My neighbourhood: Phoebe and Me

Right, so my name’s Jason. I’m eighteen and about to graduate from high school and hopefully I’ll get to do some college time after, but all that’s not important right now. What you’re about to read is a little slice of my life; a few of the things I get up to. Technically, not everything described in here is entirely legal, so I hope you keep your eyes open and your mouth closed, for my sake.



This is how it all started.

So Phoebe’s my neighbor’s daughter. She has short blonde hair, the most beautiful blue eyes you’ve ever seen and freckles across her little nose and cheeks. She had just hit thirteen, I found out, when she and her parents moved in some months ago. We live in a nice neighborhood in the suburbs, so it didn’t take long for our families to get close when they first moved in. Phoebe’s a beautiful girl. She always wears those tiny shorts that show off her legs and is always outdoors. Whether she’s reading or playing or doing nothing, she just loves to be outside. She’ll even rake the leaves just to find an excuse to be out. Phoebe doesn’t have any siblings, so I find myself talking to her quite often and we’ve become good friends. She’s a major tomboy; never afraid to stand up to any kind of challenge, and fortunately for her parents, that intimidates the boys in her grade, whom she finds very boring. When most girls her age are painting nails and chattering on the phone, she’ll be on her back porch reading one book or another, or holding a soccer ball and taunting me to come play.

But behind that façade, she hides some emotional problems. Most of her friends, even the close ones, find it hard to relate to her aggressiveness and lot of people don’t like her simply because she’s a beautiful blonde, which makes her resent any hint of vanity showing in her. But she doesn’t need to be vain to be beautiful. That’s what I tell her whenever we talk about those girls who try and screw with her mind, trying to make her shave all her hair off or something like terrible that. But I tell her that even if she shaved all her hair off, she would still be way out of their league, and that always makes her smile.

Whenever I come back from practice, Phoebe comes up to me in my back yard and I play a little bit of soccer with her to teach her a thing or two. She loves the game and doesn’t go down without a fight, so after these afternoon games we’ll be so worn out that we’ll both crash in the shade to cool off and enjoy the breeze for a bit. Naturally, with my perverted mind, I find it hard to tear my eyes away from her shirt, which by then will be soaking wet. For a thirteen-year-old, Phoebe’s well on her way to a perfect rack. I imagined I could cup my hands around her tits and they would fill them out almost completely. I’ve noticed that she hates wearing bras at home. Her parents will have to work on that, but in the meantime, that’s all the better for my viewing pleasure. While she stares into the sky, talking about some book she read the other day, my eyes will drift down to the wet fabric that clings to her perky breasts, forming those two beautiful, feminine contours, which will taunt and tease me until my dick is stretched to its limit. Several times I imagine myself just picking her up and just fucking her senseless right there. Social norms should burn in hell.

I came home from practice early one Tuesday to baby-sit Phoebe because her dad, who was usually home in the afternoons, had to go see to some business out of town. When I got to her house he was already in his car by the curb with the engine running. His wife was going to be back from her day job by five, which was in about four hours. I went into the kitchen to fetch some food for Taffy, their cat who looked quite hungry meowing over her empty bowl, when I heard Phoebe upstairs, singing in the shower. As I began to imagine what the scene looked like up there, I sighed.

Moral dilemma again. Why do I do these things? She’s just a kid. Phoebe’s barely a teen and I’m already having fantasies about seeing her naked body in the shower, with water running through her hair and down her body, her hands rubbing her firm tits and puffy nipples, dripping down her crotch, over her sweet vagina…

Oh, what the hell. You can’t blame a guy who has a prick for brains.

I walked out of the kitchen through the living room to the stairs. I gingerly climbed up each step; I was scared as hell. When I reached the top, I had to find the shower. I had never been up there before because I never needed to. It was right across from the top of the stairs and curiously, the door was slightly ajar. It had no keyhole, so that was a relief. I couldn’t see anything immediately looking through the crack, but I readjusted my position when I noticed a mirror right beside the door. Looking through the mirror, I was bummed to see a shower curtain between me and the Promised Land, but I could still see a faint silhouette of her body through the curtain. She had stopped singing and turned off the water, then she began talking;

“I want you bad,“ she moaned and brought her hands to her breasts. “I’ve wanted you to touch my body for a long time now.”

What the fuck? Phoebe? Am I dreaming?

“I love you so so much. Just take your time and touch me all over,” she continued, and ran one hand down to her pussy. She moaned and moaned and let out the most adorable girly whimpers as she masturbated and played with her tits.

“Touch me. Oh, touch me…”

I never would have thought that Phoebe was this horny. Maybe my fantasies can come true after all…

I was about to whip out my dick and score one for the team, but my gray matter kicked in before I soiled their carpet with my man juice.

Damn! I’m sitting front row center to the most erotic show on earth and I cant even jerk off! This is crap! Crap! Crap! Crap! I banged my fists on an imaginary table, then quickly turned back to the show. I thought I was gonna cum in my pants just watching Phoebe masturbating and making love to herself. After her climax she leaned her back against the wall and slid to the floor of the shower and sat there breathing heavily.

Swoosh! The shower curtains parted! I nearly fell down the stairs as she got out of the shower and grabbed a towel. I half-tumbled down the stairs on my hands and feet and collapsed into the living room.

Did she see me? I lay there for a few seconds and grabbed my thumping chest as she dried herself upstairs. I scrambled to my feet when I heard her coming down the stairs only a few moments later. Skidding into the kitchen, just as she reached the bottom, I proceeded to look for poor Taffy’s cat food. As she walked into the kitchen she stopped for a second and seemed startled to see me.

She was wrapped in a very short towel, which covered her tits and ended right below her ass. Her hair was wet and so were her bare, slender legs. She was dripping a little on the kitchen floor.

“Hey,” she started, “my dad’s left already? I didn’t think he’d be gone so soon.”

“Yeah, he seemed in a hurry. He left like two seconds after I got here.”

“I’m just getting a glass of water,” she explained.

“Yeah, sure,” I replied as I browsed through the cabinet.

All of a sudden, I had the craziest idea. I was gonna have a little harmless fun with her. She hadn’t washed her hands after that little episode upstairs; she came straight out of the shower. First, a quick test: I asked her to get the can opener for me. She gave it to me with her left hand. I then asked her to toss me a napkin. Again, with her left hand. I smiled on the inside.

“Phoebe, show me your hands.”

“Wh-what?”

“Your hands. I just remembered something I read about people’s hands in a magazine.”

Before she could move away I picked up both her hands and continued.

“It said that you can use the horizontal lines to tell what kind of job you’re gonna…wait a second. Your hand smells… good. Did you just eat something?”

By this time she was attempting to retract her right hand, which had begun to tremble. “N-n-nothing, no, no,” she stammered.

“Wow, this smells like…may I?”

And before she could ask ‘May you what?’ I put her forefinger into my mouth…and sucked on it. I closed my eyes and went ‘mmm’, and pretended like I tasted something; but she had already wiped her hand dry with the towel so there wasn’t much left to taste. But, of course, that was the last thing on her mind.

When I opened my eyes, and saw her eyes wide open and her mouth slightly ajar, she looked like she had passed out standing up. Her hand was on her chest and she didn’t seem to be breathing at all.