Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Jasmine The School Girl

   I don't think that most people would consider me a pervert.  You know, a
paedophile.  Some guy that lurks outside school playgrounds or public
parks, waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting kid.  But the experience I had
last summer would cast me as just that sort of character, especially in the
eyes of modern law.  Let me fill you in on my background before I tell you
the story of my fall into sexual disrepute and criminal depravity.

   My house is one of those terraced, renovated Victorian jobs, in a small
town in the West Midlands.  For the benefit of those of you who may be
wondering, I am talking about the West Midlands of England.  Birmingham,
Wolverhampton, that sort of area.  It's a comfortable, nice enough working
class area and a reasonable place to bring up a family.  The trouble is
that when I moved in with my wife, about two years ago, one of the
neighbours got ta bit too comfortable with her and they disappeared
together one Wednesday afternoon in the middle of last summer.  Ten years
we were married, then suddenly, bam, I'm a bachelor.

   Anyway, there you go.  No wife, no family.  Now it's just me, the TV and
the mortgage.  So there I am; going to work, coming home, watching a movie,
then go to bed with just my right hand for company.  It's just the same old
routine, week in, week out.  What an existence.  But hell, it pays the
bills and I did get to go down the pub sometimes.  Then one fine morning, I
find that the place I work, (big car manufacturing plant) has closed the
gates, and there's a policeman standing there turning everyone away.  A
notice fastened to the gate states that employees of the factory should go
to the local Job Centre, where we would find a 'special facility' to deal
with us.

   Well, isn't that just great, another one of life's little triumphs.  Now
I'm on the dole, which for those of you who are as familiar with the
realities of English working class existence, is a slang term for being
unemployed and drawing the meagre pittance that is social security benefit.

   So now it's just get up, watch a movie, go to bed with my right hand. 
Wonderful.

   One of the things most working guys never experience is the day time
activity of their own street.  When we're at work, there's a whole
different world comes alive where we live.

   It came as something of a revelation to me to find that my quiet road
became a hive of activity around eight thirty, twelve o clock, and four o
clock.  Cars coming and going by the dozen, kids on bicycles by the hundred
and even more of them on foot.  Yes, you've guessed it.  Sparrowfield Road
Secondary School.  Of course, I knew it was there, I'd seen it, but I had
no idea just what an impact it made on the day time community.

   I also had no idea just what young gems of femininity frequented
aforesaid temple of enlightenment and education.  At first I was quite
shocked.  Teenage girls, and even younger, parading around in short skirts
(what is it about pleated skirts that make them so sexy?), tight white
blouses, looking for all the world like young versions of Benny Hill's
`Hill's Angel's'.  (Or, more probably, are they an older version of these
schoolgirls?) Mind you, the shock very soon gave way to a sort of mild
interest, but nothing more than that.

   Not until Jasmine appeared, that is.

   Now, my front door opens almost straight out onto the street; just two
metres of front garden, if you can call it that.  I'd got up early for
once, and had just opened the front door to bring in the solitary bottle of
milk that appears on my doorstep as if by magic every morning, and there,
walking slowly by, was a vision of loveliness that was just too wonderful
to belong to this world.

   Long, sleek black hair.  Brown skin.  A slim girlish figure; but one
that had just got to the stage where it had become interesting.  But the
thing that made me forget to breathe was her face.  I have never seen such
a beautiful countenance as I did that morning.  Fine sculpted features, a
delicate nose, a hint of the orient about her eyes.  Oh!  and what eyes! 
Big black eyes.  You know the sort of eyes I mean?  Deep, exquisite pools
of liquid peace and femininity that can bring a meagre male like me to his
knees with just a single glance.  So deep and full of exotic promise that
you want to live in them, and you just know you'll die without them.

   I just stood there and stared at her.  I think I even had my mouth open.
She stopped, her gorgeous eyes looking into my bewildered ones.  'Is
something wrong?' she asked me, in a soft, quiet voice.  The sound of it
swirled around my brain, numbing it and sending me into that 'complete
idiot mode' that you get when you've been taken completely and utterly off
guard by someone.

   'Er....sorry....I....er....that is, you....no, I mean, ummm....' I
struggled manfully to regain control of my reeling thoughts.  It took a
moment, during which she contemplated me with an expression of amused
concern.  The way you might look at a small kid when it's making excuses
for being naughty.  I swallowed hard, and began again.  'I'm sorry, I was
staring.  That was very rude of me.  I beg your pardon Miss.' She raised
her eyebrows at the 'Miss' and broke into a smile.

   'That's OK!  No need to apologize.  Did I startle you?' By now I had
regained my composure, and had begun to enjoy her presence.  'In a manner
of speaking, yes, you did.' I could have mentioned the fact that my heart
had stopped for a while, and I had forgotten to breathe, but aside from
that, yes, she had rather taken me by surprise.  I felt quite stupid.  Here
was I, a grown adult, fumbling with words and thoughts; whilst she, a
teenager, was cool and composed.  'But even so I shouldn't have stared. 
I'm really sorry.' She looked at the bottle of milk I was holding.  'Er,
just taking in the milk.' I was desperate to continue our conversation, but
words failed me.

   'So I see.' I'm sure that she was laughing at me, but was too polite to
let it show.  There was an expression on her face that seemed to register
recognition of my plight.  I think she knew I wanted to say more, to hold
onto her attention for a little longer.  She didn't move, but she said, 'I
should be going, or I'll be late for school.'

   For a few wonderful seconds she let me look directly into those fabulous
eyes.  Let me gaze for a moment at the reason for living.

   'Yes, of course....Ummm, I was wondering....' she still hadn't moved and
was still looking into my eyes.  I began to fail again.  Brave men may
charge into battle to face the wrath and might of a superior army, but even
the greatest of warriors and heroes can falter and stumble in the presence
of such a beautiful girl.  'Maybe see you later....?' She tilted her head a
little, a question on her face.  I could imagine her thoughts.  'Is he some
sort of perv?  A dirty old man?' A wave of relief hit me like a pacific
tsunami as her expression softened and she replied.

