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.