Mum and dad are away for a few days and there was only Jayne home. The moment I got out of bed, wet and frustrated, I knew what I was going to do. So, on went my short skirt, pale blue panties, and the most see through top I've got. White socks and trainers followed. Make up? Yes, but only a tiny amount and in the right places. By the time I finished, I looked just like a young teenager.
Jayne took one look at me and harrumphed, "When you get raped, remember to say: ‘but I'm only 14!’ Now fuck off and have a cum." She knows me so well.
Off into the village and then a train into Brighton. I got plenty of attention from younger guys but that wasn't what I wanted.
Once in the city, I walked from the station to Churchill Square. That's when I started to get the looks I wanted. Especially from the ground floor when I was standing by the glass safety barrier, deliberately letting people see up my skirt. Fuck, I find that so horny!
Then I noticed a guy staring at me, and I mean staring. So, I decided to give him a show. As he stood there, looking up, I lifted my skirt at the front and just ran a finger over my panties. His eyes bugged out, but not as much as when I "accidentally" dropped my purse and squatted, knees far apart, to pick it up. I deliberately opened it so its contents had rolled onto the floor. It took a few moments to collect everything. By the time I stood up, I was so wet!
Then, a walk (more of a squelch) to a clothing store. I picked a few things and went to the changing rooms. I love masturbating in store clothes. I love the fact that someone might try them on after me, or even buy them, with my cum juice on them. So, dressed in a denim skirt and a soft cotton top, I rubbed a delicious orgasm out in the changing room.
I made sure I came in my panties, adding to the copious wetness already there. Then I took them off and changed back into my own clothes. I think the assistant I handed the store clothes back to suspected what I'd done, because she sniffed long and hard. I guess I did smell of sex a bit.
Outside, in the main body of the store, I saw him. He'd taken the lift up and was obviously searching for me. I took my panties in my hand, and walked up to him. Pressing them into his hand I said "Here. Have these. Oh, I'm only 15 by the way," and I walked off.
On the journey home, I thought about what he would do with what he thought were a pair of precocious 15-year-old girl’s panties. I hope he enjoyed them as much as I enjoyed creaming in them.
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