I suppose the best place to start is the beginning, because it's
confusing to start these things elsewhere, not to mention quite
annoying. So, the beginning. It was dark, and hot, and stuffy under
Sarah Conway's duvet, and we shouldn't have been there so it was
exciting too. The others must have known that we, the youngest of the
group, were up to something, but maybe they approved or something.
Sarah's sister would probably have told her to do this to get me to
like her, and she would have told the others to leave us alone.
Which was fine with me, because at the grand old age of six years old I
was going to see Sarah's fanny. We had a torch, and she was going to
show me what it was she had between her legs, and I was going to have a
good look at it. I hardly remember what happened, but images do stand
out, and smells. Whenever I smell that particular smell, or something
like it, my mind goes straight back to that summer's day and what we
did under the covers, and instantly I am aroused.
I do remember asking Sarah to open it wider, and seeing a red interior,
which I suppose was her vagina. She must have been a horny little
thing, too, because I remember it being a deep red colour, the colour
of jam in a Jammy Dodger, and I now know that only comes with arousal.
To this day I love to see one which has been spread wide open, and it
only serves to reinforce my idea that you spend your life trying to
recreate your formative sexual experiences.
Sarah and I had a relationship which spanned the full gamut of human
emotion in the space of half an hour. I don't remember showing her my
willy, but I have always been a bit of an exhibitionist, so I wouldn't
be surprised to find that I had. I never had trouble getting it out for
any of the neighbourhood kids to have a look at, especially my little
girlfriends, and it remained hard most of the time, a small, white
protuberance with a hugely overhanging foreskin. I was a very
sexualised kid, and I've not calmed down much since.
One thing I was sure of after my little liaison with Sarah was that I
wanted more. I definitely wanted more. I tried my hardest over the
coming years to snag a girl to look at between the legs. Most of the
girls I knew were far too nice to let me see, though. I glimpsed the
odd little crack, usually just the top of the mons as the girls grew
shy on me.
Dicks, on the other hand, were easy to see. I think I must have emitted
a signal which said I was safe to play with and wouldn't tell on
anyone, because I had more than my fair share of exposure as a kid, and
rarely with boys as young as myself. The main perpetrators were my
brother and his friends, who were always making up excuses to give me a
'medical' and get my stiff little dick out of my pants. I swear my
brother's friend Mark was a paedophile in the making, because he always
made a point of getting my pants off as often as possible.
I had a girlfriend from the age of ten to about twelve, and I was lucky
enough to see at least her crack, if not actually managing to get my
fingers into it. Her brother was far more successful, so I heard,
having gone almost all the way with her, and I used to wank thinking
about them together, his little pencil dick pushing at her fanny,
trying to find a way in. But it mostly came to nothing physically, that
relationship, other than an almost perpetually hard willy for me, and a
book which we made together which was full of sexual references. I
often wonder what would have happened had we not drifted apart as I was
sent to an all boys private school. I didn't get angry with my parents
at the time for what they did, but I am now. Which all sets the scene
for the events I am about to unfold.
I was drawn to Mandy because of her sexiness. Actually, no, scrub that.
She wasn't all that sexual. Horny, perhaps, and with the potential to
be extremely sexual, but not necessarily 'up for it' with any old guy.
She was intrigued by the idea of sex, and excited, and nervous, if her
giggling was anything to go by. But she wasn't trying it on with every
single male in sight, which at the age of eleven is probably a good
thing. She certainly dressed provocatively, in tight jeans and cropped
tops, but that was fashion, not a conceit to the horny old men who
flocked around her.
I'd always thought horniness at that age was a male thing, and I
suppose in general it is. But in the same way as some boys really
aren't that horny, some girls really are. Some girls are keen to find
out about sex, and without realising it make themselves the target for
dirty old men like me. Well, not that old. Twice her age and add five
when we met, so not exactly your typical dirty old bloke.
I was a friend of her mother, who used to come into the little shop I
ran to buy books and coffee, both of which I served to the local
populace by the tonne. I had taken to the Borders principle of a
bookshop and cafe in the same place from a trip to Sydney as a student,
and when it came to finding myself a career, decided that I'd rather be
my own boss. The bank, spurred on by local council redevelopment
incentives, had given me a sizeable small business loan to get on my
feet, and I had grasped the opportunity with both hands.
Now, five years later and out of the slump which often takes new
businesses down, I was doing well, with a staff of five and a growing
reputation. I'd been offered a sizeable chunk of capital for the
business, but right now I was making money hand over fist and enjoying
myself to boot, so I stuck with it.
Amy Miller was a regular. She and Amanda's father weren't together any
more, but he was rich enough to pay child support the likes of which
most single mothers can only dream, and Amy had no need to work. So she
spent her days in the bookshop or around town, spending her ex's money.
Despite that, she wasn't really a bad person. She'd landed on her feet
because her ex-husband was a playboy who couldn't help himself around
the Venezualan maid, and now she was taking her revenge, and half his
considerable pay packet. I never met the man, but have heard from third
parties that he's a bit of a dickhead, so I didn't feel sorry for him.