   'Yes, I'm up and down this road every day.  You're bound to see me
sometime.' My face lit up like a schoolboy's!  'Great!  See you later
then!'

   With a little giggle she turned and left me on my stoop.  I watched her
as she walked up the street and disappeared into the school.  It might have
been my imagination, but I thought I saw her turn her head a little and
look back as she turned into the gate.  I closed the door, and went into
the kitchen to make my morning cuppa.  My head was just full of her; that
gorgeous face, the long black hair, the sensuous but natural sway of her
developing body as she walked away from me.  She was so polite as well, so
pleasant to talk to.  None of the snotty attitude so many kids have towards
adults.  I just had to talk to her again.  But how?  I could hardly waylay
her in the street, or at the school gates.  That would be just asking for
trouble.  I brooded for the rest of the morning, trying to figure out a way
of approaching her and getting some sort of relationship going.  However,
as a fellow sufferer once said, 'the best laid plans of mice and men....'

   My plan, such as it was, involved looking out for the kids leaving
school, then leave the house as she came past.  Hopefully then I could say
'Hello' and she would respond.  But things didn't quite go to plan.  I saw
her coming out of the school gates that afternoon, but she was with a whole
bunch of girls.  Nonetheless, I had my jacket on and was out of the door
when she was passing.  But as I looked up, hoping for a greeting or
something, she was talking with another girl, and just ignored me.

   The moment had passed, and so had she.  I was left standing on the
street, looking down the road after her.  Then suddenly she turned her head
and glanced back at me, a smile on her face.  Was she laughing at me?  No,
surely not.  It was a friendly smile not a sneer.  But why?  Why not say
something as she passed by?  I gave her a little wave and went back into
the house.

   Females, at best, are a bit of a mystery.  Teenage ones are just
impossible.

   The next day I had to leave the house early.  An appointment with the
Job Centre 'placement team' at nine meant that I wasn't there when she
would have gone past on her way to school.  'Thought about vocational
training have we?' The large bespectacled middleaged woman behind the
counter asked.  'No we haven't.' I replied; getting a less than friendly
response to my attempt at humour.  'Then I suggest that a visit to the re
training section may be a good idea....before your benefit is reduced.' I
smiled in what I hoped was a friendly manner, in the face of the obvious
blackmail, and asked where it was.  She extended a heavily bangled arm and
waved a thick and many ringed hand at a desk in the far corner of the room.
I wandered over to it.  A young enthusiastic looking chap with acne leapt
up from his chair and shook my hand.

   'Glad to see someone keen to get back in the harness, what!' he chortled
in an Oxbridge sort of Bertie Worcester accent.  I wondered for a moment if
he was fooling about, but it appeared to be his natural voice.  His manner
changed instantly.  'From the old car plant?' he asked in a sympathetic
tone.  I nodded.  'Dashed poor show, what, all those good chaps out of a
job like that....really sorry old boy...' He left the sentence hanging.  He
sounded as though he actually cared.  'Your lady colleague tells me that I
should re-train for something.  What's on offer?' He gave me a
conspiratorial look.  'Well, actually, just betwixt you and me, old chum,
not a lot.  Unless you fancy a spot of lorry driving, that is...a life on
the open road and all that....'

   At four o'clock though, I was ready and waiting for her.  This time she
came out of the school gates with just one other girl.  But this time, the
two of them parted company, the other girl going in the opposite direction.
As she approached my house, I went out into the street, and stood there,
leaning against my front door.  She was grinning as she came up to me.

   'Sorry 'bout yesterday....all my mates with me, see?  Would have been a
lot of talk and smirking going on if I'd spoken to you.  They're a dirty
minded lot, my mates!' I nodded.  'No problem.  I guessed it was something
like that.' I lied.  'We were all going swimming,' she continued, 'we go
every Monday after school.' My mind flashed up an image of this young
Indian beauty in a wet, clingy, skimpy bikini.  I tried to ignore the
stiffening sensation in my trousers.

   'I used to swim a lot myself, before I moved here.  I belonged to a
SCUBA diving club.  I should go again....keep fit.' An idea had begun to
form in my mind.  A cunning plan.  Dare I suggest it?  Why not?  'Where is
the local pool then?' She made a vague gesture towards the town centre. 
'It's about half a mile from here, straight along the High Street towards
the station.' 'Nice place is it?' 'Yeah!  It's only been open about a year.
The old place was a real grotty dump.  The new one's really nice.'
'Ummmm....you like to show me round it?  Saturday morning maybe?' My heart
was thumping.  She looked at me, the smiling relaxed expression gone.  She
was chewing her bottom lip.  For a second or two I thought I'd blown it.  A
different expression now inhabited that lovely young face.  I wasn't quite
sure how to interpret it.  Then she said, 'OK.  If you want to go.  No sawn
off jeans allowed though, got to have proper swimming stuff.  Meet me in
the cafeteria at eight thirty Saturday morning.' She turned to go, but
hesitated.  'If anyone found out, I couldn't go.  It would be too....you
know....they wouldn't understand.' I interrupted her.  'It's OK.  I know
what you mean; I won't say anything to anyone.  I'll be in the cafeteria at
eight thirty.' She grinned again and hurried off up the street.  I felt so
weak that I think I would have fallen over if I hadn't been leaning against
the door post.  She'd agreed!  She was willing to spend time with me,
alone, just the two of us.  I was going to see (quite literally) a whole
lot more of my beautiful little Indian maiden.

   Each morning I watched her from my window as she went to school .  I
don't know if she saw me, but if she did she showed no sign of it.  On
Friday I rummaged through the swimming trunks at H&M and found a pair that
were about right.  Not skimpy Speedo things, but not great bags either. 
Got to try and maintain a reasonable image, don't you think?  Something
about 'ageing gracefully' sums it up.  Continuing that line of thought, I
made for the barbers shop on the corner, and had him tidy me up.  I might
be the wrong side of thirty, and she is probably the wrong side of sixteen,
but there's no need to let things go, right?

