I love autumn; love the way the leaves turn, the wind blows, fat
drops of rain fall from the sky. I enjoy the chance to fire up my
wood-burning stove, and hunker down in front of it during the cold,
dark evenings. I like to walk during the evenings, too, with my
faithful border collie, Biscuit, at my side. Sometimes the drama of an
autumn evening - wind howling around us, spinning up a whirlwind of
fallen leaves - lends the feeling that it is us versus nature.
Hallowe'en is one of the times of the year I traditionally love more
than any other. Before my wife died, she and I would always make a huge
effort, and our house became well known in our village as a must-go
destination for all the kids out trick-or-treating. After she passed,
though, I couldn't quite manage to bring myself to keep up the
tradition; I tried that first year, in honour of her memory, but my
heart really wasn't in it any more. After a couple of years I stopped
making the effort altogether, and shut up shop for the night, refusing
to even answer the door. It became a theme in my wider life, too - at
only 26, I was starting to become a bit of a recluse. Where once I had
been active in village life, I now kept myself to myself, and spoke
only when spoken to.
It was Biscuit who pulled me out of it, who turned the trend around.
One wild December night, while storms ravaged our little pocket of
England, I came across him cowering by the side of the road, fur matted
with rain and mud. I was out in my car, and as the headlights passed
over him I initially thought it was a badger lying by the roadside,
injured or dead. I'd always cared a lot for wildlife, and so, though I
really had no desire to get soaked and then have to disturb Ally, the
village vet, I knew I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I'd
driven on by.
Even from a few metres away I could tell what I'd found wasn't a badger
after all. As I approached there were no signs of life, but as I
reached down to turn over the body, a faint whimpering came up. An eye
opened, and the dog's head turned slowly to face me. It was soaked
through with mud, fur blackened. It shivered and whimpered, and begged
me with its eyes to help. I tried to encourage it to stand, but to no
avail - it was either too weak or too hurt to stand for itself.
Cursing, I ran back to the car and opened the boot, pulling out a
picnic blanket which, by force of habit was always there. I ran back to
the dog and with no inconsiderable effort managed to wrap it in the
blanket and carry it back to the car, lying it down across the back
seat.
Once I was safely back into the car myself, I assessed the situation. I
was soaked to the skin and freezing, though certainly no worse off than
the dog. It needed a vet, that much was certain, and so with some sense
of reluctance I pulled out my mobile phone and scrolled down to find
Ally's number.
As I sat there with my thumb hovering over the call button, I had a
sudden flashback to the summer three years before, when Emily was still
alive and the world seemed full of sunshine. We'd not been married
long, and had received our contact sheets back from the wedding
photographer. Ally was Em's best friend, and the three of us sat out in
the cottage's garden under the shade of a tree, drinking wine and
roaring with laughter as we went through the photos, taking the piss
out of ourselves and everyone else. I remember it so vividly, because
it was only the next day that Em collapsed suddenly, and only a day
after that when the damning prognosis was delivered; she was dead
inside three months, and I'd only spoken to Ally a handful of times
since. To be honest, I'd shut her out of my life because she reminded
me so much of Em. I couldn't imagine how my phone call would go down,
but looking back at the bundle of shivering fur in the back seat I
realised I had no choice.
"Zack. It's you. Uh... hi."
She'd picked up after six rings (I always count). Could've meant
anything - she might have been a long way away from her phone, or busy,
or she could have been deciding whether or not she wanted to answer my
call.
"Hi, Ally. Um, look, I'm really sorry to call you out of the blue like
this, but I've found a dog hurt by the side of the road. He's wet and
he's freezing. Can you do anything?"
"Oh God! Yes, of course. Meet me at the surgery, I'll be there as soon
as I can."
Five minutes later I was pulling up outside Ally's surgery, just as she
came round the corner. I hauled the dog in its blanket out of the car
and carried him to the door, whispering 'thanks' to Ally as she held
the door open for me.
Inside I stood helplessly by, watching as she ran through he checks,
gently stroking the dog's head, flinching when it whimpered, sensing
its pain as it shivered. It was immediately clear that something was
very wrong. When she was done, Ally sighed and stepped back, bracing
herself against the table which ran along the wall. She looked weary,
and not just because of the lateness of the day.
"It's not good," she said, sounding resigned. "I can't be certain of
all the details until I take an x-ray, but his left rear leg is badly
broken, and possibly his spine is too. Some coward's hit him and then
buggered off."
"Can you help him?"
She shrugged.
"It'll be expensive, and I can't guarantee he'll live anyway, given how
cold he is, and how much blood he's lost. I'd have to get Gary in and
do the operation tonight, otherwise I really don't think he stands a
chance. I'm not sure we could convince any of the charities to fund it,
so unless he's chipped and we can trace the owner, he's not looking in
very good shape."
She walked over to the wall to take down a hand-held device, I presumed
to scan for a microchip. I felt utterly deflated as I watched her go,
but already I knew what I would do. Money hadn't been too tight since
Em had passed, and she would have wanted me to spend some of her life
insurance on something like this. Even before Ally passed the scanner
over the back of the dog's neck I guessed that the result would be
negative, and sure enough she found nothing.
"Well, that's that, then," she said. "I'll have to get Gary out here to
help with disposing of him anyway, but there's really nothing I can do
for him. Sorry, Zack."
"No. Don't. No, I'm not going to let it happen. Spend what you need to.
Do what you need to. I can afford it. You know Em wouldn't have let him
die."
She stared at me, her expression full of pity. Tears formed in her
eyes, and when she blinked they raced down her cheeks and dripped onto
the floor.
"You're right. She wouldn't," she said in a hoarse whisper. "Can you
stay? We might need your help."
I nodded. After all, what better did I have to do?
---
They operated for three hours on the dog, pinning back together three
fractures in his leg. His spine had escaped serious injury, though
there seemed to be a great deal of swelling. Finally, at ten to four in
the morning, with the rain still hammering down outside, we left him to
sleep off the anaesthetic, and went on our way.
As we were leaving, Ally stopped me.
"I miss you, Zack. We all do. It's Lucy's fifth birthday this Saturday.
We're having a little party. Please say you'll come."
I hesitated, not quite sure I was ready to abandon my comfortable
solitude. Ally didn't wait for a response.
"I'm telling her you're coming, Zack," she shouted over her shoulder as
she unlocked her car. "You wouldn't want to disappoint her, would you?"
---
Truth was, I hardly knew Ally's daughter, Lucy. There was no way I was
going to be missed if I didn't go, but as the weekend approached I
realised that - quite to my surprise - I was planning to go to the
party. I'd know plenty of people there - all our friends who had
started their happy families would be there with their kids, doing what
Em and I should have done. To some extent I hated them all for the
happiness they had, but far outweighing that was the feeling that I
really wanted to see some of these people again, to see what they were
up to these days. Many I hadn't spoken a word to since Em's funeral.
Something else kept drawing me back to the real world, too: the dog.
Somehow he survived the night, and when I went in to the practice the
next day to see how he was doing, I was in for the surprise of my life.
One of the nurses had bathed him and combed his fur, and on the cage
was written the name 'Biscuit', and beneath that, next to the word
Owner, it said 'McNaught'. He was awake when approached the cage, and
though I could only put a finger through the bar to scratch behind his
ear, the look of utter adoration he gave me in that moment melted my
heart. It was clear that, as long as he pulled through, I had gained a
dog.
---
Days passed, and Biscuit grew stronger.
I re-joined the world of the living, too. I enjoyed Lucy's party. I
spoke to people, people who really cared about me, who all expressed a
wish to see me back amongst them, and I found myself easily agreeing. I
wanted their company for the first time in three years, and found that
no matter how I had ignored them, they still wanted to know me.
---
Weeks passed, and Biscuit grew stronger still.
Five weeks after the accident he had the pins out, and though he still
limped awfully, he could walk. He came home with me that week,
and though he was restricted to walks to the bottom of the garden and
back, he was beginning to look more like a real dog. And what a dog he
was! A beautiful brown and white border collie, with the bluest eyes
you've ever seen, and an attachment to me which bordered on obsessive.
His rehabilitation mirrored my own - physical on his part but emotional
and social on mine. I became a member of society once more. It wasn't
an overnight change, but slowly and surely I began to reclaim a little
of the life I had with Em, before everything changed. My work as a
freelance designer began to pick up, too, as a result of being more
open and willing to look for work. I had coasted along, making enough
to survive without thriving for far too long. Old customers kept me
ticking over, but with the renewed energy in my life I began to improve
my work for them, and as a by-product find new customers.
All of this, I put down to Biscuit. He had an unconditional love for
me, all spawned from the simple act of pulling over and saving him. It
lifted me each morning, usually the time I suffered my worst
depression. I had no time to think of myself - my primary goal in the
morning was to take him for a walk, and once I'd been around the
village, experienced its sleepy beauty, I found that my demons had been
chased away for another day.
---
Fast forward nine months and you would find me walking Biscuit down one
of the many little tracks which criss-cross back and forth through the
village. These were the playground of my youth, so varied in nature
that each had a personality, and it was only when I reached adulthood
that I fully realised how each met the other; before that, I simply
followed known routes and left it at that. Some ran between houses,
high, crumbling red brick garden walls topped with creeping roses and
clematis making them tunnel-like, fragrant in the summer and Dickensian
in the winter. Others ran along the borders of fields, and there were
plenty of those. Yet more crossed the greens (church green and village
green, we called them - doubtless the Ordnance Survey would disagree)
and the really important ones ran past my house and those of my friends.
It was these paths I still walked, though now an adult, and accompanied
by Biscuit wherever I went. I often followed the track past the back of
my parents' house; if they were in I would stop for a cup of tea and
cringe while my mother tried to tactfully avoid the subject of Emily,
and if not I would pause just a moment and look at the house. Really
look. There were times I would quite happily have stayed there forever,
but not now. It made me feel claustrophobic.
This particular evening I had already passed my parents' house, finding
it empty and dark except for the landing light which my father always
put on a timer. But there was no kitchen light, which meant either
no-one was at home, or they were both asleep. I strolled on, content to
let Biscuit stop where he pleased, or run on when he wanted to. It was
almost dark, the day's light dimmed not only by the setting of the sun,
but also by a thick blanket of fog which shrouded all and muffled
sounds.
So it was that I was taken by surprise by a young girl of eight or nine
who shot past me from behind on a bike of such yellowness that it
glowed like a beacon in the falling night. She shouted 'hi!' over her
shoulder and giggled, and left me behind, rather perplexed for I had no
idea who she was. The village was small enough that I recognised most
of the kids, which meant either that she was new, or that she was
visiting a friend or relative who lived locally. Probably the latter, I
mused, as I had heard nothing of a new arrival.
A minute later I came across her again. Biscuit, being Biscuit, had
forced her to stop and stroke his head, using the age-old ruse of
looking damned cute and sitting by the side of the path. I had wondered
why he hadn't come back to me, but now it was obvious.
"Hello," I said as I came up to the pair of them. "Looks like he's
found a new friend."
The girl grinned at me.
"Hi, I'm Sophie. I just moved in with my mum. Do you know which way
Cantor Street is?"
So, I was wrong; they'd slipped in under my radar.
"Hi Sophie. I'm Zack, and this is Biscuit. It's nice to meet you.
Cantor Street is at the end of this path, if you just keep going."
"Oh, right. Thanks!" she said, and with that she was off. Adults always
seem to feel the need to extend these conversations with formalities,
but kids are wonderfully uninhibited by such societal norms. It was
quite refreshing.
As I watched Sophie pedal away from me I realised that I was smiling,
something to which I'd become largely unaccustomed. And, I thought to
myself, she really was rather a cute-looking kid. Quite pretty, really.
In a few years she would be breaking all the village boys' hearts.
Biscuit wagged his tail and watched her leave, then looked up at me
questioningly.
"I know, boy, I know," I said, as much to myself as to him. "There's
something about her, isn't there?"
---
A couple of weeks later and the village was winding up to Hallowe'en.
Jack-o'-lanterns - intricately carved in what amounted to an un-judged
competition - appeared throughout the village in the front gardens of
all those who cared for the tradition. Posters went up, too, asking for
volunteers to take the kids around an organised trick-or-treat route;
ever since a kid had narrowly escaped abduction a few years before, the
parish council had deemed it necessary that all kids were accompanied,
and what had started out as mere chaperoning had developed into
something altogether more significant.
As I stood reading one of the posters I was approached from behind, and
a booming voice filled the air.
"Zack! Thinking of helping out? Brilliant! I'll put your name down."
Everyone in the village knew Mark Allen, and most had, at some point or
other, been lured into doing something for him. Every village has one
of these people - they're the one involved with everything, the
cornerstone of village life, the organiser. It would be unfair to
suggest that anyone hated Mark - after all, he was a very likeable chap
- but he was certainly avoided by many in the weeks leading up to an
event. I, though, had been careless, and there really was very little
chance of getting out of it.
But, lo! What was that, brain? Did a bolt of inspiration strike?
"I'd love to, Mark," I replied, turning to face him with what I hope
was a warm smile, rather than a smug one. "Unfortunately, I think my
CRB check has run out, and there won't be time to get it renewed before
the night."
"Hmm," he replied, looking a little less crestfallen than I had
expected. "Well, fortunately that's not a problem. In fact, I checked
my database last night and it's not up for renewal for a few months.
You should be fine to help out. And of course this lad," he went on,
bending down to scratch Biscuit between the ears, "will be a perfect
guard dog, won't you boy?
"So, what time slots would you prefer?"
---
I ended up helping out in a bigger way than I had envisaged. I was on
the route planning team, and the safety team, and of course I was roped
into doing some designs for badges that all the kids could wear, as
well as placards for the adults to carry around so that their troops
could always find them. It became akin to a well-planned military
exercise, and took up far more of my time than I would have liked. But
it was rewarding, too, and it brought one unexpected bonus.
I was assigned a few streets to go door-to-door, checking for both
children and locations willing to participate. One of them was Cantor
Street, and almost as soon as I stepped onto the road my mind went to
Sophie and our brief meeting some time before. I'd seen her out and
about on her bike since then, but never close enough to say hello.
