Last year I got a job as an intern at the Seattle Review, and I was looking for a place to stay so that I wouldn't have to suffer through life in my parents' house anymore. I checked out a lot of apartments in the Seattle area, but they were all too highly priced for my financial situation, so I ended up having to look in Tacoma. I wasn't very happy about that, since Tacoma was so far away and meant a daily rush hour commute to and from work, but I was desperate to finally have my own place. I checked out a lot of apartments, found none of them to my liking, and was fighting the urge to just give up when I happened to see an ad in the paper for a room to rent on the North End. According to the ad I'd have a large master bedroom with a view of the Sound, my own bathroom, and "lots of privacy." It sounded too good to be true, but it was within my price range so I went to check it out.
Turned out it was everything it promised to be. The room was on the second floor at the back of the house, was large and roomy, and had an excellent view of Puget Sound. There was a bathroom connected to the room itself and, according to Sandra, the woman who was renting out the room, she and her daughter Erica were very quiet. Sandra was a beautiful woman, in her mid thirties with long fine blonde hair and a great body, and even though I figured I'd never have a chance with her, since I was only twenty two, she was what convinced me to take the place.
We sat at her kitchen table and went over the rental agreement while I tried not to stare at her lovely face or her even lovelier tits. She was wearing a thin white peasant blouse and I was almost sure she wasn't wearing a bra, but I couldn't tell for certain without openly staring at them. When we were finished with the paperwork I gave her the money for the first and last months' rent and she wrote me a receipt. She had to kind of lean over the table while she did this, and I surreptitiously looked down her blouse. Nope, no bra, although I couldn't quite see her nipples. When she finished with the receipt she looked up just in time to catch me looking down her blouse, but instead of getting mad she just laughed an embarrassed laugh and said, "Now, Warren, I'm not going to have to worry about you, am I?"
"No, of course not," I lied. "I'm sorry, that won't happen again." Another lie.
"Well, let's hope not," Sandra replied. "After all, I'm old enough to be your mother." I figured either she was lying too or she was older than I thought.
I was too embarrassed now to say anything but I was saved from having to do so by the sound of the front door opening. We both looked around and a moment later Erica came in, clomping her feet on the hardwood floor and waving some papers in her hand.
She was a pretty little girl, with long blonde hair done in a ponytail and bangs, a narrow face with high cheekbones, a tiny baby nose and bright blue eyes. She looked liked an eleven year old version of her mother, actually, which was what I thought as I watched her come to the table and hand the papers over to Sandra.
"What's all this?" Sandra asked as she looked over the two pages Erica had given her.
"Permission slips," Erica replied, revealing a light munchkinlike voice. She looked at me and said, "Hi."
I waved to her as her mother said, "Let's see....field trips to the museum and....the science fair."
"I don't wanna go to the science fair," Erica announced.
"Well, then, why did you give me the permission slip? You could have just tossed it away."
Erica shrugged but didn't reply. Sandra balled up one of the permission slips and handed it to her daughter, told her to throw it away. Erica took it over to the trash can and casually tossed it in. As she came back toward me and Sandra she looked directly at me and mimicked the small wave I'd given earlier. Sandra was signing the other permission slip.
"Erica," she said, "this is Warren Lightner. He's going to be moving into the room upstairs."
"Hi," she said, her hands now clasped together in front of her.
"Hi, Erica," I said in that patronizing talkingtoakid tone that all children despise. "You looking forward to going on that field trip?"
Erica rolled her eyes and walked out of the room. I looked at Sandra with apologetic eyes and she said, "I try not to talk to her like she's a child."
"Wow," I said, "I've only been here about an hour and I've already managed to offend both of you. I'm sorry."
Sandra gave me a very charming smile and said, "Don't be sorry. Just don't do it again."
I didn't think much more about Erica, at least not in any unusual sense. I spent the first month in my new place just getting settled and used to the surroundings, the household routine. I went to work in the morning and made it back home in time for dinner, helped with the dishes afterward (Erica washing and me drying), and spent my evenings either watching television in my own room or watching in the living room with Sandra while Erica played on the internet. Occasionally I brought home a manuscript to work on, usually secluding myself in the kitchen or my room to get it done. It was, as Sandra had promised, a calm and relatively quiet experience, except for Friday or Saturday nights when Erica had one of her friends over for the night and they would stay up late. On those nights I always lay in my bed in the dark, trying to go to sleep while listening to their girlish voices coming from across the hall, talking and giggling well past midnight.
