This is a print version of story Netting a Sugar Daddy for fun (Part 1, the introdu by MarieL from

Netting a Sugar Daddy for fun (Part 1, the introdu

Dont be shocked guys, girls really do 'Wanna have Fun'
But not unlike you might think, 'Its easier for us', Its NOT, as this encounter will show you, what a teenage girl gets up to, in order to make an old fat man put his hand down your fresh cotton knickers.
I was at that age where my hormones were running wild with my whole being. My body was developing the curves where they mattered, but I was retaining my 'tomboyish hips' and small buttocks, something either persuasion of the male sex, would have been happy to have laid bare on their mattress for fun.
Of course the hormones also make you more aware of men and I lost count of the number of times I was caught looking at mens crotches, and wondering what it looked and felt like.
I was inexperienced but smart, bright for my age and well educated, mature to the point of knowing what I wanted, but as previously stated, sexually inexperienced, and it was this I wished to start my education on.
Winter mornings in the Artic North are both dark and cold. Sitting in a bus shelter on a wooden bench surrounded by ice and snow at 06:00am, is soul destroying, and the worst possible start to anyones day.
On such a morning I sat, only to be jolted out of my dozy state of mind, by a sudden ray of light from an upper appartment across from the shelter.
I looked casually across to it when to my shock, a man walked across completely nude and dissapeared on the other side. I looked immediately to my fellow passengers, but none of them had witnessed what I seen.
When the bus arrived I was in two minds whether to get on or stay and hope for another exposure.
Of course I reluctantly got on, but my mind was firmly stuck in that shelter with the naked man playing for me, as my mind expanded on my experience with a little more of what I really wanted, than with what I had actually seen.
Coming back to the shelter I sat down in the same part of the bench and gazed across at the window, holding my breath and praying for another vision, this time in the bright light of the winter sun, but no such luck.
I decided to explore a little further and went across to the building, entered the closeway and ascended the stairway, to his door and took note of the name.
In my room I had a name and street address, I needed to know more and the investigative nature of the female in me took over.
At school the network of girly information soon led me to a young guy who happened to have a paper round for that area and with general coversation I learned through time more about the man who now gripped my fantasies.
He was widowed, lived alone, liked girly magazines, was a good tipper and always showed an interest and gave advice to his young paper boy.
The weeks passed with me looking and waiting and finally one morning I saw him again and this time the shelter was empty. I was the only occupant and he was in full view in his window, just him and I, as even the street below was empty.
His darkened form faced me as the light from over his shoulder hid everything I wanted to see, and I assumed he could not see me as I sat in the darkness of the shelter.
I strained my eyes to see more, especially as his shoulders and arm movement would indicate he was actively doing something, but the darkness was masked by that damn light from behind.
Suddenly he stopped doing whatever he was doing, turned and moved off. It was as he turned I caught a glimpse of his erection, yes his cock was up, so he must have been doing what I thought he was doing, and even more enlightening, was the mark on the widow pane, a small blob, like a splash and this was confirmed when he returned in housecoat and wiped it clean.
I was reliving my sneaky voyourism when my bus arrived and as I took my seat I suddenly realised my seat, where I sat watching, had been in illumination from his light, he could see me watching him, even though he was in the dark to me.
If what I was thinking was true, he was a dirty old bastard who wanked off to young girls, just what I wanted, and I knew more about him than he me.
So you the reader will not be surprised when I say I popped a letter through his door on Saturday Afternoon, concocted by me, offering the Guides 'Bob-A-Job' service, due next week.
I devised it on my computer as a type of questionaire and all he had to do was tick the boxes for the time, and type of chore he wanted done.
He chose the general house cleaning option with a two hour time frame, from 09:00 in the morning, the following Saturday.
I knocked his door that evening and in my coyish and innocent manner informed him I was to be his girl and would be there as promised.
Needless to say he was in raptures, I must have looked like all his Christmases had come together and as I walked away I had a feeling in my belly this was going to be a memorable two hours for both of us.
Back then we were showing a lot of skin, leaving nothing to the imagination, but with it being so cold this kind of exposure was left to the confines of a warm home or dance hall.
I was not a guide, so I did not posses the uniform, more the pity but white cotton knickers with plenty of opertunity to show them in my girly innocence, would suffice in my lure to drawing him in.
Of course protection of my being was well catered for as he would have to sign my time in, along with my signature, and sign my time out, coupled with use of my mobile, which I would use in front of him, stating my arrival time and a promise to call on my leaving. These ficticous calls went now-where of course, as they were never connected, but how was he to know that.
I arrived early, 15 minutes before 9 and as I approached his building I noted his curtains were drawn. Into the close I walked, straight to the back door, where I changed clothes, off came my ski pants and on went my short skirt. Pulling my black stockings up to their highest, one inch below my knickers, I rolled up my pants and put them in my carry bag.
I pulled out my mobile phone, walked up the stairs, took a deep breath and knocked his door.
As he unlocked it and opened, I said into my phone, 'That's me at Mr X's house, it's 08:55 and I will call you before I leave.'
He stood there in his dressing gown, smiling and licking his lips, looking me up and down in a very lecherous manner.
'Come in my dear', he said moving aside and as I made my way past him I could hear his sharp intake of breath, as he drank in my youthful feminine odours, now giving off from the heat of my body, one inch above my stocking tops.

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