Here, though, was a clear reminder of her presence: the 'Sold' sign
still stood outside No. 14. I decided that it was a sign in more ways
than one - I would start there, and then see how the rest of the street
went.
The woman who answered the door was in her mid-thirties and looked
vaguely familiar, a fact which I at first put down to Sophie bearing a
resemblance to her mother.
"Oh. It's you, Mr McNaught," she said, looking flustered.
"Er, yes. Did someone tell you I was coming?" I was slightly derailed
by her tone.
"You... you don't remember me, do you?"
Oh God. Some distant acquaintance whose face I'd forgotten. But then,
surely if she had known me in the past, she would have known my first
name.
"Uh, no, I'm sorry. My mind doesn't work quite as well as it used to."
She put her hear slightly on one side, a look of sympathy on her face.
"No, I expect it doesn't, given what you've been through. I'm Allison.
I work in the oncology ward at the Royal Freestone."
It hit me like an express train. Memories flooded so fast into the
forefront of my mind that I stumbled backwards slightly, and had to
catch myself on the frame of her porch. I did remember Allison, of
course I did. She was the nurse who came and found me when she realised
that Emily was close to the end. I'd been taking a break from her
bedside while she slept, taking some fresh air. Allison had run up to
me frantically, begging me to come. By the time I got to Em's bedside
she was already surrounded by doctors and nurses. I'd pushed my way
through the scrum in time for Em to open her eyes, smile up at me
weakly, and die.
"I think you'd better come in," she said, practically dragging me by
the arm.
She sat me down in the living room, then told me she'd be right back
and disappeared upstairs for a moment. When she came back she looked a
little calmer, but still flustered.
"I'd offer you tea, but I think something stronger would probably be
more suitable."
"No, no, tea would be fine, thank you."
As she went into the kitchen to turn on the kettle, I glanced around
the room. Boxes still sat all over the place, remnants of the recent
move, but other than that it was a fairly standard room. Pictures of
Allison and Sophie were dotted about the place, but, I realised, none
of any man. It looked like it was just the two of them.
"Sorry about the mess," she said as she returned. "I suppose you know
we've just moved in. I know what these villages are like - everyone
knows everything as soon as it happens."
"Actually, I didn't hear anything about it for once!" I exclaimed,
bringing a little levity into the room. "Until I bumped into Sophie
that is."
She gave me a questioning, concerned look.
"She made friends with my dog a few weeks ago," I explained, and relief
flooded Allison's face.
"Oh, you're the one with the sheepdog? You know, she hasn't stopped
bugging me about getting a dog since then!"
"Well, she's always welcome to come and take Biscuit for a walk,
whenever she wants."
"You know, I think she might take you up on that," Allison replied,
laughing.
At that moment Sophie walked into the room in patterned white cotton
pyjamas, her hair wet from the bath, and plonked herself down on the
chair to my right, apparently unconcerned to find me there.
"Take him up on what?" she asked.
"Mr McNaught was offering to let you take his dog out for a walk,
Sophie."
I waved a little 'hello' at her, and she gave me a megawatt grin.
"When? Can I do it tomorrow?"
I stalled for time, not sure what her mum really thought, but when I
looked at her she shrugged and gave me a look which said 'your call'.
Just seeing Sophie again made me want to see more of her, like a
favourite niece, and so I said,
"If you want. It's a Saturday, so I'll be around all morning and you
won't be going to school. Reckon you can get to mine for seven?"
"Seven in the morning?!" Sophie replied, the shock clearly displayed on
her face.
"Yep. That's when he has his first walk."
"Um, OK," she replied, her enthusiasm dampened somewhat, but not wholly
diminished. I glanced over at her mother, who was trying not to laugh.
"Soph," she said, now back in parent mode, "I want you to go up and do
some reading before bedtime. Mr McNaught and I need to chat."
I could see Sophie beginning to object, but a sharp look from her
mother cut her off, and only grumbling very slightly she left us.
"So, Zack," Allison said when she was gone, using my first name for the
first time. "How have you been?"
---
When I left half an hour later, I was utterly drained. There had been
tears, and an equal amount of laughter, and not a little therapy.
Allison was utterly dedicated to caring for others, and that attitude
pervaded our conversation. She wanted to know everything about how I
had been since Em died, and she remembered everything about us, down to
the finest detail. She was so open, and so caring with me, that I
opened up fully to her, and told her things I had told no-one else, and
she listened and genuinely cared.
I forgot about the rest of my task, deciding that if anyone else wanted
to take part in the festivities they could damn well make that decision
on their own rather than needing me to bother them about it. I walked
home through the darkness, missing having Biscuit with me, but only for
companionship, not the safety he provided. I'd left him at home,
figuring that taking him up to people's houses would be problematic,
and I'd been away longer than I had intended. As I remembered him, I
also recalled my promise to Sophie. If she made it in time she would be
at my house at seven in the morning, ready to take Biscuit for a walk.
The vision of Sophie in her cotton pyjamas came unbidden to my mind. I
recalled with stark clarity the soft swell of her bottom beneath the
clingy fabric as she had walked out of the room, and long-dormant
desire flickered in my mind. She reminded me of someone, I was sure,
and it wasn't just her mother. Someone from my youth, some unrequited
desire, no doubt. I felt a little light-headed; I was turned on by the
sight, and the more I thought about it, the more aroused I became,
until I became obsessed by it. It was all I could think about as I
tramped through the darkness on autopilot, my feet guiding me home even
though my mind was elsewhere.
As I lay in the darkness of my room unable to sleep, I masturbated to
disturbing fantasies of Sophie's young body.
---
I was groggy as I woke. Through blurry eyes I interrogated my watch,
and found that, for once, Biscuit had opted not to wake me, and instead
had let me sleep until a quarter to seven.
Shit! Fifteen minutes!
I leapt out of bed, tripping over Biscuit where he lay by the door, and
stumbled into the shower. For once I was in and out in five minutes,
and threw on some clothes just in time to hear Sophie's knock at the
door. Biscuit heard it too and raced downstairs, waiting with a wagging
tail for me to catch up. With my heart unexpectedly thumping in my
chest, I opened the door.
"Hi," she said, brightly, though the bags under her eyes hinted that
she, too, was not long awake.
"Morning," I said, trying to appear friendly but not overly so. I was
highly conscious of trying not to project my thoughts. "You want to
come in for a moment before we go? I need to grab a drink."
I led her through to the back of the house, where my desk was set up to
take advantage of the light. I've always liked having plenty of natural
light around me while I work, even when it's on the computer. As I
stepped into the adjoining kitchen, Sophie gravitated towards my Mac,
and its big shiny screen.
"It's really big," she breathed as I joined her, a glass of orange
juice in my hand.
"Here, have a play," I said, flicking the mouse to wake the computer.
"Actually, “I continued, "have a look at this."
She stood back as I reached under the table and swung out - on a
special arrangement - my large graphics tab.
"You can use this to draw with," I said, and when she looked up at me
with a confused expression on her face, I reached down and grabbed the
pen. Flicking open a blank page, I started sketching - silly little
doodles, really, but Sophie loved it, amazed that what I was doing on
the tablet was immediately appearing on the screen.
"Can I have a go?" she asked excitedly, and when I agreed she hopped up
into my chair and grabbed the pen, and went to work.
I watched her for a moment, marvelling at how cute she looked with the
tip of her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she
concentrated. When she asked me how to change the pen colour, I didn't
even think as I leant over her and took her hand in mine, directing her.
Suddenly I was very aware of our proximity, with her back pressed
lightly into my chest. I felt her take a deep breath in, and hold it
for a moment before slowly letting it out. In the reflection on the
screen I saw her eyes drift blissfully shut, and while they were closed
I tilted my head forward and inhaled her fragrance, a mix of strawberry
scented shampoo and freshly laundered clothes, and beneath it something
indescribably 'girl'.
The moment was broken by Biscuit, who came and placed his head in
Sophie's lap, distracting her from the screen. While she turned her
attention to him, fussing over him as if he were the finest dog in all
the kingdom, I drained my juice and hoped the half hardness in my jeans
wasn't too visible.
---
The only other souls awake were other dog walkers and the milkman. I
gave my usual greetings to those we passed, and some even appeared to
know Sophie, especially her teacher at the local primary, who had been
my teacher twenty years before and had never seemed to age. I knew, of
course, that she was in fact due for retirement, but it was an
unfathomable thing to imagine. We got a few strange looks as we went,
but the reality was that any gossip likely to come out of people seeing
us together would be along the lines of a potential relationship with
her mother, nothing more sinister than that.
We walked for some time, Sophie never tiring of throwing Biscuit's
sodden tennis ball for him to chase, though she wasn't so keen to be
involved when I had to clear up after him. I didn't mind, though - it
was great just spending time with her. She was a bright kid and had an
infectious level of enthusiasm about everything. She was obsessed with
nature and its cycles, explaining things to me about the turning of the
leaves in autumn which I had no idea about. She correctly identified
breeds of cows in the fields, too; her eyes flew wide and she covered
her mouth with both hands when we passed Mason, a local shire horse,
who was out in his field and clearly in a state of some arousal. Sophie
dissolved into fits of giggles as we walked on, then gave me a
conspiratorial grin and theatrical wink. It was a thoroughly childish
thing to do, but at the same time a huge turn-on.
By the time or circuit took us past my parents' back garden morning was
in full swing, then sun was well risen and people were out and about. I
waved to my mother on the way to drop Sophie at her house, and
indicated through a complex pantomime that I would come back and speak
to her soon.
---
"Your Dad told me about Allison," she said when I returned and we were
sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea. "I didn't realise it was her,
either, though I remember her from the hospital. Perhaps more than you
do."
For the first time in years, my mother was openly talking about Em's
death, all prompted by seeing me with Sophie.
"It's a nice thing you're doing," she went on, "taking Sophie out for
walks like that. Allison's a single mum. No doubt she'll appreciate a
break every now and then. Nine year old girls can be lovely, but they
can be a handful, too."
I shrugged. Sophie had been a delight, though clearly she couldn't
always be that way.
"I don't suppose there's anything going on..." my mother said, leaving
it hanging. I looked up sharply, and only then realised that she was
referring to Allison, not Sophie.
"Mum, I haven't see Allison for years, and even then I hardly knew her.
I've met her twice - once last night and once this morning. There's
nothing going on between us, and nor will there be."
She smiled faintly at me.
"Well, just be careful. You know how tongues wag in this place. And
another thing, don't you think Sophie looks like her aunt?"
"Her aunt?"
"Oh yes, didn't you know," mum replied, a look of salacious delight on
her face, "you went to school with Allison's younger sister, Madeleine.
You used to have rather a crush on her, if I remember correctly."
---
As I walked back to my house, I reflected on what my mum had said.
Tongues would definitely be wagging, but that was fine for my purposes.
Whatever happened between Sophie and I - and to my shock I discovered
that I felt a growing desire for something to happen - it would be
masked by endless speculation about Allison and I.
And the other revelation - that Sophie was the niece of an old crush -
seemed to me to be fitting, almost poetic. It made sense, if nothing
else. God, I really had loved Madeleine, hadn't I? I went up into the
loft and dug out some old boxes. In amongst bits and pieces which
reminded me painfully of Em, I found a box of mementos from my school
days and there, exactly where I thought I would find it, was a school
photo. I would have been about ten when it was taken. I scanned the
faces and found one which was hauntingly familiar; there, staring out
of the photo at me was Sophie. Except, of course, that it wasn't
Sophie, it was her aunt, her mother's little sister.
I dragged the box down from the loft and spent the evening in warm
nostalgia.
---
"Right, everyone, listen up!"
Mark Allen was holding court. The low hum of chatter which had filled
the village hall died out as one by one we turned our attention to him;
there was a direct correlation between the length of time it took for
individual conversations to die out and how important each person
thought themselves to be. It annoyed the hell out of me, actually -
although I didn't always like Mark that much, we had all agreed to help
him out, and as such we ought to submit to his authority. It didn't
seem to faze him in the slightest, however. When the room was finally
silent, he continued.
"Great, thanks. Now, we have quite a lot to get done tonight, and not a
lot of time to do it in. I've organised groups of children to be
assigned to each of you, and drawn up a route map for you to follow.
I'll need you to walk round to your various pick up points and collect
your children from your houses. After that, the timings are up to you.
All I would ask if that you don't linger too long in one spot,
especially if there's another group present. We don't want children
getting mixed up and lost, do we? None of you should have more than six
kids in your group, and most will have no more than four.
"Oh, and one last thing. I'm really sorry about this, but because this
is sort of official parish council business, I'll need you wear one of
these," he said, holding up a hi-vis vest. "I know, I know, it's not
the most fashionable thing to wear, but it'll make sure you're visible
to your kids and any cars. At least I managed to persuade the council
that they would ruin the kids' costumes. If you'd like to come up one
at a time, I'll give you your group details, a vest and a placard to
carry."
So we did, forming an orderly queue in the best British traditions. The
placards were rather smart, even if I do say so myself - my bat designs
had been printed up on thick plastic card and fixed to the top of long
wooden poles, and someone had gone to the effort of drilling out the
bats' eyes and poking through some red LEDs, so the overall effect was
rather professional. Even the safety vest wasn't that bad, even if
according to the logo on the back we were working for the Highways
Agency for the night. All in all, there were eleven groups, which meant
rather a lot of kids would be wandering around the village tonight. As
I reached the front of the queue, Mark gave me a warm smile, and
reached down to pat Biscuit, who had been given special dispensation to
join me in the hall, rather than being tied up outside.
"Zack, thanks so much for volunteering. I know how fun you and Emily
used to have with Hallowe'en. Oh, one thing before you go: do you think
this might fit Biscuit?"
From behind the table, Mark took out a plastic bag and handed it to me.
I peered inside, and couldn't help laughing. I turned the bag out on to
the table, and there lay a collie sized T-Rex costume, more comic than
scary, but perfect for Biscuit.
"Thanks, Mark, that's really kind of you," I said, picking it up and
turning it over.
"No problem, Zack. Just my way of saying thanks for helping out when
you could so easily have said no."
