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Subject: Right Turn on Black by Robert Kraft - Chapter 1 Peeping Rob - Part 2 of 2
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WARNING: These stories contain graphic language, sexual actions
between M/F and F/F, as well as violence, illegal substance abuse,
immorality, and illegal activity.  If any of the above offend you,
please do not read this story.  All stories are copyright.

These stories are two parts fact, one part fiction.  Some names and
places have been changed, and a few events are slightly embellished or
different (usually cause I don't remember exact words spoken), but
everything is pretty close to a real situation.  If you recognize
yourself in this story though, it probably isn't you!

Please forward comments/requests to:

Right Turn on Black by Robert Kraft
Chapter 1: Peeping Rob - Part 2 (of 2)

	I was and am and always will be a leg man.  When I entered high
school, I began to really look at girls, and particularly their legs. 
I like breasts and all, and butts too (who doesn't), but legs have a
certain appeal to me above all other body parts.  I'd rather see a
nice pair of legs in a skirt than a nude chick.
	Early in ninth grade, I was sitting outside eating on some steps on a
warm September day.  It was perhaps the first week of school.  The
chatter of a group of females came into earshot behind me.  A group of
girls settled down on the steps behind me, about 8 steps up.  I shot a
quick glance back, and saw four seniors sitting down for lunch.  I
only knew the name of one, Tina.  She was one of the most popular
girls in our school.
	I didn't even look at her face, I was immediately drawn to her legs. 
She had on a short green stretchy skirt.  Her legs were long, tan, and
bare.  I stared for a second, before catching myself.  I looked back
away, hormones starting to flow.  I picked up my lunch and readjusted
my position so I was a bit more sideways on the steps, but enough that
I could see her with peripheral vision.  I was turned on at the
prospect of looking at her without anyone knowing, but also nervous
about getting caught.  I stole some glances as I could.  Her skirt
probably reached a few inches above the knees when standing, but was
riding a bit higher as she sat on the steps.  She was sitting
sideways, leaning up against the railing, with her legs stretched out
along the step.  They were crossed at the ankles.  Her ankles were
thin, and well defined.  There was a firmness about her legs that I
had never really observed before in a pair of legs.  I was fascinated.  
The group of girls was chatty, and all of the sudden one yanked Tina's
lunch away from her and placed it on the railing behind, the reason
for which I do not know.  Probably Tina said something to the girl.  
	Tina got up to retrieve her lunch.  I watched the bend of her legs at
the knee, her muscles flexing, her feet propelling her upwards.  Her
calves were rounded, showing well-defined muscles in them.
	I watched as she grabbed her lunch, swatted the offending girl, and
returned to her seat.  She sat down quickly, facing down the steps.  I
was shocked.  Her legs were very slightly apart, and from my angle I
could clearly see her white underwear up her skirt.  I stared.  She
was talking actively with her friends.  Suddenly she looked over her
drink right at me.  I blushed and tried to turn away, but all I could
do was look back.
	"Hey," I said, weakly.
	"Hey," she said.  And with that she resumed her talk, without looking
at me again.  I was done with my lunch, so I pretended to drink my
non-existent juice from its box.  I discreetly looked up her skirt for
a good couple of minutes, before she returned to her first position. 
In doing so she opened her legs as she was getting up, and I got a
strong view of her panty's crotch and surroundings.  But then she
settled into her first position, and I decided to leave before I got
caught for staring.
	I went inside to a restroom and jacked off into the toilet, all the
while thinking about Tina's legs.
	That viewing started a fascination - no, an obsession, with looking
up girl's skirts.  The steps inside of our school were the kind that
went up half a story in one direction to a landing, and then folded
back up to the next floor.  I quickly figured out that if I were on
the steps down near the first floor, a skirt nearing the second floor
on those steps near the railing would be an easy target.  I began to
follow girls in skirts, and after a few misses, I timed it so I could
keep back just the right distance that when they went up the steps
they would be near the top as I began my ascent.  A brief peek upward
would reveal their treasures to me.
	There were some girls who wore skirts often.  Laura, a gorgeous
brown-haired girl, was a frequent wearer, and for a while I had a huge
crush on her.  I liked her legs very much.  They were long, drawn out,
tan.  She had a birth mark on her left calf, which didn't appeal to
me, but so be it.  I didn't know her at all, but I had seen her
panties several times!  Such was my state at the time.
	Laura had a decent body too.  Her breasts were perky, although a bit
smallish yet.  She had a nice waistline, long, and slightly curved.  I
never saw her tummy but it seemed like it would be smooth and firm. 
Her face was of model quality, although maybe the lips were a bit too
wide.  Her hair was a beautiful golden brown.
	Yolanda also wore skirts often.  She was a redhead, and not
particularly pretty, but she had a great body.  If you didn't mind the
freckles, her legs were beautifully shaped.  Apart from seeing her on
the steps, she was also in some of my classes.  In English class the
desks were arranged in a horseshoe, and often we would be sitting on