I managed to become something like friends with Sandra. We spent a lot of time just sitting in front of the television talking, mostly about our work lives or Sandra's challenges as a single mother, but sometimes about our past failed relationships. I got better at not ogling her, and on the few occasions when I did look her over I managed to do so without getting caught. There were a few times when Sandra would go through the house in just her panties and a teeshirt, usually having just gotten up and still too sleepy to consider the effect she might be having on me, but I didn't complain. Erica did too, but she was still just a kid to me then and I hardly paid her any attention.
That changed, though, on a Saturday night in the first week of August. Sandra had been telling me about a guy she knew at work whom she believed was interested in her but was just too shy to ask her out. He finally did, though, and they were going to dinner and a movie downtown. Sarah had arranged for a babysitter to look after Erica (a development I was eagerly looking forward to, since the babysitter was reportedly a very attractive teenaged girl), but the babysitter canceled at the last minute and, without any other alternative, Sandra had asked me to watch her daughter.
"You don't actually have to watch her," she'd explained. "Just kind of keep an eye on her, to make sure she doesn't get into any trouble. She probably won't, she's a very well behaved girl. She should be no problem for you at all."
Poor Sandra had felt bad about leaving Erica with me, convinced that she was palming the girl off just so she could go out and enjoy herself. She was, of course, but I didn't mind. I liked Erica, she was a cool little kid, and I didn't foresee any problems. Most likely we'd just hang out in the living room, watching a movie while she kicked her feet and chattered.
And it did go like that, for a few hours anyway. But then, around nine o'clock or so, just after we'd finished watching a particularly violent cop movie on cable, Erica announced that she was going to go to take a shower. She got up from the sofa and headed toward the hallway, calling back over her shoulder, "And don't come peek at me."
I laughed, thinking she was just being silly. I really didn't have anything like that on my mind; I wasn't into little girls, preferring adult women (like her mother), and if I did happen to drop below the legal age limit in my fantasies, the girls I fantasized about never got any younger than fourteen or fifteen.
I forgot about her remark, focusing on the television and the possibility that there might be something else to watch beside Cops or America's Most Wanted. I spent about twenty minutes flipping from channel to channel, found nothing, and decided to go on in my room and try to get caught up on my work.
I went down the hall, and just as I passed the bathroom door it opened and Erica was there, wearing nothing but a towel around her slight body, her hair wet and sleek. She paused to let me pass, then just as I got to the door of my room she asked, "Were you peeking?"
"No, sorry," I said. "My name's not Chester the Molester."
I continued on into my room and once again forgot about her. I sat down at my desk to start working, but only about five minutes into it I decided I needed some coffee, so I got up and headed back out of my room. And just as I got into the hallway I saw her.
She was in her room with the door open, standing in front of the full length mirror on her closet door, examining herself. That by itself might not have meant anything, but for the fact she was wearing a powder blue silk babydoll nightie. She'd brushed her golden hair into a ponytail (with bangs), and she looked absolutely stunning.
Out of reflex I stopped and stared, and she looked up at me. Her big blue eyes met mine, blinked slowly, then she turned back to her reflection, apparently unconcerned that I was just standing there looking at her in her night clothes. She knew I was ogling her and she didn't care. Or maybe she did. Maybe she wanted me to see her this way. Maybe she wanted me to desire her.
That thought snapped me out of it and I continued on down to the kitchen. I poured a cup of coffee, returned to the living room to find my cigarettes, sat on the sofa and lit one. I took a long drag, blew smoke into the air, then told myself, "Come on, man, she's just a kid. She has no idea what she's doing."
I believed it too, but that didn't stop me from making certain additions to my fantasy life. In fact, I did more than just add Erica and her silky blue babydoll nightie to my vast warehouse of sexual utopianism, I pretty much superimposed her over the entire structure. She became the only girl I thought about when I was laying in bed at night trying to fall asleep or in the shower stroking my cock like a maniac. Hell, aside from Sandra, whom I couldn't eliminate from my mind simply because she too lived in the house, Erica almost became the only girl I thought about at all.
