"Hi, Brian," she called out as she crossed the street, "What 'cha doin'?"
"Hi, Susie," I replied as I turned to face her. "I'm going to the garage to enjoy a little privacy."
Susan Quentin was a year younger than I. I had known her all her life or at least since her parents had moved in across the street from us when she was a toddler. We were friends, but nothing more.
"Yeah, right," she sneered, "You're going in there to play with your willy, aren't you?"
"That's right," I leered back at her. "Wanna' come an' watch."
"Ewww, gross," she responded with a disgusted expression. "You're such a pervert, Brian Murphy."
"That may be," I chuckled, "But at least I have a reliable place to entertain myself. Where do you go when you need privacy?"
Blushing, she stuttered, "I... , I... , I'm not a pervert like you; I'm a good girl. Good girls don't play with themselves."
"Yeah, sure," I retorted, "I know for a fact that you aren't a good girl."
She stamped her foot exclaiming, "You know no such thing!"
"Yes I do," I insisted. "Good girls don't tell lies and you just told a big one. There are two kinds of people in the world; those who admit to masturbating and liars. Since you deny playing with yourself, you are a liar."
Speechless with indignation, she lifted her nose in the air, spun around and headed back across the street. I just laughed. I knew it was only pretense. I suspected that she would sneak back and try to catch me in the act. Both of the big doors to our two-car garage were open. Another door at the back of the garage led into the attached shop that was almost as big as the garage itself. Although the space had clearly been designed to be a workshop, my father only used it to store the mower and other tools for yard work. On the side of the building there was another big garage door with an opener that the previous owner used to bring in large pieces of material when the shop was used for woodworking. My father had no time for nor interest in such activities. My parents had permitted me to partition off the back corner to use as my private retreat. My father had helped me build the partition teaching me basic carpentry in the process. I had stocked it with a futon, a couple of beanbag chairs, some bookcases and a TV for playing video games. I also had a small refrigerator to store sodas and bottled water. I called it my game room where my friends and I hung out to play video games. Susie had guessed correctly; I also used it as a private place to masturbate.
Accordingly, I left the door from the garage wide open and the door to my game room cracked open. I grabbed a book from the bookshelf, plopped down on the futon and waited to see what Susie would do. Several minutes later, I noticed a shadow pass the curtains on the window. I had closed the curtains so that no one could see in from outside. If Susie really wanted to spy on me she would have to come into the shop and peek through the door into my partitioned hideaway.
Another five minutes passed before I heard the faint steps of someone trying to sneak across the floor of the shop. I put the book down and shifted myself to the end of the futon nearest the door. I almost held my breath trying to hear Susie as she crept toward the door. When I saw the door opening slightly, I jumped up, grabbed the doorknob and yanked it open. Susie almost fell into the room.
Letting the door swing open, I exclaimed, "Ah ha! Now who's the pervert? Looks like I've caught a peeping Tom, or to be more precise, a peeping Susie Q."
When I called her "Susie Q," her blush of embarrassment changed to a bright red flush of anger. She hated for anyone to call her that.
I made it worse by adding, "Looks like you changed your mind about watching. I'm game if you'll let me watch you too."
She growled, turned and ran out through the garage leaving me laughing. Moments later, I shut and locked the garage doors and retreated to my game room. It was the first Sunday afternoon of summer vacation. My parents were at the country club playing golf and tennis as usual. I had the house to myself and I intended to take advantage of my privacy. After lowering the back of the futon, I spread a beach towel across it. I stripped, grabbed a bottle of hand lotion and stretched out on the futon with my head propped on a pillow. I thought that Susie would be mortified if she knew how I imagined her as I lubed my cock stroking it to erection.
Susie was one of the prettiest girls I knew. Her petite, well-proportioned body could not have weighed more than 100 lbs. She stood about 5' 2" with straight blond hair that fell to her shoulders. Her hips and breasts though small gave her a perfect hourglass shape. Her beautiful blue eyes sparkled when she smiled and burned when she was angry. I closed my eyes imagining her doing a slow strip tease as I slowly stroked my schwanz.
