Kasey's Almost Ready

Maybe it was the new apartment, a noticeable step down from my last address. Tara and I built our dream house in a new development just on the outskirts of the city. Lots of room and wonderful amenities. Now here I was in Rock Hill Apartments. Not a slum, but there existed an uncomfortable proximity with all my new neighbors that my previous neighborhood did not have. That’s what divorce does, I guess.

Maybe that was it, the impending divorce. Tara and I had married right out of college. Twelve years and no kids, no family. Nothing to show for our love. Just as well, I guess. When your wife tells you she wants to start her life over, with another woman, you feel like you’ve hit rock bottom. Believe me, all the sophomoric thoughts about women having sex with women–something all us guys fantasize about–all that means nothing when the woman you love loves someone else.

Maybe it was that, maybe something else. Maybe all of it together. Either way, I had started smoking again and evenings found me sitting on the back-stoop of the apartment building dragging on a few before I eventually went in to read or go to bed.

This evening was a little different. This time I had a bit of wine with my cigarette. Okay, I had a whole bottle of wine with my cigarettes. Let’s just say I was relaxed. That is right about the time Kasey walked up.

“Hey, Mr. Martin!” she half-yelled as she approached.

Kasey and her mother, Shawna, lived in the apartment across the hall. Both very pretty women, I felt the divorce gods were showing mercy on me when I moved in two weeks ago. That night after moving in, Shawna knocked on the door to introduce herself and to invite me over for some pizza and cake.

“It’s my daughter’s 18th birthday, if you’d like to stop in,” she said.

Shawna looked very inviting. She is only about 5′ tall, but has a body like an ex-cheerleader, very pert and cute. Her shoulder-length blonde hair frames a gorgeous face with a slightly up-turned nose and sweet, not-overly large mouth and beatiful teeth and smile. Her slender figure complements her 34B breasts and an ass that certainly gets my attention.

She stood at my doorway that night and seemed a bit disappointed when I turned her down.

“That is so generous of you,” I offered, “but I am so beat from moving in today, I think I will have to decline, this time.”

“I perfectly understand,” she said smiling. “Next time then, okay?”

“Great, thanks,” I added watching that sweet ass disappear back into her apartment.

I closed my door and went to the bathroom to start the shower when more knocking came at the door. When I opened it, not one, but two lovely creatures were revealed this time. Shawna had returned with Kasey, her daughter who held a plate with two slices of pizza stacked on one side, and big piece of chocolate cake on the other.

“Kasey, this is our new neighbor, Mr. Martin,” then to me, “This is my daughter, Kasey. She turned 18 today.”

She held out the plate for me.

“Since you can’t come over we thought you might at least like a bite to eat,” Shawna explained.

I couldn’t hide my hunger from them. Taking the plate and immediately picking at the pizza, I replied, “This is so nice of you. Thank you so much. And happy birthday, young lady. 18, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” Kasey shyly said.

Kasey must have gotten more of her looks from her father. She was cute, and short like her mom, but had short, almost boyish brown hair, and was even more diminutive than her mother. Shorter than her mother by at least a couple of inches, she stood there in a well-worn, and a bit-oversized soccer uniform, appearing more like a 12-year old boy, than an 18-year old woman. She had a pleasant mouth and hazel eyes that had that ubiquitous look of surprise. I couldn’t really make out her figure but as they walked away the form of her ass shone through in those shorts and appeared very feminine and appealing; small, round and firm. Very nice, I remember thinking.

Over the next couple of weeks I didn’t see much of either of them. Shawna apparently worked a second shift job and didn’t get home until midnight. Kasey spent each day completing her senior year at “Our Mother of Mercy High School,” and each afternoon and evening either at soccer practice or at games.

I, on the other hand, had a lot of time on my hands. This was my vacation. Tara and I had booked a month-long cruis–which she and her girlfriend were now using. So, I found myself with a lot of time on my hands. I wasn’t ready to face any of our old friends just yet. So I read a lot, watched television, drank a little more than normal, and began smoking cigarettes again.

The highlight of my day was going to the door to peer out the peephole whenever I heard Shawna and Kasey’s door. Shawna kept a spare key hidden behind the apartment number near the top of the door. She and Kasey would slide it out, open the door, then slide it back inplace for the next time.