I became obsessed with her, with the idea of her, creating in my mind scenarios that explained, to my advantage, her motivation for allowing me to see her in that sexy nightgown. She knew about my attraction to Sandra and was jealous, and wanted to prove to herself that she could be a serious rival to her mother; she hated Sandra for some reason unknown to me and wanted to get back at her mother; because her father had abandoned her she was experiencing an unresolved oedipal conflict and was looking to me to help her resolve it; she'd recently had an intensely satisfying intimate experience with a little girlfriend of hers and wanted to make sure she wasn't really a lesbian; and, my personal favorite, she was simply indulging a naturally occurring (and ultimately voracious) sexual appetite that had developed in her a few years earlier than it did in most girls.
And then, of course, there were the fantasies themselves. Standard porn variety sex fantasies, involving everything from uninhibited blowjobs to uninhibited fucking, utilizing various positions and locations, sometimes involving a third partner, such as her little girlfriend (an actual person named Emily, who was brownhaired and lovely, though not quite as developed as Erica and, for all I knew, had no lesbian inclinations), assorted television and film actresses, and sometimes her mother. I also entertained the idea of Erica being molested by her father, and in about half of those fantasies she was not as reluctant as a daughter would normally be. I even began to fantasize that I was the father.
That was when I decided that my inordinate preoccupation with her had gone too far. It was bad enough that I was masturbating to thoughts of sex with an eleven year old girl (up until that time my last fantasy involving a preteen had occurred when I was a preteen myself), but now I was actually entertaining ideas of incest. And liking it way too much. I began to fear that I would eventually become the molester of my own child, should I ever have one, or worse, molesting this child in the very near future. I had to stop thinking about that kind of stuff, find ways to get Erica out of my head and get normal adult women back in it.
I tried paying more attention to Sandra (and less to Erica), and spending less time at home, either hanging around at work or stopping off at a bar or cafe in the evenings, but none of that worked. It seemed like every girl I saw reminded me of Erica somehow, and while a lot of them were young and lovely they just didn't measure up anymore. Not even Sandra seemed as delectable to me as she'd once been.
My next attempt to blot my little housemate out of my head was to go to a porn shop and load up on videos. I spent more than a hundred dollars on such titles as Nymph Fever and Wet World and Horney Blondes and White Girls Who Suck Black Cocks. I took them home and watched them in the privacy of my own room, the sound turned down and the images glaring in my eyes for hours, but even that had no effect. Erica was in my world to stay. I decided I only had one alternative left: I had to move out.
I waited until the middle of the week, when Sandra was at work and Erica was in school. I was supposed to be at work too, and I'd actually driven all the way to Seattle, but then I stopped at a coffeeshop for about twenty minutes before turning around and driving back home. I still had the boxes I'd used to move in, and figured I'd just start packing stuff into them as quickly as I could, stick it all in my car, and take it back to my parents' house. I was trying to estimate how many trips it would take to get all my things moved out when I spotted her at a bus stop downtown.
She was standing among a group of people, but obviously alone as she waited for whatever bus she was planning to get on. She was wearing her blue summer dress, the one I liked the best because it was almost exactly the same color as her babydoll nightgown. As soon as I saw her I started looking for a place to park. I didn't know what she was doing waiting for a bus downtown when she should have been in school, but I was determined to find out.
I drove into a parking garage, found a space quickly enough, then rushed back outside. Erica was still waiting at the bus stop and I went up to her, smiled and waved in a way that I hoped let her know she wasn't in trouble, and asked her how she was doing. Erica showed no surprise that I was there, no shock at being discovered playing hooky. She just shrugged her shoulders and said, "Okay, I guess."
"What are you doing?" I asked. "Shouldn't you be in school right now?"
"We had a half day today," she replied. "The teachers are having a conference. I was gonna go the mall for a while."
"Oh, okay. Well, you want a ride? That way, you don't have to spend any money on the bus."
We walked together back into the parking garage and got into my car. I was feeling a little nervous, because I knew I wasn't taking her to the mall. I felt like circumstances had pretty much conspired against me, that I could no longer resist the feelings I had for this beautiful little girl, and that I was going to do something about them, even if it meant having to spend the next twenty years in prison. As I drove back to the house, I made plans in my mind to just go ahead and take off, but not back to my parents' place; instead I'd go on the run.
Erica noticed that we weren't heading in the direction of the mall and asked me where we were going and I told her I had to stop by the house first, to pick up some money so I could buy her something at the mall. She seemed happy with this and changed the subject, talking about some silly thing some class clown had done at school. When we got back to the house I told her to come in with me.
"I have something I want to show you," I said.
She followed me into the house and up the stairs. When we got to my room I went over to the side of the bed, stopped and turned around. Erica had stayed right behind me, so now she was just a foot away, within easy reach.
