She was the stuff of my fantasies. Sarah was not in my class at school but was the same age as me. I would watch her in the playground. She was a late developer so didn't have the large breasts of her other classmates and yet, she seemed to have a maturity above her years. I suppose that was it — she looked younger and acted older!
Strangely she had friends around her but never seemed close. She didn't laugh as much and always seemed distracted — as though she had more important things to do! Her hair was medium brown to blonde and cut a medium length, a few inches above her shoulders. It didn't look styled and yet it was always in place. She was about 5 feet 2 inches tall and always wore uniform. For us, that was dark blue blazer and grey skirt/trousers with a white blouse/shirt and the school striped tie. I always thought the uniform covered what little breast she had but her shape under it looked great to me. There was the promise of an almost boy-like body with a pronounced bottom at the back.
Sarah played such an important part in my wanking sessions at night. I wondered how hairy she was down there, I wondered if my cock would fit her, how far in it would go, how long I could hold on if I ever did fuck her? She would be tight, I felt sure.
I didn't, or couldn't let my friends know. Sarah was considered quite plain by my friends and was discounted in their conversations about "girls most likely to..." It was her plainness that really got me going. A kind of "English Rose," look. You felt that if she heard the word "cock," it would give her a heart attack!
I had spoken to her a few times and she seemed to like me but there was always this distance in her eyes. Lads of 14 are not always known for their communication skills and I was no exception. That was me by the way, a lad of 14! Jonathan (or Jon to most), I was inexperienced, a bit gauche, 5 feet 9 inches, blonde to brown hair which had a mind of its own and dressed as was expected by the school in similar attire to Sarah with trousers replacing the skirt, of course! My experience was limited in everything. My hormones were going wild and my cock seemed to produce semen whether I helped it along the way or not. As far as contact with others sexually, that was a bit limited. I was at this time prepared to have sex with anything that breathed but couldn't seem to get round to it.
Dave, my friend at school had helped me from time to time in the wooded area between my house and the school, and the pair of us had wanked ourselves silly in what I now know as "mutual masturbation." OK, I had even sucked his cock as he had asked me to. I didn't mind it really and to be honest, I would have sucked his dad's or even licked out his sister or mother, the way my hormones were going. I had a semi-erection most of the day and Dave helped me stop my head blowing off. Oh and there was Steve. He was 2 years younger than me, red hair and specs. He was considered a geek but at the end of the day, he was happy to suck my cock and I his. He was surprisingly well developed and I was quite turned on by his carrot red pubic hair. For 12 he could spray a thin jet of cum further than anyone I have seen since.
So I was playing around with my pals, and I did look at other guys thinking what they might look like naked, but I was straight. As far as females my record is limited. A feel at Lyndsey Payne was really about it. She let me put my hand up her skirt and I got my finger into her. It felt really nice, warm and wet. My other hand was stroking her right tit through her blouse and she squeezed the front of my school trousers, just as I shot a load into my underpants. That was it really. She was a bit annoyed and didn't let me near her again.
Where was I? Ah, Sarah! So I had watched her, wanked over thoughts of her, and talked to her three times. I wasn't a bad looking guy so perhaps she would let me take her out? I plucked up courage and asked one Thursday.
"That's very kind of you Jonathan," She said, "But I have things to do tonight and my parents like me to help look after my little brother at weekends so I only get a few hours off at night on weekdays." "Perhaps some other time?" "I am not sure if I'm the sort of girl you want or you the sort of boy I want."
It seemed an odd thing to say. After she walked back into class, I was really rejected then it dawned on me — she was meeting someone else after school! I made up my mind to follow her and see.
When the bell rang for end of class, I was first out of class and actually almost first out of school. I waited in a doorway nearby for Sarah to appear. When she did, I let her pass and started to follow at a discreet distance. At the second junction, she turned left in the opposite direction from her home. I was getting more jealous by the minute.
She walked briskly for about a mile, school satchel over her shoulder and then stopped and looked over her shoulder. I ducked out of sight. When I looked up, she had gone. I ran up to where I had seen her last and all I could see was a row of shops. The closest was a photographers shop run by some Asian or Arabs. It was not the most attractive shop and it had a house above it which entered by the side and probably from inside too. Next to that was a hairdressers but I could see the entire shop and she wasn't there. After that was a newsagent and again, I could see she wasn't there.
I went back and looked into the photographers shop and young guy looked out at me. He was about 20 or so and as I looked over, another Arab looking young guy brushed past me, entered the shop and turned the sign to "closed." He and the first guy went into the back shop and disappeared. So that ruled the photographers shop out. I ran ahead and looked round the corner but the street was full of houses with small gardens and really there was nowhere for Sarah to have gone. I gave up and went home to the pleasures of my right hand and a sick, jealous feeling.
The following week, on Tuesday, I saw Sarah at school and spoke.
"Are you free any nights this week," I asked?
"Sorry Jonathan," She said, "I have a lot to do at home right now and am only free on Tuesday and Thursday, and both these days are occupied." "I'm not sure I'm the sort you would like," She again repeated.
I decided there and then to find out what was occupying her life on those nights and repeated the previous Thursday's procedure of shooting out of school first and waiting. The trouble is I made the stupid mistake of ducking out of sight again when she looked round and when I looked up she had gone once more. Again, I ran up and looked into the photographers and this time there were four guys talking. The same two as the previous time, an older guy of about 35 and a schoolboy of my age or perhaps a year older in a school uniform from another school. Again they looked at me rather menacingly and turned the sign before closing the shop. I ran ahead and once more could not see Sarah. This was not the best part of town as it was occupied mainly by various immigrant communities, predominantly Bangla-Deshi, Pakistani and a few other cultures. These guys looked Middle Eastern or perhaps Turkish.
There was no sign of her. I slipped up a path at the side of the small row of shops but couldn't see her. I then walked up to the rear of the shops and saw there were two small windows but quite a bit higher than I was. I tried to look in but the first had a curtain over it and the second seemed to look into a photography studio where I presume, portrait photos were taken. I was nervous so, as no one was visible, I left and waited across the street in a bus shelter.
It was almost two hours later and I was freezing cold, when I saw Sarah slip out of the photography shop alone. She looked a little flustered and guilty but quickly composed herself and headed back towards her home. I followed for good measure and she went straight home.
At night I lay and thought, "Perhaps Sarah is having some photos taken for her mother or father?" "Perhaps Sarah has a part-time job cleaning in the shop?" "Perhaps Sarah knows the family and is doing some charity work?" "Perhaps Sarah is doing something she is guilty of?"
The fourth option got me going. I HAD to find out, but how?
I couldn't follow Sarah on the Thursday so over the following weekend, I paid a visit to the shop on the Saturday and watched the comings and goings. It seemed a regular business with kids coming for portraits and couples booking wedding photos. I saw the four guys at various times and had to admit, found them all quite good looking in their own way. I presumed the 15 year old was the boyfriend and she was ashamed to go out in public with him. He looked taller than me and quite athletic. His dark skin suggested he was perhaps from Turkey. Neither he, not the other men had facial hair, which suggested they were not Arab (but who was I to know what Arabs looked like).
.... There is more of this story ...