Just a Girl - Sex Stories

Just a Girl

... cotton panties. He was mostly in shadow as he sat calmly, wearing the clinging boxer briefs and T-shirt he usually wore in the late hours before turning in himself. “Yes, Mister?” she said as she stopped in front of his chair. “Did you want something?” “Just you, Mina. I’d like very much to look at you a moment or two.” “But Mister, you see me all the time,” she replied. She lowered her head. Even in the shadows, there was something different and more intent about his gaze. “Just seeing you and looking at you are different things. I want to… notice you.” Mina stood looking at the floor. She saw his bare feet against the carpet. His bare shins. Time stretched beyond itself as she felt his eyes touch her, running over the exposed portions of her slim legs. She was painfully aware of the vicious jut of her oversized breasts and the conspicuous dents of her nipples. The lips of her smooth shaven pussy began to thicken and ache as much as her nipples. If it went on this way, she was mortified to think he would catch the scent of her arousal. Then he told her to take off her shift and she looked back up. “But, Mister…I’m…I…don’t look right…” He blew a slow breath. “Mina, how long have you been living in my house now?” “I guess about three months.” He nodded, knit his brow and pinched his bottom lip with his thumb and index finger. She waited, not knowing which direction he was going to turn. “In that time, have you ever felt unwanted or unwelcome?” The hand he’d been pinching ...

... his lip with lowered onto his upper thigh, conspicuously close to the bulge in his briefs. “No.” “Do you feel like this is your home now?” “I dunno.” “Okay. Fair enough. These things take time. I guess you’ve been through a lot in your twenty years.” “Guess so, Mister.” “Does our situation here strike you as being at all…unique?” “Very much.” “Me too. But I like that.” “Me too, all told.” She was beginning to fear he’d given up on the idea of getting her to expose herself. The soothing patience of his languid baritone made her nipples feel like they were about to burst into flame. She wanted him to see. Everything. She wanted to be scrutinized in a way she’d never wanted before, but she would never bring herself to say so. She would never peel off that shirt without being told. She had to be wanted as much as she wanted. Even now, as he gazed at the suggestion of her unruly shape under the billowy garment, a kind of transformation was brewing in her cells. She was turning into some new kind of creature, yet she still felt small and unfinished under his stare. His hand moved onto the cotton-wrapped bulge between his thighs, cupping, absent-minded fondling. She wondered if his desire to see her was as great as hers to see him. “Don’t you think there’s a reason you came here instead of going to your mother’s?” he posed. “Three blocks away and she still doesn’t know you’re back. What would she think about you moving in with a man you only met once…coming out of her bedroom in the ...