It took opening a couple of doors, one into a room with an unmade bed and the other into a bathroom, before he found her room. She was not there! She must have gone to the store or something, he thought, and suddenly, the situation just seemed inevitable. Of course, he would now have the time to give himself a hard-on, just like he sometimes did in his own bed at night. It was the only way he knew to tempt her. He hadn't enough experience to know of any other way. In fact, he had no experience at all. But he got up onto her bed, propped two pillows up against the pretty wood bedstead, and reclined back against them in a half-sitting position, his legs extended straight out before him.
Yet he hesitated. It was one thing to reason out a plan and dream about it but another matter altogether to carry it out. It took every ounce of courage the youth could muster to get up the nerve to reach down and unzip his trousers. With a trembling hand, he removed his small limp prick from his fly and stared down at it shamefully for a moment. Then he noticed with horror that he still had on his shoes! Tommy had warned him and Miss Howell had told him, too, that she never allowed shoes in her house. It was zany, if you asked him, but he didn't want to get her angry, not this afternoon! He wanted to arouse her emotions, but not anger! He looked at the little clock beside the bed. How long would it take for her to look for him, for surely she would look. He slowly began then to stroke the limp and flaccid flesh of his soft little cock!
Under ordinary circumstances, Jim never had any problem achieving an erection. In fact, it seemed that for the last few months he spent most of his waking hours with a hard-on. That's why when Tommy Speigle told him not only about the job he was losing but about the sort of thing he did for his pay, Jim had immediately applied for work. It was exactly what he needed. For though he knew masturbation was a sin and that it could cause pimples and lack of hearing among other unpleasant side effects, the practice had become almost a habit, unavoidably, it seemed. It was such a habit, that he thought it would be no trouble at all to try it here. But jacking off in the bathroom or alone in his own room at home was one thing. Doing it here in a relatively strange woman's house where she would, hopefully, find him at it, was something entirely different. In his present nervous state, he wasn't even certain he could even get an erection.
Oh, he meant to take off his shoes! He was so nervous, he had noticed them and then forgot about it. Quickly he reached down and pulled at the laces of both shoes at once, then slid them off his heels and onto the floor. He wondered if he should take off his socks. Yesterday she had him do that so he had been extra careful about getting his feet clean this morning and wearing clean socks. Well, he didn't know any specific rule about removing the socks, too. He had better leave them on. If she wanted them off, she could tell him about it.
Little Jim Craft must have then continued to stroke and fondle his limp prick for a good two minutes before it finally did begin to respond. He tried to force the awareness of his motivation out of his mind and concentrate totally on the way he had felt the other night with the big picture from Playboy magazine spread on his pillows while he lay naked as though between the sexy woman's widely parted thighs, her soft-looking haired, tender cunt completely exposed to his avid gaze, the nub end of his rigidly lewd cock stroking right up against the picture of the pink, glistening slit. At last it began to work. He felt a little twitch, and the flaccid flesh gradually transformed, the limp maleness slowly growing until it loomed up into fully throbbing rigidity.
Jim let his mind wander freely now. He conjured up a vision of that redheaded playgirl lying naked beneath him on the soft bed, her beautiful arms crossed above her head to arch and define her ripely formed mountainous tits. He had kissed one of the nipples in the picture and he recalled it now. They said the perforated pink flesh would swell to its own hardness between a man's lips. It sure sounded like heaven. The young preteen could almost smell her womanly body. It smelled like his mother, of course. He had been at it so long though, that he was getting very good at imagining the feel of a woman's warm thighs clamped tightly against his hips as though he was on the verge of entering her. Oh, God, how he longed for the actual experience of sexual intercourse. He sure hoped what he was doing now would work, because he knew instinctively, in spite of what he hesitated to believe when the guys talked about it, that nothing would compare! Sometimes, though, it seemed as though it would never happen, not to him, not ever.
Jim Craft had almost forgotten the reason for his masturbation when he heard the faint footsteps up the stairway getting louder and louder. He stiffened, a rush of adrenaline causing him to almost lose his breath and stared down in virtual disbelief at the sight of his rigidly throbbing, blood-engorged prick thrust up in fully pulsing erection between the fingers that were now swiftly manipulating the flesh up and down off the rubbery head. A little droplet of seminal fluid had leaked out the glans at the tip and glistened obscenely, and as he slackened the movements of his fingers, he felt an annoying stab of frustration in his testicles and realized almost incredulously that, if Miss Howell were not arriving within a few seconds, he would have forgotten all about her and gone ahead and shot off.
But that was not his purpose for being up here, he reminded himself firmly, and Jim knew that if he did not act now, he would lose his nerve completely. He had stopped nervously, but now he returned his hand to the rigidly swollen shaft of his blood-swollen cock and began to stroke up and down in even swifter, more frenzied movements. He closed his eyes, forcing himself in spite of all his fear to concentrate on the lewdly titillating memory of the redhead's naked but only paper pussy, persisting even as he heard Miss Howell's hand on the knob of the door. Though her feet were bare, he had been able to hear her on the stairs because they were not carpeted and bore her shifting weight with thuds and squeaks.
The handsome little blond twelve year old was grunting and groaning as if completely engulfed in his lust, his hand still working rapidly up and down along the hard throbbing shaft of his lewdly bloated cock when the door was opened, and he heard his pretty dark-haired employer's shocked gasp.
I here was a long moment, a horrendous and uncertain moment of terrifying silence, but the boy was holding his trace straight. Rebekah could not believe her eyes at first. Her next reaction was to try to think. Now she was not even breathing, and the sound of the feverish workings of Jim Craft's hand had stopped as had his own sensual groans. The young twelve year old's face was now blank and white, his eyes finally staring back at her in horror. She didn't speak. She couldn't move. Had he expected her to find him? She couldn't take her eyes off the little stockinged feet, standing up in lewdly erected suggestion just like the exposed and bulbous cock. But, regardless, it was much too soon! He had very likely expected to get away with it before she came. The motionless woman could see that Jim was every bit as stunned as she was. He looked almost as devastated as he had when she had asked him to remove his socks yesterday. She could not help drawing a parallel unconsciously between that moment and this. What would he do, how would he react, she wondered, if she slowly slipped off his socks now? Then somehow she managed to wrench her eyes away from his enthralling feet, resisting the temptation to touch them, and riveted her gaze on the nakedly exposed prick that stood up hard and solid over his open fly. Finally, her lips quivering as she tried to find the words she should speak over the din in her mind of the words she wanted to speak.