   It was whilst I was sitting in the barber's chair that the nerves
started to get going.  Up until now I hadn't worried about the situation.
But as the barber began demolishing the local football manager's
reputation, I started thinking about angry fathers, accompanied by angry
uncles.  About overly formal policemen asking if 'Sir' was aware of the
young lady's age at the time of the alleged incident.  "Local Paedophile
Caught!" headlining the Echo.  Of burly prison inmates with 'love' and
'hate' tattooed on their knuckles and young daughters on the outside.

   My hand was trembling somewhat as I paid the football critic for my
haircut.  As I wandered home clutching my H&M plastic carrier bag, I tried
to justify everything.  After all, I wasn't planning to rape her, or, come
to that; I hadn't even really planned trying to have sex with her.  OK, OK!
I'll be honest, I'd thought of hardly anything else, especially as I laid
in my bed at night getting rid of the stiffness, if you know what I mean. I
knew that deep down what I really wanted was to have her.  To hold her and
possess the innocence of her.  To watch her face as I led her step by step
through her initiation into the world of the adults and sexuality.  Then
the conscience fired up.  To rob her of her innocence?  To debauch her, to
take advantage of her naivety for my own selfish pleasure?

   Why can't I think like other men?  Just get her knickers down, do the
business and give her a kiss goodbye.  Other guys seem to manage that
without going through a great internal debate, don't they?

   There again, I suppose most men don't get involved with teenage
schoolgirls.

   I had difficulty getting to sleep Friday night.  I dreamed of being
chased round the pool by angry brown parents screaming 'Pervert!' at me. 
The shrill piercing racket, however, turned out to be the alarm clock, not
a demented mother lusting after my lifeblood.  I dragged myself out of bed
and downstairs into the kitchen.  As I sat there sipping my breakfast mug
of tea, I decided that today would not be the day that her innocence came
under threat, that I would be just an acquaintance, not her seducer.  An
older friend, a life mentor.  I stopped in mid thought.  I didn't know her
name.  Have to sort that out pretty quickly.  Have you ever found yourself
in that situation?  It's awful isn't it?  So embarrassing.  I wonder how
many men have lit up that post coital cigarette and said, 'How was it for
you.....er.....' Having spent the whole of the previous evening buying her
drinks, dancing with her, smooching with her, and then having taken her
home, stripped her naked and inseminated her, he has only just realised he
hadn't asked her name?

   How many women have moved across the bed to avoid the wet patch, and
wondered how the hell she was going to find out what his name is?  Bet its
more than just one or two!  Not that I had any plans to have sex with her,
of course.  Oh No.  I'm going to be the perfect Gentleman.  The upright (no
pun intended) citizen.  But I guess we all know it's hard to be righteous
when you're horny.

   I was just beginning to doubt that she would turn up when she appeared,
breezing into the foyer through the revolving doors.  'Hi!  Sorry I'm
late!'

   'No problem.  You look fabulous, by the way.' I think she may have
blushed.  A bit difficult to tell with girls that colour, isn't it?  A
white sweater with a huge roll neck hid her upper body, long black hair
cascading down her back.  A pair of jeans so tight that there should be a
law against them, accentuated the curve of her hips and highlighted her
perfect bottom.  Huge gold hoops hung from her pierced ear lobes.  On her
shoulder, what looked suspiciously like a genuine Gucci bag, completed the
effect of making her look like a teen version of one of those Bollywood
film stars, all sophisticated and exotic.  Just the average teenager
then....

   I was treated to that big heart melting smile again, followed by an
indignant explanation of why she was late.  'Dad was making a fuss this
morning 'bout me going out.  I told him I was going to a friend's house
then off to watch a volley ball match.  He's so old fashioned!  Thinks I
should go everywhere with one of my brothers.' 'Brothers?' I queried, my
mouth suddenly going dry.  Another vision of a horde of young adult males
chasing me around the country, hell bent on killing the swine who had
dishonoured their family.

   'Yes, two of them.  They're real pigs.  Make my life hell they do
sometimes.' 'Really?  How old are they?' Again with the dry mouthed casual
tone.  'The eldest one's seventeen, the other's fifteen.' 'So they're both
older than you, then?  She eyed me suspiciously.  'How'd you know how old I
am?' I smiled.  She's sharp this one.  'I never told you.' 'You never told
me your name either.' I said, pleased to be able to get the subject aired
so easily.  'I just guessed.  You're certainly not eighteen, so you must be
younger than the eldest one, and I was guessing that you're not sixteen
either.  That makes you the baby of the family.  Want a coke or a coffee or
something?' Her expression eased and she said quietly, 'I'm fourteen, my
name is Jasmine, and a coke, please.' she paused momentarily before hitting
me square on with the broadside that was her next question.

   'What about you then?'

   You always forget that there's two sides to a story, don't you?  Of
course I knew that she would want to know my name, as I wanted to know
hers, but the topic of my birthday had not really occurred to me as a
possible topic of conversation.  And I really didn't want her to know I was
nearly twenty years older than she was.  More than twice her age.

   'Andy.  Short for Andrew, but only my mother calls me Andrew, and then
only when she's angry with me!' Her fabulous eyes were still holding mine.
A knot formed in my stomach as I realised I was not going to get away with
just telling her my name.  'How old are you then?' She asked.  That's the
trouble with kids nowadays, isn't it?  No sense of propriety.  It's just
bad manners to ask such questions right out like that.  But Jasmine, as I
quickly learned, was painfully straight to the point.  She wanted to know?
She asked.  With no regard to the consequences or other people's feelings.

   'Umm, over twenty one?' I ventured.  She laughed.  A sound akin to that
of songbirds in springtime.  Beautiful, happy, filled with the love of
life. My internal organs turned to water, and if there had been any doubt
in my mind before, I knew that from that moment on, I was lost.