---
Before I did anything else I got Biscuit into his costume. He looked
hilarious, although it appeared to confuse him somewhat. Then, at last,
I took out the piece of paper which held the names and addresses of the
children I would be picking up. It was a good thing I'd stepped away
from the rest of the group, because I let out an involuntary cry of
'yes!' when I saw the list - there were only three names on it, all
kids from Cantor St, and there at the bottom was Sophie's name. A
chance to spend even more time with her, even if there would be a
couple of other kids in tow. With a smile on my face I hoisted my
placard and headed out into the cold, moonlit night.
---
The costume was, apparently, a pixie, though it could have been a fairy
or any one of a number of other mythical creatures. I hardly cared,
though, because the effect was heart-rendingly cute, and actually
rather sexy. Satiny white tights encased her slender legs, making them
seem longer than they were, wrapping tightly around her thighs until
they disappeared beneath the ragged hem of a very short layered skirt
in some gauzy green material. On top was more of the same gauze,
running in diagonal stripes across her torso, fitted snugly to every
dip and rise in her physique. A tiara sat upon her hair, which had been
piled up on her head, and in her hand she held the most
diamanté-encrusted wand I'd ever seen. She beamed at me, basking in the
look of awe on my face.
"Oh, hi, Zack," Allison said, running down the stairs to see who
Sophie had answered the door to. "So, you're her chaperone for the
night, are you? Isn't that lucky?"
The way she said it, and the slight smile on her face told me that she
thought it nothing whatsoever to do with chance. I wanted to protest
that it really was none of my doing, but managed to stop myself. It
would only raise suspicion where there was in fact none. Allison was
surely just referring to the fact that it was good for Sophie to know
the person who would be looking after her for the evening.
"Can you come in for a cuppa, or do you need to get going?" Allison
asked.
"Sorry, as nice as that sounds I have two others to pick up, Jack and
Sam from up at number fourteen."
"Well, rather you than me on a night like this. I've told Sophie to put
a coat on but she says it'll ruin her costume. Silly sausage."
At that, Sophie turned her head and stuck out her tongue at her mum,
who responded in kind.
"Actually, Zack," Allison went on, "I don't s'pose you mind taking her
coat with you, do you? Then she can have it if she needs it."
"Nope, don't mind at all."
"Thanks. Oh, by the way, nice dinosaur you have there."
---
The Farley boys, Jack and Sam, were a nice pair of lads who played for
the village football side. They looked almost like twins, but in fact
there was fourteen months between them, with Jack the eldest at eleven.
He was probably a little old to be coming with us, but the service was
advertised to anyone under the age of twelve, so he qualified. They'd
dressed up as zombies, a theme which seemed particularly prevalent this
year. They greeted Sophie with a familiarity which suggested that they
played together from time to time.
The village was alive. Groups of boys and girls trailed round behind
their leaders, with the crazed glowing bat eyes leading the way. We
started to play tricks on the other groups, too - Sophie and I would
distract them while two boys crept up and zombied the lot. It was great
fun, and for the first time in three years I was enjoying Hallowe'en.
Once or twice I thought to myself that Emily would have loved it, too,
but the thought was melancholy, no worse. I hoped that wherever she
was, she was looking down at us and smiling.
About half an hour in, Sophie asked for her jacket. Once she had
slipped it on she took hold of my hand. it was a completely natural
thing to do - an adult holding the hand of a child in his care - but it
sent a shiver down my spine. Her delicate little hand felt so tiny
against my adult paw, and yet it fitted just right. She smiled up at me
contentedly, and held on tight. We held hands for the rest of the
evening, and no-one passed comment.
---
The phone call came just after I had dropped Jack and Sam back at their
house, and was on the way to Sophie's. My phone buzzed frantically in
my pocket, and I was surprised to find it was Allison calling.
"Hi,' I answered. "We're just down the road, be with you in a minute."
"OK, great," she said, sounding flustered.
The front door was already open when we approached.
"Zack, I'm so glad you got back now," she said, ushering us in. I
noticed straight away that she was wearing her nurses' uniform. "I've
had a call from the hospital. They need me there in an emergency. I'm
trying to sort out someone to look after Sophie for a while, but I'm
not sure how long it will take. I've tried most of my usual contacts
and they're all busy."
"How long do you think you'll be?" I asked, sensing a chance to spend
more time alone with Sophie.
"Uh, I'm not sure. It'll be eight hours at least, I imagine. I can't
see it being any less than that."
"Well, do you want me to take her?"
She stopped rushing around and looked at me. I tried to look back at
her with an open and honest expression, though deep down in the darkest
corners of my soul I was thinking the unimaginable about her daughter.
"I don't think I can ask you to do that, Zack. Surely you have things
to be doing?"
I shrugged.
"Not really. I was going to go home and mope around a bit!" I joked,
and she laughed, breaking the slight tension between us.
"Well, since you put it that way," she said, "I'll gladly accept the
offer. Where would you like to do it?"
It was an innocent question, but in the back of my mind I was thinking
'anywhere she'll let me'. I kept that thought to myself, though.
"Well, Biscuit will have nowhere to stay if we're here. He'll already
be a bit cold waiting outside, so if it's OK I'll take Sophie back to
mine and you can let me know where you are in the morning. Actually, if
you're going to be out most of the night, why don't I drop her at
school tomorrow? That way you get to catch a few hours' sleep during
the day and don't have to get up to take her."
"That's very kind, but are you sure? I mean, it's a lot of effort."
"Nonsense, she'll be no bother at all."
"Right, that's settled then," she said. "Soph, go upstairs and chuck
some pyjamas and your uniform in your bag quickly."
Sophie passed me with a huge grin on her face and practically skipped
up the stairs. When she was gone, Allison dragged me aside.
"Look, Zack," she said, her voice suddenly full of sorrow, "it's been a
really hard time for her over the past couple of years since her dad
left. I know you've had a tough time, too. It's pretty obvious you're
both needing someone in your lives - she needs a dad, and you just need
someone to distract you. Just be aware that she's a bit fragile, OK? If
she asks about Emily I don't mind you telling her stuff, but she's
quite a sensitive girl, OK?"
I tried to give her the most reassuring smile I could manage.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to burden her with my problems. It's just
nice to be around someone who's so full of life. I've always loved my
little nieces, so I kind of just see her as another one of those. I
hope that's OK."
She smiled back, and laid a hand on my arm, but said nothing more.
---
Sophie wandered into my house possessively, already at home despite
only having visited once before. Being nearly bedtime I didn't think
there would be much of a chance to spend time together, but I had one
idea.
"Soph, do you want to warm up in front of the fire before you go to
bed?"
She give me a huge grin and smiled. I grabbed a spare blanket and
chucked a couple of logs on the dormant fire, bringing it back to life.
I sat her with me on the big soft hearth rug and put the blanket around
us. To my delight, she took hold of my arm and wrapped it around
herself, and snuggled into my side.
My hand fell naturally onto her hip, and without thinking I let my
fingertips stroke her side. She'd changed into a pair of tracksuit
bottoms and a jumper before coming over, and the soft cotton material
of the trousers moved easily over the skin beneath. She hummed slightly
as my fingers danced across her hip, a sound of pure contentment. Since
there was no objection to my touch, I grew a little bolder, letting my
finger move from her side around to the front, passing over the jutting
bone of her hip and into the shallow valley at the top of her thigh,
where it met her pubis.
My finger made short passes up and down the top of the crease near her
hip bone, but dipped no lower. I felt her legs drift slightly apart and
then jerk back together all of a sudden, as if realising that they had
betrayed her. I pressed a little lower, feeling the walls of the valley
begin to grip my finger, and her legs fell apart to either side and
stayed there.
I had been staring into the fire as my fingers danced on her hip, but
as I began to slowly work my way toward her sex I looked down at her.
In the same moment she looked up, and as our eyes met something silent
passed between us. Without hesitating, without stopping to wonder
whether it might be appropriate, I leaned down and kissed her.
She responded immediately, kissing back, childish and amateurish, but
full of passion, hungry almost. Turning to face her naturally pulled my
hand away from its place on her waist, and so I replaced it with my
other, placing it gently on her upper thigh. Her legs had closed a
little, but now opened wider than ever, tacitly granting the permission
which her mouth was too busy to give. I ran my hand up her thigh and
bumped into her crotch, cupping it with my fingers, letting my longest
digit push the folds of her trousers and pants into the crease of her
sex. She broke the kiss, shuddering at the intensity of the sensations,
head falling onto my shoulder, face buried in the crook of my neck,
hips hunching slightly to push herself harder against the invading
fingers. I felt her for some moments, nose buried in the hair on top of
her head, inhaling the strawberry fragrance of her shampoo, my heart
hammering with excitement at the feel of her beneath my fingers. It
didn't occur to me that this was a nine year old girl; she was Sophie,
the girl I had fallen for, and that was all that mattered.
Of its own accord, her hand made its way into my lap, grasping at the
thick shaft of my erection through the fabric of my jeans. God knows
how she knew what to do - I intended to find out, but not right then,
not when it would have destroyed the moment. I groaned as she centred
her grasp on the head, squeezing hard, then making a gentle milking
motion. We writhed together like this for several minutes, Sophie
raising her head once in a while to kiss me, then letting it drop back
onto my shoulder, groaning and whimpering as I attacked her most
sensitive spot.
She stopped me with a urgent suddenness, pushing my had away from her
crotch. For a moment I feared the worst, but I shouldn't have. Sophie
reached down and grabbed the waistband of her trousers, pushing both
them and her pants down to her ankles and kicking them free, and then
with a sexual assertiveness which belied her age she grabbed my hand,
manipulating it until the middle finger was prominent, and then shoved
it down into the now-bared cleft between her legs.
Oh God she was so soft there, so perfectly formed. Her peach split in
two neat halves around my finger, and within I found the prominent
bulge of her clit, as different from its resting state as my manhood
was from its own, and the slickness which seeped from her, no different
from the adult lovers I had taken in my time. She was insistent,
grabbing my wrist with one hand and cupping her fingers around my
finger with the other, forcing me lower, making me crook my finger and
press against the entrance to her. We both gasped as my finger pushed
straight in, gliding on a wave of her juices. She was so very wet for
someone so young, her vagina a fiery-hot, strongly muscled tunnel of
flesh which sucked on my finger as I pushed it ever deeper into her,
stopping only when my fat second knuckle pushed against the entrance
and felt resistance which would take some time to overcome.
I began to move in and out of her, ever so slowly and gently, and with
the pad of my thumb exerting gentle pressure on her button. Nothing too
rough, nothing which would hurt her highly sensitive sex. She watched
for a moment, but then could no longer take the sustained assault,
falling back onto the floor, spread-eagled beneath me, her legs bent at
the knee and thrown wide. She lay there in nothing but a t-shirt as I
molested her. I marvelled at the soft sucking sound her hole made
around my finger as I rocked it in and out of her, and at the way her
wetness seeped out around my finger to dribble down between her legs
and wet her arse, and then the floor. I pressed gently but firmly on
each inward stroke feeling the ring of muscle tight around my knuckle,
but could go no further, not that night.
She had abandoned her rough groping of my shaft, which was a blessed
relief, because by this point if there had been any stimulation at all
I would have flooded my boxers with cum. My heart hammered in my chest,
setting my head spinning. I couldn't quite believe that this perfect
little being was lying naked beneath me with a finger buried in her
snatch. I hadn't looked at young girls in a sexual way before, but
there was something just right about the shape of her body. Slender
hips, hairless, unblemished mound, thin, coltish legs. I pushed up her
top until I could squeeze her nipples with my spare hand, and felt an
involuntary tensing of the ring around my finger. I pinched and rubbed
at the tiny, undeveloped nubbins, and was rewarded with a groan.
Immature though they were, Sophie's nipples seemed to give her great
pleasure, and so my fingers stayed there, rubbing, tweaking, adding to
her pleasure. All the time she moaned and writhed beneath me, her
tongue held tightly between her lips as if concentrating on the
sensations I was generating inside her.
I had no idea a young girl could reach that peak we all strive for. I
had no clue that she would suddenly strain every muscle in her body, or
that she would cry out as if tortured, that her back would arch, then
her hips hunch upwards frantically, finally pushing my knuckle past the
now-quivering sphincter at the entrance to her hole. I had no idea her
hands would grab my arm, dragging my fingers away from her chest,
stuffing them into her mouth and sucking and biting frantically on them
as over and over her vagina sucked on my invading finger. Her climax
beat any I'd given to an adult woman, and would have shocked anyone
with its intensity. Her brows furrowed as if she were confused, eyes
clamped tightly shut, a sheen of sweat on her forehead, chest mottled
with huge red patches, contrasting with her pale, perfect skin.
She shouted as I withdrew my finger, and then curled up into a ball on
the floor, still shaking occasionally. I curled up behind her, dragging
her to me.
"Sophie," I whispered in her ear. "I think I might be in love with you."
She murmured something unintelligible, and hugged my arms around her.
"It's still not that late," I said. "Do you want to watch a film?"
So we curled up on the sofa and watched a silly romantic comedy
together, and this time nothing untoward happened. She was my girl,
though. Mine. My girlfriend maybe. My lover, certainly. Nine years old
and better than any I'd had before. I guiltily glanced across at the
picture of Emily on the wall, and was grateful all of a sudden that I
don't believe in the afterlife.
"You want to know how I know all that stuff?" Sophie asked, completely
out of the blue. I looked at her and nodded.
"It's mum's Cosmo," she said with a giggle. "She always leaves it
around and it's always talking about sex. Are we going to do it
properly?"
I shuddered, and wondered the same thing.
---
She stuck her tongue out at me over her shoulder, and wiggled her hips
as she pushed the waistband of trousers and pants down below the mounds
of her shapely bum. We'd retired to my bedroom to spend the night
together in my bed, and perhaps find time to sleep.
"Careful, Soph," I said. "If you keep teasing me I might not be able to
stop myself."
"Oh yeah?" she replied, provocatively. "Who says I want you to stop
yourself? And anyway, you'd have to catch me first."
"Oh really?"
"Yep!"
We both had the same thought at the same moment. I lunged across the
bed, trying to grab her, but she was too fast and darted off down the
hallway. I jumped up and raced after her, hearing the thump-thump-thump
of her feet on the stairs. She was just disappearing around the corner
at the bottom when I reached the top. I raced down, skipping every
other step, and rounded the corner in time to see her backside
disappearing into the living room. I followed her in and knew that she
was now cornered.