opposite legs of the horseshoe.  When that was the case, and she wore
a skirt, I didn't learn no English.  Sometimes she would sit with legs
moderately open, slumped back in her chair, giving me (and the rest of
the class, practically) a full view of her panties.  She didn't seem
to notice, or if she did, it didn't bother her at all.  She wore
scanty clothing mostly, anyhow, even though she didn't dress trashy;
it was tastefully scant.
	I was thrilled when we were paired to work on the first English
project together.  I went over to her house one night on my bike.  It
was early October and there was a chill in the air.
	I rang the doorbell, and was greeted by her dad, a tall red-haired
Scot.  It was uncannily warm in the house, because they already had a
fire going.
	"It's nice in here," I said, for lack of anything else.
	"Yes, we decided to stoke up the fire."
	Yolanda came out.  She was dressed in some skimpy gray shorts and a
thin white T-shirt, and she was barefoot.  There was lots of skin, but
again, it didn't look slutty.  I secretly eyed her form for a second.
	"Hey Rob.  Let's go to my room, that's where my computer is."
	Yeah baby, I thought to myself.
	We proceeded to her lair, with me following.  I could see a trace of
her panties under the gray material of her shorts.  They were skimpy,
covering her ass by about an inch.  I couldn't make out any bra
straps, but I doubted she was bra-less. Her tits weren't very big,
probably a small B-cup.  Her hair was up in a clip.  She didn't look
bad, I thought.  Her freckles didn't really bother me.  They covered
her arms and legs, and, I presumed, everything else.  We reached her
room.  She picked up her notebook from the bed, and sat down with her
legs folded in front of her.  I took a seat in a chair opposite.  
	We really didn't hang out much in school, so it was pretty much
business as usual in our conversation, beside a few trivial happenings
about teachers or fellow classmates.  We worked on the paper for a few
hours.  I had a good view of her legs throughout.  My dick was hard,
and a couple of times I had to adjust my position to relieve stress.
	She leaned back over to open a window at one point, and I caught a
glimpse of her tummy as her shirt slid up a few inches, and then she
lost her balance and toppled back onto the sill.  Her legs opened up
in attempt to stabilize her.  
"Are you alright?" I asked.
As I was getting up to help her, I could see part of her right ass
cheek, and her white panties, as the material of her short had bunched
up to one side there.  Her shirt had slid up to just under her breast,
leaving most of her tummy exposed.  It too was freckled.
"Yeah," she said, laughing.  "Just lost my balance."
She got up with some help from my hand.  "Lemme try that again."
She leaned over and opened the window, giving me a nice view of the
gray shorts stretched over her ass cheeks.  I sat down as she fumbled
with the handle.  It was the kind that you rotate several times to
open the window.  From my chair I could see up her shirt, which was
hanging down from her being in a crawling position.  She did indeed
have a white bra on, and I could see her two mounds in the bra.  I had
to reach down and adjust my rod, which was getting active.
"I hate these stupid things," she said.
"Yeah, they take a long time."
I stared at her ass some more, wiggling as she turned the crank now. 
Her shorts were a bit wedged into her crack, and were riding up a bit
from her sitting position.  I could definitely see quite a bit of leg
and some ass.
"Alright, where were we."
"Page 95," I said, as she settled back into a seated position.
And so the night went, with occasional glimpses of a little more than
met the eye, but without her knowing that I was staring at her half
the time.  At least I don't think she knew.
Looking back, I was a real scoundrel.  It was just that obsessive
nature taking over.  It got to a point where I had written down who's
skirt I had seen up in the school.  At the end of freshman year, the
list was 65 people long, with many people having been observed several
times.  For a school of 600 people that wasn't too shabby, I guess. 
Laura was the champion.  I had seen her panties 18 times in that year.  
	It was almost like a craziness in my head sometimes.  I got bold
enough where I would look up the skirt even if the girl and me were
the only two people on the steps.  I even tried to look up the English
teacher's skirt during a school concert.  I joined track just to see
the girls running around in skimpy blue shorts and shirts.  I was a
total voyeur.  
One teammate, Debbie, was a hot thing.  I remember I was kneeling on
the floor sorting out pamphlets for something with the track coach,
and she came up and asked him a question.  She had long legs.  I
looked up, and followed the trace of them up to her track shorts, and
then up to her decent breasts and great face.  Funny thing, she had on
heels.  It was one of those unreal moments that seemed like from a
dumb-ass movie.  She was actually asking the coach if he had seen he
running shoes.  She still had on her shoes from school; that was the
explanation for the funny combination of outfit and shoe (a combo I
found very enticing).  She was standing no more than 2 feet from me,
and I could see the small blonde hairs on the thigh, the lines in her
knee, and the smoothness of her calf.  She was god damn hot.
The sad thing about all this is that I really wasn't dating anyone. 
All my sex was pure fantasy.  Which isn't the end of the world, but it
sure wasn't great.  So I ventured tenuously into the world of actually
talking and hanging out with girls.

END OF PART 2 - Look for Part 1 separately


Copyright 1998 Robert Kraft

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