I met her daughter, Amanda (or Mandy as she preferred) one Saturday.
Mandy was about to go to a new private school and needed a load of
textbooks. What I consider to be one of my masterstrokes as a
bookseller was to have a section of school textbooks at the back of the
shop in an out of the way corner. I was near four different private
schools, and all four required students to bring their own books. I'd
long ago managed to get friendly enough with the secretaries of the
various establishments that I was sent a reading list every year, and
was able to stock up on what would sell well. The shop had a reputation
for always having the right books in stock, and next to the coffee it
was the single biggest income the business made.
So Mandy was deposited with me for an hour to get what she needed while
Amy went off to get her hair done. I wouldn't normally be a babysitting
service, but Amy Miller was by far my best customer, and I knew she
would reward me well. I didn't realise I would get quite the kind of
reward I got, though.
Mandy was a conundrum. She had a twinkle in her eye, and yet acted
shyly around me. There was a confidence to the way she walked, the way
she dressed, and yet she clammed up when she spoke to me. Her quietness
wasn't the diffidence I had come to expect from surly preteen girls,
but something else entirely, and she wouldn't meet my gaze. I pointed
her in the direction of the school books and she wandered off,
clutching the long list which would double my day's takings. I found
myself watching the tight globes of her arse as she walked away, nicely
shaped inside figure-hugging jeans, and getting a little aroused.
It hardly surprised me, but perhaps wasn't entirely sensible in front
of the customers. I knew I was attracted to younger girls. It was a
pretty much unavoidable fact. I'd never managed to get close to one
since I was a kid myself, but I loved preteen girls, in that golden age
between 9 and 12 when hormones are beginning to rack their bodies,
inducing the kind of inquisitiveness which got them into all kinds of
dodgy situations with predatory older men. I loved the smoothness of
their bodies, the suppleness of their limbs, their complete lack of
emotional baggage when it came to men, and their desire to experience
new things. Combine that with the fact that social inhibitions were not
yet installed and you had a recipe for every paedophile's dream.
Mandy was a dream. She had a little elf-like face and the most
beautiful deep blue eyes I had seen for a good long time. Her blonde
hair was tied back in a ponytail, showing off little butterfly earrings
which bridged the divide between cuteness and sexuality. Her top was
short and skin tight, the kind of top only girls who aren't yet
developed can get away with. Her flat stomach held an innie
bellybutton, and the creases at her hips led alluringly down into her
low-slung jeans. For the briefest of moments I imagined running my
tongue down that crease to the treasure at the junction of her legs.
The jeans were cropped at calf height, showing off her lithe ankles,
where a tattoo transfer of a butterfly matched the jewellery she wore.
It had rubbed off slightly and faded after a few days' wear, but I
still found it rather sexy. Flip-flops graced her feet, whose toes were
painted scarlet, a detail made all the more sexy by how amateurishly
the varnish had been applied. I went back to work, wandering around the
shop and generally being helpful.
I employed girls to serve the coffee and run the tills (they were all a
little too old for me, but they doted over me none too secretly, and
that made them loyal and enthusiastic workers), so there was little for
me to do other than socialise, recommend the odd book, and generally
encourage people to part with their hard earned cash.
Before long, I found myself wandering towards the back of the shop. It
wasn't a conscious move, but I ended up heading into the school books
section, which was down a little corridor away from the rest of the
shop. Only Mandy was there when I entered, and she must have heard me
coming because she was hastily stuffing a book back into the shelves
and picking up the pile of books she had already found from the floor
next to her. She seemed to be blushing strongly, too, which aroused my
suspicion even further.
'Did you manage to find everything?' I asked.
Mandy just nodded in reply, rooted to the spot.
'Well, your mum will be a little while yet. Do you want a Coke and some cake from the shop?'
Another nod.
'But I don't have any money, though.'
I smiled at her, trying to make it a non-threatening 'I'm your friend not your neighbourhood child molester' type smile.
'That's ok, it's on me. How about you give me the books and I'll put
them behind the till until your mum gets here. Go and sit in the cafe
and I'll be out in a minute and get you what you want.'
Mandy smiled again, whispered a 'thank you' and walked out of the room
past me, with a bigger smile for me as she passed and looked up at me.
When she was gone I went straight to the shelf she had been standing by
and found exactly what I was looking for - one of the books hadn't been
put back properly, and the cover was slightly bent. Normally I would
have been annoyed, but in this case was prepared to forgive Mandy.
It was a sex education book, and I knew exactly what I was going to do
with it. I grabbed the book, which was easily the most controversial of
its type I could find, and slipped it into the considerable pile I was
holding. Taking the whole lot to the till, I rang it up myself,
explaining to a surprised Gemma that it was for Mrs Miller and it was
important to get it right. Adding the total to Amy's account, I bagged
the books and then took them aside. Grabbing a notebook, I wrote a
quick note and slipped it inside the sex ed book, hoping fervently that
Mandy would be the only one to examine the contents of the bag. 'A
gift, for an inquisitive girl' it said, and I signed it in a way that
my name was obvious.
