*Little Leah And Her WKD Side ----------------------------------------------- Part 1 *
Lets face the facts; the nice, sensible teenage girls start off with a glass of wine at the dinner table. Those other ones, you know, the ones who begin wearing make-up a little earlier than expected, who start wearing the short skirts first, who have the largest count of boyfriends in their crowd of friends by the age of sixteen -- they're alcopop girls. They lose their virginity to that stuff way before they lose it to a boy; which is normally very soon after.
The name's Tommy, by the way. Nineteen years of age and nearing true adulthood day by day. If you're wondering where on earth I came up with the latter theory, then please be open minded and at least understand that I am not trying to simply define a girl by what she drinks -- I'm not trying to define anything. I know. And I'll explain further, don't you worry.
At present I still live with my parents and my one sister, Michelle. She's sixteen years of age and a very attractive young lady; no, my friends, that is not my perversion. This is not a story of incest. The reason I mention her is because she is the perfect example of what one would call a nice girl -- not one for getting drunk or sneaking out at one in the morning. Always one to wear dresses to a party and with a glass of wine in one hand. A lady, you could say. Even at sixteen, she has never brought a boy home and wishes to concentrate on her studies before jumping into a relationship. Yes, you know. The one that every man wants to end up with once he's done with the bad girls.
And of course, we all know that every nice girl has that one friend who's a bad girl. I don't know the logic of it -- to balance the natural order, perhaps. But there's always one. And Michelle knew one bad girl who just happened to be her best friend.
Her name was Leah -- a sweet sounding name, but of course every rose has its thorns. She was younger than Michelle, though at fourteen looked about the same age as my sister, that is, when she had her make up on. And she always had it on. She made sure of that, especially, it seemed, when she was over the house with Michelle and knew I was going to make an appearance.
She was a subtle young lady -- a slut in disguise. She spoke politely to my parents when she was over, said her P's and Q's. My Mother and Father obviously weren't impressed by her dress code, though looked past it due to her pleasantness towards them.
Leah was a dark haired girl, and her hair was something she took utmost care of. I think that was probably one of her more gracious features. Her hair was sleek, shiny and pulled back into a ponytail. The rest of her, however, was anything but gracious. Those eyes, a message within them saying to the less-than-average men who looked into them 'you'll never fuck me, loser.' Her lips were distinctively red with lipstick, reserved only for the best of boys whose cocks were worthy enough of her mouth and the stud-pierced tongue that lay waiting within.
Her attire consisted of a low cut top showing soft breasts that were still developing but on show early for everyone who wanted to see. And of course, there was that short denim skirt that she wore the majority of the time -- short enough that if she dared to bend forwards even slightly, the colour of her panties would be immediately known to the person who may have taken their time to quickly glance over. That is, if she was wearing any, and sometimes she didn't. This I knew all too well.
As opposed to my blond, sensual lady of a sister, she was the polar opposite. There were plenty of times when Michelle would came home, tutting and shaking her head. When asked what was up, she would reply "Leah on the move again." I would smirk, knowing that young Leah had obviously taken the opportunity to open up those milky thighs of her again, eagerly waiting to get fucked by whatever dick wished to enter that young, wet, inviting cunt.
For a while I hated the bitch -- you know, as your sister's annoying friend. That's what I thought. But it wasn't that. It was her teasing and the fact of not being able to do anything about it. They'd both be watching TV and I'd walk in the room and there she'd be, her legs parted, smirking at me, knowing I could see. She'd conveniently drop something on the floor and go "woops! Silly me!" and bend over to pick it up, giving me the full view of panties or adolescent pussy. Sometimes I'd be sitting at the kitchen table, maybe doing some college work, and she'd come sit next to me, place her hand on my thigh momentarily, then lean in close and coo at me, "watcha doinnng, Tommy?" And of course, my cock would harden uncomfortably in my jeans. And, of course, -she- would know full well that it was doing so.
Yes, I know, she was fourteen. But come on, my friends, we know that the girls like Leah learn the tricks of the trade early on in life. No matter how underdeveloped she may have seemed, she knew how to fuck and how to make the boys want to fuck, even if they couldn't get anywhere near that teenage cunt if unless she had the say so. Had she been naive, innocent, I might not have reacted to her at all, but I was honestly got to the point where I ended up looking forward to her coming over, even though I knew legally I could never try and seduce her or fuck her. It was a love-hate relationship in my own mind.
But that was all to change on a fateful Saturday night with my parents out and with the girls planning a sleepover. I don't think anything would've happened if not for Leah sneaking that box of WKD into the house and getting off her face. But man is weak, even to young mixes such as Leah herself. Yes, it was to happen, my friends, so I ask you read on to know what this little nymphet was capable of when under the intoxication of alcopops -- the drink of bad girls.
I hope any readers who have enjoyed this introduction wish for more - I am glad to write it and will continue very soon - to know that you wish me to continue would make me grateful, so please do not hesitate to email me at kazztheanonman@googlemail.com to share your thoughts.
Thank you.