Mr. Wilson’s Lessons

Mr. Wilson’s Lessons

by Lubrican

Bob Wilson was lying in a hammock, swinging gently in the breeze and watching Cindy mow his lawn. He worked out of his house, had few needs and could probably have retired if he’d wanted to. Gloria Drasny was his next door neighbor and Cindy was her daughter. Bob had known her since she was born. He’d been her babysitter when she was a toddler, reading her stories and playing games with her. That was before her father, Gene, had died in an aircraft accident, leaving Gloria alone with an 8 year old to raise. Bob had sort of taken over the father chores in raising Cindy. He’d helped her with her science projects, put her bicycle together for her, repaired broken dolls and things like that. When she’d turned eleven he’d hired her to do his yard work and taught her the various skills a jack of all trades home handywoman needed to know to get along in the world.

Bob had never married. He couldn’t have told you why, except that no woman had ever made him feel the need to do that. He’d had his share of relationships and no woman had found him wanting in bed. He just hadn’t ever had his heart stolen.

Cindy was pushing the power mower across his back yard. She had on her usual summer outfit – a sleeveless button up shirt with the tails tied just above her belly button and loose gym shorts. Her dark blond hair was in a pony tail that swayed and fluttered as she walked and her once-white tennis shoes were now stained green. She was sweating and wiped the back of one hand across her forehead.

As he watched her, Bob noticed several things in a row and his whole world began to tilt to one side, making him feel like he was going to fall out of the hammock.

The first thing he noticed was when she wiped the sweat from her brow. Almost immediately he noticed that her shirt was sweat soaked and clinging to her torso like a second skin. The next thing he noticed was that she wasn’t wearing a bra … because he could clearly see the outlines of her teenaged nipples through the shirt. They were puffy cones on top of larger very firm cones. They weren’t erect, exactly, but they were clearly defined. For some reason that made Bob look at her legs. The knobby knees, scrapes and scabs he expected to see were nowhere in sight. Instead he saw long slim well-tanned legs that belonged on a woman much older than Cindy’s sixteen years. She turned the mower and began to walk away from him across the yard. His eyes fell to her buttocks, high, tight, saucy bouncing globes under the slick cloth of her shorts. The right one raised slightly and then dropped as the left one took it’s place. Up and down, back and forth, and suddenly Bob realized his mouth was hanging open.

Where was the little girl he’d almost help raise? This creature was almost a woman and was flat ass gorgeous! He saw some of Gloria in her now. Gloria was also a knockout, though more heavily fleshed, with the rounded curves of maturity. She’d been devastated by Gene’s death and had never even dated after that. Bob had lusted after her when Gene was alive, but couldn’t bring himself to approach her afterward. It just hadn’t seemed right. They’d been more than friends, with his involvement in her daughter’s upbringing and Gloria had seemed to accept that he could provide something she couldn’t, but there had never been any hanky panky between them. Now their relationship was easy and casual, like lifelong friends often have.

His eyes went back to Cindy and he realized that his penis had filled with blood. He was in good shape and rarely wore more than gym shorts, like Cindy had on, during the summertime. Those shorts now had an obvious tent in the front of them as his cock stiffened. He felt a flash of shame, but then rationalized it by admitting that Cindy was, in fact, a babe and was, in fact, in the blush of womanhood. Genetically she was the prime age to attract a mate and her body was perfectly capable of bearing children. It was only normal to notice that, being a male, and being genetically driven to help such a female become pregnant.

That, of course, wouldn’t mean anything to Cindy, should she become aware of his hardon. While they had talked about a great many things in past years, sex had not been one of them. It occurred to him that neither Gloria nor he had been much of a role model for male/female relationships, and that Cindy probably knew only as much as her friends had told her about sex. That brought his eyes back to her achingly sexy body and his dick only got bigger and harder. The hammock was strung between the only two trees in the middle of his back yard, about 40 yards from the back deck. If he got up everyone in the neighborhood would be able to see his erection, Cindy included. So he stayed where he was and surreptitiously reached inside his shorts and brought the offending organ up to lay flat against his abdomen. It still made a lump in his shorts, but it wasn’t quite as obvious.