She shrieked as I lunged for her, jumping out of the way just before my
arms closed around her. I leapt as she dodged to the side, and caught
an ankle, bringing her down. She wriggled like an eel, trying
desperately to free herself, but I was just too strong.
"No, no! Save me!" she cried out, though her giggles suggested that she
wasn't being too serious.
I moved over her, pinning her arms either side of her head and trapping
her legs with one of my own.
"Stop wriggling, Soph," I said, breathing hard.
"Never!"
"Fine, you leave me no choice!" I cried, and leaned down, trapping her
lips with mine and kissing her passionately.
She fell still, kissing back, becoming limp beneath me. I lay myself
down upon her, grinding my crotch against hers, feeling her hips
respond. I broke the kiss and looked into her eyes.
"Soph, do you trust me?" I asked.
She stared back at me and nodded. Lifting myself off her, I pushed her
t-shirt up until her tiny nipples were exposed. I couldn't stop myself
sucking one into my mouth, and she gasped beneath me, arching her back.
The deep breath she took made her ribs stand out on her slender torso.
I continued to lick and suck on her nipples as one hand worked down to
her crotch, fingers snaking beneath both waistbands to press between
the folds of her soft, sticky, warm sex. I toyed with her entrance,
feeling the ring of muscle slip easily over the end of my finger, still
loose from its earlier abuse.
I played with her for only a minute before withdrawing my hand and
tugging at her clothes, pulling trousers and pants down past her knees.
I knelt up and removed them completely, and pushed her knees wide. Her
reddened sex lay open, fattened clit standing out at its zenith, and
the slightly gaping coral of her hole beneath. I plunged forward and
kissed her there, softly at first, then more insistently, pressing my
tongue in between her folds. I worked her bump first, then wiggled the
tip into her hole, and just when her hips began to gyrate I went back
to her clitoris. Her hips pushed insistently up into my face as I
fellated her, and little whimpers came from the back of her throat.
The assault lasted mere minutes before the pitch and rhythm of her
moans changed suddenly, growing deeper, becoming growls of lust. She
came hard, hips bucking uncontrollably, heels hammering my shoulders,
then levering her crotch up to mash against my face, my tongue buried
in her hole, my nose grinding against her clit. As it peaked her legs
clamped tight around my head, quivering uncontrollably, and my nose and
mouth with filled with the scent and flavour of her excitement.
Finally, with the last ripples still causing convulsions in her tummy,
she fell back to the floor, spent. I moved up next to her, cradling her
in my arms. She smiled at me, eyes glazed over.
"Wow..." she whispered, voice unsteady. "Best one ever."
---
When we made it to bed she was barely able to keep her eyes open. I was
beyond aroused by our lovemaking so far, and that clouded my judgement.
I should have let her sleep then, but instead I pulled her to me and
rubbed myself against her, my shaft pushing into the hot cleft of her
abused sex over and over, until I could take it no more and climbed on
top of her, masturbating furiously until I fired a thick load over her
tummy and crotch. She made no comment as I guiltily cleaned her with a
flannel, watching as I wiped the evidence of my depraved act from the
freshly-sullied skin of her perfect body. I hugged and kissed her as
she finally drifted off.
---
It was Biscuit who woke me, pawing at the door to be let out. I
shivered as the icy air washed over my nakedness, and then deliberately
shut the door behind him. He would probably be fine out there for a
while - I, on the other hand, had business to attend to.
She lay on one side, her arms hugging the pillow in front of her, hair
in a tangled mess. I slipped back into bed beside her and cuddled
close, growing aroused at the feeling of her naked body against mine,
the soft swell of her shapely bum pressed into my lower stomach. I felt
the tip of my aroused manhood push against her backside and shivered at
the sensation.
She came awake slowly, stretching her arms and yawning. At first she
stiffened in surprise at the feeling of being held, but when she looked
up at me recognition dawned and she relaxed, turning onto her back,
giggling as the hand nearest me closed around the thick shaft which
draped across her hip. I leaned down and kissed her and she responded,
hungrily kissing me back, her hand gently working on my penis, not with
any rhythm, but feeling, grasping, letting it fill her hand comfortably.
I ran a hand up her leg and felt her thighs parting in response. Her
cleft was hot and sticky, still coated in the residue of the previous
night's lovemaking. I pressed her clitoris hard into the bone beneath,
feeling rather than hearing her groan into my mouth. I rolled it back
and forth against her pubis for several seconds, delighting in the way
that her agonising pleasure transferred to pressure on my shaft. Her
button hardened, growing fat beneath the pad of my finger, swelling
until my attack on it was too much; she released my shaft and grabbed
my wrist, pushing my hand down between her legs until the tip of my
finger penetrated the tight ring of muscle at the entrance to her hole,
and only relenting when I had established a rhythm of circular
movements, pleasuring her and opening her for my pleasure at the same
time.
I worked my finger in and out, around and about until I felt the ring
slackening ever so slightly. I pushed forward, gaining ground while I
could, burying my middle finger in her until the second knuckle pushed
fatly against the still-resisting ring. I held it there, pushing ever
so gently, still rotating but now in tiny circles. She grew ever more
aroused beneath me, her face and chest flushed, eyes closed and our
kiss long since abandoned in favour of grabbing gasping breaths between
groans of pleasure. Feeling the heat and slickness growing around my
finger I realised that my goal was in sight and with gentle but
insistent pressure I pushed until my finger was completely encased. I
curled it up inside her and felt a shudder run through her body.
She pulled her hand free of me and threw the covers off us, raising
herself up onto her elbows and staring down at her own crotch in
fascination as my finger pumped in and out of her, while my thumb
pressed ever so gently on her clit. With each inward press she grew
hotter, slicker, slacker, until I was fingering her with ease, my digit
coated in a glistening sheen of her excitement. I thrust repeatedly
into her, marvelling at the way she stretched, and opening her hole
ever wider.
I tried two fingers, gently at first, and her head fell back onto the
pillow, eyes clamped tight shut, breathing in short, desperate gasps.
She took my fingers more easily than I thought possible, stretching
wider and wider until both were buried in her as far as they would go.
A wicked thought entered my mind.
"Sophie, sweetheart," I whispered in her ear. "Can I have sex with you?"
She opened an eye slowly, weakened by my pleasure assault. She looked
at me for a moment, searching for something in my eyes, then squeezed
her eyes tight shut as a wave of euphoria washed over her, the powerful
muscles at the entrance of her vagina squeezing hard down on my digits.
She licked her lips and panted, and finally replied.
"Carefully, OK?" she croaked, barely able to speak. I nodded, though
her eyes were shut, and withdrew my fingers. she gasped and arched her
back as I did so, before curling up her hips, desperately trying to
keep them inside.
I moved over her on hands and knees, my shaft bobbing beneath me and
drooling onto the pale skin of her stomach. She lay beneath me,
abandoned to my ministrations, arms to either side of her head and legs
wide apart. At their junction with her body her vagina lay gaping open
slightly, the centre of a reddened cleft which was crowned by her
fattened clitoris. I lowered myself down until I could feel the hot
cleft kissing the underside of my shaft, then humped a few times,
feeling the sensation of her sex on mine.
"It's lower, silly," she drawled, eyes still shut. She grabbed my
manhood and pushed it down and back, centring it on the notch which led
inside. I pushed forward, slowly but insistently, and felt her lips
spread around my tip.
The muscle at her entrance resisted me for only a few moments before
surrendering to the assault it was under. I pressed forward until I was
halfway in, then stopped for fear of hurting her. I watched myself all
the time, making my way inside a nine year old girl. I should have been
disgusted with myself, but all I really felt was overwhelming love for
her. I was making love to Sophie, not fucking her.
I began to move, short thrusts at first, then longer. I looked up at
her and her eyes were squeezed shut. She panted with the effort of
accepting me. Sometimes she would moan, or lick her lips, but the whole
time her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. She may have been only a
girl, but her body responded as a woman's would, her hot, tight tunnel
becoming ever looser and slicker as I pumped, until I felt myself
bottoming out in her. I thrust as deeply as I could several times,
glorying in the depth I could achieve, and then all of a sudden it was
over. With a surging, relentless pressure I swelled inside her and
flooded her sex with my seed. She yelped as I suddenly expanded inside,
eyes flying open and hands coming up to grip my arms, digging in her
nails. Her stomach and legs quivered, and as I quickly pulled free of
her and hugged her to me she continued to shake while tears ran down
her face.
---
She had a bath before school, soaking herself in the warm water,
letting it sooth the tender entrance to her body. She smiled and
reassured me that it was OK, that she was a little sore but that was
all. I couldn't stop myself feeling guilty.
I walked her to school with Biscuit, who was glad to finally have some
exercise. I dropped her there, explaining to her teacher that Sophie’s
mum had been called into work. I could feel the eyes of the other
parents and carers on my back, and knew that the gossip would be worse
than ever. There would be little doubt in the minds of my fellow
villagers that something was going on between Allison and I. I thanked
my lucky stars that they almost certainly wouldn't guess the truth.
It didn't stop me worrying, though - before we'd left the house, I had
stopped Sophie for a kiss while we could still enjoy it, kneeling down
and running my hands up beneath her skirt to feel her bum. She grinned
down at me and teased my dick with her foot.
"Soph, we're going to have to keep this a secret, you know."
She rolled her eyes at me.
"Of course we will, silly. Mum would go mental if she found out."
And that, apparently, was that.
---
I sat unable to concentrate on my work. Sophie was at school now, and
her mum would pick her up later, having got home from the hospital at
roughly the same time that Sophie was washing the evidence of our
lovemaking from her immature body. I felt so guilty at having missed
her call as my phone frantically buzzed on my bedside table, whilst I
perched on the side of the tub and leered her little girl's body.
Out of the corner of my eye I spotted her tracksuit bottoms and pants,
still bunched together and pushed halfway beneath the sofa. My mind
span back to the previous evening, when I had chased her down to the
living room and ripped off her clothes before bringing her off in
spectacular fashion with my tongue. I shuddered at the memory of her
legs locked together around my neck forcing her soft little pussy into
my face, mashing her clit against my nose as my tongue probed her hole,
and then the sensation of her body being racked by convulsions as she
came.
What was it she said? 'Best one ever', wasn't it? Well, that meant
something - she'd obviously been putting her Cosmo-derived knowledge to
good use and had been giving herself orgasms in the past. Well, I
assumed they were self-inflicted. She seemed very sure of herself when
it came to sex, and though the tough ring of muscle at her entrance had
resisted my intrusion, it had also parted without pain. Perhaps I
wasn't her first. The thought utterly intrigued me.
I moved to pick up her clothes, and on a whim pressed the crotch of her
pants to my nose. The fabric was crusty with her dried juices, and the
scent was out of this world: musky, lightly spiced, intoxicating. I
abandoned work to rush upstairs, falling onto the bed, frantically
inhaling the fragrance of her arousal and bringing myself to a
head-spinning climax.
---
I didn't bother to take the clothes back to Allison that day. It was
easy to imagine a perfectly innocent reason that they were forgotten at
my house, and it seemed (to my mind at least) less likely to arouse
suspicion if I was laid back about it. Besides, if I picked my moment
carefully I would be able to see Sophie on a perfectly innocent
pretext. Besides, it gave me the opportunity to spend more time with
that glorious scent.
I realised I was becoming obsessed, but I also realised why - I had
strong romantic feelings for Sophie, and I desperately wanted to spend
more time with her. Without a reason to do so my life was empty. We'd
agreed to go walking with Biscuit again soon, but that would leave
little chance for intimacy, and time alone with her in bed was what I
craved more than anything.
---
At least we had our walk planned for Saturday morning. Bright and early
she knocked at the door. I opened it with my heart thumping in my
chest, blood pounding in my ears; she stood there looking gorgeous in a
blue duffel coat over a short pleated tartan skirt and dark blue
tights. She grinned up at me and twisted her body slightly, bending one
knee in an unabashedly coquettish way.
"Hey," I said, unable to stop myself grinning back. "Um, I would ask
you in, in case you wanted to... you know... but we really ought to get
going."
She stifled a giggle, her face turning bright red.
"It's OK," she replied in a conspiratorial whisper accompanied by a
grin which verged on a leer, "I've thought of that already. I've got a
plan. I want to do stuff again."
She led the way. The first half of the route was fairly standard,
taking one of the quieter paths which skirted around the far side of a
large birch wood to the east of the village. It was a gorgeous morning,
dawn breaking as we walked, the sun an anaemic yellow globe whose light
barely made it through the thick morning mist. Winter was beginning to
bite - frost glistened on the grass through which we crunched, and
clouds of steam escaped our mouths as we talked. There seemed so much
to talk about, too.
"Are you sure you're OK with what we're doing?" I asked at one point.
She gave me an acidic look.
"I'm not a little kid any more, you know," she replied. "I know all
about having sex, and I like doing it with you. Why do you think I
wanted to come round your house?"
"I, er... well, I just wanted to make sure."
"You're such a dummy, Zack," she said, punching me on the arm. "You
didn't force me to do anything, and I'm not going to tell anyone what
we're doing. I know how much trouble you'll be in if I do."
"You know what, Soph," I said, "you're a lot smarter than most of the
girls your age."
"Yeah, well..." she said, and looked down. I left her for a moment, not
pushing her, waiting to see if she wanted to say more.
"It's 'cause I spent a lot of time around someone really clever," she
said at last. Her voice caught slightly, and there were the beginnings
of tears in her eyes. "Where we lived before I had a friend called Amy.
Actually, she was my babysitter, but we were best friends. She was
really smart, she knew everything. I mean, she was only seventeen but
she knew way more than most adults. She even lived with us for a bit,
but then when we moved here she didn't come with us."
Sophie was looking down at the ground now, avoiding meeting my eye. A
tear rolled down each cheek, darkening the skin beneath.
"Do you keep in touch at all?"
Sophie shrugged.
"We send emails sometimes, but I don't have a phone so I can't text her
or anything."
"She was really important to you, wasn't she?"
She nodded, and sobbed slightly. I stopped and grabbed her in a hug,
and she cried on me.