   'No, really, how old are you?' We were walking down the tiled corridor
following the signposted trail to the changing rooms when she recommenced
the interrogation.  Pushy, this one.  'Is it important?' I asked her, still
trying to avoid the inevitable.  'Why won't you tell me?' She reposted,
impatiently.  The corridor was deserted apart from us.  I stopped and
turned to face her.  'Look at it like this.  Here we are you and me. 
Together.  Either I should be fifteen, or you should be twenty something,
but as it is, you're fourteen, and I'm thirty three.  Why do you think I'm
trying to avoid the age issue?' She looked shocked at my outburst and
somewhat embarrassed.  She began to study her shoes.  Throwing caution to
the winds, I continued.  'I'm out with a beautiful girl that's young enough
to be my daughter, and I'm loving every second of it.  Most people would
want me locked up, and your parents would want me dead.  And you want to
know why I don't want to talk about my age?!' She glanced up at me.  'I'm
sorry.  I didn't think you'd be upset.' Her voice was timid and for a
moment I thought she might cry.  Panic began to rise.  Had to straighten
this out, quick!  'Jasmine, I'm not upset.  I love being with you.  I've
thought about nothing else all week.  But you must see it from my point of
view.' This time she straightened up a little, regaining her composure. 
When she spoke she sounded a little more confident.

   'Well....yes....I've been thinking about today as well.  I've never been
out on a date before.' She caught me totally off guard again, 'Date?  A
date?  We're out on a....?  Well, now you put it like that, I suppose we
are.' 'Or don't you think it is then.  A date, that is.' Did I catch just a
hint of disappointment in her voice?  I couldn't help but smile at her. 
'Yes of course it is.  I just hadn't thought about it in those terms.  Come
on, let's stop gabbing and go for a swim!' The mood immediately lightened,
and we made our way to the changing rooms.

   She appeared on the poolside in a black one piece swimsuit.  The sort of
thing competition swimmers wear.  Even so, every pair of male eyes in the
place swivelled round and settled on her.  She was the epitome of young
female sexuality.  Talk about ripe.

   If you could tear your eyes away from her gorgeous face and let them
head south, they'd first come across the most beautiful pair of breasts
that ever graced a human female.  And those fabulous orbs moved not a
millimetre as she trotted along the poolside.  Her nipples just managed to
disturb the material of her swimsuit, emphasising the fact that her breasts
were the perfect shape.  The rest of her was also a classic example of
feminine perfection.  Her legs were long, but in proportion to her torso;
and a lovely shape too.  A pair of gently curved hips encompassed a flat
belly, whilst the quite severe cut of the suit exposed her legs to the hip.
The effect was that the black material formed an arrow pointing down, and
led every (male) eye in the place to the point at which the material, and
all our thoughts, disappeared between her beautifully sculpted brown
thighs.

   Across the pool a stern faced wife was berating her husband.  Obviously
she'd seen him ogling Jasmine, and wasn't going to let him get away with
it! More than one woman was staring accusingly at Jasmine, and all the men
in the place, young and old, were having a good look too.

   Suddenly I didn't feel so guilty about being with her.  Society may
consider a relationship between a man of my age, and a girl of her age, as
taboo, but it was obvious that nature had no such qualms.

   At least the men in here didn't seem to have any.

   She dived into the water, gliding like some sort of dark water nymph to
the small island in the middle of the pool.  She surfaced and looked around
for me.  With a wave she beckoned me over to her.  I didn't need a second
invitation.  In I went, following her example, and came up right in front
of her.

   'What do you think of the place then?' she asked me.  It was a large
pool, sort of oval in shape with, as I said, a small island in the centre.
A wall ran parallel to one side, and a strong current had somehow been made
to run through the channel it formed.  Swimmers were entering at one end
and were being washed along by fast flowing water, to be shot out of the
far end, a bit like a watery fairground ride.

   'Nice!  We never used to have this sort of thing when I was at school.
All we had was a plain oblong pool with no technology or gimmicks.'

   'Didn't have electricity in those days, then, did they?' she jibed.  I
lunged at her but she was too quick for me and was away towards the deep
end with strong powerful strokes.

   Now, you may remember I mentioned that I used to belong to a Scuba
Diving club?  Well, I'm no slouch either when it comes to a sprint in the
water.  We arrived at the bar at the far end together.  She'd just put one
hand on it as I put my hand on her head and shoved her under.  She came up
spluttering and laughing.  'That's no way to treat a lady!' 'Told you I'm
touchy about my age!' We spent the next half hour riding what Jasmine
explained was a water jet (the fast flowing bit) and climbing ladders to
slide down tubes of various gradients into the water.  It was real fun.

   I, like most adults, had forgotten what it was like to play.  You've
just got to try it sometime.

   She was hanging on the bar at the deep end, arms outstretched, facing
into the pool, as though crucified there.  I swam up to her, when, as I was
only about a metre away, she raised her knees and caught me between her
ankles.  I think she had intended to push me under, but I instinctively
took hold of her hips, to support myself.  I slid between her thighs as she
closed them on me.  Our bodies met exactly at that critical juncture.  As
they did so, the playful grin on her face suddenly vanished as she realised
the sexual implications of our position.  She is offering, me taking!  She
was chewing her bottom lip again.

   Suddenly she let go of me, ducked under the water and swam quickly away
to the other end of the pool.  I followed, my heart in my mouth, worried
that this impromptu action had spoilt the rapport we had been building.

   She eyed me almost fearfully as I sat beside her in the shallow water
amidst hordes of little kids splashing and shouting.

   'I didn't meant to ....you know....back there, it just sort of
happened.' she said.  I didn't know if she was apologising, making excuses,
or telling me that any sort of physical contact was out of the question. 
'No, no.  My fault, I shouldn't have held onto you like that.  I'm sorry, I
didn't mean to....er....you know....do that.  Like you said, it just sort
of happened.' We had one of those eye to eye moments again.  Her eyes were
all big and shiny.  My eyes, I'm afraid, must have been sparkling and I
know I had just the hint of a grin on my face.  'You're not sorry at all!
You're smiling!' To my enormous relief, she too was smiling again.  'Well,
actually, as you come to mention it, it was rather fabulous.  I'll probably
dream about it for a month or so....' She burst out laughing.  'Don't
's'pose there's any chance of an action replay is there?' She feigned shock
and horror, then; 'Not unless you can catch me!' she shouted.  The 'catch
me' was almost lost in the splash as she flung herself towards the deep
water.  I let her go.  For about two strokes.  Then I was after her!

