        Young Stuff - Chapter 1 - The Approach
        
             As  he hurried back toward the hotel, he looked  for  Debbie 
        along the sidewalk in front of him.  As he waited for a light  to 
        change,  he finally spotted her standing on the opposite  corner.  
        At least he thought it was her - he wasn't expecting Debbie to be 
        quite  so  'dressed up', so he wasn't really sure it was  her  at 
        first.  He stared across the street at the girl.
        
             The  brunette  he'd spotted was wearing a  blue  dress  with 
        puffy  short  sleeves.  Although the dress had  a  fairly  modest 
        neckline,  the hem was very short, barely reaching to the  middle 
        of  her thighs.  She wore white stockings, black high-heels,  and 
        didn't  look like she was just 16.  He quickly concluded that  it 
        was Debbie and he yelled across the noisy traffic at her.
        
             "Debbie!   Want a ride to the office?" he asked,  waving  to 
        her.
        
             She  looked  up, smiled and shouted something back,  but  he 
        couldn't hear what she'd said.  He watched her check the  traffic 
        light and stride deliberately across the street toward him.   She 
        didn't look just 16 up close either.
        
             "Hi!"  he  said, as she joined him on  the  sidewalk.   "I'm 
        going  to check-out of the hotel and get my car.  Do you  want  a 
        ride to the office?"  He explained that her mother would meet her 
        there later.
        
             He  suspected that she was trying hard to act  disinterested 
        in being seen anywhere with someone almost her mother's age,  but 
        Debbie soon smiled and agreed to accompany him back to the hotel.  
        They  filled their two-block walk with small talk on  nothing  in 
        particular,  although  he  did manage to tell her  how  nice  she 
        looked.  She looked damn good and he tried not to look at her too 
        obviously, but found his eyes dropping fairly frequently to steal 
        a glance at her legs.  They were very shapely and looked terrific 
        in white stockings.  He had to remind himself repeatedly that she 
        was only a high school junior; definitely young stuff.
        
             As  they  waited  for the elevator in order to  get  to  the 
        second-floor  lobby, he remembered that the last time  he'd  seen 
        Debbie,  he'd concluded that in an effort to look  grown-up,  she 
        wore too much eye make-up.  As a result, she'd looked even young-
        er  and  a little on the slutty side.  He was glad  she'd  either 
        changed  her make-up style or had forgotten to put it  on  today.  
        Her  shoulder-length  hair was naturally wavy and  her  skin  was 
        clear  and smooth, adding to the illusion of her age.   They  en-
        tered  the elevator and he noticed she stood closer to  him  than 
        was really necessary, since there was no one else in the car.  He 
        also noticed that she smelled good.  Neither said anything  until 
        the doors opened on the second floor.
        
             "Listen, I'm going to go check out and then run upstairs  to 
        pack my stuff up," he explained.  "If you want, you can just wait 
        here in the lobby and I'll meet you when I'm done."
        
             He  gestured  toward a small reception area  in  the  lobby, 
        filled  with several low couches and tables.  He turned and  went 
        to  the front desk to settle his bill, leaving Debbie by  one  of 
        the couches.  When he turned from the front desk to head back  to 
        the  elevator, he saw Debbie had sat down on one of the  couches.  
        The  seat was so low that her knees were almost higher  than  her 
        shoulders.  By walking across the lobby at just the right  angle, 
        he  got a decent look up her legs beneath her short dress.   When 
        he got close to her and started to walk past her, Debbie stood up 

        and  started  to follow him.  Somewhat startled, he  stopped  and 
        looked at her quizzically.
        
             "I don't want to sit here all by myself," she said.   "Can't 
        I come upstairs with you?"
        
             "Why,   sure,   sure  you  can,"  he  answered.    "I   just 
        thought....you know, it would be boring..."
        
             "It  would be boring to just watch you pack!"  Debbie  said.  
        "That's why I'll help you pack."
        