"Was she the one who told you all about sex?" I asked.
She pushed me away and looked up from me, her tear-laden eyes blinking
in the cold air.
"Why are adults so stupid?"
"Uh, I have no idea..." I replied.
"You just don't see things sometimes. Really big things. Amy wasn't
just my friend. She didn't tell me about sex. She showed me."
We stood in silence for a moment. I couldn't quite work out what to say
in response, and Sophie glared at me, daring to say something stupid
and get it wrong again.
"I'm sorry," I said at last, not quite sure what else I should say in
this situation.
"Sorry for what? Sorry that she molested me? Sorry she made me feel
really wonderful? I'm not. And you can hardly talk!"
"That's not what I meant, Soph. I'm sorry that you can't see her any
more. It must hurt."
She just looked at me, her mouth moving, but no words coming out. Then
she burst into tears and flung herself at me once more.
"I... miss her... so much!" she said between sobs.
"It's OK," I said, stroking her hair and trying to sooth her. "It's OK,
sweetie. We'll fix it, I promise. We'll do something."
---
A few minutes later she had calmed down enough that I no longer had to
hold her.
"Sorry," she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and
sniffing loudly. "You must think I'm such a baby."
I shook my head.
"I know what it's like to miss someone dreadfully, Sophie. I know
exactly what it's like."
"Your wife, you mean? Mum told me about it. I'm sorry."
"You know, it's not just her I miss," I said. "I miss you when I'm not
around you."
She gave me a look as if I was slightly mad, then grabbed me by the
hand.
"Come on, I've got a surprise for you."
It was when we were on the far side of the wood, as far as we would get
from home, that she finally showed me what she meant. She veered off
the path and followed a barely-used track into the woods.
"Jack from down my road showed me this place," she said as she dragged
me through the undergrowth. "No-one else knows about it, he says, and
he won't be here today because he has a football game."
I felt a fleeting moment of jealousy at the degree to which she knew
Jack's schedule, and there were unanswered questions about why he'd
brought her into the woods in the first place, but then all these
introspective thoughts were banished from my mind by the sight in front
of me.
It must have been a folly once. Rumour had it that an old manor house
was lost somewhere nearby in the dense, private woods which the MOD
owned. They'd taken it over during the war and the work they'd done
there was so secret that they never gave it back. Perhaps the folly was
associated with the house, though the land it stood upon was public.
How had I never heard of this place in all my years of living in the
village?
It was a squat tower, three stories high. Inside a stone staircase
wound its way up through two levels. The floors were dusty but the wood
was sound; there was nothing at all on the first floor, but up at the
top of the tower the room had been kitted out to be, if not exactly
habitable then at least drier and warmer than outside. There were old
sections of carpet in a patchwork on the floor, a small wood burner
which exhausted its smoke through a hole in the wall, and somehow,
despite the fact that it was clearly larger in every dimension than the
door to the staircase, a sofa. I made a mental note to bring some wood
and matches one day, if we came back.
"Jack says the whole time he's been coming here he's never seen anyone
else," Sophie said. "And the best part about it is this," she
continued, walking over to the sofa. She climbed onto it on her knees
and looked over her shoulder at me provocatively.
"What do you think?" she asked.
I'm sure she was referring to the set-up, but my mind was on the round
little bum which poked sexily at the material of her skirt.
"I think I want you to kneel there while I put my willy in you."
She looked round at me and grinned.
"Hurry up then, Biscuit will start getting bored soon," she said, and
giggled.
I walked over to her and placed a hand on her hip, then ran it down to
her thigh. Bringing it back up, I flicked her skirt onto her lower
back, and then without hesitation pulled her tights and pants down to
her knees, leaving her peach exposed through the gap in her thighs.
"Oh God," I groaned. "Your little fanny really is pretty."
As if to emphasise my point I reached out a finger and pushed through
the folds, hunting for her vagina. I found it quickly, and found it
wet. She must have been expecting something to happen when she brought
me to the tower, and had got wet thinking about what it might be. It
made me shudder to think of her growing aroused by me. I pressed my
finger deeper into her, twisting, gathering wetness so that when I
pulled it out I spread her slipperiness all around the entrance to her
hole. I used just one finger, making an obscene squelching noise which
echoed around the folly, occasionally drowned out by a moan from
Sophie's other lips.
"I think you should put your willy in now," she said, voice slightly
strained. She was taking deep breaths, holding them for a few seconds
and then expelling them loudly. A mottled blush spread out from her
reddened vulva down both thighs, and her sex parts glistened wetly, so
hot that they steamed slightly in the freezing air.
I stepped up behind her and dropped my jeans and pants to mid-thigh. I
was achingly hard, and even the cold air in the tower did little to
dampen my ardour. I pressed the head against her and pushed forward,
delighting at the sight of my manhood forcing her lips apart and
barging its way into her. She groaned and made a series of little
gasping noises, then followed them up with an,
"Ow! Ow! Owwwww!"
I paused, distressed by the sounds she was making, but she wasn't as
easily put off as I was.
"Sorry," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of desperation. "I
still want you to do it, just be gentle, please."
I carried on, less urgently, less lustfully, until I felt the
resistance growing too great and stopped again. She let out a huge
sigh, and I felt the overstretched muscles at the entrance to her hole
twitching and spasming. I was only two or three inches into her.
"He feels so big this time," she said. "It didn't hurt like this
before."
"Sorry," I said, feeling wretched that I had hurt her. "I had more time
to make you ready before."
"It's OK, don't say sorry. I want you to do it. It starting to hurt
less. Can you just rub my bump a bit? I can't reach..."
I gladly felt around the underside of my penis, finding the hard little
lump of her clit poking out from her distended vulva. She jumped when I
pressed it, and squeaked because doing so forced me a little further
into her. As I massaged it, mashing it hard against the bone beneath, I
finally felt her loosen a little around my shaft until I began to sink
even further in. Finally, ultimately, I had to stop when I had filled
up her vagina and there was barely half an inch of my shaft left
outside her. I couldn't quite believe I was pressing up against her
cervix; my meagre manhood went so much further in this position.
She wriggled her hips, too, in response to the stimulation. Just the
friction that caused on my sensitive, tightly-squeezed shaft was enough
to take me near the edge. I left her clit and grabbed her hips with
both hands, and started to give her a good, deep, thorough ploughing.
If I'd thought the sound of my finger in her was obscene, the sound of
my manhood squelching into her was something else entirely. Little
pockets of air were squeezed out of her by my oversized shaft, making
little raspberry sounds which brought a giggle from her. It locked me
into her, too, in a vacuum like grip which sucked harder than any
blowjob I'd ever had. That, rather than the friction, was what send me
over the edge. I somehow retained the presence of mind to pull out, so
I didn't coat her insides with cum which would drip out all the way
home. Instead I painted the other sofa cushion with fat droplets,
holding my wet, shaking rod in a tight grip to stop it bucking wildly
out of control and dousing Sophie's back instead.
When the blackness had receded from my vision I looked down at her.
She'd turned round on the sofa, and lay there fingering herself as she
looked up at me, legs spread lewdly wide, finger pistoning in and out
of a gaping, raw hole. I fell to my knees and lapped at her crotch,
pushing my tongue into her hole, then sucking on her clit, until with
an anguished cry she reached her peak, hips pushing desperately up at
me while her hands grasped painfully at the hair on my head, pushing my
face into her well-used sex.
I leaned back on my haunches and looked at the ravaged girl. She lay
there almost in shock, looking at me through slitted eyes, steaming
from both her mouth and her crotch.
"Sophie, if I could," I said, lustfully, "I would fuck you so hard
again, right now."
She giggled up at me and finally shut her legs.
"You're dirty," she said, and giggled again.
---
We walked on, Sophie somewhat unsteady on her legs. As was I, if truth
be told - the experience was head-spinning. I realised on that walk
that I needed Sophie. Desperately needed her. Not just for the
sex, although that was astonishingly good. No, I needed her to be
around me, because as we walked we chatted, and she made me laugh, and
I made her laugh, and somehow it became apparent that although there
was a generation between us we were right for each other. It sounds
strange, and I'm sure psychologists and Daily Mail readers would try to
suggest it was something to do with being unable to form a proper
attachment to an adult, but that's horribly naive.
As I waved her goodbye, and she blew me a kiss and winked at me, I knew
that I would have to find some way of seeing her more regularly. And,
as I had promised, I must find a way to bring Amy back into her life.
---
Sometimes, when you want something badly enough, the universe just
gives in and says 'OK, here you go'. It doesn't happen very often at
all, but I'd been through plenty of shit in my time, so perhaps I
deserved something nice to happen.
Allison called me two days after I fucked her daughter in the folly in
the woods. She sounded unsure of herself, as if tiptoeing around
something. She asked how I was, chatter about a bit of the village
gossip and by and large said nothing much at all. Eventually we ran out
of nothings to say, and I was about to end the conversation, but she
seemed to want to say one last thing.
"Um, Zack," she started, when it became apparent that she wasn't going
to be able to avoid the issue any longer. "I need to ask you something
about Sophie. Actually a couple of things. Only, one of them is a bit
awkward and the other's a huge favour."
I laughed at her discomfort, and told her to carry on.
"OK, the uncomfortable one first," she said. "Have you noticed Sophie
talking about any boys in particular lately?"
"Uh, no, not really. I mean, I know she plays with the Farley boys
sometimes, but she hasn't really mentioned them to me."
"Oh, right. OK."
"What is it, Allison? Why do you ask?"
"Oh, it's nothing, really. Just being silly I suppose. I just... God,
I'm not sure I should be telling you this, but I really don't want to
talk to anyone else about it. Uh... I, er, caught Sophie playing with
herself the other day. Well, actually, I didn't catch her, I just heard
her through her bedroom door."
At the other end of the phone my heart was hammering in my chest, a
mixture of fear at the direction of the conversation, and excitement at
the thought of what Sophie got up to in bed.
"Oh, I'm sure that's perfectly normal for a girl her age, isn't
it?"
"Oh, yes, of course," said Allison in a rush. "Only, it was what she
was saying. She kept saying stuff like 'go on, push your willy in' and
'yes, squirt your stuff in me'. I mean, where does she get this stuff
from if she hasn't been doing the unthinkable with a boy?"
I tried to stay level-headed, and luckily Sophie had already given me
an excellent excuse for her behaviour.
"Well, do you ever leave any magazines lying around? Or does she go on
the internet without you there?"
"No to the internet, but maybe to the magazines. I mean, some of them
are pretty explicit with their advice. Do you think she might have been
reading them?"
"Well, it sounds far more likely than her having sex with someone,
doesn't it?"
Except she's having sex with me, I thought. Best not admit that one
though.
"Yes, I suppose so," Allison said, sounding relieved. "I suppose I
better warn her not to read them."
"Probably best. Only, don't go overboard on her. She's just curious,
that's all. It's a good thing she's exploring on her own rather than
trying it for real."
Even as I was saying it, I was feeling inhuman. Here I was screwing
Allison's daughter, then telling her not to worry, that Sophie's
behaviour was perfectly innocent and explicable.
"Yeah, I guess," she said. Finally, my heart was beginning to return to
its normal speed.
"What was the other thing you wanted to ask?" I asked, keen to change
the subject now that Allison was somewhat mollified.
"Oh, yes. Actually, this one's a huge favour. I've got into a strange
pattern with shifts, and Sophie's usual child-minder can't do a
lot of them. I'm looking for someone new, but is there any chance you
might be able to look after her once or twice until I've got it sorted?
I can pay you all the usual fees."
"I'd love to help out, it's no problem at all. And I would be insulted
if you paid me. Just let me know when you need me to look after her. As
you know, I work from home, so it won't be an issue having her here any
time you need it."
"Oh, thanks Zack, you're an absolute life saver. It'll be easy to sell
to Soph, too - you know, I think she might have a little bit of a crush
on you. She's always on cloud nine when she gets home from seeing you."
Well, that's probably because she's just cum...
"I'm sure it's just a harmless little thing. She'll forget about me in
a few weeks when the next boy band comes along!" I joked.
"Oh Zack. Why is it that men are all so sweet and innocent about this?"
"What?"
"Nothing, it doesn't matter. Anyway, thanks again, Zack. I'll let you
know when Sophie's going to be over next."
---
It was two days later that I got the call I had been desperately
waiting for since the moment my last conversation with Allison came to
a close.
"I've got an overnighter on Wednesday. I'll not need to go in until 4,
but that means leaving here before Sophie gets home from school."
"That's fine," I replied. "I'll take Biscuit for a walk and pick her up
on the way back into the village, then I'll take her to school the next
day."
"Thanks, Zack, I really appreciate it. Um, I hope you don't mind me
asking, but why are you being so nice to me?"
"It's simple," I lied. "Ever since Em died the people in this village
have been so kind to me. I want to do something to help out other
people. And anything I can do to help your work at the oncology ward is
important to me. And, of course, having Sophie around lately has really
picked me up."
That last part was at least true, if not the whole truth.
---
She gave me a huge grin and almost danced over to me, but thankfully
stopped short of a full on hug and kiss with her teachers and
classmates watching on. She did, however, take my hand as we walked -
an innocent enough act should you have no knowledge of what I planned
for her when I had her in the privacy of my own home.
"Did you have a good day?" I asked, trying to keep the tone light for
now. She nodded and giggled, then looked round to see if anyone was in
earshot. Finding no-one close enough to hear what she said, she proudly
announced,
"I started thinking about staying at yours tonight and I started
getting a really sexy feeling in last period. I was getting really
wriggly in my chair 'cause it was getting itchy down there, like it was
trying to get me to touch it, and the teacher thought I had to go for a
wee, so he made me go to the toilet. I managed to play with it fast
enough to get the feeling. Then I didn't put my pants back on after! I
think Mr Thomson was trying to look up my skirt afterwards, too,
because I had my legs open. He's a dirty old pervert."
She giggled again, suggesting that she wasn't wholly disturbed by her
voyeuristic teacher.
"Does that mean I'm a dirty old pervert, too?" I asked.
"No! Of course not! You're not that old, and anyway you're my
boyfriend, it's different."