   She put up a good pace.  Really fast, but not fast enough though.  I
caught her about three quarters of the way down the pool.  The least
populated bit.  I grabbed her kicking ankle, and hauled it towards me.  She
vanished beneath the surface in a flurry of water.  As she came up, I
grabbed her waist, turned her to face me, and held her close to me.

   'Caught you!  A promise is a promise!' Her smiling mouth managed to chew
her bottom lip; her hands held my shoulders, supporting herself, and then,
after a slight hesitation, those lovely legs wrapped themselves around my
waist.  Mine was the biggest grin on the planet the moment her ankles
crossed behind me.  She let go of my shoulders, and leaned back, floating
on the water, head back, looking up at the roof.  I held her to me, my
erection (covered by my swimming trunks) gradually 'grows' along the groove
of her (covered by her swimming suit) vagina.

   She doesn't move a muscle as I very slowly massage her with my erect
penis.  After a minute or so she begins to respond with little movements of
her hips, rubbing herself against me.  Suddenly she says, 'I think we
should stop now!' She's almost choking; heavy breathing and splashing water
not being a good combination.  I let go of her, and we swim to the side of
the pool.  She holds onto the bar, getting her breath back.  I float on my
back, just next to her, trying to relax.  She's looking down at the bulge
in my trunks.  'Sorry.  I was beginning to get a bit carried away.' she
says with just a hint of embarrassment in her voice.  I nod towards my
erection and smile, 'You're not the only one.  I'd nearly finished!' She
giggles, and is looking at me intently.  'I didn't think.....er, that
is....' she began.  Her eyes flicked over to mine; 'Didn't think it would
be like that....?' I finished the sentence for her.  '....I've never....'
the rest of her statement went unsaid.  She seemed a little shaken.  'No, I
never thought you had.  You OK?' 'Yes, it's just that....well you
know....you're ...thingy....was rubbing my....' 'Your what?' I asked,
grinning at her.  'You know what!  Don't be horrid to me!' Good old bubbly
Jasmine was back again.

   I move right next to her, our bodies touching.  She's smiling, but her
top teeth are doing the lip thing again.  I look around.  We're alone.  At
least, there's no one close enough to see what we're doing.  I take her
hand, moving it to the front of my swim trunks, so she can hold me through
the material of my swimming trunks.  A look of 'horror' as she feels the
hardness of my cock.  Her eyes are sparkling.  I nervously manoeuvre her
fingers around my cock.  She holds it gently as I move her hand up and down
it.  I turn my hand and slip it between her thighs and Jasmine makes
absolutely no attempt to stop me.  I cup her pubic mound with the palm of
my hand, and begin to rub her very slowly, resisting the temptation to
slide a finger inside her costume.  She starts to move a little against my
hand, her legs squeezing my fingers.  For a few moments we masturbate each
other.

   'Feel as good as your own fingers does it?' I whisper.  She looks at me
aghast.  'How did you....?' 'Just guessing, but obviously you do.  Don't
let go of it....' 'Oh!  You awful man!' This time she laughed, and blushed
so deeply that even her brown skin changed to a darker colour.  I couldn't
help but laugh myself.  'Why am I awful, just for guessing the truth?' 'You
tricked me!  I'd never have told you otherwise!' 'Why not?  Everyone does
it.' 'Do they?  I thought.....' 'What, that only you did it?  Oh No.  Its
probably mankind's favourite pastime.  Anyone who says they don't is either
lying, or just hasn't started yet.' Her shriek of laughter was so loud that
a few of the people nearest to us looked around to see what was going on.
'Ask your brothers.' I continued.  The laugh died on her lips and her
expression told me her thoughts had drifted away.  'So that's what they're
doing then!' She murmured.  'What who's doing?' I asked her.  What the hell
was she talking about now, I wondered?  'My brothers!  I've seen
them....seen the bed sheets going up and down real quick!  They've been
doing themselves, haven't they?' She looked astounded by the revelation. 
'Probably.  Do it myself now and then.' She stares at me.  'Well, I'm used
to having a wife.  Bit frustrating sleeping alone now she's gone.' Her big
brown eyes gazed sorrowfully at me.  'Oh, I didn't know that.  What
happened?' 'She ran off with a guy from down the street.  Been having an
affair with him from the time we moved into the house.' I explained.  'Oh,
I'm so sorry....I wish I'd never asked now...' 'Don't worry.  I'm better
off without her.  Prefer to be alone than live with a cheat.  Besides, I'd
never have met you would I?  And after the 'action replay', I guess I'll be
busy for a night or two anyway.' She laughs in a very self-conscious
manner.

   We swam a few lengths, casually passing up and down the pool without
speaking.  She caught hold of the rail at the deep end, resting there.

   'It's nice to be able to have a bit of fun without my brothers or my dad
going on at me.' 'How's that then?' I asked, already guessing what she
meant.  There are a lot of Muslim families in our neighbourhood, and they
can be really conservative, Victorian in fact, about some things.  And
Jasmine would bring out the protective instinct in any man.

   'My brothers are always going on about how I should cover myself, to be
modest.  They're such hypocrites!  They're always trying to peep at me when
I'm in the shower.' 'I can't say as I blame them.  You're a very beautiful
girl.'

   'Am I?  I thought I was a bit boring.' 'You have to be kidding me. 
Don't you notice men looking at you?' 'Sometimes.  Why?' 'Why what?' 'Why
do they look at me?' She was serious.  She didn't know why men looked at
her.  'Because you're drop dead gorgeous and every man that looks at you is
wondering what you look like naked.' Her mouth dropped open.  'No! 
Really?' 'Absolutely.  They're all thinking what it would be like to have
sex with you.' She eyed my in a quizzical manner.  'You too?' she asked.  I
stared at her.  There she went again with the merciless questions!. 
'Er....well....yeah....of course....' She giggled at my admission of
lustful guilt.  'Seems funny to think that men....you know....want
to....well, think about me that way.' There was something in her voice that
rang a bell somewhere deep in the back of my mind.  Her tone of voice told
of deeper thinking.  'Why not?' I ventured.  'Nature's very unambiguous in
these things; and believe you me, you're one of the most unambiguous
examples of her work I've ever seen.' She looked a bit puzzled at this. 
Not surprising really.  I explained.  'You're very beautiful.  Attractive.
Sexy.  Men look at you and want to have sex with you.  That's how nature
works.' She was gazing at me, chewing her bottom lip.  Quite a habit of
hers.  Always does it when trying to make up her mind about something. 
'Don't you think I'm too young for all that sort of thing, then?' She
asked. A knot formed in the pit of my stomach.  If ever a man was asked a
'loaded' question, this was it!  Nothing for it but to speak up.

