Taboo
2003-09-23
The barbeque where I first met the family Jacobson whet quite well; Rachel can cook a mean steak. Grace seemed rather withdrawn though, she didn't speak much to me at all, but I kept seeing her glancing at me when she thought I wasn't looking. I'll admit I was doing the same. Despite the age difference, part of me was attracted to her in a healthy, but rather illegal way. I managed to keep it unnoticed by Marc and Judy though, thankfully. It's been a few months since that day, and I've had a few more diners with the family, and plenty of nights on the town with Marc. Grace and I talk every once and a while outside of the diners, when we see eachother on the street. She isn't as shy about things anymore, well, most things. We talk usually about how our days went, her school; just casual daily conversation. I know it's wrong, but I've been fantasizing about her. Here she is, almost a decade younger than me, and I've actually masturbated while imagining her on the receiving end of my thrusting. It's not as though I'm not getting any. I date off and on, and even have a semi-regular relationship with a girl named Crystal. I just find myself thinking of Grace often. Once even while making love to Crystal I'd found myself fantasizing about the girl across the way, it'd taken a good deal of willpower not to call out Grace's name as I reached climax. I still hide it though, it's just fantasy, it can't be any other way.
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It'll all pass. Marc and Judy are celebrating their tenth wedding aniversary this month, and Marc came to me to ask for a favor. He's suprising Rachel with a second honeymoon, a week long trip to Tahiti, and he needed someone to watch over Grace. It wasn't a babysitting job, he'd insisted, he just wanted me to check in on her every once and a while, see that she's not getting in any trouble, and to make sure she's got enough food. Part of me wanted to go running for the hills, knowing what a temptation it would be, but Marc was a friend in need, and I couldn't just say "sorry I'd be too tempted to have sex with your daughter. " So that's what I'm up to this week I guess; playing overwatch for a 18 year old girl I've fantasized over. Gonna be plenty of cold showers for me. Well, at least it'll save on heating bills. I'm going over some raw code for a new project of mine (a revision to my "sell" site), a coffee cooling beside my keyboard, and an ass that's starting to go numb, when I decide to check in on Grace. Sure, Marc and Rachel only left a few hours ago, but it's better to be safe than sorry, as the cliche goes. I save my code, and close down my editing suite, powering off my Mac. I take the coffee with me, to dump it off on my way out. I look over myself in a mirror quickly, and grunt. Here I am, getting all self consious about my clothes, like I'm off to a first date or something. Jeans and a faded NYU sweatshirt'll just have to do.
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I slide on a worn pair of runners, and pocket the key Marc gave me for the family condo, then off I go. When I reach the Jacobsons' place, I give the door a series of knocks, and lean on the frame, waiting for Grace to come and answer. I check my watch after a little bit, and find I've been waiting five minutes. Funny, doesn't seem like she's home. Then again it's Friday night, she's probably out with friends. That would worry me, except that I know Grace, she's an innocent, so I don't have to be concerned about wild parties, booze, and orgies. I fish the spare keys out of my pocket and unlock the front door, slipping on inside. I'd better check anyway. Grace may have left the stove on or something.
A quick check of the first floor reveals that my caution was unwaranted. No TVs, stereos, or kitchen appliances have negligently been left on in an unconscious attempt to burn the house down. I'm just about to leave when I hear something upstairs. I stop shy of the front hall, and listen for a moment. Nothing. I must be getting paranoid.
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I kneel down to pull on a shoe, and I hear it again. Someone is definitly upstairs. I place the shoe back down, and turn to walk up the stairs, treading softly, just in case this is someone who doesn't belong. You know, like someone with a black ski mask and a sack with a dollar sign on it. As slowly as I'm going, I get a fix on the sound, seems to be coming from the left side of the landing, from a partially open door. You know, I've never been up here before. I mount the landing, and stop to listen again. The sound strikes my ears again, and it rings through my head. It's the sound of a whimper. I frown and make haste, still quietly, to the door in question. I stop a foot from the door, and peer inside. What strikes me first is this must be Grace's room. It's got that typical young girl trying to break from her childhood look. The walls are painted in a light pink, but littered with teenboy hottie posters, and there's a large CD player on the bookcase, CDs instead of book. A computer desk sits in one corner.