She hugged my arm tightly to herself, and my heart did backflips at the
thought of her calling me her boyfriend.
"So, does it bother you if Mr Thomson tries to see your fanny?" I
asked, intrigued.
"Not really, I suppose. Actually, it kind of... God, you're going to
think this is really weird, but it kind of makes me feel a bit tingly
in my fanny."
"Do you like to show off for him then?"
"I suppose so. Yeah, I do. Is that really weird?"
"Oh no, that's not weird at all. Loads of people like showing off.
Besides, it's a winning situation for everyone - he gets to see your
fanny and you get a tingly feeling for showing it off. Just be careful,
OK? Don't do it when your friends aren't there, in case he tries to do
something to you."
She smiled up at me.
"Don't worry, I'll be careful."
"Um, Soph," I continued, "do you ever feel like you want to show off
for anyone else? Do you think about it?"
She blushed slightly before she replied.
"Er, yeah, kind of. Sometimes I think about showing off my fanny to
people on the bus or something. I always have to play with it after
that, it gets really itchy."
"That's what we call a sexual fantasy, or just fantasy. They're really
fun, especially if you act them out."
"So you think I should show people my fanny on the bus?!" she
exclaimed. I shrugged.
"Might be fun. We could go somewhere together, and I could try to take
pictures of the men looking up your skirt. What do you think?"
She was silent for a few moments, mulling it over.
"Yeah, OK," she said eventually. "How are we going to get mum to agree
though?"
"Don't worry, I'll deal with that."
She grinned up at me, and we continued on our way.
"Zack," she said, about two minutes later, "do you have any fantasies?"
---
"It's called Neko," I explained, as she stared at the screen
open-mouthed.
"So, let me get this straight, you like cartoons of girls who have ears
and tails. And that's your fantasy?"
"They're not cartoons," I said, repeating the phrase I'd so often been
told. "They're drawings. I mean, real girls can't have tails and ears,
so they have to draw them instead. Or dress up and pretend."
"Dress up? Show me!" she said, howling with laughter.
I pulled up some Neko cosplay pictures.
"Oh my God," she said, fascinated. "You want me to look like that?"
"Well, no," I replied, bashfully. "Just the ears and tail would do."
"And you can get those so I can wear them?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Fine," she said. "If that's your fantasy, that's what we'll do."
---
One week later.
"I thought it would just strap around your waist," I said dejectedly,
handing her the tail. "But it's kind of different."
She took it off me, turning it this way and that.
"I don't get it," she said, brows furrowed. "Where does this bit go?"
she asked, fondling the conical plug at one end. "It doesn't go in my
fanny does it?"
"Um, no, not exactly," I replied, feeling hot under the collar. "It
goes inside, but not in your fanny. It goes in your bum."
She looked at me with an expression of utter horror, which was hardly
surprising.
"Oh my God, it goes up my bum?! How? It's massive!"
"Actually," I replied, not quite sure why I was about to say this,
"it's not that big. It would go in easily. You don't have to do it,
though. I really did think it would have a harness."
She kept looking at the device, her face still registering shock, but
also a little curiosity.
"Would it really go in easily? How do you know?"
"I just know," I said, avoiding the question, knowing that she wouldn't
like the answer. She stayed silent for a long moment, and the said,
decisively,
"OK, if it would make you happy then I'll do it."
I couldn't quite believe my ears, but I didn't want to question her in
case she changed her mind. I practically pushed her upstairs to my
bedroom and dug around in my bottom drawer for an old tube of lube. She
had already climbed onto the bed and stripped her lower half, and was
up on all fours in the exact position in which I had taken her in the
folly, her little bum poking into the air and the sweet peach of her
sex squeezing out between the tops of her thighs.
While she was quite capable of making fluid enough to allow me to
penetrate to the very fullest in front, her bum was another matter
entirely. I'd never even considered going there up to now, so I had no
idea how pliable or not she might be. I squeezed a worm of lube onto my
finger and pressed it to her backside, watching her sphincter twitch
slightly as the cool gel touched it. I ran my finger around the
puckered skin there for a moment, grinning as I saw her little vagina
twitched and gape a little between her spread legs. She was wet there
already.
Her head fell onto the bed, which only accentuated her submissive pose.
I pressed my fingertip into her hole, finding it easier to penetrate
than I imagined it might be, and before long I had eased my whole
finger into her behind.
"How are you doing?" I asked.
"It feels good," she said, sounding surprised. "Is it meant to feel
this good?"
Oh God, I thought, only in my wildest dreams!
"Yeah," I replied. "It does feel good sometimes. Actually, some girls
even like having a willy in their bum rather than their fanny."
"Eww, really?" she asked. "Isn't that a bit gross?"
"Not really. Want to try it?"
"No way! If your big hard willy is going anywhere it's in my fanny."
A shudder passed through me when she said that, and Sophie giggled; she
knew full well how aroused that sentence would make me.
"I think you're loose enough now," I said, changing the subject before
I lost control and just dropped my pants there and then and screwed
her. "You ready?"
She nodded her head, and squeaked when I cruelly curled my finger up
inside her. I picked up the tail and suddenly felt less sure of myself.
It was a nice small plug, but still it looked huge when I put it up
against her. Well, I could at least try and if she wanted me to stop I
could. I pressed the narrow point of the plug against her sphincter,
and watched as the ring of muscle began to stretch around the black
rubber.
"Tell me to stop if it hurts too much, OK?" I told her, and she nodded
and grunted, her hands grasping at the bed clothes as I pushed forward
and the plug slowly widened her. She let out a surprised squeak when
the widest part of the plug breached her, then let out a huge sigh as
her tortured ring closed behind it, trapping the plug inside.
"There, that went in easily, didn't it? How's it feel?" I asked.
"It feels... uhhhhhhhhhh..."
She'd was rendered senseless as I grabbed the tail and ran my hand down
it, feeling the sot fur slipping between my fingers, which moved the
plug inside her. It had another effect, too.
"Zack," she said, sounding a little desperate. "I feel like I really
want to have sex with you. Like, now. Right now."
It was such a depraved thing to hear from such a young girl. I stroked
the tail again, watching as the muscles in her legs twitched and
quivered.
"Zack, I'm serious!" she said, sounding desperate. She dropped onto a
shoulder so that she could push one hand backwards between her legs,
plunging it in between her lips to rub frantically at her clit. I
watched her for a moment, stunned by her raw, needy sexuality, before I
shook myself out of my stupor and dropped my pants.
Walking up behind her I bent my penis down and lifted up the tail,
making Sophie whimper as I did so, then pressed the head against her
remaining unoccupied hole, which had dribbled a line of lubricant down
across her pokey-out clit and then along her tummy. I tried to press
in, but the plug in her arse was taking up all the room, squashing down
her already tight little vagina into a thin tunnel I couldn't force my
way into.
"Zack, stick your willy in!" she almost shouted at me. "What's wrong?"
"I can't Soph, the tail's taking up all the room."
She gave a growl of frustration, reaching behind her to pull hard on
the tail. Slowly at first, and then with shocking suddenness the plug
eased its way out of her. She threw it onto the floor, then demanded
that I screw her.
With the tail and the plug gone, I sank easily into her, stretching the
skin at the mouth of her immature vagina into a thin line around my
eager shaft.
"Oh shit!" she shouted. It was the first time that I had ever hear her
swear, and it was a huge shock to hear it coming from her, despite the
fact that about four inches of my adult penis was buried in her child's
vagina. I stopped, worried I'd gone too far.
"Oh my God," she said. "Don't stop now! Come on, please push it in and
out!"
Nothing I'd learned in my life could have prepared me for the sound of
a preteen begging me to fuck her. I felt a lightning bolt of pleasure
race down my spine and into the shaft of my penis, which swelled and
hardened inside Sophie. I began rapid thrusts into her, pushing down
hard into her until with one stroke I plunged all the way in.
"Shit, shit, shit," she repeated over and over, as I fucked harder and
harder into her, my pubes matted with the juice which was flooding out
of her. She became so slick that I could piston my hips no faster, and
settled into a steady, deep rhythm.
Then, for the first time together, she came as we had sex. Up to know
it had taken my fingers or wriggling tongue to bring her off, but as my
hips slapped against her tiny bottom she began to quiver and shake, her
tunnel rippling around my shaft. She groaned loudly, burying her face
in the mattress, her little feet pounding rhythmically on the edge of
the bed and knuckles white as she held on for dear life.
Feeling her going through all that when I was inside her was just too
much for me to bear. My orgasm raced unstoppably through me, boiling up
through my manhood in massive, hot spurts which fired into her as I
continued to pump, until it bubbled out around my shaft, dripping wetly
onto the bed and the floor, flung this way and that by my unending
thrusting.
She collapsed away from me onto the bed, leaving behind my
still-twitching shaft, which even now was still firing out little
watery spurts of cum. She rolled onto her back and looked at me with a
shocked expression on her face, looking close to tears.
"That felt too much, Zack. I don't like it."
I climbed onto the bed with her, and wrapped her in my arms, snuggling
her from behind.
"It's a bit scary at first, I know. But when you get used to it, it'll
just feel good. It's just that it felt so very good."
"OK. But not the tail again, alright?"
"OK, not the tail."
---
It was a Wednesday night, a school night, and Allison was working
nights, which now meant that I had a house guest. We'd drawn all the
blinds and locked all the doors, and a giggling girl had come into my
arms on the sofa while our lips locked together and our hands played
with each other's bodies. She had pulled down my tracksuit trousers -
worn solely so that was easier - and I had snaked my hands up beneath
her skirt and found her bare bottom, receiving a grin in return for my
gasp of surprise. She had walked to my house through the village in
that short little skirt, and must have come the whole way with the cold
winter air kissing her most delicate, private place. She knelt above me
as we embraced, her hand sneaking down between us to tug at my
straining erection.
"Stop, wait," she said, pulling away, shoving my hands off her. "Wait
here, OK? I have a surprise. Don't come and find me, alright? And when
I tell you to, you have to close your eyes and not open them until I
say, OK?"
I nodded with a smile on my face, amused by her seriousness and
intrigued by her plan. She scampered off humming a little tune to
herself, grabbing a bag before thumping up the stairs and shutting
herself in the bathroom with a definitive click of the lock.
I waited there for nearly fifteen minutes. It seemed wrong to turn the
TV on or pick up my tablet to surf the net, so I did nothing, and
instead speculated what she might be up to. At last, though, I heard
the patter of her feet coming downstairs.
"OK, close your eyes and keep them closed until I tell you," she called
from the hallway.
"Right, they're shut," I shouted back, and sat there in darkness
wondering what could possibly be about to happen.
I heard her coming closer, then some shuffling, and finally she spoke
again.
"OK, open your eyes."
My shocked gasp brought a grin to her face. I couldn't help but be
surprised, though. In front of me was my very own Neko girl, with cat
ears, paws and a tail, which stuck up proudly behind her. She was on
all fours on the rug in front of the sofa, side on to me, and the
gentle curve of her back down to the round globes of her bum glowed
orange in the light of the fire.
"You like it, then?" she asked, and all I could do was nod dumbly in
reply. "And look," she continued, turning slightly to point her
backside at me, "nothing up my bum!"
I groaned involuntarily at the sight of her little pink rosebud and
beneath that the two halves of her juvenile peach sticking out between
her legs.
"How did... how..."
I couldn't form the question I was so utterly turned on by her. My rock
hard shaft jerked and a glittering droplet of fluid dripped down its
length.
"I told mum that I wanted to do some dressing up. She looked a bit
weirdly at me when I explained it, but I told her lots of kids were
doing it and it was the new thing which came over from Japan, and she
just sort of rolled her eyes at me. Then she helped me make it out of
gloves and furry slippers and stuff. The tail was the hard part, but
look, it really works."
With that she wriggled her bum and made the tail wave from side to
side. I started to rise, determined to fuck her right there and then on
all fours, but she had other ideas.
"No, sit down," she ordered, coming to me on all fours. "I'm going to
tell you what to do and when."
There was no way I was going to argue with that.
Sophie began to act cat-like, rubbing her face up against my knee a few
times, before placing her front paws on my thighs and bringing her face
close to my straining shaft. She peered at it, tilting her head on one
side exactly as a cat might, and then leaned forward and with no
hesitation started lapping at it with her little pink tongue. I drew a
sharp intake of breath at the sensation - the warm wetness of her
tongue where it touched and the cold dampness of the skin where it had
been. When she reached the top she swiped off a bead of fluid with her
tongue and swirled it around her mouth, making a decisive little 'hmm!'
noise before lowering her mouth onto the foreskin-covered head of my
manhood. The magazines had taught her well - she sucked and licked, and
wriggled the tip of her tongue inside my foreskin, making me gasp at
the sensation of rough tongue on the most very sensitive part of my
body.
This was not the main show, though, much as I would happily have
finished in her mouth. She lifted her head and growled up at me, a
primal little sound. She kept making little growling noises as she
climbed up my body until she was on all fours above me. Then she leaned
down and whispered in my ear.
"The slippy gel is down the side of the sofa. Get some and put your
finger up my bum."
I put my hand down the side of the cushion, and there indeed was the
cool metal tube of lubricant. I squeezed some out onto a finger and
then, with Sophie hovering over me I placed my finger at her rear and
gently applied pressure.
She was as pliable now as she had been before, and in no time I was
ramming as much of my middle finger into her as I could possibly
manage. She closed her eyes and shuddered above me, and then without
any prompting reached down for my shaft, lifting it clear of my stomach
and aiming it upwards so that with the gentlest pressure she could sink
her vagina down onto the top three inches of it. She was so tiny that I
had managed to keep my finger buried in her arse the whole time.
She started a gentle rhythm while I continued to finger her bum. I
could feel my shaft through the thin membrane between her two holes.
Her tongue poked out of her mouth in the cutest way as she concentrated
on the act of impaling herself on my penis and finger. I pressed a
second finger into her with no apparent effort at all.
Suddenly she stopped, and opened her eyes.
"I want to try it back there," she said, "in my bum. You said some
people like it more than the normal way. I want to try it."
She lifted up, expelling my penis with a grunt. It glistened in the
firelight, coated with her juices. She shuffled forward a little, and
then grabbed it back again. Only when she was readying herself to sit
did I pull my fingers from her arse.