I found these moments to be my only excitement. It’s not like I was stalking them when came and went, it’s just that, well, it’s just something I did now and then. You see, they were both so short, they had to kind of reach high for the key. On more than one occasion I managed to gain an accidentally revealing look at what was beneath their skirts. Such was my life at this point. This single, electrifying event would afford me the opportunity for self-pleasure later. It wasn’t an obsession, but just a happy circumstance of my new living arrangements.

So here I was, sitting on the back-stoop of my building, lightly buzzing on a bottle of red, and finishing the day’s last cigarette when Kasey strolled up. It was about 7 in the evening and just beginning to get dark. She was in her school uniform and toted her soccer bag.

“Did you win?”

“Of course!”

“You score?”

“Of course!”

“Hey, why’d you change back out of your playing clothes? Or was this a very formal game?” I teased.

“Very funny. No, Sister Marguerite, whenever we have away games, always makes us shower and change back into our lovely school uniforms,” she shrugged. I could see her eyeing my pack of smokes.

“How ’bout one of those cigarettes, Mr. Martin?” she laughed.

“Sorry. I know you’re 18 and could buy them if you wanted to, but I can’t stand the thought of getting you hooked. You’re too young anyway,” I laughed back. “Besides,” I joked, “It’ll stunt your growth.”

“Oh, you’re just a load of laughs today.” She grinned and stared, all the time reaching for my cigarettes.

“Listen, Mister, I’m old enough for a lot of things, whether I look it or not.” Her hand had grabbed the pack off the step before I could react.

“Hey, they’re all gone!” she laughed, giving me a poke in the arm. She then spotted the empty wine bottle beside me.

Well, well, well,” she teased, “Mr. Martin had a party and didn’t leave anything for me. Guess I’ll have to steel a cig from mom’s stash before I do my homework.”

She picked up her soccer bag and flung it onto her shoulder, then disappeared up the stoop and up the three steps to our floor. I turned halfway and watched her nether end sway up the steps. I felt I might need to go inside before I fell asleep, not drunk, just incredibly relaxed.

Suddenly, Kasey reappeared, a bit out of sorts.

“That idiot mother of mine. She took the key with her. I hate when she does that.”

“You locked out?”

“Hey, you’re pretty fast,” she laughed. “Com-on over here and give me a boost.”

She walked a few paces to a window, just out of our reach. As her apartment was identical to mine, only backwards, I knew this was the smaller of the two bedrooms and most likely hers.

“Put your back against the wall and lock your hands together, like this,” she said demonstrating what she wanted me to do, striking a pose simialr to a volleyball stance.

“What are you going to do?

“You’re gonna boost me up to my bedroom window; it’s unlocked, I think.”

With that she placed her right foot in my hand then pulled herself up by my shoulders. She stood in my hands, bracing herself against the window-sill, my face now buried into her skirt-covered crotch.

I hadn’t been prepared for this. She caught me of-guard as I immediately began to feel myself getting hard.

“Pay attention, down there. Lift!”

Perhaps it was the wine, but she seemed a bit more stout than her diminutive stature betrayed. I struggled to lift her. She placed a knee on my shoulder and her skirt flung partially over my head. Now, I was staring straight into white cotton-laced panties with tiny black hairs poking out of each side, and as she pulled herself up by the sill, she grazed her crotch against my face. The friction, the smell, the sensuality of it all began to have a profound effect on me.

“Hey, yoo-hoo, down there…you think maybe a little higher?” she teased.

With her skirt now in my eyes, I reached blindly to boost her by her hips. Now both knees rested on my shoulders and my hand landed on her ass, pressing her up, toward the window. As I pressed, one of us shifted and my thumb was now pressing on her panties, the portion directly covering her soft mound, my fingers spread over her tiny, round ass. I couldn’t believe it. Was I drunk? Was I doing this on purpose? She squirmed but didn’t really move off my thumb. My eyes met hers as she looked down,quizzically.

“What must she be thinking?” I wondered.

“Got it!” I heard her say as the window opened and her weight began to lessen on me. I stepped way from the wall and turned to be in a better position if she were to fall. I looked up just in time to see her white, lacey-cotton covered ass disappear over the sill.

She stuck her head back out the window and stared into my eyes for a second, not smiling. I could only imagine what her thoughts were: that I was a big perv, that I tried to cop a feel, that she was going to tell her mom that I tried something with her. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.

“Thanks,” she said, with little expression on her face, then added, “Hey, meet me at the door. I gotta get my soccer bag and you can help with something.”