I am fifteen years old, not very pretty, quite skinny really, and I have hardly any friends and spend school time roaming around the streets and shopping malls. Sometimes people come up to me and talk, but mostly creepy men with lurid offers. That sort of turns me on but I usually just flip them the bird and walk away.

But on one particularly boring day of cutting school a man saw me walking around the mall, I saw him too. He came up to me and talked to me. I was just hanging looking at the shop windows looking at myself in the shop mirrors. I knew it was wrong to talk to strangers. He was pretty old, maybe about 40, but not old looking, with big strong arms and a soapy smell. He smiled a little and we had a drink together at the food court in the mall.

I knew what I was doing was wrong but I liked it and I thought that he liked me. He said I should come over to his house. And that was definitely wrong too and I knew it. There was no doubt in my mind what was going on. Fourteen or not I understood what he wanted. He didn’t touch me he was too clever for that he just looked at me and smiled non-smile.

For maybe two days I had his address in my pocket, his place was not far away although I had never been in that area before. On the third day I thought maybe I would just go and have a look not go in, just have a look. I was bored, and maybe just a little curious.

I went over and looked at his house, just an ordinary house. He’s probably not home I thought. Who is at 10:00 am, no harm in ringing the bell, I thought, just to check that he’s not home.

I rang the doorbell and after a second the knots in my stomach overcame me and I turned to go. I jumped when the door opened I didn’t really expect him to be there that time of day. This was just a game to me to see if the door would open, I liked the thrill of the idea of going to a strange older man’s house nothing more.

But once the door opened and he was standing there it was real, no longer a game. I stood there with my mouth open and didn’t say a word. I was paralyzed from fear and the danger of the whole thing. I needed to be ushered in, to be swept in, I wanted him to take charge. I was excited not knowing what to expect.

He opened the door halfway, he was wearing the same jeans as in the mall and a new shirt. I stepped into the bright and pleasant hallway. He did not look surprised and hardly acknowledged me. But he did beckon me in and closed the door behind me, all the time looking me up and down.

He had this slow couldn’t-care-less attitude about him. His hand reached forward to me. “This is what you came for, isn’t it?” he said as he held my hand casually against the front of his jeans.

My fingers felt the length of his dick pressed to the front of his jeans. Older men in jeans are just trying to kid themselves that they are young I thought. I knew I should not have stayed, the white door, a step behind me, where he’d so ungraciously let me in, could just as easily have let me out again.