   'Me?  I think you're the most desirable young woman I've ever met, and
I'd give my eye teeth to take you to bed.  But apart from that, you're
nice, yes...' She giggled again.

   Her laugh, as I said before, turned my insides to water, but her giggles
turned my dick as hard as rock!  'But you're too young, you've got such a
lot of living to do before you get involved with the mating game,
especially with a guy as old as me.' A frown crossed her face accentuating
her youthfulness.  It looked so out of place.  'That's not true.  I know
for a fact that my Mum is much younger than my Dad, and she often says that
when she was my age she was getting ready for her marriage.' 'But that was
in India!  That's different!' I explained.  'Is it?  Why should it be OK
for them, but not for us?  Pakistan, by the way, not India.' I stared at
her for a moment.  She had said 'us'.  'Us?' I parroted.  She smiled shyly.
Her eyes dropped to study the water.  I could hardly hear her next words,
she spoke so softly.  'Yes, why not?' 'Why not what?  Why not us, or why
shouldn't it be different?' 'Both.' She said quietly.  'Oh, Jasmine, if it
could be {us}, that would be fabulous!  But somehow I think there may be
problems coming our way when people find out.' Her young face creases up in
a frown again.  'You're right, I suppose.  My parents would be really mad,
and my mates would give me a hard time too.' 'Yeah!  And the reason it's
different for us, is that in this country, a man my age....er, 'going out'
with a girl your age, is considered, er....well....improper.' 'What do you
think?  Am I old enough?'

   I'm going to have to talk to her about the questions.

   'I wouldn't say you were too young, but the law does.  And judging by
the way all the guys in this place have been eyeing you, they reckon you're
old enough too.  Most of the women in here want to kill you, and most of
the men want to kill me!' She chuckled and hauled herself out of the pool.
She looked around as she stood up, pausing to let the water run off of her
body.

   'You're right!  I'd never really noticed before.  They are looking.' She
stood there for a moment, I think she was deliberately letting them have a
good look.  She was enjoying the attention.  How very feminine.  She turned
and walked away.  I followed her to the showers, my eyes riveted to her
bottom.  Her perfect bottom.

   Never in the course of human history has a bottom been so perfectly
fashioned.  She paused to pick up her towel and shampoo which she had
dropped at the poolside when we came in.  Once again every male eye in the
place homed in on her as she bent to pick them up.  We all silently
screamed as she bent over.  The narrow strip of material that covered that
exquisite place clung tightly to her, outlining the object of all our
imaginations.  Then she stood upright again.  Just for a second, we'd all
had a brief glimpse of where heaven lay.

   My erection had begun growing again, so I climbed out of the pool and
hurried into the relative privacy of the showers to hide my embarrassment.
Jasmine was standing under a torrent of steaming water when I entered.  Her
eyes again dropped down to take in the bulge in my trunks.

   'Does that happen very often?' she asked.  I felt blood rush to my face,
easing the pressure on my trunks.  My heart was racing slightly as I
replied.  'More than usual today.  You have that effect on me, you know.'
Her giggles just made it bigger and I had to adjust it to stop the
discomfort.

   She began to shampoo her hair.  I rubbed her shoulders as the soap
bubbles ran across them.  She glanced up at me, then handed me the shampoo
bottle.  I watched as she washed then rinsed her long black hair under the
shower.  She screwed it between her hands like a washer woman wringing out
a sheet then wrapped it in her towel.  She looked at me.  We both knew I
had something to say.  It was one of those 'now or never' moments.  If I
didn't speak up now, the moment would be gone.  My throat was so dry the
words hardly came out.

   'There's a family changing cubicle....I could dry your hair for
you.....' It sounded so false.  But there was no lip chewing.  She'd
already thought it through.  Her voice was quiet but steady.  'OK.  If you
want....' She sounded so casual.  Her eyes were down, but her voice was
steady.  Once again I'm trembling, and she's as calm as the proverbial
cucumber.

   We collected our clothes from our lockers and made our way to the little
room with a dog eared sticker on it showing a silhouette of two large and
two small people on its door proclaiming 'Family Changing'.  I looked
around to make sure no one saw us enter, then followed her in and locked
the door behind me.  Jasmine dumped her clothes on the bench that ran
around the room, and sat down next to them.  She was watching me.  'You
don't have to dry my hair; there's a hair dryer and its better than doing
it by hand.' 'Oh, OK.' My turn to smile.  'So who's first?' 'First
what....? Oh!  I see what you mean.  You of course.' She grinned at me and
glanced down again at my still bulging trunks 'You're not going to change
your mind when it's your turn, and make me look silly, are you?' She pursed
her lips and shook her head.  'No.  'Course not.  Wouldn't be
fair....besides....I can't put my clothes on over a wet cozzy, can I? 
Anyway....' she never finished the sentence and I would have given a king's
ransom to hear the rest of it, but I dared not ask.  Was she about to say
something about wanting to see me naked?  Or something about being naked so
we could have sex?

   I hooked my trunks with my thumbs.  Her eyes dropped to my crotch, and
her lip got a work out!.  I took a deep breath and slipped off my trunks.
Her eyes popped wide open as my dick sprang out and stood to attention
before her.  'Never seen one before?' 'Er....yes....my brothers', but
that's not the same is it?' 'Isn't it?  How are theirs different then?' She
giggled, making it twitch.

   'Well, for one thing, theirs were always hanging down, and besides that,
they're my brothers.' I think the colour was rising in her face again. 
'Oh! I see what you mean.  Yes, I suppose it is different.  I kicked off my
discarded trunks and stood naked before her, my erection pointing out
towards her as thought it was trying to reach her all on its own.  'Come on
then, your turn!'

