Archive-name: First/yungstf1.txt
Archive-author:
Archive-title: Young Stuff - 1
Chapter 1 - The Approach
As he hurried back toward the hotel, he looked for Debbie
along the sidewalk in front of him. As he waited for a light to
change, he finally spotted her standing on the opposite corner.
At least he thought it was her - he wasn't expecting Debbie to be
quite so 'dressed up', so he wasn't really sure it was her at
first. He stared across the street at the girl.
The brunette he'd spotted was wearing a blue dress with
puffy short sleeves. Although the dress had a fairly modest
neckline, the hem was very short, barely reaching to the middle
of her thighs. She wore white stockings, black high-heels, and
didn't look like she was just 16. He quickly concluded that it
was Debbie and he yelled across the noisy traffic at her.
"Debbie! Want a ride to the office?" he asked, waving to
her.
She looked up, smiled and shouted something back, but he
couldn't hear what she'd said. He watched her check the traffic
light and stride deliberately across the street toward him. She
didn't look just 16 up close either.
"Hi!" he said, as she joined him on the sidewalk. "I'm
going to check-out of the hotel and get my car. Do you want a
ride to the office?" He explained that her mother would meet her
there later.
He suspected that she was trying hard to act disinterested
in being seen anywhere with someone almost her mother's age, but
Debbie soon smiled and agreed to accompany him back to the hotel.
They filled their two-block walk with small talk on nothing in
particular, although he did manage to tell her how nice she
looked. She looked damn good and he tried not to look at her too
obviously, but found his eyes dropping fairly frequently to steal
a glance at her legs. They were very shapely and looked terrific
in white stockings. He had to remind himself repeatedly that she
was only a high school junior; definitely young stuff.
As they waited for the elevator in order to get to the
second-floor lobby, he remembered that the last time he'd seen
Debbie, he'd concluded that in an effort to look grown-up, she
wore too much eye make-up. As a result, she'd looked even young-
er and a little on the slutty side. He was glad she'd either
changed her make-up style or had forgotten to put it on today.
Her shoulder-length hair was naturally wavy and her skin was
clear and smooth, adding to the illusion of her age. They en-
tered the elevator and he noticed she stood closer to him than
was really necessary, since there was no one else in the car. He
also noticed that she smelled good. Neither said anything until
the doors opened on the second floor.
"Listen, I'm going to go check out and then run upstairs to
pack my stuff up," he explained. "If you want, you can just wait
here in the lobby and I'll meet you when I'm done."
He gestured toward a small reception area in the lobby,
filled with several low couches and tables. He turned and went
to the front desk to settle his bill, leaving Debbie by one of
the couches. When he turned from the front desk to head back to
the elevator, he saw Debbie had sat down on one of the couches.
The seat was so low that her knees were almost higher than her
shoulders. By walking across the lobby at just the right angle,
he got a decent look up her legs beneath her short dress. When
he got close to her and started to walk past her, Debbie stood up
and started to follow him. Somewhat startled, he stopped and
looked at her quizzically.
"I don't want to sit here all by myself," she said. "Can't
I come upstairs with you?"
"Why, sure, sure you can," he answered. "I just
thought....you know, it would be boring..."
"It would be boring to just watch you pack!" Debbie said.
"That's why I'll help you pack."
Thoroughly startled now, he stammered something incoherently
and headed for the elevator with Debbie close behind. Once in
the elevator, she stood even closer to him than before, until the
doors opened and he led the way down the hallway to his room. As
soon as he'd unlocked the door, she slipped past him and walked
into his room in front of him. His eyes watched her hips sway
back and forth as she moved into his room. Before he could say
anything, she had walked to the dresser, pulled open a drawer,
and reached into it. Fishing out a handful of clothes, she
turned toward him.
"Is this drawer all your dirty stuff?" she asked, holding up
her hand. "Where do you want it?"
"Yes, that's what it is, all right. I'll get that stuff,
Deb," he replied, stepping towards her.
"That's OK, I want to help," she said. She reached into the
drawer again and fished out another article of clothes. "Say,
these are cute..."
Debbie held up a pair of 'used' jockey shorts and smiled at
him. She dropped the other dirty clothes on the top of the
dresser.
"Really, I think they're cute! I thought older guys wore
boxer shorts instead of these! I mean, I didn't mean that you
were that old, but...well, you know..."
"I guess I am that old..." he muttered.
"No, really....I don't think you're old," she said. This
time, she was the one who was slightly embarrassed. She looked
at the shorts again. "Say, these have sort of a...a pouch on the
front of them, don't they? I've never seen one like that
before...."
"Seen a lot of men's underwear, have you?" he teased, going
on the offensive for no particular reason. He began stuffing his
toothbrush and cologne into a travel bag.
"Well," Debbie blushed, "I have seen a few pairs...
"Well, they have a pouch that only well hung men need to
wear..." he teased, a wide grin on his face. "You know, keeps
everything neatly arranged....kind of like a bra..."
