during this conversation, Mit had been tightly hugging me and kept her face buried in my chest. "Give me your hand sweetheart." I told her. I gently pushed her back from my body and took her trembling hand in mine. With my hand over the back of hers, I lowered our hands between our bodies and placed her hand, palm down on her thick dark pubic bush.