No One’s Home

Written from the Jessie’s point of view, with a pinch of salt.

I didn’t know what came over me when I asked if I could sit on his lap, and getting a ‘yes’ in reply. If it was not crazy enough to invite a complete stranger into my house, he was at least ten years older than me. I guess I was feeling really bored then, and his availability just made it so easy to take advantage of.

Within minutes of giving out my address, he was at my door, leaving no time for me to regret or think about what I just did. Since he was already here, I let him in and brought him a cup of water.

It was my first time being that daring to bring someone, of an opposite gender, home. The fact that I knew my parents won’t be home until five hours only drove my imagination wilder, almost forgetting that I was still in the CCA t-shirt and knickers I slept in.

I could feel my heart pounding at my chest when I went over to where he sat, and prayed as hard as I could for him not to feel my tension as I gently place my weight on his lap. His feet were together, arms spread out, but I could feel some hardness against my ass, I think.

When he placed his arms around me, it did feel comfortable. I put my hands over his and wore his hug like a two-point seat belt, catching all of his warmth and scent. He smelled like body wash and sweat.

‘Are you comfortable?’

I wriggled my ass higher up his thighs and he immediately leaned forward, as if I squished something soft under his pants.

‘Yes I am. Lean back?’

My back flattened out on his chest and my head lazily dropped over his shoulder, quickly getting into a relaxed state on top of him. With my eyes closed, every movement he made was so obvious, especially his hands that were slithering under my shirt at my waist.

(He then whispered) ‘May I feel you under your shirt?’

‘Uh huh.’

That lazy answer must have sounded sexy to him, as he straightened his palms over my hips, and moved upward to where.. to where my bra should be. The pause he took at my lower ribs sent shivers down my spine, sobering my drowsy mind with his subtle hint of surprise.

Soon, my cold breasts were in the safety of his hands, massaging and kneading like they were his babies. My nipples got their share of attention too, getting pressed and rolled until they were pointy and hard, stiffer than I ever made them.

His arms then dropped back onto my thighs, where fingers made their way into a gap he stretched out of my skin-tight boyshorts. Just as both hands conjoined in a V-shape, my instincts took over to stop him.

‘What will you do?’

‘I’m going to explore you. Just the outside first.’

‘You sure?’


My grip on his wrists loosened and he tucked all ten fingers into my thigh gap, prying my legs apart with little resistance. Looking down at where he was playing, the view of his fingers moving under that tight cloth was just interesting to watch. It seemed like I could feel more than what my eyes see.

I sensed him pulling a finger above my slit to stretch it out, before another finger went over the only spot I knew felt best when massaged. He instantly began working on it and the other hand stopped moving after getting a few fingertips parked at the shallow part of my pussy, twitching occasionally to check if I was getting wet.

How would I not be?

My chest was rising and falling to his delight, and the bulge between my ass grew firmer. I couldn’t allow myself to be the only one enjoying that right?

(I asked him) ‘Umm.. can you stop for a while?’

‘You don’t like it?’

‘No no. Not that. I felt something poking me and I don’t want you to suffer at my expense. Do you want to take it out?’

‘If I may.’

He took his hands out and showed me how wet they were, so I went ahead to undo his shorts, going as far to pull them off with his underwear. The only times I had seen a guy’s tool was in porn, and his, a real life one, looking quite different from those.

His was covered in skin, except for the bit on top, and I could clearly see veins that were a little blue. My curiosity suddenly killed my pleasurable mood and replaced it with a request, to touch it.

I wouldn’t expect any guys to say no to that. So I went straight for that bit of liquid forming at his pee hole, dabbing some onto my finger to take a whiff, before tasting it.

‘Put some saliva over it.’

His command was promptly fulfilled with too much saliva that dribbled down his shaft, but he assured me that it would only make things easier for me. I proceeded to tug up and down at the overstretched, thin foreskin, until he clenched his fist at my hand.

‘Not too fast! You’re too rough.’

Who else could I blame for that? I quickly apologised and left more saliva at his tip, peeling his foreskin as far back to reveal what it was hiding underneath.

From his groans and deep, long breaths, I was doing something new to him. When his foreskin gave way and rolled onto itself under his small-bigger head, he had to bite his own fist to keep his voice down. I could tell how miserable he was from his tensed-up expression. I followed through my actions with that one thing I remembered from porn, that is to keep stroking.

As expected, he calmed down and went into a relaxed state, putting me at ease while I continued jerking him off. That musty, salty scent wasn’t pleasant to me, but his blissful look made it worth enduring.

He even stuck one of his hands under my legs and masturbated me while I helped him out, both of us panting harder and harder as we edged towards climax. I had unknowingly used my other hand to push his fingers deeper as I felt it coming, and also increased the pace of my handjob to match it.

When my vision finally went blur to that mind-blowing orgasm, my hand that was on his manhood tightened and went crazy fast. It caused him to take that one breath he held in as cum sprayed up and over my hand, supplemented by more which kept oozing out in waves.

I recalled pulling his fingers out of me before I could breathe properly, followed by a long, blank stare at how much he dispensed over my hand. The last few strokes I delivered cleared out his pipe, along with some sheepish squirms I couldn’t help but grin slyly at.

Since the only piece of clothes that would no longer be worn again (for that day) was my knickers, I used it to soak up his cum before he made his way into the toilet with it. When I see him ten minutes later, he had rinsed it and hung it out to dry, while I had changed into a pair of panties I would lounge in until my parents got home.

(He asked hopefully) ‘Will I see you again?’


But most likely not, as Jessie’s mind wandered to the possibilities of getting men to pleasure her for a fee, then jerking them off for a higher fee, and watch their faces as they come all over her hands.

He might make good practice though.

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