Several years ago I had a job for a summer where I fed paper into various different kinds of printers at night. I worked with one other person. Her name was Sanya, she was 16, and very charming in her own special way. Normally because of her age she wouldn't have been able to work there, but the owner of the company was friends with her family. She had long brown hair. She was training to be a fireman. That's right, this young lady was going to be a fireman as soon as she became old enough. I wouldn't mind being the guy to show her how to hold a hose while it was ejaculating at high pressure. She had a slender but very healthy, toned body. She always wore tight jeans that did a great job of showing off the nicest looking ass I've ever seen. I think if I was rescued by her, I would probably forget that my house was burning down.
She had an innocent, younger woman type of personality, but it was contrasted by subtle things like those tight jeans that hinted otherwise. Hanging out with the firemen very likely enlightened her to some things. Sometimes I would walk in the room and she would be leaning over the cabinet reading a newspaper in a position that really made her ass look nice. I have a hunch that she was doing that on purpose. Finally one time I said, "Wow, that looks great!"
She looked back at me through her glasses with her young librarian smile, "What does?"
I pretended to be looking just in front of her and vaguely waved my hand at some boxes. "You know, all those boxes that we've already done."
The first time she wore glasses I said to her, "I didn't know you wore glasses Sanya."
"I only wear them sometimes," she replied.
"Well I think you should wear them all the time,” I said. She had a hot, young librarian look with the glasses.
"I really only need them at school," she answered.
"Yeah but you look really good in them," I responded.
"Really?" she asked, with a flattered smile.
"Yes, some women look really good with the right pair of glasses, it's that sexy librarian look,” I told her.
She started wearing her glasses often after that. I loved it. Occasionally I reminded her that she looked great in them to make sure she continued wearing them.
The machines tended to run themselves. All there really was to the job was every 10 or 15 minutes loading a new box of paper into a machine. So it got boring. And we got along very well with each other, which, because we had a significant age difference, was both a little awkward but also a little exciting. So it was probably inevitable that the conversation sometimes turned to stuff that wasn't "work safe." Of course no one else was there, so it didn't matter. But it started to feel like a game of dare about what things we talked about. We would sit next to each other and talk and flirt.
One night she asked me about kissing. "Brian, have you ever kissed a girl?"
"Of course," I answered.
"Are you good at it?" She asked.
"I'm very good at it." I told her.
She continued, "I've only done it a little bit. I don't think I know how to do it right. How does a man like to be kissed?"
I thought about it a bit, and finally said, "I'm not sure it's a good idea Sanya, you'll just give a guy the cooties."
"I'm serious Brian."
"Well have you had yourself tested?" I asked.
Finally I said, "Well, I guess there's not a right or wrong way to kiss per se... I'd say just be aware of the mood and do what feels right at the time."
Her face seemed to indicate continued frustration with my answer. "Well, like how much tongue do you think I should use? ...I started dating this guy, and-"
I couldn't keep a straight face, and chuckled.
"What's so funny?" she asked, with a curious smile.