   'OK.  See....I'm not cheating!  Do you mind if I turn round though?'
'Yeah!  If you want.' At that moment in time I would have agreed to
anything to get her to take off that costume.  She turned around, her back
to me.  Crossing her arms she took hold of the shoulder straps of her swim
suit and slipped them off her shoulders.  Down to her waist she pulled
them, exposing an expanse of the most exhilarating brown back you can
imagine!  She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes momentarily taking in my
cock, then, stooping slightly, pushed the garment down to her feet and
stepped out of it.  Droplets of water trickled down off her hair and ran
down between her shoulder blades, continuing their enviable journey to
vanish between her round firm buttocks.

   Buttocks so beautiful that they must surely have been sculpted by the
hand of God himself, and then on one of his really good days.

   I ignored a desperate urge to fondle, instead putting one hand on her
shoulder.  She turned her to face me.  Her hands were crossed over her
breasts, her legs clamped firmly together.  And there she was, naked,
beautiful and gazing up at me with a slightly concerned look on her face.
How the hell had I managed this?

   Jasmine stood there in front of me, drops of water occasionally running
down her gorgeous brown body, her expression one of anxious expectation. 
I'd never seen anything like her.  Sure, during my bachelor life I managed
to talk a few pretty girls into my bed, but here was a young female of an
altogether different category.

   This was a female about which Norse Sagas would have been penned.  India
Rajas would have sent tributes of elephant's and opals.  Inca kings would
have sacrificed whole villages.

   I took hold of her hands and we stood there face to face, taking in the
sight of each other's bodies.  Wet shiny hair clung to her shoulders, the
odd strand or two lay glued to her superb breasts by the dampness on her
brown skin.  And such fabulous tits.  Not so small as to seem adolescent,
but not so big as to make her look a fully mature woman.  As firm as ripe
pears, topped by almost black nipples that stood erect and inviting,
hardening my cock to bursting point.  My eyes wandered down the contours of
this heavenly body, taking in the subtle undulation of her belly, the
widening sweep of her hips, the dip of her navel.  Tiny, almost invisible
black hairs ran down from her belly button, giving a shadow like effect. 
Then they flared out to form the little patch of hair that covered her
pubic mound.  Her pubic hair was virtually straight.  No 'short and
curlies' here.  'My God, Jasmine!  You're beautiful!' I gasped.  She made
no reply.  She just watched me with those gorgeous big, shiny brown eyes. I
knelt down in front of her and stared right into paradise No hair obscured
my view lower down; as smooth as a baby's bottom.  Not surprising really,
she was hardly more than a child anyway.  Jasmine's pussy was tucked away
between her thighs, but just below her 'hair line', the little button of
her clitoris was ensconced in the fold of skin that marked the beginning of
her sex.  My eyes slid slowly into the darkness between her legs, taking in
the line of her virgin, pussy as it disappeared from my view.

   'You're staring again...' she muttered.  'Er....mmmm....yes.  Sorry, I
was probably drooling too.' She giggled and covered herself with her hands.
I gently pulled them away.  'You'll have to forgive me.  Don't forget, I'm
just a mere man.  A slave to the beauty of the naked female.' I can't
resist her any longer.  I nuzzle her pubic hair with my face.  Incredibly
her body smells of flowers.  The fragrance is embedded in my mind for all
time.

   I must get the name of her shampoo.

   Something stirs deep inside me.  I can feel adrenaline starting to flow
through me.  It fires up desire, triggers lust.  Bollocks to being a
'Gentleman'.  The righteousness shit can go stick its head where the sun
don't shine.

   'Sit on the bench....' My voice is thick and coarse.  She backs away and
duly perches all prim and proper on the wooden slatted seating.  I shuffled
forward, and placed my hands on her knees.  There was a little resistance
as I pried her legs apart.  Bending forward I run my nose through flower
scented pubic hair.  She squeaked and said in an alarmed voice, 'What are
you doing?!' 'Never heard of oral sex?' I asked.  Her thighs were hard
against my temples as I opened my mouth and placed it over her clitoris. 
Her pubic hair soft on my lips.  Her hands gripped my hair as I ran my
tongue over the little button of her clitoris.  I think she tried to answer
my question at that moment, but only an odd sort of breathy grunt came out
of her mouth.

   As I begin to lick her virgin slit I can't help comparing it to the
others I've had the pleasure of.  Usually folds of wrinkled skin, loosened
by sexual activity.  Stretched by various sexual encounters.  Here though,
is something altogether different.  Jasmine is smooth, hairless below her
pubic mound, and there's hardly a wrinkle in sight.  Just a smooth slit.  A
real treasure.

   Please God, don't make me wake up just yet.....

   But it isn't a dream, 'cos there's pain as I start losing hair as the
grip of her fingers tighten.  She in turn, starts losing her cool as my
tongue gets to work.  I suck, lick and chew on her pussy.  I can taste her
now.  Slightly bitter, viscose.  Heavenly.  I lift my head and straighten
up.  She nervously eyes my cock as it comes level with her unused, innocent
sex.

   'Are we going to....to....do it....now?' She asks in a very quiet voice,
eyes still locked onto my dick.  'That's why you said about coming in here
wasn't it?  Not to dry my hair.  You wanted me in here so you could get me
naked and have sex with me.  That's why I came in here with you...I wanted
you to see me naked, and then......fuck me.'

   'Uh, yes, unless you stop me.' Jasmine looks at me with those big deep
brown eyes, and a shiver goes up my spine.  She nods her head slowly.  So
be it.  I push the head of my cock against her tight, wet little slit.  It
parts, firmly holding the knob of my cock.  I push a little more and it
goes in for about an inch or so.  She's very wet.  Then we hit the barrier.
Our eyes meet, as we both feel the obstruction.

