Jessica's Ken
Copyright© 2026 by CreepyUnclePete
Chapter 1
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 1 - This is an alternate of the mostly true story "Ken's Jessica." In this version he picks the evil, illegal, super sexy option. Read "Ken's Jessica" first.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction First Oral Sex Petting Safe Sex Public Sex
A middle school girl climaxed in the back seat of her mother’s car, with my hand rubbing her vulva through her shorts. Joyous, intimate, and so very wrong! We hadn’t shared even twenty sentences, afraid a mistaken phrase might repel the person we desperately wanted, or reveal our mutual lust.
As we neared their house, her mother Donna turned the radio down, asking, “Want to stay over again, Ken?” She smirked. Did she know?
Her sexy, pretty, nearly-fifteen daughter Jessica rested a hand in my lap, breathing a hot whisper into my ear, “Please? I have rubbers. And I’ll blow you?”
There was a swelling in my boxers again, but fears of police and prison swirled in my mind. Even more important; it would be evil, illegal, terribly wrong.
My rapid pulse pounded in my ears, and my groin. I hesitated, thought, considered, glanced at her pretty face, admired her precociously large chest.
I chose the disgusting, underhanded, criminal option; making the young beauty and her mother happy. Myself, too.
“Sure! Can we swing by my dorm? I want to shower quick, and change clothes.”
Donna suggested, “We have a washer and dryer, and I’m sure she’ll wash your back.” I was shocked at her acceptance.
Jessica asked, “Really? You’ll let us...”
“If nobody needs a doctor in the morning, do whatever.”
“Wow! Um, thanks, Mom!”
“He’s too old, but most of your boys are. This time you found a smart, polite guy for a change. Appreciate him! Treat him right, Jessica.” Her tone was quite stern, for the permission she gave.
The moment we parked in their driveway, the chesty little blonde beauty grabbed my hand and towed me to the bathroom.
The door slammed shut with the urgency of a bank vault sealing. Jessica’s fingers were a blur of motion, fabric snapping away from her like a rubber band, to reveal breasts that defied both physics and propriety. My breath snagged in my throat, as she yanked my jeans down. I crashed backward against the wall, her tongue thrusting into my mouth before I could protest. Not that I wanted to!
She turned on the water and dragged me behind her. The shower spray hit us like a thousand tiny accusations, hot enough to scald but I didn’t flinch, couldn’t, not with Jessica’s hands already slick with soap sliding down my stomach. Her fingers hesitated at my waistband, her breath hitching as she hooked her thumbs into the elastic. “You’re shaking,” she murmured, her voice half-lost under the water’s hiss. My pulse hammered everywhere she touched.
She peeled my boxers down with deliberate slowness, her knuckles brushing my thighs. The air between us thickened with steam and something darker, hungrier. Her palm cupped me before I could protest, her thumb circling my cockhead with a practiced twist that made my knees buckle. “Relax,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to my collarbone. The words vibrated against my skin. “Just let me.”
I was fifty percent older, and tall enough that my chin touched the top of her head.
The shower gel bottle clattered to the tiles as she pumped me with one hand, the other dragging my fingers to her waist. “Your turn,” she breathed, guiding my touch under the waistband of her bikini bottoms, cotton, soaked even before we stepped into the shower.
Her hips jerked when my fingertips grazed her. “See?” she gasped, her grip tightening around me. “We’re the same. Horny as Hell!”
And God help me, we were!
Her scents flooded my senses, cheap fruity shampoo and something muskier, more copulatory, underneath. The shower spray plastered her hair to her shoulders, rivulets tracing the swell of her breasts before vanishing into the abyss of her cleavage. She bit her lip when my fingers found her clit, her knees buckling slightly. “Fuck,” she hissed, her grip on me faltering for half a second before redoubling. “Like that, just - ah! - like that.”
Precum and body wash slicked her strokes, her fingers swiping along my rod with filthy precision. My free hand braced against the tiled wall, the other buried between her thighs, two fingers working in shallow thrusts while my palm ground against her. Her moans pitched higher, fractured by the water’s roar.