1. Rooming With Jodie


    Date: 10/5/2014, Categories: Fetish, Author: ChrissieLecker, Rating: 29, Source: LushStories

    Jody was two inches smaller than me. She wore a washed out blue hoodie, faded jeans with holes everywhere, and pink trainers. I knew her - only from seeing her from afar, of course, and from the rumours about some rather nasty things she was supposed to have done - from college. She was one of these ‘rebels’, or nerds, or whatever you liked to call that riff-raff with no class at all. Her shoulder length, dirty blonde hair was a mess of tangled strands. The baby fat in her rounded, makeup-lacking face gave away the fact that she had just turned eighteen. She was young, she was sloppy and she was rude. “You’re Chrissie?” That was all she had said as a greeting, and before I could even start to reply, she had sat down right next to me on the small bench in my backyard, so close that our thighs touched, and disrupted a perfectly relaxing afternoon. The cloud of perfume almost made me dizzy. I tried to wiggle and get some space between us, but she followed my movement, and the only thing I accomplished was that I was now balancing precariously on the edge of the bench. I swallowed down the feeling of discomfort from having my personal space invaded, introduced myself and hesitantly told her about the room, even though I had no inclination to share my flat with her. If I had expected questions about the layout of the room, about using the garden or details of the kitchen, I was wrong. Instead, she bent close to me, uncomfortably close, until her face was just inches from mine, ...
    and declared, “It’s perfect. When can I move in?” “Uhm, listen,” I stammered, trying to be polite, “I’m going to meet another prospect later…” I didn’t get to finish the sentence. My body stiffened and my eyes grew wide as saucers at her audacity. I tried to protest, but all that came over my lips was a feeble, “Oh!” when her hand lifted up my skirt, ever so slowly, and then her other hand went to my exposed thigh, touched it and sneaked upwards in slow motion, until it was finally pressing down rhythmically on my pussy. I should have grabbed her hand and stopped her. At least, I should have jumped up and ran away at this moment. I don’t know why I didn’t. Something about the sheer vulgarity of watching her shameless action, of feeling her hand invade my skirt and touch my pussy through the thin fabric of my panties, touched a part deep inside. The self-assured grin she sent me from inches away stopped any left-over words from forming. “You can tell them the room’s already taken,” she told me, and when I didn’t respond immediately, she pushed down hard on my crotch and drew a whimper from me that carried all the embarrassment, shock and - my heart started to beat like mad when I realized what these emotions were - arousal that I suddenly felt. The hand that had lifted my skirt now dug into my purse. I never let anyone open, much less touch the insides of my purse! But I once more managed nothing but a parting of my lips in protest, because she used that exact moment to stroke ...
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