So I've written about Jocelyn before (Screw with a View), but I want to tell you how it all started with her, back before she met her current boyfriend (aka The Clueless Bastard).
Jocelyn lived down the road from me at one point, before her family moved to the other side of the city. Her and her brother used to swing by for visits on weekends when they were bored, and we'd play video games and stuff.
One night me and the boys from work had a bit of a party. Drinking and music out on the back patio. Cops were called at some point because we kept the neighbours up with our noise, so we called a night and everyone but me crashed on the floor of the loungeroom.
I was the first to rise in the morning (I always wake with the rise of the sun unless it's nightshift on my security job), sitting out on the back patio nursing a throbbing hangover. I was just pouring myself some hair of the dog when Jocelyn wandered in through the side gate. She laughed at the state of me, and for good reason it turned out.
"I couldn't sleep for ages last night, because of your stupid party," she said.
I apologised, and groaned as I rubbed my hand over my face.
"You hungover?" she wanted to know.
I nodded, and took a swig of vodka. It made me want to puke, but I forced it down.
She plonked herself down on the seat across from me, tucking a foot under herself and leaning back as if she owned the place. She's been here enough times to feel like it's a second home. She was wearing tight denim shorts that were so short it barely covered anything, especially when she sat like that. The knee of her folded leg was nearly touching the seat, so her crotch was wide open. The shorts were cut so small there was only a thin strip of fabric covering her pussy. The sides of her white panties were showing.
I took another swig on my drink.
"You going to offer me a drink?" she said, smiling mischievously.
"When you're old enough," I said, thinking her father would murder me if I supplied his little girl with liquor.
"How bad's that hangover?" she snarked. "You were at my 18th birthday last month, remember?"
Oh yea, that's true. I remember now. It hadn't really seemed like a birthday. More like a casual Sunday barbecue between neighbours. I'd hung out with her mother and uncles, most of the time. They were older than me but more my maturity level, I suppose.
"You mean you haven't hit the clubs with your girlfriends yet?" I asked.
It was practically every 18-year-old's rite of passage: day of the birthday, grab the ID and go clubbing with your mates, get as shit-faced as you can.
She shook her head. "Dad's being an asshole about it."
Of course he is. He's a conservative Christian, and Chinese to boot (her mother's Filipino). There was no way he was going to allow his daughter to fraternise with the hedonist lifestyle, even though she was legally allowed to now. The thought took hold in my groggy brain, and without realising it, my eyes wandered down to her chest. She was wearing a tight white singlet. Jocelyn has what I think of as a swimmer's body: wide, strong shoulders. Her breasts weren't too big; probably a B cup. They certainly looked bigger in that singlet.
She cleared her throat and I snapped out of it.
"You owe me a drink for that, you perve," she challenged, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder.
I'm sure it's not the first time she's caught me checking her out, but in my hangover state I'd been a bit too fucking obvious about it. So I relented and poured her a drink. Now she let me idly check her young body out as we sipped our whiskeys (she struggled with hers, which made me laugh).
Jocelyn always reckoned her legs were stumpy, but she didn't really give herself much credit. Sure, she had thick thighs (especially for a teenager), but that was part of her attraction. She was young and supple, but with womanly hips, and I loved that about her.
By now I was starting to sport a mongrel in my cargo shorts, and I was worried the blood rushing into it might compete with the lingering hangover, so I poured us some vodkas and dared Jocelyn to a drinking match. I'd have to have a wank later on when everyone was gone, imagining Jocelyn in her little shorts and tight singlet.
"Whoever could swallows fastest," I dared her (and yes, she laughed at the double-entendre) "is the champion."
Naturally, she lost. But the booze was already going to her head and she demanded a rematch.
"Let's up the stakes," I said. "I win, I get to cop a feel."
The thought of groping her young breasts fairly had me panting with lust. Or was that nerves? She might be half way to drunk but if she stormed home and told her father about-
"Deal!" she chirped. "And if I win..."
Her eyes strayed over the table full of booze, scrutinising the labels and evidently trying to decide which she wanted to claim as her prize.
"If I win I get to touch that," she said, and pointed at my crotch.
I was surprised, I'll admit. I really hadn't expected for her to reciprocate the terms of engagement. This was practically a win-win situation for me. I stood to pour us our decisive drinks, checking through the window to make sure the boys were still passed out on the floor. Didn't need any of those wankers coming out and interrupting what I had going on here.
Drinks in hand, we stared each other dead in the eye. I was trying to decide whether I should let her win so I'd have her hand on my cock, or defeat her and get my mitts on those little tiddies. Suddenly Jocelyn burst into raucous laughter, nearly falling off her chair and spilling her drink in the process. She, like me, was fairly tipsy.
"Righto, three, two, one..."
We skolled our drinks. She nearly missed the mark, and half hers spilled down her cheeks and down her neck, quickly absorbed by her singlet. She patted at the fabric and started giggling.
"All wet now," she laughed.
I wondered if that was a deliberate double-entendre. She didn't acknowledge it was.
"Who won?" she said, eyes slightly glazed and sparkling with mischievousness.
I did. I won by a long shot.
"I think it was a draw," I said