             Thoroughly startled now, he stammered something incoherently 
        and  headed for the elevator with Debbie close behind.   Once  in 
        the elevator, she stood even closer to him than before, until the 
        doors opened and he led the way down the hallway to his room.  As 
        soon  as he'd unlocked the door, she slipped past him and  walked 
        into  his room in front of him.  His eyes watched her  hips  sway 
        back  and forth as she moved into his room.  Before he could  say 
        anything,  she had walked to the dresser, pulled open  a  drawer, 
        and  reached  into  it.  Fishing out a handful  of  clothes,  she 
        turned toward him.
        
             "Is this drawer all your dirty stuff?" she asked, holding up 
        her hand.  "Where do you want it?"
        
             "Yes,  that's what it is, all right.  I'll get  that  stuff, 
        Deb," he replied, stepping towards her.
        
             "That's OK, I want to help," she said.  She reached into the 
        drawer  again and fished out another article of  clothes.   "Say, 
        these are cute..."
        
             Debbie held up a pair of 'used' jockey shorts and smiled  at 
        him.   She  dropped  the other dirty clothes on the  top  of  the 
        dresser.
        
             "Really,  I think they're cute!  I thought older  guys  wore 
        boxer  shorts instead of these!  I mean, I didn't mean  that  you 
        were that old, but...well, you know..."
        
             "I guess I am that old..." he muttered.
        
             "No,  really....I don't think you're old," she  said.   This 
        time,  she was the one who was slightly embarrassed.  She  looked 
        at the shorts again.  "Say, these have sort of a...a pouch on the 
        front  of  them,  don't  they?  I've never  seen  one  like  that 
        before...."
        
             "Seen a lot of men's underwear, have you?" he teased,  going 
        on the offensive for no particular reason.  He began stuffing his 
        toothbrush and cologne into a travel bag.
        
             "Well," Debbie blushed, "I have seen a few pairs...
        
             "Well,  they  have a pouch that only well hung men  need  to 
        wear..."  he teased, a wide grin on his face.  "You  know,  keeps 
        everything neatly arranged....kind of like a bra..."
        
             Debbie  eyed  him for a moment before examining  the  jockey 
        shorts again.  She put one hand inside the underpants and  filled 
        the  pouch with her fist.  Holding them up closer, she  tried  to 
        sniff  without him noticing, but he had already noticed  and  was 
        fascinated by what she was doing.
        
             "These  are really cute," she said.  Apparently  pleased  by 

        whatever her nose had detected, she smiled at him.  "You know, if 
        you've got time...."  Her voice trailed off in mid-sentence.
        
             "What's that?" he asked, tossing a pair of sandals into  his 
        suitcase.
        
             "Oh, nothing really," she said, blushing again.  "I was just 
        wondering....if you don't have to get out right away...."
        
             "Oh,  come on," he groaned.  He faced her with his hands  on 
        hips.  "What is it?"
        
             "Well...I  was sort of curious...you know, to...um,"  Debbie 
        stammered        nervously.        "To       see...how        the 
        pouch...um...works...what...um...you     think     is...uh...well 
        hung..." she stammered nervously.
        
             He stared at her in disbelief.  It was one thing to lust  in 
        his mind after a 16 year-old, and quite another to have the  same 
        little  cream-puff  asking straight-out for him to take  off  his 
        pants!
        
             "It's OK!" Debbie blurted out.  "I'm....uh...I'm not  exact-
        ly...um...a virgin...and...I've seen them before, but I'd kind of 
        like to see...what you think is 'well hung'?"
        
             He continued to stare in silence at Debbie.  She was holding 
        his  underwear  with  both hands in front of her  chest,  and  he 
        noticed her sniffing at them again.
        
             "Hey,  I  know!" she said.  "Would you like to see  my  bra?  
        I'll show you my bra and then you can show me your, uh, you know, 
        pouch.  Kind of underwear for underwear!  That sound fair?"
        
             His mind raced at the prospect but he called himself back to 
        reality by recalling her age.  Pretty or not, she was  definitely 
        under-age.  She must have read his mind.
        
