Jenny was her name. She was staying with us for a week while her parents were overseas. My mother had offered to take her in as Jenny had soundly rejected the suggestion that she stay with her Aunt. Apparently she and her Aunt got on like a cat and dog. Not friendly cats and dogs but more along the lines of a wildcat and a mongrel with a sore tooth. Not a recommended pairing.
She turned up and in my opinion she was a lovely young lady. Tall and shapely with long blonde hair. A heart shape face with kiss me lips, green eyes, and a tempting smile that was on constant display.
From the moments she arrived, through dinner, right up until the time it was time to retire for the night, she flirted mildly with me. Not because I'm so staggeringly handsome, charismatic, and devilishly attractive, but because I was the only male available around her age. (Both of us were around nineteen.) I, of course, being a typical male, lapped up the attention.
I went to bed and went to sleep, anticipating happy dreams in which Jenny would take an enthusiastic part. The dream I actually had was of me standing in the rain, water all around me. I woke up and hastily adjourned to the bathroom before I found myself actually lying in a pool of 'water'.
Returning from the bathroom I noticed that the light in the guest bedroom was still on. I decided to check and make sure our guest wasn't having any problems. I lightly tapped on her door and, not receiving an answer, I opened the door and looked in.
She was lying on the bed - naked - her hair spread over her pillow. I managed to restart my heart and looked at her. The first thing I noticed was that she was looking at me. The look on her face could only be described as curious. Not upset, or embarrassed, or scared, or shocked. Just curious.
I absorbed the scene, noting her lovely face, the way her hair was spread around her, the way her breasts were lying against her chest, the paleness of her skin and the rosy hue of her nipples. She moved, hitching up the leg furthest from me, effectively giving me an excellent view of her womanly parts. (And she did that deliberately, I was prepared to swear.)
I guess I must have been staring harder than I thought as she started to blush a little. (Not that this little indication of self-consciousness caused her to cover up in any way. Come to think of it, why was she lying naked on top of the covers? It wasn't a hot night by any means. Not that I was complaining.)
I sat on the bed next to her, my hand settling on her leg. Her thigh, to be precise, her inner thigh, at that. Not that I left it there. My hand moved gently, slowly, stroking her, moving upwards. I lightly stroked her leg, observing her pudenda reacting, even though I hadn't touched her there. Yet.
First the back of my knuckles brushed against her vulva. A slight repositioning of my hand and I cupped her mound, rubbing and squeezing. Continuing on my way I crossed her mons, pressing firmly as I did so. She was breathing a little more heavily, starting to press her body against my hand.
Moving right along I cupped a breast, noting that her nipples were erect before I even touched them. My hand lingered for a while, crossing from one breast to the other and then back again. With a hand cuddling a breast I leaned over her and kissed her. She was quite enthusiastic in the way she kissed me back.
I spent a few very pleasant minutes, touching and kissing, being touched and kissed in return. The advantage of men's pyjamas are the fact that they have open flies and Jenny had determined this quite quickly, seeking what was within and fondling it. Did I have an erection? So hard and so big I was lucky I didn't become light-headed from lack of blood going to my brain.
She was wet and ready. Did that explain the towel that happened to be on her bed? She was expecting the flood? Whatever, now was the time to strike. I extracted my erection from her greedy clutches, spread her legs wider, and moved between her thighs. That was the point at which she uttered one of the foulest words ever used in the English language. I couldn't believe she said something like that.
"Excuse me?" I said, shocked.
"I said no," she repeated. "I'm not ready to go that far. I mean, I barely know you."
Bare was definitely the way she knew me. I wanted to strangle her at that moment. I took a deep breath and took a firm hold on my temper. I also made sure not to take a firm hold on her throat.
"No?" I repeated, just making sure I had the right word.
She giggled. "Ever heard of Ziegfeld's Follies?" she asked.
"What?" I was puzzled and a little dumbfounded. Ziegfeld's Follies? What the hell?
"Ziegfeld put on a series of theatrical revues in the early nineteen hundreds. Apparently he had his dancers wear silk panties when they danced on the theory that the silk rubbing against their pussies would arouse them and show up in their dances."
"Ah, fascinating," I mumbled, thinking what the hell?
"Yes, I thought so. A friend of mine told me that the silk trick also works on men."
What was I supposed to say to that? I said nothing.
Her hand darted under her pillow and returned with some material. She dropped the material, which I recognized as silk, over my knob and started polishing it. I immediately realized why the rubbing of silk against pudenda would get women aroused. Rubbing silk over my knob certainly got my attention.
"I can draw this out for up to ten minutes," she said with a giggle. "I've practiced with my boyfriend. He loves it. Don't worry though, I'm not going to take that long with you."
Wasn't that kind of her? Actually, feeling that silk gliding across my cock I couldn't be sure if she was being kind to not draw it out or nasty to not prolong the pleasure. It didn't matter as I wasn't getting a choice. She had me spurting in very short order, leaving me both relieved and frustrated.
She very tidily wiped off my cock and had ushered me out of the room while I was still coming to terms with what had happened. I staggered off to my own bed and went to sleep, thinking wicked thoughts where that young lady was concerned.
When I saw her at breakfast the next morning you would never think that anything had happened during the night. She smiled and gave me a very bland, "Good morning," and started chattering about various inanities. And the flirting? Yep, it was still there, mild and innocuous. I did my best to follow along with the way she acted.