All would have been well except for one small thing. Cindy just happened to be looking at Bob when he reached into his shorts to adjust his boner. At first she didn’t understand what she was seeing. Why would “Uncle” Bob reach into his shorts? He was moving his hand around in there. What in the world was he doing? Then, the only possible answer flooded her mind and she stopped walking for a few seconds.

Cindy wasn’t quite as ignorant as Bob had thought. She knew what boys wanted. Some of her friends had given the boys what they wanted, and had talked about it endlessly afterward. It all sounded painful and icky and a lot of trouble over something that was simple and fun if you used your own two fingers. She’d stumbled onto using her own two fingers one time while she was in the bathtub. Her mother had told her to wash everything well, and when she’d washed where she peed from she noticed now nice it felt. So she washed and washed and washed and suddenly she felt all prickly and buzzy inside and had wanted to roll up in a tight little ball.

Later in bed, in the dark, she’d remembered that feeling and had experimented. She found out she could get that buzzy feeling in her own bed any time she wanted to. Since then she spent a part of each day lying on her bed, her coltish legs spread wide, fingers busy stroking her labia and punishing her teenaged clitty. She’d never felt driven to go out with boys like her friends did, but she knew about what hung between their legs, and that they usually wanted a girl to do something with it. She was a bit vague about exactly what they wanted the girls to do, but she thought it might be something like what she liked to do to herself.

So when she realized that Bob had been touching his penis, she wondered why. Had any other male done that in front of her she’d have thought it was horrible, but Bob was different. He was her pal, her Uncle, her friend. He was the only male who had ever treated her like she had a brain and knew how to use it. She remembered her dad, and she still missed him sometimes, but if Bob had left her life she’d have been devastated. So if Bob was touching his penis, then it must be for some good reason. That led her to think about all of the wondering she’d been doing lately about this penis thing. What did they look like? Denise had described her boyfriend’s, but she’d obviously been lying. If any guy had something iron hard, seven inches long and as big around as three fingers between his legs there was no way it could ever be hidden. It would stick out like a sore thumb. But Bob had one and maybe he’d let her look at it … just so she’d know what one looked like.

She looked back at him. Hmmmmm. There WAS a sort of lump in the front of his shorts. AND, it WAS about seven inches long! AND it held the material away from him about as much as three of her fingers would! Could Denise have been telling the truth?! She had to find out. Without thinking a thing about it she shut off the mower and went over to sit in a lawn chair next to Bob. She was still sweating heavily and she flopped in the chair.

“Hey” she said.

Bob opened the eye he’d just closed so she’d think he’d been napping instead of checking her out. “What’s up? Too hot? Cop a squat and take a load off.” For some reason, using the word “squat” to her made Bob’s penis harden even more. He wanted to put his hands over the lump in his shorts, but that would draw her attention to it for sure. He began to sweat too.

“Yeah, I’m just taking a break,” she said. She pulled the wet shirt away from her breasts and flopped it back and forth, trying to get some air into it. Bob sighed as her perfect teen titties disappeared from view. Well, sort of. “Hey Bob?” she said.

“Yeah sweetie?” He closed his eyes again, trying to will his penis to wilt.

“I have a question.”

Silence. Bob cracked an eye and looked at her. She was staring at him intently. “Yeah?” he prompted.

“Well, it’s something we’ve never talked about and … um .. well, I don’t quite know how to ask.”

She licked her lips and Bob almost groaned. “Just ask sweetie. I can’t think of anything we can’t talk about.” He took a sip of his tea.

“OK. Well, it’s about your penis,” she said as if she was talking about a piece of jewelry, or his glasses, or something else run-of-the-mill.

Bob choked, coughed and rolled all at the same time and ended up on the ground, under the hammock, right at Cindy’s feet. He looked up at the girl dumbly. “My penis?” he said, and then couldn’t believe he’d said it.

“Yeah. I’d like to see it. I mean I’ve never seen one and I’ve been wondering about them, and I thought maybe it would be OK if I saw yours so I’d know what they look like and …” she petered off, eyes downcast.

“Cindy, honey” he started.