             "Look,  I know I'm only 16, but I'm not a little  kid!   Who 
        would  believe me claiming you tried to get it on with  me?   How 
        about  it?  Look, I'll make it easier - I'll show you my bra  and 
        then you decide, OK?"
        
             Without  waiting for a response, Debbie reached  behind  her 
        shoulders  and  popped open a few buttons on the  collar  of  her 
        dress.   With a few small shrugs, she quickly slipped  her  puffy 
        sleeves off her shoulders.  Pulling one arm completely out of her 
        dress, she easily pushed the bodice of her dress down, uncovering 
        her bra-clad chest.
        
             The  bra  was  cut low and made of  light,  silky  material, 
        leaving little to his imagination.  Gazing at her, he was  amazed 
        to see how developed her tits actually were.  The bra pushed  her 
        breasts  together and up, creating cleavage not often seen  on  a 
        girl  of 16.  Even so, it was obvious that Debbie was  very  well 
        endowed, and the sight was not just the creation of the bra.   It 
        was a very pretty sight.
        
             "So?  What do you think?" she asked, quietly.  "Do you think 
        I'm...um...pretty?"
        
             "Debbie,  you're  very  pretty, but I  don't  think...."  he 
        started to protest weakly.
        
             "Oh,  come on!" she frowned.  "I wanted to show you my  bra!  
        Would  you like to see more?"  He realized with an inaudible  (he 

        hoped) choke that she was serious.
        
             Debbie  reached  behind her back again and  quickly  slipped 
        open  the  back-strap  of her bra.  With one  fluid  motion,  she 
        shrugged the bra-straps off her shoulders and brought her fingers 
        around the bottom edge of her bra beneath her armpits.  With  two 
        tugs, she pulled the bra cups down, baring her developing breasts 
        for  him.   He stared at the small,  rosy-colored  nipples  which 
        tipped  each  of her firm, pointed breasts.  She  was  no  longer 
        close to gorgeous - she was gorgeous.  Her breasts rose and  fell 
        as she breathed and her nipples looked as though they were  actu-
        ally beginning to harden under his gaze.
        
             "How's  this?" she murmured.  "I've never really  just...you 
        know,  practically  torn off my clothes like this  before!   I've 
        been  told  I have a nice figure...and some guys I know  like  to 
        squeeze my breasts...when I let them!  What do you think?"
        
             "I think," he began, his voice very low and tight.  "I think 
        that you are a very beautiful girl.  I think you have a beautiful 
        figure.   And, I think you are too young to be undressing  in  my 
        room."
        
             "Really?   You think I'm beautiful?"  Debbie slid her  hands 
        over  her  breasts, covering her nipples.  "I told you,  I'm  not 
        exactly...a virgin.  I've seen 'them' before, but I would  really 
        like to see yours..."
        
             "What does 'not exactly a virgin' mean?" he asked.
        
             She  blushed and looked down at the floor for a moment,  her 
        hands motionless over her naked boobs.
        
             "Well...I...I've never actually...um...y'know, been laid..." 
        she murmured, her voice barely audible and her hands still cover-
        ing her nipples.  "But I don't have my...uh...'cherry' anymore."
        
             "Try that again?"  He was fascinated by the girl's  uninhib-
        ited behavior around him and her revelations about her sex life.
        
             "I've  never  actually  been laid, but  I  got  my  'cherry' 
        popped..." she replied, her voice very low.
        
             "How's that?"  He was in no mood to stop this conversation.
        
             "I'm  not exactly sure...." Debbie began, running  one  hand 
        through her hair.  He stared at her uncovered nipple.  "I lost it 
        either  when a boy, um, y'know, used too many fingers....or  when 
        I...I tried out...my girlfriend's...y'know...her vibrator!"
        
             "Her what?!" he blurted out in amazement.  "Oh...you mean  a 
        dildo?"
        
             "Yeah.  You know, a plastic thing..."
        
             "You don't know if a boy did it or your girlfriend's dildo?"