In my imagination, Susie stood at the foot of the futon swaying sexily running her hands over her hips and breasts. She grasped the hem of her t-shirt with both hands slowly pulling it up her torso and over her head. After tossing the t-shirt aside, her hands moved to the waistband of her shorts. She rubbed her upper thighs and crotch suggestively before pulling her zipper down. She worked the tight shorts down slowly until they were loose enough to slide to her ankles. She stepped out of one side and kicked the shorts toward me. I moaned as I increased the pace of my strokes. She resumed running her hands over her body from her knees to her shoulders. Then she reached behind to unfasten her bra. As the straps fell loosely, she teased me by holding the bra cups in her hands slowly giving me peeks of the tops and sides of her bare boobies. I gasped when she finally dropped the bra. Stiff pink nipples crowned her perfect handful tits. She cupped her boobs before sliding her hands over her flat abdomen to the top of her panty. I felt myself getting close as she inched her panty down revealing the sparse curls of blond hair above her slit. Then she turned around, bent over at the waist and slid the panty to her ankles. She spread her legs wide holding her cheeks open in a wanton display of her charms. She turned back around climbing onto the futon to kneel at my feet with her legs spread. She leaned back holding herself up with her left hand on the futon frame while the fingers of her right hand spread her pussy lips apart. I could see her clit protruding from its hood and the moist pink entrance to her cunt. I groaned as I hosed my chest with spurt after spurt of cum. I opened my eyes; my imaginary stripper was gone. I reached for the box of tissues to clean myself up.
That had been one of the hottest jerk-off sessions I had ever had. I wondered whether I could seduce Susie into the real thing. She had the reputation of a prude, but her behavior that day suggested that she might have a strong curiosity about sex. I decided that I would have to apologize to her as soon as possible. I went into the house to take a shower. I didn't want to smell bad when I talked with her. I put on clean shorts and a t-shirt before heading across the street to apologize.
When I rang the bell, Susie's mom came to the door and greeted me, "Hello, Brian. What can I do for you?"
"Hi, Mrs. Quentin," I replied. "May I speak with Susie, please?"
"Certainly," she said pushing the door open. "Why don't you wait in the kitchen while I call her. I think she's in her room."
I took a seat at the kitchen table as Mrs. Quentin strode down the hall to Susie's bedroom. I heard some conversation that sounded like an argument between Susie and her mother. Then Susie stalked into the kitchen glaring at me.
"What do you want," she demanded with an angry voice.
I looked up from the table and said, "I just came over to tell you I'm sorry for being mean to you before."
"You were mean," she said from her confrontational stance, "And I don't want to talk to you."
"Now, Susie," her mom interjected, "Brian was nice enough to apologize. You could at least accept his apology. What's this all about, anyway."
"I'm sorry for intruding, Mrs. Quentin," I said as I stood up from the table. "I'd better go home. Susie can tell you all about it."
Susie was looking daggers at me as I left. I could hear Mrs. Quentin saying, "Susie, you have some explaining to do."
I figured that stunt killed any chance that Susie would ever speak to me again. I was just too much of a coward to try to explain to Susie's mom what we both had done.
The next day I started my summer job with my Uncle John's landscaping company. Since his business increased dramatically each year over the summer, he always hired several students for the summer. I expected to work six days a week for 10 hours a day. I knew it would be rough, but I was looking forward to the money. I guess I had no clue how tough the work would actually be. When I got home the first day, I was so tired and sore I almost couldn't eat dinner. By the end of the week, I had adapted to the point that I didn't collapse immediately after dinner. I figured that by the end of the summer I would be in pretty good shape.
On Sunday afternoon, my parents had gone to the country club as usual to play tennis and golf. They left me to do the yard work. The temperature had climbed to the mid-eighties so I worked in just shorts and tennis shoes. Feeling naughty, I had even gone commando. I had just finished mowing the lawn when I saw someone coming around the side of the house. Moments later Susie stood facing me, hands on her hips, and glaring.
"Brian Murphy, you're such an ass," she snarled. "You really left me in the lurch last Sunday."
.... There is more of this story ...