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All this is just split second though, because what dominates my mind now is the bed, or rather what's on the bed. What's that, you ask? Well it's young, sweet, innocent Grace, completely naked, with a small chrome vibrator thrust into her hairless pussy, and the fingers of her other hand rubbing at her clit. It's like someone took one of my fantasies, and made it come true. I find my eyes unconsciously devouring every inch of her skin, and ultimatly they lock on that circling hand. Her soft whimpering moans as she rubs that sensative nub are enough to make me weak in the knees. A thin sheen of perspiration beads her skin, and the moans are growing more frequent. She's close and I can tell. I should leave. I should run. I'm mesmarized by the sight of it; my feet are lead. Mere moments after I started watching, Grace gives herself what must be a very satisfying orgasm. Her petite frame stiffens up, and her back arches, her hips rising into the air. She doesn't cry out though, she takes in a deep breath as she climaxes, and lets it out in little open mouth spurts. The sight of this fourteen year old girl, one whom I'd imagined to be completely innocent, bringing herself to climax, is enough to have me fully arroused. It takes a moment for me to realize just how dumb it is just standing here.
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All Grace would have to do would be look this way and I'm sunk. I carefully back away from her door, and start to head for the stairs.
I'm forced to change course though, when I hear Grace's footsteps approaching her door. I pull open the closest door, and step on in, finding myself in Marc and Rachel's room. I close the door carefully, and listen at it. A few moments later I hear water running from the other side of the landing. Sounds like Grace is having an after pleasure shower. I wait a long minute, and slowly open the door again, peering on out. Right across the landing I can see the wide open bathroom door. The shower stall is one of those frosted glass jobs, and it's opaque enough that I can see Grace's petite form under the water's flow. Again I'm struck with the thought that I should go. When I notice the shilouette of her hands cupping and massaging her breasts though, I know I won't make it. I'll end up heading out onto the street with a raging hardon, and with my luck, right into a crowd. I weigh my options, and decide to take a gamble. No, I'm not going to shed my clothes, walk right on into the washroom, slip into the shower, and lay it to Grace; that'd just land me in jail.
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No, instead I quietly cross the landing and slip back into her room. I stop just shy of the bed, seeing two objects upon it which only charge me up more. Lying upon the pink comforter of Grace Jacobson's bed are her little chrome vibrator, and a pair of white cotton panties. Grace must have been lying on them while she pleasured herself. She'd probably started with them still on. I cross the room, and scoop the small pair of panties into my hand, seeing a visible damp spot upon them. I raise the panties to my nose, and inhale the scent of Grace's not so innocent pleasures. I can't stop now, I've past my point of no return, so I decide to go for broke. Still holding the cotton panties to my face, I unzip the fly of my jeans, fumble with the button a moment, and then reach into my boxers to fish out my raging hardon. Right here, in the bedroom of a young woman who I'd thought until minutes ago was the essence of purity, I begin to stroke myself. I can still hear the shower running in the other room, and I can't help but feel like a high school kid living out his fantasy by masturbating in the popular girl's bedroom while she cleans up before you start studying. Not that I'd actually done that. Ok, once. . .
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maybe twice. The big difference here is that the popular girl is still just a girl, one half my age, and she's in the shower just down the hall, unaware that I'm here. I grunt softly as I feel a familiar tension building up inside my loins. I'm suddenly struck with the fact that I'm half naked, hand wrapped around my erection, at the point of climax, and I have no where to release. If I don't think of something quick I'm going to erupt all over a fourteen year old girl's pink bedspread. I let out a low groan, and on instinct I pull the panties down to wrap around the head of my penis. I'm just in time too, because as I do that, I let forth a good blast, one I can feel soak through the material of the panties. I let out a long, low breath, and slow my stroking right down. It hits me then what I've just done. I just got myself off in the bedroom of the minor I'm supposed to be keeping and eye on, and what's more, I did it into a pair of her undergarments. I quickly tuck my dying erection back into my pants and zip up -not so quickly, don't want to get anything caught - and tuck the panties away into my pocket. Hell, I can't just leave them here with a fresh load in them. I listen a moment, and let out a relieved sigh as I still hear the water running. I quickly make my way for the door, and to the stairs, thanking my luck that Grace doesn't chose now to end her shower. It only takes me a moment to get back down into the hall, and I slip on my shoes, heading on out the door.
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You know, in all the rush, I didn't even miss the wet spot on the carpet in the landing. . . - end chapter -.