I'd had some vague plan about trying to seduce her, of talking her into getting into bed with me, but the plan never materialized. Because she was so beautiful, so young and fresh, looking at me with such innocent trust in those big blue eyes of hers. My desire suddenly overwhelmed me and without even thinking about it I simply put my arms around her, found the zipper on her dress, and pulled it down to the small of her back. Erica kept her eyes locked on to mine as I pulled her dress down off of her shoulders, let it slide slowly all the way to the floor. She was wearing nothing underneath but a pair of white cotton panties, and I saw her breasts for the very first time. They were small, pale, and very slightly pointed, capped with tiny pink nipples. The most beautiful little tits I'd ever seen.
I held my breath as I touched them. They were warm and soft, and yet youthfully firm at the same time. I caressed them, massaged them, watched with wonder as their nipples grew harder under my fingers. I got the sense that Erica was holding her breath as well, and realized she was probably more nervous than I was. For a moment I considered stopping, but I knew that I wouldn't. Not even if she resisted.
Her dress was pooled around her ankles and I helped her step out of it. She was wearing nothing now but her panties and her shoes and socks. I pulled the panties down her slim smooth legs, helped her step out of them as well, then guided her over to the bed. She lay down on her back, her eyes still on me, and I removed her shoes and socks, then took off my shirt. I tossed it somewhere, then crawled onto the bed, on top of her young naked body.
Erica opened her legs and I settled myself between them, reached down to the fly of my jeans and struggled with it for a minute. I got the button and zipper undone, fished my cock out of my underwear. It was as hard as iron. I didn't think about how much it would hurt her, or how long I'd be able to last inside of her tight young cunt before I went off, or even how wrong this whole thing was. The only thought I had was of getting it into her, fucking her, possessing her.
I guided my cock up to the soft hairless lips of her cunt. Erica's arms came up and she placed her hands on my shoulders and closed her eyes, apparently bracing for what would happen next. I only glanced at her for a moment before returning my focus to what I was doing. I pushed the head of my cock between those smooth pink lips and into her cunt, moving slowly but resolutely. Erica sighed, then moaned, and as I burrowed past the thin membrane of her cherry she gasped and clutched my arms tighter, buried her face against my chest. I hugged her to me and kissed the top of her head as I pushed my cock the rest of the way into her, then, still holding her, I began to fuck her. I pushed my cock repeatedly up into her tight little cunt, and Erica, though she obviously wasn't having the most delightful experience of her young life, didn't cry or complain or even resist. She just held on and let me go at her until finally, after only a few minutes, I felt the tide of orgasm swelling in my groin and stopped. I shoved my cock as deep in as it would go, then held it there and let it pump its load of warm come into her cunt, grunting and moaning into her soft sweet ponytail.
When I was done I collapsed on top of her, exhausted and sweaty, and we lay there wordless for several minutes. Erica was the first one to stir, moving under me and asking me to get up. I got off of her and she went to the bathroom and shut the door, and a moment later I heard the shower running.
There was a small spot of blood on the bed, but it wasn't nearly as bad as I expected it to be. I got up and threw my clothes on, bundled up the sheets from my bed, and packed them into one of the boxes I had standing ready. I packed the rest of my stuff too, and by the time I was finished Erica had come out of the shower and gone into her room. I thought about going in to check on her, to see if she was alright, but instead I just carried the boxes out to my car. It was some time during the three trips I made out to the car with the boxes that she took off, probably on her way to the mall.
I took what else I could of my stuff and jammed it into my car, going over in my head the route I would take to get out of the state. The last thing I did was leave my keys to the house on the dining room table, with no note, then go up to Erica's room. I fished through her dresser drawers until I found the powder blue babydoll nightie. I took it out and held it up in the morning light, just looking at it for a moment, then folded it and took it with me as I left.
It's been more than a year now, and I still think about her. I regret not making Erica's first time more pleasurable for her, more romantic, maybe gentler, but not just for her sake but my own as well. I wish I could look back on what I did and recall it with fondness and love, but all I can remember now is how it had felt to be inside of her, how good it had felt to actually fuck an eleven year old girl. That sensation is still relatively fresh in my mind, and ever since that day I haven't wanted anyone else, or even been with anyone else. It's Erica I want. And the good news is that I still have her powder blue babydoll nightie. I fool myself into thinking she'll want it back when I come to return it to her.
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