I’ve known Mr. Reynolds since I was little. He’s my dad’s best friend, tall, broad-shouldered, always in those tight t-shirts that show off his arms and chest. Now I’m 19, home from college for the summer, and every time I see him my p***y gets wet.
His wife Lisa is nice, but she’s always at work or at the gym. And Mr. Reynolds… he’s been looking at me differently lately.
Today I was sunbathing in our backyard in my tiniest red bikini. He was in his garage working on his truck, shirt off, sweat running down his back. Every time he bent over I could see the bulge in his jeans. I couldn’t stop staring.
He caught me. Our eyes met across the fence and he smirked. A few minutes later he walked over, wiping his hands on a rag.
“Hey sweetheart,” he said, voice deep. “You need help with anyth