She was tentative at first, but then the head pushed past her sphincter
more easily than it had ever forced its way into her vagina. She gasped
and pushed down hard.
"Oh my God!" she exclaimed as I bottomed out in her, my whole shaft
encased in her rectum. She craned her head to look down at it, and I
looked too, astonished by my penetration of her. Her now-empty fanny
twitched and disgorged a pearl of liquid which ran down and wetted my
pubic hair.
She fell forward onto me, burying her face in the crook of my neck. She
bit me and groaned and whimpered as I flexed my hips and began a
gentle in and out motion. Her arse was nowhere near as tight as her
pussy, but it gripped me evenly along the length of my shaft, and when
I started to really push her hips down onto me she responded with
groans of pleasure not cries of pain. She shuddered her way through two
mini orgasms simply from the penetration, and then a big, proper one
when I pushed her way from me and pinched her nipples.
Bouncing her in my lap I became astonished at her capacity to take the
length of my albeit modest manhood, and the degree to which it turned
her on. Her bum slapped against my upper thighs as I plumbed the depths
of her arse, and her little pussy grew redder, more swollen and even
wetter than the times I fucked her.
I was building up to my climax when her eyes flew open and she looked
straight at me with a look of horror on her face.
"Oh God, Zack, oh no, oh no! Stop, I have to-"
But it was too late, and warm piss began firing out of her, all over my
crotch as I was fucking her. She looked ready to cry, but the mere
sight of her letting loose was filthy enough to make me instantly lose
it, holding her hips and lunging up into her as hard as I could as I
painted her insides with an enormous load.
The sensation off weeing on me had an effect on her, too - she moaned
and shivered her way through a cum of her own, her stream of piss
coming in little squirts as all the muscles in her abdomen contracted
at once.
Finally, when she and I had both emptied ourselves, she fell against
me, sobbing.
---
I bathed her and took her to my bed. Still she would not accept that I
was not angry with her, so instead I just hugged her and lulled her
gently to sleep. In the morning there was little time for sex before
school, though she insisted that we shower together, and there she
looked up at me from her position kneeling on the floor and repeated
the previous night's act with her mouth, this time sticking with it
until I finished. I gently and lovingly washed my spilled seed from her
face and chest where it had landed, then raised her for a kiss before
diving down to lap at her crotch until her legs shook and her tummy
convulsed, and I had to catch her to prevent her falling to the shower
floor.
---
Quite without noticing, Christmas had crept up on me. One Wednesday in
the middle of a freezing December a very proud Sophie gave me an
invitation to her nativity play.
"You have to come," she said, "I'm playing Mary."
I stood and stared at her.
"You're playing the virgin Mary?"
"I know!" she said, giggling madly. "How funny is that? I bet I'm the
only girl in my class who isn't a virgin!"
I gave her a huge hug.
"Of course I'll be there," I said. "I wouldn't miss it for the world.
And I have a bit of a surprise for you, too. You used to live over in
Marsley, didn't you?"
She nodded.
"Well, I'm going over there to visit the wildlife park on Saturday. I'm
doing some design work for them and need to have a meeting. Do you
think your mum would let you come with me?"
"Yeah, I suppose so," she said. "But I'm not that bothered about going
to the zoo," she continued, with characteristic honesty.
"It's not the fact we're going to the zoo," I said. "That's just an
excuse to tell your mum. The interesting bit is that I'm planning to
take the bus and the train. There'll be men everywhere. If a young girl
wanted to flash them her fanny, she could have lots of fun..."
She looked at me open-mouthed, and then a huge grin spread across her
face.
"Oh yeah, that would be great! Let's do it!"
"Just remember to wear a nice short skirt, right?"
She nodded, and I saw her hand slip between her legs, which closed
tightly to squeeze it against her crotch.
---
She sat next to me on the bus, wearing the same tartan skirt she'd worn
on the day she'd introduced me to the tower. And, as she had
demonstrated to me behind the closed door of my house before we set off
that morning, nothing beneath. I, unable to resist the brazen display
of the infinitely smooth swell of her pudendum, had pushed her against
the back of the door and pressed my fingers into the hot, pliable folds
of her sex, frantically rubbing her. She came hard on my fingers and
slumped to the floor in a daze just as the postman pushed the post
through the letterbox beside her head, making us both jump and then
burst into laughter.
It wasn't a well-used bus service, so there were few chances for Sophie
to try out her skills in flashing, but almost as soon as we stepped
onto the platform at the station, a chance arose.
"Do you think he might... ?" she asked, indicating with a nod of her
head a middle-aged guy sitting on a bench on the platform opposite. I'd
already seen him - he'd raised his head when we appeared, and his gaze
lingered perhaps a little longer on Sophie than it might.
"I'm almost certain," I replied. "Wait for me to get my camera ready,
though."
We'd tested the rig on the bus - I had a camera concealed in a bag
which I sat on my lap, ready to capture the looks on the faces of the
men who looked at Sophie. It worked, too - I may have had to be on full
zoom, but the guy's face was clearly visible on the camera's screen.
"OK, you're on," I said quietly. A sly grin curled the corner of her
mouth.
She was subtle about it, I'll give her her due. She started slowly,
letting her legs drift ever so slightly apart, then appearing to
realise and closing them again. She did this four or five times until
it was quite clear that she was being watched. Then, acting like a pro,
she feigned excitement at something to her right, tapping me on the
arm, pointing, and saying to me,
"Look what my leg is doing."
I glanced down and sure enough, as a result of twisting to her right to
see the imaginary cause of interest, her right knee bent and her whole
right thigh came to rest on top of the bench, spreading her legs wide
open.
I glanced down, desperate not to alert the watcher to the fact that I,
in turn, was observing him. On the camera's viewfinder I could see him
surreptitiously craning his neck, trying to get a better view; his face
had flushed bright red. A hand subconsciously reached down to his
crotch and adjusted what appeared to be quite a large tent. Then, when
Sophie took it to the next level, legs wide apart, fanny clearly on
view to anyone on the far platform, I thought he was going to have a
heart attack. She let him watch for a few moments longer, and then
closed her legs and carried on as if nothing had happened. She giggled,
and I had to suppress a laugh, when the man dashed off to the toilets
walking awkwardly. His train came and left without him.
"Well, that worked," I said quietly to her, when the station was once
again quiet.
"Yeah, it really did, didn't it? Do you think he went and played with
it?"
"Oh, I'm certain of it."
She shuddered slightly, and squeezed her thighs together, rubbing them
up and down.
"Looks like you could do with a bit of playtime," I said, and she
frantically nodded her head.
"Do you think we could do it in the train toilets?" she asked, a hint
of desperation in her voice.
"It really got you feeling sexy showing off for that man, didn't it?"
She nodded once more.
"So much!"
"Well," I said, "I think we'd get in trouble if we went to the toilets
together, but you can go on your own. Look, here's the train now. Wait
'til we get on then you can go and sort yourself out."
---
Sort herself out she did. She was gone for about ten minutes, and when
she returned she was flushed with arousal, her whole face, neck and
upper chest blushing crimson. She stank of sex when she came back, a
little girl version of an adult woman's musk. It was very particular,
and enthralling. She surreptitiously held her fingers up for me to
sniff, and I almost came just from the heady fragrance.
Then she spotted another victim. This time it was a young boy, about
eleven or twelve I would say, sitting at a table diagonally opposite on
the other side of the aisle. I could see him through the gap between
the seats in front of me, and he glanced Sophie's way quite frequently.
She saw it too, and she put her hand on mine to get my attention
without actually talking to me. While apparently looking out of the
window, she let her hand fall onto her thigh, and using the rocking of
the train as her rhythm she started pushing the hem of her skirt up her
legs. More and more of her was coming into view, the show growing more
and more obscene by the moment, but the only person who stood a decent
chance of seeing all the way up to her puffy little lips and the clit
which I knew would be poking out, was the boy.
He was hooked. Perhaps he didn't realise he was staring quite so
openly, or perhaps in his desire to see her he didn't care. Either way
his eyes didn't leave her crotch the whole time Sophie was teasing him.
I couldn't see beneath the table to where his hands lay, but I could
sense by the tensing of the muscles in his arm that his hands weren't
merely folded in his lap. There was no doubt that he was playing with
himself, and all because he could see up Sophie's skirt to her reddened
sex. I glanced down at her lap and had to stifle a shocked gasp,
because she had gone further with her display than I thought possible.
It was lucky there weren't people in the seats directly across the
aisle, because they would have seen everything she had to offer. The
skirt was right up around her waist, and her hand was in her crotch,
pushing a finger as far as she could get it into her fanny, slowly
pulling out and pushing in. More of her fragrance drifted up to assault
my nostrils.
Just then the ticket inspector barged noisily through the connecting
door behind us, and quick as a flash Sophie righted her skirt and
crossed her legs demurely, hiding the wanton act she had been
performing moments before. Across the aisle, the boy waited just long
enough to get his ticket stamped, then bolted for the toilets, the
obvious bulge in his jeans leading the way.
Sophie giggled as he passed, then turned to me innocently.
"This day out really is fun. Thanks, Zack."
I nodded and smiled, and worried that I had unleashed a monster on the
poor unsuspecting males of our county.
---
At the wildlife park I asked for the manager by name, and was
immediately escorted inside; once there I said I'd make my own way to
the manager's office, and started off across the park in the usual
direction.
"I'll ask the manager if she can find someone to take you round if you
like. Or you can just go off on your own."
She glanced around to see if we could be overheard, then said in loud
whisper,
"Can I go off on my own? I want to see if I can maybe find some men
to... you know..."
I laughed - she was getting a bit obsessed with her new trick.
"Sure," I replied. "Just be careful, OK? Don't be alone with anyone,
and if any of them come towards you get out of there."
She nodded. I noticed her trembling.
"Is that fear or excitement?" I asked.
"Huh?"
"You're shaking all over."
"Oh... yeah. I'm feeling really sexy," she said. "My fanny's getting
really wet just thinking about it. It's so itchy right now, but I don't
want to go and sort it out, I want to let it feel that way for a while."
Jesus, she was torturing herself with arousal. She knew what her body
wanted and she was denying it. Most nine year olds can't handle delayed
gratification like that, but she was positively seeking it out. Once
again I marvelled at her maturity.
"Right, well off you go, then. I'll meet you back here in an hour," I
said, and smiled to myself as she wandered off toward the meerkats.
---
Honestly, I should have called off the meeting. I found it nearly
impossible to concentrate, because my mind kept going to Sophie,
wandering about outside in the freezing cold, flashing her fanny at
random men. I worried about her safety, though really there was no need
- she was perfectly capable of looking after herself if needs be.
Still, it was a relief when we wrapped things up on time and I could
get back to where I had agreed to meet Sophie.
Except that she wasn't there. I panicked briefly, wondering where she
could possibly have got to, before a shout of 'Zack!' had me spinning
around to find her coming toward me, with one of the keepers in tow.
I immediately thought the worst - she was being accompanied back to me
having been abandoned and found doing something she shouldn't (like
showing her privates to strangers), and now the shit was about to hit
the fan. Except the keeper wasn't stern, and Sophie was showing no sign
of having been in trouble. No, something else was up.
Sophie came racing up to me, almost bouncing as she ran.
"Zack, you won't believe this! This is Amy!" she said, clapping her
hands and giggling like a girl much younger than her years.
The keeper had caught up, and indeed the name badge pinned on her
fleece said 'Amy'. I was about to say 'so what?' when recollection hit
me.
"THE Amy?" I asked Sophie.
"Yup," she replied, with a huge nod.
I turned to Amy, who was standing nervously to one side, not quite sure
what to do with herself. I couldn't stop my brain assessing her - she
was really rather beautiful; very fine features and a gentle
countenance.
"Hi, I'm Zack," I said, extending a hand. "Sophie's told me everything
about you. Everything. Not babysitting anymore?"
It was a calculated phrase, and it had somewhat the impact that I
intended: Amy turned pale, and the look of fear in her eyes was
magnified. Sensing that perhaps I'd gone a little too far, I threw her
a line.
"Lucky for me, really," I said. "I get to babysit her now."
Fear morphed into confusion, then a little shock. Amy looked down at
Sophie, who nodded and giggled. For the first time the teenager spoke.
"I... um, I have a break now for half an hour. Can we talk somewhere?"
---
We found a spot out of the way to talk, round the back of the owl
enclosures on a picnic bench. Amy convinced Sophie that she should go
and look at the owls for a bit, and managed to get one of the owl
keepers to take her to help out. She smiled wistfully as Sophie left,
clearly still besotted with the girl.
"I should thank you, I suppose," I said, when Sophie was out of earshot.
"What for? For making it easier for you to molest her?" Amy shot back,
fire in her eyes. I knew I had to stay calm, or the conversation was
going to end very badly.
"Is that what you did? Molest her?" I asked.
"No! It wasn't like that with us. I'm not some creepy old pedo. It
was... it was love, I suppose. And don't laugh. I really did love her.
I still do."
"I'm not about to judge you, Amy. I imagine it was love. I feel the
same way about her, I think. And I'm not some 'creepy old pedo' as you
put it. I've never felt this way about a girl before. I don't love her
because she's nine. I love her because she's Sophie. You of all people
should understand that."
She looked down at the table and nodded.
"I'm not really into girls that much either," she said. "Well, I
wasn't. I've started noticing them since Sophie."
"It must be hard for you not to be around her anymore," I said. She
nodded and wiped the corner of her eyes with the back of her hand.
"I want to help you, because I know how much it means for her to have
you around," I said. "Can you come over to Marchdale next Saturday
night?"
She looked at me, confusion clouding her face.
"I look after Sophie each Saturday night. All night. You're welcome to
come and stay the night with us. There's a spare room, and I really
don't mind if she stays the night with you in there. I have no
illusions about what you would get up to."
She blushed heavily and looked away to where Sophie was happily talking
to the keeper.
"I really do miss her," she said after a moment. "So, so much."
---
Sophie spent the rest of the day bouncing off the walls with
excitement. So much so that she forgot all about her mission to tease
the men of rural England into a sexual stupor with glimpses of her
little conch-shell fanny. She was delirious about having seen Amy, and
almost weed her pants when I told her that her old lover would be
visiting us one week later.