   'You ready?' I ask.  She nods her head once.  I push against it, and her
hymen and it snaps to let me in.  'Ow!  That hurt!' she complains loudly,
pushing at my chest instinctively to try and remove the cause of the pain.
But it is only a second of discomfort for her, and I stop, remaining
motionless so she can get over it, and begin to relax again.  'OK now?' I
ask.  She nods.  'You want to go on?' 'I wouldn't have come in here with
you; be here like this, if I wasn't going to let you do it.' She whispers
'Like I said, I've never done it before, but I want to now.  Anyway, no
point in stopping, I guess I'm not a virgin anymore, so we might as
well.....'

   I begin to work my way into her.  Bit by bit.  Thick fluid encompasses
my knob, letting it slide into her.  An inch in, half an inch out, giving
her slippery pussy a chance to lubricate me as I go deeper.  It works like
a dream.  Every time I push further in, old cocky is met by thick
slipperiness.  I carry on until my balls are hard up against her bum.

   Jasmine is staring wide eyed at my cock.  Or at least where my cock was.
It's all out of sight now, as I'm buried right up to my balls in her. 
'It's all gone in!' she gasps in amazement.  'I thought it would be too
big!'

   'You'd be surprised....' I say, '....but keep watching.  The best is yet
to come!' I start to move in and out of her, gently introducing her to
fucking.  She's tight.  Really firm.  A gorgeous tightness given a velvet
feel to it by her thick natural lubricant.  I'm in heaven.  Never has a man
been so blessed.  As I get into my stride, (so to speak), Jasmine begins to
gasp and puff as I pump into her.  Her hands, at first gripping my
shoulders, move to my hips, and she holds on tight.  As I move in and out
of her, her hands pull as I push, drawing me into her with harder and
harder strokes.  After a couple of minutes, we're going like the clappers,
me pistoning away as fast as I can, and Jasmine bucking at me like a thing
demented.  It's all just too much for me, and (despite a mental promise I
made a minute ago to pull out) I let go inside her with a really good
helping of baby gravy.  It's been a long time since I had sex, and this
episode with Jasmine has been mind blowing.  I stay buried deep in her as
the last few drops ooze out of me, into her.

   As my dick slips out of her, a huge dollop of goo, flecked with drops of
blood, slides out too.  She stares wide eyed at me.  'My God!  Is it like
this every time?' she asks.  I collapse sitting on the floor, leaning
heavily on the wooden bench, gasping to get my breath back.  'No my
darling, it's not.  In fact, I've never had sex with anyone that was that
good.' More gasping....  'You're fabulous!  Marry me!' She giggles at me,
and spreads her legs to let yet more goo drip out, bending forward to watch
it splash on the tiled floor.  'You'll have to ask my Dad....is it always
this messy?' The grimace on her face, I hope, is about the goo, not me
asking her Dad.  'Probably!  No one's going to have you and not come a
bucketful.' She frowns.  'That's the stuff that makes babies, right? 
Sperm.' I nod.  'Oh hell.  am I pregnant then?' She asks me with a hint of
desperation in her voice.

   'Probably not.  When did you have your last period?' She doesn't have to
think about it, but a shyness creeps into her tone of voice.  'Just
finished on Thursday....why you want to know?' 'Because the first few days
after you've finished, you're safe.  No need to worry.' I can see the
tension lift from her.  'Really?  So we can do it again?' My mind reels. 
'You want to do it again?' I ask tentatively.  'Don't you then?' She asks.
I laugh and haul myself to my feet and grab her hands.  I pull her up and
turn her around so she's facing the wall.  'Bend forward and put your hands
on the wall....' Obediently she does so, inadvertently positioning herself
perfectly with her feet slightly apart.  I hold her hips, and slide my cock
under her bum and up into her hot, wet, oozing pussy.  It slides in all the
way up her newly deflowered vagina; oiled by the remnants of her first
time. Home in one!

   Jasmine says nothing as I begin a less frantic motion than the first
time; slower, more purposeful, lasting longer.  And this time I get a
result.  Jasmine's been holding her breath since I got up her again. 
Suddenly her silence is broken by a loud 'UHH!' and she begins breathing
fast, loud and heavy.  In half a minute she is pushing back at me,
squeaking and squealing.  She almost screams as her orgasm hits her.  I
push hard up inside her, squirting another, albeit smaller, portion of the
sticky stuff into her gorgeous teenage body.  My knees go shaky, and I back
off, out and away from her and slump onto the bench.  Jasmine sort of
slides down the wall, into an untidy heap on the floor.  I guess it was a
good one for her too.

   She turns to me with a grin on her face.  She sounds exhausted.  'No
wonder there's six billion people on the planet!' Astute one, my Jasmine.

   We clean up, and start to get dressed.  Jasmine pulls a pair of white
flowery knickers from her bag.  'I wouldn't put those on just yet if I were
you.  Not if your Mum does your washing.' Jasmine looks at me with a
slightly puzzled expression on her face.  'Got any tissues?  She knows what
semen stains look like.  She's been married a long time.' She nods slowly.
I can almost see her brain working out some of the implications of having
illicit sex.

   We wander down the High Street.  She even holds my hand until I remind
her that someone she knows might see us.  I'm getting horny again, 'cos I
know that as soon as we reach my house, it's going to be coffee, and then
she going to be naked and in my bed for the rest of the afternoon.  My
guesses turn out to be accurate.  Bouts of frenzied sex interspersed with
some very nice cuddles and snoozes.  By the time she goes home, she's one
slightly sore, well serviced girlie, and I'm the happiest most sated guy on
the planet.

   Two days later she's back, and informs me she's on the pill.  I shall
have to check and see if I've died and gone to heaven.  I wonder if this
girl is going to kill me with her voracious sexual appetite, or if it will
be her family with carving knives and baseball bats?  I suppose if I'm
lucky I'll just get ten years in jail.  With my luck its bound to be one or
the other.

   So now you have it, the whole story.  But before you point the
accusative finger at me and scream 'Paedophile!', which man amongst you
would have done anything different?  Jasmine was no baby girl.  OK, she was
only fourteen, but she was ready, able and more than willing.  Be honest
with yourself, at least.  Who's going to tell me they would have been the
moral citizen and left her virginity to some other lucky guy?  I'll bet
there's more than just a few of you that would have done exactly as I did.