Like most young girls, my fancy has always been that of older men.
I am unsure whether its the experience or just the maturity that makes them more appealing than most guys my age, but I have found that most older men tend to flirt more with the younger girls as well. Out of all I have met though, there has only been one to make me weak with just a simple wink.
Steve had been a family friend since I was seven, and I took up with him quite easily from the very beginning. I stayed with him a lot during my parent's separation, mainly because it was easier on them: it was cheap (he never charged to look after me) and they knew I would be safe.
As I got older, I started going to Steve for advice on stupid girl stuff that I am sure he knew very little about, but he always seemed to say the right thing. I started visiting more, even after I reached the age I could look after myself.
Most of the time we just sat around and watched movies, but I would have been happy just cuddling up to him. I didn't realize I was attracted to him until recently, when boy had tried to get up my shirt.
For a moment, I closed my eyes and pictured Steve caressing my breasts, gently twisting my nipples. I snapped back out of that and slapped the boy's hand away. The idea of any boy touching me repulsed me, except for Steve. I went home and masturbated twice, playing the idea up in my head, though I was convinced he wouldn't have done anything to me.
One night, dressed in a casual dress I wore mostly during summer, I went to his house to watch a movie. As he was preparing everything, I snooped in the drawer of the coffee table, shuffling through random papers and old magazines. I came across one that caught my eye. Barely Legal Virgins the title read, with the front cover showing a picture of a very young looking girl around 18, my age, in a little nightie with her legs spread.
I quickly closed the drawer and looked up, as though I had been caught doing something terrible. My mind was swimming in thought. He likes young girls like me? Does that mean he finds me attractive? How come he hasn't tried anything with me?
He finally came out of the kitchen with a beer for him, a bowl of ice cream for me.
"Ready to watch?" he asked with a grin.
I simply nodded as he plopped next to me on the couch and pressed play on the remote.
"This is going to be good," he stated.
Suddenly everything he said felt dirty to me. I could feel my crotch become hot. All the thinking became too much for me, and I finally fell asleep midway through the movie, my head leaning against his shoulder.
I woke up with a blanket over me and Steve gone. I got up and walked down the hall, where I heard a bit of heavy breathing in his bedroom. Curiously, I poked my head inside and saw him lying in bed with his eyes closed, and his hand stroking up and down on his dick.
My eyes popped out when I saw him. The ones I had seen before had always belonged to boys, and where quite a deal smaller than what he had. I licked my lips and slowly slid my hand down to my crotch, rubbing gently.
"Oh, fuck..," he whispered, as his hand started to move faster, pumping up and down, up and down. I let out a slight moan but quickly bit my lip, afraid that if he heard me, he would stop and never talk to me again. But I also wanted him to hear me. I wanted him to know I was watching, hoping maybe he'd invite me in for a closer watch.
Steve suddenly stopped and let out a loud sigh. I gasped as I saw huge globs of cum squirt out of his cock, hitting his chest and stomach. I pulled my hand away from my crotch and stared. I had given oral sex before to a boy I knew, and I've always liked it. I wanted to taste Steve then, and was weak in the knees from the idea.
As soon as I saw him get up, I ran to the living room and back on the couch, covering up and hiding any trace that I was just a peeping tom a few seconds ago. I heard the water running in the bathroom for a moment, then heard him walk to where I was. He gently shook my shoulder.
"Hey, sweetie, I think I should take you back home before your mother worries."
I slowly opened my eyes as though I had just came from a deep and peaceful sleep. "Aww, can't I spend the night? I don't feel like going home."
"I don't know. I think you'd be more comfortable in your own bed than on a couch."
I raised up and stared at him, nervous about how bold I was attempting to be. "I can't sleep in your bed?"
"I....uh...don't think that's a good idea."
"Why not?"
He sighed and sat down, and I casually put my legs on his lap. Giving him the pouty look that always allowed me to get my way, I begged. "PLEASE lemme stay. I promise I'll be good. You won't even know I am here!"
Steve stared for some time at me, and then patted my legs. "Well, I don't work tomorrow, so...okay, just let me call your mother and tell her you fell asleep."
After the okay from my mother, who wasn't the least bit concerned, I stayed up and watched a couple of late night shows with him. I could not take my mind off of what I saw earlier with him, as my eyes kept shifting from the TV to his boxer shorts. I didn't even notice he had caught me staring until I looked up at one point, and met his eyes. I quickly turned red and glued my eyes back on the television set.
He got up and sat next to me on the couch, putting an arm around me and a hand on my knee.
"So," he started, his voice sounding a bit different in tone, "are there any new boys in your life, dear?"
Nervously, still not taking my eyes away from the image on TV, I said, "There was one, but I broke up with him."
"Why? He didn't hurt you did he?"
"No..." I trailed off, too shy to go any further.
"Well, what then?"
"I um....he...he touched me."
Steve shifted a bit, allowing his hand to slightly go up my leg, rubbing back and forth above my knee. "What do you mean?"
I then looked down, suddenly feeling ashamed about the situation that had happened with the boy, remembering the image that came to my mind when he touched me.