She needed calming down, obviously. That evening, I ordered her to
strip naked and lie down in front of the fire. I made her cross her
arms and lie her head down on them, and only when I was satisfied that
she was relaxed did I reveal my true intentions, dribbling hot massage
oil into a pool at the base of her spine. She moaned and writhed
beneath me as my fingers went to work on her muscles, spreading the oil
around her back at first, then across her supple buttocks and onto her
legs. I worked it all the way down to her calves, then onto her feet,
taking the time to rub the day's walking from them both.
Then it was back up her legs, retracing my steps until both hands were
on the backs of her thighs, thumbs moving in circles which grew ever
closer to her backside, until on each rotation they brushed across her
cheeks. Then I slowly began to sink them into the crack of her behind,
until they were passing over the puckered entrance to her arse. Her
hips pushed back against me quite without me needing to encourage her,
and she moaned as with gentle pressure I pushed one thumb into her
opening and up into the warm space of her rectum.
I left that digit in place while the fingers of my other hand continued
to do their work outside, pushing between the folds of her sex, made
slippery by both the oil and her own lubricant. She grunted when I
pressed her clit hard against her pubic bone, and I felt the ring of
muscle around my thumb twitch in response. Then I moved my fingers back
the where the opening to her tunnel lay, and pressed my index finger
in, feeling the flesh give way easily, and my invader slide home right
to the knuckle. So now I had her with the thumb of one hand up her arse
and the finger of my other in her fanny. She moaned beneath me when I
flexed both digits at once, and I felt a spasm ripple through her tummy
muscles. Her hips bucked back at me again, and I took a moment to watch
her perfectly formed back glistening in the light of the fire, leading
down to the pleasantly round twin globes of her backside, and beneath
that the smooth transition to her slender but powerful legs, the
tendons at the back of her knees straining as her muscles tensed. I
leaned forward and whispered,
"Turn over, sweetheart," into her ear, as I slid my digits free from
her moist, hot grip.
She smiled up at me as she turned onto her back, and snaked her hands
around the back of my neck, dragging me down for a passionate kiss. We
stayed that way for several minutes, me on all fours above her while
our lips were locked together, her tiny tongue duelling with mine, her
little satisfied moans reverberating around my mouth. As we kissed she
shifted round until her legs lay either side of my knee, and then
hunched her hips up so that her mound pressed into my thigh, and she
lay there humping away at me as her kisses became more and more
frenzied. I broke the kiss to talk to her.
"Do you want me to put it in now?" I asked, but to my surprise she
shook her head.
"Your mouth..." she said, panting, still hunching her hips up to press
herself against me.
"You want me to kiss your fanny and stick my tongue in your hole?" I
asked, teasing slightly.
She squeezed her eyes shut as a shudder ran through her body, and
nodded her head frantically. I licked down her neck, making her shudder
again, then toyed with the tiny, hard lumps of her nipples, across her
tummy and finally down the soft valley between the top of her thigh and
the raised mound of her sex, listening with delight to the frustrated
growl she made as I came so near to the sweet spot only to pass it by.
She shifted her hips and forced herself up into my face, and I
relented, pushing my tongue out and down so that it slid over her clit
on the way to her hole, pushing apart the fat lips of her fanny and
delving into the musky, slippery, hot, rosy-red interior, forming my
tongue into a point which pushed at the door of her vagina until it was
admitted, slipping past taut, overstretched skin into the burning heat
inside. She huffed and moaned as I attacked her, forcing my tongue in
and out of her hole, then shifting my attentions to her clit, lapping
it with big dog-licks, then focussing in on the heart of it, worming
the very tip of my tongue into the hood of skin and onto the
over-sensitive meat of her clitoris itself. That last act brought a
strained whimper from her lips, and the word 'shit' whispered over and
over as her hips undulated, stomach cramped, vagina spasmed and back
arched all at once, and she came.
---
If Sophie's excitement the previous Saturday had been labelled frantic,
the following weekend she was almost off the scale. She'd brought
special clothes with her - her most grown-up attire, for her special
friend. I realised that she did nothing of the sort for me, and for the
first time wondered if perhaps Sophie really was more interested in Amy
than me. In fact, I rather felt she had to be when she took herself off
for a bath and returned some time later with her hair done, make-up
applied (something I'd never before seen) and looking stunning in a
tight-fitting polo shirt and a knee length skirt.
"Wow, you look amazing," I said, and in her reply, she confirmed my
suspicions.
"Do you think she'll like it?" she asked, as if I were a friend rather
than a lover.
"Of course she will," I said, moving closer to her and tilting her head
back ready for a kiss. "You look so sexy."
"Don't!" she said, wriggling free of my grip with a laugh. "Don't ruin
my make-up before she gets here."
I laughed and let her be, but inside I was hurt. She truly was more
interested in what Amy thought than in pleasuring me. I desperately
didn't want it to be the case, but I knew I couldn't change her mind.
Nor should I try, because she would no doubt see straight through any
effort on my part, and hate me for it.
Amy arrived at ten past seven - about as quickly as she could possibly
have managed given that the wildlife park closed at six. She looked
petrified when I answered the door and ushered her in - not quite the
worldly teenager Amy had described to me, but entirely in line with the
individual I had met the week before.
"Hi," she whispered as she crossed the threshold.
"Hey. Sophie's in the living room. She's trying to act cool," I said,
blowing the nine-year-old's cover quite deliberately, "but she's
unbelievably excited to have you here. She dressed up especially.
Please tell her how beautiful she looks."
She turned to me with a wry smile.
"You know, you don't have to tell me to do that," she said.
"Sorry."
Sophie managed to act reserved for about three seconds, then she was up
and jumping into Amy's arms, kissing her passionately. Amy was a little
less relaxed around me, but still kissed back, and the pair of them
collapsed onto the sofa.
I escaped to the kitchen, both embarrassed and somewhat turned on. I
could hear more and more frantic noises coming from the living room and
imagined them in some obscene pose. I could hear Sophie's excitement
growing, her characteristic high pitched mewling arousing my desire,
and then Amy's joining it, a lower, much more animalistic sound. I wish
I could have restrained myself, but I couldn't - I peeked round the
corner of the living room and saw them there on the sofa. Amy's jeans
were unbuttoned and pushed down to mid-thigh along with her pants, with
Sophie's hand buried between her legs, pressing into the soft black
fuzz of her pubes. Sophie was on top, and her skirt had been pushed up
above her waist, and knickers pushed down and off, and I could see
Amy's hand poking out from between her bum-cheeks, the middle finger
pumping in and out of Sophie's little cunt, glistening with her
excitement. The kissed passionately the whole time, except when one or
other of them had to breathe, and they were entirely absorbed in their
passion. I looked on unnoticed and pulled my aching dick out of my
trousers, now determined to enjoy myself however I could, since I had
been relegated to the role of housekeeper, of enabler.
Sophie's orgasm was something different to those she experienced with
me. She rolled into it gradually, rather than it hitting her out of the
blue. She grew ever more frantic until with her eyes squeezed shut and
jaw clenched tightly she went rigid, shaking with the effort of
straining every muscle in her body, and then collapsed. If Amy had come
I missed it in my eagerness to watch Sophie's peak, but as she hugged
the young girl to her in a crushing embrace, her smile of satisfaction
was plain to see. I, too, had a mess to clear up, and left them to back
in the glow of their first time together in months while I got a sponge
for the floor. Thank God I'd ripped out the carpet and gone for wooden
flooring...
---
"You've taught her things," Amy observed as we sat watching a film with
a pizza. Sophie, who had been glued to her side all evening, had
finally given into the pressure in her bladder and run upstairs to the
toilet. "I'm sorry about before, it got out of hand. It wasn't right
for us to do that there and then."
I shrugged.
"You know what? It really is OK. I don't mind. She's happy, and that's
really important to me. The spare room has a nice big double bed, and
I've left some things in there for you."
She looked at me, puzzled and intrigued.
"Like what?"
"Well, why don't you have a look?"
She took me up on the offer and disappeared upstairs. Unbeknownst to
both Sophie and Amy, I had decked out the spare room like a honeymoon
suite - rose petals on the bed, champagne (well, I thought Sophie could
handle a glass), candles around the bed, and in the bedside drawer a
rather eclectic range of little toys and lubes. And, to top it off,
I heard the toilet flush, and then muffled conversation coming from
above. There was a squeal from one of them, followed by a quite
distinct 'oh my God!', and then the patter of feet thundering down the
stairs. Sophie raced into the living room and jumped into my lap.
"Thank you, thank you," she said, smothering my face in little kisses.
"What for?" I said, playing the fool.
"You know," she said, reaching down between us and grabbing my dick
through my jeans. “The things so we can play.”
“It’s just for you and Amy, you know,” I said, desperately fighting the
urge to do her then and there.
“I know,” she said, with a glint in her eye. “I just wanted to say
thank you.”
With that she crawled down beneath my legs and, with her tongue poking
cutely out of the corner of her mouth, set about the task of freeing my
manhood from my jeans. Once done, she leaned forward, and looking
straight into my eyes, lowered her hot, wet little mouth onto the top
half of my dick.
“Oh Jesus, Soph,” I groaned as I felt her tongue dipping into the folds
of my foreskin, teasing the sensitive head beneath while at the same
time her hair fell into my lap to tickle me oh so softly. “You don’t
have to thank me like that, you know.”
She lifted off her head and grinned at me.
“I know. But I wanted to!”
She gave me another grin and went back to her task, enthusiastically
bobbing and sucking until I was tapping her on the shoulder, warning
her that I was coming. This time, though, unlike all the other times,
she stayed there and let my warm seed fill her mouth, then swallowed it
all noisily.
“You know,” she reflected as I lay there panting, “it’s not as bad as I
thought it would be. Can I have a Coke, though?”
I nodded, and watched her scamper off toward the fridge. It was then
that I noticed for the first time that her skirt had changed to a much
shorter number, and beneath it was a flash of perfectly bare behind.
She never came back to the living room, and a few minutes later I heard
giggles from above, and the unmistakable creak of the spare bed.
---
She came to me in the middle of the night, slipping quietly into bed
next to me. I was awake, with visions of the two of them still spinning
uncontrollably through my mind, shattering any hope of peace.
“Hey,” I whispered. “Not sleeping with Amy then?”
In the dim light which filtered through the curtains from the full
moon, I could see her shaking her head.
“I never slept in the same bed with her before. I like being here with
you.”
I grabbed her to me and wrapped her in my arms.
"The only thing is," she whispered, "would it be OK if I just slept
here and we didn't do anything? I've had enough for one night."
"That's just fine with me," I whispered back.
"Thanks. It's just she did this thing with the thingy. You know, the
thing you tie on..."
"The strap-on?"
"Yeah, that's what she called it. Anyway, she did this thing where-"
I put a finger to her lips, halting her mid-flow.
"Just sleep now, Soph, OK. Just sleep."
She nodded, and before long was snoring happily.
---
The girls lounged easily around the house in very little the following
morning. Amy had become very much more comfortable, and sat on the sofa
in a tight t-shirt which accentuated her pretty little tits, and a pair
of jogging bottoms which sat so low on her hips that I was amazed not
to see her pubes. Sophie, being the unabashed little show off she
always was, wore nothing more than a large t-shirt - of uncertain
origin, but which had once been a man's. It didn't take much of it to
ride up, and as she fooled around she gave us plenty of chances to
glimpse the treasures which lay not very well hidden beneath.
Amy left around ten, not long before I had to take Sophie home. My
little lover was devastated, but mollified somewhat by the knowledge
that we had already planned another visit for the following weekend.
Had I known what was to come, perhaps I might have spent a little
longer with her that day. Made love to her, selfishly, just once last
time.
---
It was Ally who gave me the first sign of the impending end of my
relationship with Sophie, though there was no way she could possibly
have understood the impact of her casual conversation. I bumped into
her at the newsagent on Thursday, two days before Amy's next planned
visit - she immediately said hello to Biscuit, who loved her despite
the fact that seeing her usually meant some sort of painful and/or
invasive routine in his near future. When she finally returned her
attention to me, there was a glimmer in her eye.
"You look like the cat who's got the cream!" I said, to which she
smiled broadly.
"I am, sort of. I've been trying to get a trainee vet nurse for a
while, since Sally left so quickly, and I've finally found one. She's
perfect - already works with animals over at that wildlife park over in
Marsley, and she's at college doing an animal husbandry course, and she
doesn't even mind living in the stinky old flat above the surgery. She
rang me out of the blue on Tuesday and we've only had one phone
interview, but she sounds perfect."
"Oh, that's great news!" I said, pleased that she'd managed to solve
her staffing problem at last.
"Only problem is the name," she said. "We're going to be Ally and Amy!
So much potential for confusion!"
I honestly can't remember anything either of us said after that. I know
I left there without the newspaper, and at some point must have walked
home, but I was in such a daze I couldn't be sure of anything in
between.
Somehow, even then I knew it was over for me and Sophie. I had invited
Amy back into her life, and Amy had displaced me. I couldn't really
blame her, despite the sense of injustice I felt. She was young, and
rash, and in love. Perhaps more so than I was - I think I loved Sophie,
but not with the consuming passion Amy felt for her. Why she hadn't
made more of an effort to stay in Sophie's life before was still a
mystery, but perhaps she simply didn't understand how much she needed
the girl.
I didn't need Sophie any more, at least not to make me human. She, and
Biscuit, had brought me back to life. We never again made love, Sophie
and I. nor did we spend much time together - she was too busy renewing
h acquaintance with Amy, who was of course reinstalled as her
babysitter. There was no reason, then, for me to spend time around
Sophie, and not wanting to arouse suspicion I made no extra special
effort to make reasons for her to see me. Once or twice she came to
take Biscuit out for a walk, but on those occasions it really was
nothing more than a man and a girl taking a dog for a walk.
In the end it was simple - Sophie was receptive to my advances because
her prematurely awakened sexual spirit was in need. I filled that need,
succumbing to the air of availability she exuded, but when her first
love returned to her life, there was no need whatsoever for me.
So there you have it - that's what happened between Hallowe'en and
Christmas.