They say curiosity killed the cat, but I'm quite sure that the cat's not the only creature to be done in by a little harmless curiosity. Take me, for instance. I'm a healthy, normal, eighteen year old, and like any young woman I was curious about sex and my effect on men. Like, why should a touch of cleavage turn a boy into a babbling idiot? It was intriguing and funny to watch, but expected.
It was the unexpected that raised questions in my mind. In my mind is where the questions ought to have stayed.
I had to do a babysitting job one Saturday afternoon. It was one of these odd jobs that crop up every so often. Mrs. Henderson was working in the city for the day and Mr. Henderson had an appointment that he has to go to but he couldn't take the kids, who were out at Little League anyway.
My job was to front up at the Henderson's place, wave goodbye to Mr. Henderson and stick around to take charge of the kids when they were delivered home from Little League. Then I'd just keep an eye on them until one of their parents arrived home.
It was a reasonable warm day and I was dressed comfortably. I had on a nice sundress with a modest neckline. No real cleavage showing. It wasn't as though I was dressed up to vamp anyone. That's why I got a real surprise when Mr. Henderson answered my knock on the door and promptly showed all the signs of babbling idiocy.
He recovered pretty fast, I'll give him that, but for a few moments I could see that I'd got him right between the eyes. I'd have been flattered, but I didn't understand why it had happened. He ushered me in and as I walked into the lounge room I spotted his reflection in the mirror and his hand was down his trousers adjusting his equipment.
When I turned to face him Mr. Henderson was smiling pleasantly and had lost the babbling idiot look, but I could spot that his trousers were tented. I guess he was hoping I wouldn't notice or, if I did, I'd be too polite to mention it.
Now normally I would have done the polite thing and not noticed. It was the safer way, where most young men are concerned. But I was curious. I mean, he's known me for ages and never had this sort of reaction. Why now? Especially seeing I was dressed quite modestly.
"Is that because of me?" I asked, nodding towards Mr. Henderson's crotch, puzzlement plain in my voice.
He flushed and looked a little irritable that I'd dare to raise the point, but I could tell that it was.
"But why?" I almost wailed. "I didn't do anything."
He laughed at that.
"No-one said you did," he told me. "It wasn't really your fault. It's just that when I answered the door the sun was behind you and it effectively turned your dress transparent. I was just startled to have a lovely young woman turn up at my door looking as though she was naked. You'll have to forgive my reaction. It was totally spontaneous."
I couldn't help goggling. Was my dress truly transparent against a strong light? I'd have to watch that. My curiosity was still running wild. One look and Mr. Henderson had an erection? How big an erection? His trousers were noticeably distended.
I'd had dates with men who had wanted me to make a closer acquaintance with their erection, but I'd always backed away, not really interested. Well, interested, possibly, but cautious. Now my caution seemed to be taking a back seat, possibly because I was looking at Mr. Henderson as safe. I cast another look downwards and then spoke before I had a chance to put my brain into gear.
"Can I see it?" I asked, and could feel myself blushing with horror even as the words left my mouth.
"I am not," said Mr. Henderson, "going to whip out my erection for you to examine. That sort of thing could get me arrested if you took fright. However, if you care to unzip and take a peek, I won't resist."
He had this sort of smirk that seemed to say I just dare you, confident that I wouldn't have the nerve. He was right, of course. No way was I going to undo his zip and take out his cock to look at. I just couldn't do it. Which left me feeling a bit puzzled as to how it was I was standing there holding his erection in my hand.
It left Mr. Henderson looking a bit stunned, too, but he also looked amused. He didn't say anything, just watched while I stroked his cock. I knew in theory what one looked like. I'd seen pictures. Who hasn't? But a picture is a bit different to actually holding a man's cock in your hand, especially when it was fully erect like this. It was hot and it felt awfully hard.
In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. I stroked his cock, and I'll swear that it seemed to grow hotter and larger. At the same time I found myself getting hotter and I had this funny squirmy feeling low in my tummy. Then it suddenly dawned on me on what I was doing and I snatched my hand way, feeling myself blushing brightly.
I thought that Mr. Henderson would just put it away now that I wasn't touching it. Silly me.
"My turn," he said quietly, and to my surprise he calmly lifted up my dress and started pulling my panties down.
"You can't do that," I protested, but he ignored me, taking my panties right down to my ankles. Then his hands came trailing up my legs. The inside of my legs. If I had the sense God gave a goose I'd have snapped my legs together, but instead I just stood there, watching as his hands rose, stroking the insides of my thighs and then I gave a gasp as one hand closed over my mound and started squeezing it softly.
I looked up at Mr. Henderson's face and he was smiling at me. I'll swear I could see a laugh hidden behind his eyes. I tried to protest but I was distracted when his erection brushed against my hand and my hand seemed to close around it again of its own accord.
I guess my attitude was a little bit 'OK - Fair enough. I touched him first.' Then a finger slid between my lips and Mr. Henderson was exploring inside me. I gave a little squeak at that, which was blandly ignored while fingers were doing terrible things to my insides.