Debbie eyed him for a moment before examining the jockey
shorts again. She put one hand inside the underpants and filled
the pouch with her fist. Holding them up closer, she tried to
sniff without him noticing, but he had already noticed and was
fascinated by what she was doing.
"These are really cute," she said. Apparently pleased by
whatever her nose had detected, she smiled at him. "You know, if
you've got time...." Her voice trailed off in mid-sentence.
"What's that?" he asked, tossing a pair of sandals into his
suitcase.
"Oh, nothing really," she said, blushing again. "I was just
wondering....if you don't have to get out right away...."
"Oh, come on," he groaned. He faced her with his hands on
hips. "What is it?"
"Well...I was sort of curious...you know, to...um," Debbie
stammered nervously. "To see...how the
pouch...um...works...what...um...you think is...uh...well
hung..." she stammered nervously.
He stared at her in disbelief. It was one thing to lust in
his mind after a 16 year-old, and quite another to have the same
little cream-puff asking straight-out for him to take off his
pants!
"It's OK!" Debbie blurted out. "I'm....uh...I'm not exact-
ly...um...a virgin...and...I've seen them before, but I'd kind of
like to see...what you think is 'well hung'?"
He continued to stare in silence at Debbie. She was holding
his underwear with both hands in front of her chest, and he
noticed her sniffing at them again.
"Hey, I know!" she said. "Would you like to see my bra?
I'll show you my bra and then you can show me your, uh, you know,
pouch. Kind of underwear for underwear! That sound fair?"
His mind raced at the prospect but he called himself back to
reality by recalling her age. Pretty or not, she was definitely
under-age. She must have read his mind.
"Look, I know I'm only 16, but I'm not a little kid! Who
would believe me claiming you tried to get it on with me? How
about it? Look, I'll make it easier - I'll show you my bra and
then you decide, OK?"
Without waiting for a response, Debbie reached behind her
shoulders and popped open a few buttons on the collar of her
dress. With a few small shrugs, she quickly slipped her puffy
sleeves off her shoulders. Pulling one arm completely out of her
dress, she easily pushed the bodice of her dress down, uncovering
her bra-clad chest.
The bra was cut low and made of light, silky material,
leaving little to his imagination. Gazing at her, he was amazed
to see how developed her tits actually were. The bra pushed her
breasts together and up, creating cleavage not often seen on a
girl of 16. Even so, it was obvious that Debbie was very well
endowed, and the sight was not just the creation of the bra. It
was a very pretty sight.
"So? What do you think?" she asked, quietly. "Do you think
I'm...um...pretty?"
"Debbie, you're very pretty, but I don't think...." he
started to protest weakly.
"Oh, come on!" she frowned. "I wanted to show you my bra!
Would you like to see more?" He realized with an inaudible (he
hoped) choke that she was serious.
Debbie reached behind her back again and quickly slipped
open the back-strap of her bra. With one fluid motion, she
shrugged the bra-straps off her shoulders and brought her fingers
around the bottom edge of her bra beneath her armpits. With two
tugs, she pulled the bra cups down, baring her developing breasts
for him. He stared at the small, rosy-colored nipples which
tipped each of her firm, pointed breasts. She was no longer
close to gorgeous - she was gorgeous. Her breasts rose and fell
as she breathed and her nipples looked as though they were actu-
ally beginning to harden under his gaze.
"How's this?" she murmured. "I've never really just...you
know, practically torn off my clothes like this before! I've
been told I have a nice figure...and some guys I know like to
squeeze my breasts...when I let them! What do you think?"
"I think," he began, his voice very low and tight. "I think
that you are a very beautiful girl. I think you have a beautiful
figure. And, I think you are too young to be undressing in my
room."
"Really? You think I'm beautiful?" Debbie slid her hands
over her breasts, covering her nipples. "I told you, I'm not
exactly...a virgin. I've seen 'them' before, but I would really
like to see yours..."
"What does 'not exactly a virgin' mean?" he asked.
She blushed and looked down at the floor for a moment, her
hands motionless over her naked boobs.
"Well...I...I've never actually...um...y'know, been laid..."
she murmured, her voice barely audible and her hands still cover-
ing her nipples. "But I don't have my...uh...'cherry' anymore."
"Try that again?" He was fascinated by the girl's uninhib-
ited behavior around him and her revelations about her sex life.
"I've never actually been laid, but I got my 'cherry'
popped..." she replied, her voice very low.
"How's that?" He was in no mood to stop this conversation.
"I'm not exactly sure...." Debbie began, running one hand
through her hair. He stared at her uncovered nipple. "I lost it
either when a boy, um, y'know, used too many fingers....or when
I...I tried out...my girlfriend's...y'know...her vibrator!"
"Her what?!" he blurted out in amazement. "Oh...you mean a
dildo?"
"Yeah. You know, a plastic thing..."
"You don't know if a boy did it or your girlfriend's dildo?"
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