Chapter One

 

Sara yawned and stretched out in her bed, then rubbed her eyes and slowly sat up. Her gaze turned immediately to the window and she felt a slight surge of pleasure at the bright sunlight and the cloudless sky.

She had a game today, after all, and the last thing she wanted was for it to be called on account of rain.

She threw back the covers and swung her long legs around and over the edge, then stood up. She walked across to the window and looked out again, just to make sure there wasn't a storm somewhere off in the distance. There wasn't. She sighed happily, leaning on the window sill, only peripherally aware of the weight of her breasts pulling down against the thin, cropped halter she habitually slept in.

Below the light, somewhat warn halter she wore a pair of thin, high cut panties, the narrow triangle of fabric over her mons held tightly in place by two thin strips curving up high across her hips, her buttocks peeking out of the rear as it was pulled tightly across her bottom.

"Right on," she said, straightening and turning away, then strolling across the room to the door. She flung it open and trotted down the stairs, then into the kitchen.

"Hi," she said.

"Good morning," her mother smiled.

"You iron my uniform?"

"Sitting on the table."

"Thanks."

"What do you want for breakfast?"

"Uhm, I dunno," Sara said, pulling her blouse up and shaking it out.

"You have to eat something. You're too skinny."

"Oh right," Sara snorted.

"You are. You're tiny. You're all skin and bones."

"Hardly, mother."

"The only thing big about you is your boobs."

"Mother!"

"Well it's true."

"Look, I'll have a couple of pancakes, okay."

"That'll do."

Grumbling, Sara carried her blouse and skirt upstairs and into her room, then laid them out and went down the hall to the bathroom. She grabbed a big towel from the linen closet, then closed the bathroom door and locked it.

After hanging up the towel she turned and looked at herself briefly in the mirror, eyeing her loose, shoulder length blonde hair, reasonably pretty face and...

She reached down to the hem of her little crop top and gripped it cross-handed, then, as sexily as she could, she peeled it up her body and over her head, then hung it on a hook, then slipped her thumbs into the thin waist of her bottoms and peeled it down and out, bending, her breasts hanging heavily as she stepped out of them before straightening. Naked, she looked at herself again.

She had a tiny waist, but her hip were wide. She turned and looked at her behind in the mirror. It wasn't bad, really, quite round and firm, though small.

She faced the mirror again and stood straight, pushing her chest out. Funny, she thought, they did look rather big now. When she had clothes on they seemed pretty normal, well, noticeable, maybe, but not this big. Now, naked, they seemed somehow too large for her body. Maybe it was because of her tiny waist, her thin frame.

Sara was something of an athlete, and her body looked trim and firm, the musculature of her chest and belly clearly showing when she pushed her chest out. Her thighs were toned, her legs strong and well-proportioned, nicely contoured all the way down to her ankles.

She was no more a narcissist than any other girl her age, which wasn't saying much, but enjoyed the sight of herself naked. It was still a reasonably new body, after all, only a few years since she had “sprouted”. She was well aware of how attractive she was to boys, how they lusted after her, longed to get their hands on her.

That kind of turned her on. It wasn't just boys any more either. Men too were glancing at her with lust and interest when she moved past now, real men, men with real jobs, men old enough to be her father.

 She knew - vaguely - what was on their minds. She was a virgin, but knew all the details involved in sex. she hadn't gone all that far with guys yet, mostly because she was worried about her reputation, and kind of scared and disgusted at the idea of a guy putting his - thing - inside her body.

It was exciting, too, though, and she had many fantasies where she and some gorgeous guy writhed naked in front of a fireplace, or on a beach, or in a field of grass...

But so far she hadn't dared. The furthest she'd gone was when Joey Morgan had gotten her top open in his car one time and had sucked and chewed on her nipples before she'd managed to draw together enough strength to push him off and close her shirt.

Every time she thought of that her heart gave a little lurch at the pleasure and the intensity of the lust which had rippled through her young body.

But she'd never dared repeat it, afraid of the stories which would get out, afraid of a reputation, and afraid of herself, of her own weakness. Father Frasier had given many sermons on the topic of extra-marital sex, on the subject of immorality and moral weakness. She was determined to be strong, to follow the will of God and not give in to lewd, immoral debauchery.

She was eighteen, after all; a woman - if for all of five weeks. She needed to conduct herself like a lady, and was determined to be a virgin on her wedding night. She would save herself for her husband, as the Church said she must.

But oh it was difficult sometimes!

She cupped her breasts and then slid her fingers onto her nipples, pinching them just a bit, and pulling them outwards. They were small and bright pink, but she remembered how hard and sensitive and long they'd gotten when Joey had sucked. How they had throbbed and burned and set her chest on fire.

She shook her head in annoyance and turned, stepping to the bathtub. She turned on the water, got in, and began to soap herself up.

Her thoughts turned to the game that day as she casually ran her hands over her soapy young flesh. She was playing right wing on the school's field hockey team, and anticipated a win today, since Sherman Oaks was a weaker team than St. Mary's, her school. It was her last year, after all. She’d be off to college in the fall - where any manner of lewd things might happen, she thought a bit daringly.

She dried herself in the towel, then blow dried her hair so it was thick and full and fluffy, with just the right amount of bangs. That took awhile, and she didn't really have time for breakfast. Her mother made her eat it anyway.

She raced to the corner just in time to catch the bus. It wasn't a school bus, just a regular city one, and more than a few of the men eyed her with less than paternal thoughts as the pretty blonde girl in the blue jacket and tartan skirt made her way down the aisle

She ignored them, mostly, though she was aware of some looking a bit longer than was polite. She sat in the back, her legs chastely crossed, and looked out the window as the bus lurched along. She pulled her math book out of her gym bag and buried her nose in it, ignoring the world for the half hour ride to school.

The world, however, did not ignore her. It was a boring ride, and every one of the men in back let his eyes flicker across to the pretty girl from time to time. Some merely exercised their eyes, scanning her nice legs and soft, golden hair, enjoying her as they would a pretty picture.

A few let graphic daydreams slide over their minds, their eyes trying desperately to slide up under the tartan skirt as they imagined her on all fours, bottom in the air, or on her back with her knees shoved back against her tits.

And then there was one whose mind was far more calculating. He never stared, but his eyes seldom left the girl. He assessed her age, her likely measurements, whether the blonde hair was real (He was sure it was), whether she were a virgin (probably, he guessed), and more importantly for Sara, whether she was worth the careful effort of following, and grabbing.

He watched her eyes when they came up from the book and looked out the window. They were a very bright blue, and seemed almost unnaturally wide as she looked upwards. She had a small, pert nose, a sweet mouth with full, pouting lips, and a narrow, elfin chin.

Very pretty. Lovely, in fact, with a certain special... something, a certain character that he found quite appealing. She was of an age for training, certainly. His only problem lay in her schoolgirl uniform. It covered and shaded too much. He couldn't be sure of her figure. Only the best would do.

She appeared to have good legs, from what he could see, but the chest was uncertain. He studied her as the bus moved, then studied more carefully as she put her book away and stood up. His eyes narrowed as he saw the jacket held out by her chest.

Perhaps. Yes, perhaps.

He rose and got off behind her, staying well behind as she walked down a couple of blocks amongst a group of similarly clad teenagers. They turned into a large grey stone structure, St Mary's Catholic High School, it said on a sign.

He nodded his head and turned away.