[Author's Note: All characters in this story are OVER 18.]
*
Andy hadn't slept well. The timpani of rain on the skylight wasn't entirely to blame. When he had dozed fitfully, he dreamed of the girl downstairs, on his sofa. Every time a particularly heavy flurry of rain woke him, he found his hand full of hard dick. Hadn't slept well? Make that hadn't slept at all.
It wasn't even as if she was that sexy. Her older sister had all the curves and the Shirley Temple curls gone south and grown into a heavy golden mane. Kelsey, his impromptu houseguest, was – had always been - the boyish one. But while her sister got all the attention, Kelsey had quietly grown up. Her figure was still... Well Andy reckoned you couldn't call that a figure. She had no tits to speak of and hips that wouldn't look out of place on a python but Andy didn't care.
His bedroom was opposite hers and, for over a year, surreptitiously watching her undress had been his only sexual release. Now she was actually in his house, his dick was working overtime. He'd jerked off twice in the night but still had a woody at 6AM so he gave up on sleeping, pulled on some sweatpants and a T-shirt and went downstairs.
Andy's computer was in the living room so he had to be quiet. He managed to boot the PC without too much noise. Kelsey, less than twenty feet away, barely stirred as the Microsoft chimes rang out. Andy took the precaution of turning off the speakers and opened his email.
He kept glancing at the sleeping girl and, consequently, kept absently brushing the tent pole woody in his pants. Fuck! She was so his speed. And here she was, in her undies, sleeping on his sofa. She'd turned up about eight last night, locked out because her parents had rushed off somewhere and hadn't expected her home until tomorrow – today now. She'd only wanted to use the phone to call them and find out where the hell they were but, as Andy listened to Kelsey's half of the conversation, it became clear she needed somewhere to crash and in a moment of uncharacteristic forwardness, he'd suggested she could stay with him. So here she was – the object of all his fantasies – on his sofa.
He was just finishing the last of his replies when Kelsey sighed and rolled over, the blanket he'd given her lifting clear of her backside, exposing her tiny, firm butt wrapped in thin white cotton. Andy's dick throbbed.
He couldn't resist loosening the cord on his pants and fishing out his rod. As Kelsey settled back into deep sleep, facing away from him, he stroked his dick and gazed at her almost bare ass, thinking how much he wanted those undies not to be there. Still, even obscured by cotton, it was worth a hand-job. The pervy prospect of jerking off in the same room as her made him even harder. He leaned back in his chair and stroked himself with greater urgency. It didn't take long. In less than five minutes, he tensed and unloaded a half-hearted squirt of jism, diminished by his two earlier orgasms.
Fuck yeah. He thought, relaxing and enjoying the post climax fugue for a minute before stealthily getting up, limp dick still out of his pants, and went into the kitchen for Kleenex. He wiped the sticky mess off his fingers and his dick then went back to his computer and tried to get on with some work. He was a technical author so worked from home, writing boring manuals for engineering software: meaning he had no work life just as he had no social life to speak of, most of his contact with people being via MSN these days. When he thought about this – not often – he was honest enough to admit that solitary geekdom wasn't what he'd planned for his life. He just never seemed to have the courage or time to do anything about it. Jerking off just now, with his dream girl blissfully unaware of his lust, was not just the perviest thing he'd ever done: it was also the bravest.
Kelsey moved, drawing his attention again. Her long, skinny legs curled up, accentuating the curve of her ass. He reached for his digital camera, currently hooked up as a webcam, and snapped a few pics of her tight white undies moulded over her rounded butt cheeks. They'd do for his next wank or six. He felt a little ashamed of his voyeurism, but only a little. He'd been spying on her for long enough to rationalize most of his guilty feelings.
Kelsey woke an hour later – an hour Andy had spent most of burning the image of her bottom into his brain. She stretched and moaned a little, her arms, long and pale, reaching past the arm of the sofa as if to grasp an invisible bar. The blanket stayed behind as her flat chest rose past the edge of it, two pink nipples, small as a boy's, briefly on show. Andy felt the trouser snake stir. As she relaxed again, the tiny buds nestled back out of sight. He should have thought to offer her a T-shirt or something last night – He was glad he hadn't though. Kelsey blinked open her eyes.
"Mmm...Morning."
"Morning K-Kelsey...D-Did you sleep w-well." There was the other reason for Andy's lack of social life – his stammer. It wasn't a real stammer but he was so nervous around girls he couldn't talk to one he fancied without developing the speech impediment.
"Yes..." She stretched out her legs, wiggling her toes – they were like bait on a hook to Andy's hungry eyes. His staring didn't go unnoticed. "Got any coffee?"
"Sure. In the K-Kitchen... H-Help yourself."
Kelsey looked at him meaningfully. "Be a dear and fix it for me. Black. No sugar."
Andy realized what she really wanted: Privacy to get out of the blanket and into her clothes. "Oh... S-sorry...B-Black...N-No Sugar." He looked sheepish as he hurried into the kitchen and filled the kettle with enough noise to assure Kelsey that he was by the sink and, consequently, she had her privacy.
Waiting for the water to boil, Andy could have kicked himself. Why hadn't he set his camera on video mode? Too late now. He heard quiet movement around the living room then the sound of bare feet on the stairs and the click of the bathroom door. He spooned Nescafe into two mugs, whitener and sugar into one and heard the flush of the toilet, the noisy refilling of its cistern drowned out by the whistling of his kettle. When he heard bare feet padding back down the stairs, he carried the two steaming mugs through to his computer.
"C-Coffee?" Andy offered Kelsey a mug as she settled into an old armchair next to his desk, folding her feet under her.
"Thank you, Andy." She smiled reassurance at the clearly shy man as she took the mug, her fingers briefly touching his. She was wearing combat trousers: not the fashionable fakes in khaki nylon or psychedelic camouflage patterns. Kelsey's were the real deal army surplus, baggy on her skinny legs and cinched at the waist – in as much as Kelsey had a waist – with a canvas belt, it's brass buckle dull and in need of polishing. Her t-shirt was definitely not army surplus though. It was plain white but expensive looking, having a satin sheen of man-made fibres and a much more tailored fit than the standard K-mart cotton shirts.
It struck Andy that the whole tomboy thing was Kelsey's way of avoiding comparison with her gorgeous sister. Instead of being always second best "girlie", she was so completely different that you just couldn't compare them – chalk and cheese.
"S-Sorry." He realized he was staring at her and looked away.
"Sorry for what?"
"S-sorry I was s-staring at you. I'm not used to h-having..."