Mandy was sitting obediently in the cafe, and gave me a kilowatt smile
as I approached. She already had a glass of coke and the remains of a
large piece of blueberry cheesecake on her plate and around her mouth.
I glanced across at Kate, who ran my cafe, and gave her the thumbs up
for taking the initiative. She beamed at me and turned away with a
little skip in her step - I'd obviously just made her day.
'So, how's my favourite customer?' I asked Mandy as I approached.
'Ok, thank you.'
'You know,' I said, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper as I
sat at the table with her, 'I've left a little something in the books
for you. Something you can finish reading at home.'
I gave her a wink as I finished the sentence, and watched in delight as
her cheeks reddened and she averted her eyes. It was a dangerous game
to play, but she would know what I'd done when she saw the note in the
book anyway, and this way she would have a chance to get to it before
her mother did. I left her there and went back to my duties, flashing
Kate a smile as I went past.
I'd read the book myself and had a few wanks while I did so at one
time. When I first did the educational section, I chose a range of sex
ed books, and from those found one called 'It's Perfectly Normal'. A
few places had tried to ban the book, and given how explicit it was I
could see why. Being the pervert I was, I imagined kids reading it, and
imagined what they would get up to when they did. It would certainly
give them a few ideas! So I stocked up with the book, making the excuse
that it had been on one of the school lists at one time, and watched it
fail to sell.
Strangely, though, the spines were soon bent, and more than once I made
my way into the textbooks section to find red faced and giggling girls
and boys who had obviously just replaced the book on the shelf upon
hearing me coming. I hoped Mandy would enjoy reading it, and had to
disappear to the loo for five minutes when I imagined what it would
teach her. Amy came back not too long after I returned to the shop
floor, and thanked me profusely for 'sorting Mandy out'.
If only she knew, I thought, and smiled to myself.
I didn't see Mandy for a little while after that, but Amy was in during
the coming weeks on a fairly regular basis and said nothing about the
book, so I assumed that everything was fine. Mandy appeared a few weeks
later though, on a Wednesday afternoon. Apparently her new school had a
government inspection, so all the kids had the day to do as they
pleased. I asked where her mother was and got a non-committal shrug,
then a proper reply.
'Off with Dave somewhere.'
'Who's Dave?'
'Her boyfriend. He's an idiot.'
Clearly Mandy was none too impressed with the new developments in her mother's love life.
'So, how can I help you today then?' I asked. Mandy shrugged again.
'I was bored, thought I'd look at the books, see if there's anything I
wanted. Mum said I can buy books and you would put it on her account or
something.'
I smiled.
'Ok, then, go ahead and browse. When you've found what you want, just
bring it to me and I'll put it through the till for you. And if you
want a drink or something, just ask Kate over there and she'll sort you
out, ok?'
I glanced over at Kate, who was in earshot, and gave her the nod. She
smiled back at me, understanding my request to put the food on the
house.
'Ok, thanks,' said Mandy, and wandered straight over to the romance novels, a taste she must have picked up from her mother.
When she returned to the counter a little later, she had a rather
unexpected novel clasped in her hands, and passed it over the counter
to me rather nervously. Lolita, by Vladimir Nabokov. Not your typical
eleven year old's bedtime reading.
'Are you sure your mother won't mind you reading this?' I asked. It's
not that I didn't approve, more that I knew Amy would find out from her
account what Mandy had bought.
'She won't know unless you tell her,' she replied, defiantly.
'It's ok, I don't mind you having the book, it's just that your mum
get's a bill automatically every month, and all the books are on there.
I've got a plan though. Go and find something else, something tame.
I'll put that through the till, then I'll give you the other book.'
'Like a gift, you mean?'
It was an innocent enough question, but the double meaning was hardly
hidden. The sly smile that went with it told me everything I needed to
know - the gift was appreciated.
'You liked the book then?'
Mandy blushed, but nodded, biting her bottom lip and grinning a naughty grin.
'Some of it was really yucky, but I liked reading it. Thanks.'
'That's alright. I thought you might like reading it. Haven't they gone over that stuff at school yet?'
'Sort of, but not really properly. Not like the book did. It told you everything!'
I knew that wasn't exactly the case, but it was a good place to start,
and some of the things it didn’t tell you would have blown her young
mind anyway.
'Well, you can have the next book if you find me something else I can put through, so your mum doesn't get suspicious.'
She grinned a conspiratorial grin at me, attempted a wink, and rushed
off to find something more age-suitable. I adjusted myself in my
trousers at the thought of her reading Lolita, and then wondered what
kind of girl reads that book in the first place. She returned with some
kid's book and passed it to me, then grinned a big grin as I slipped
her secret book into the bag alongside.
'We'll make that our secret, alright?' I asked as I did so.
Mandy nodded, a good sign. This was a test to see how good at keeping
secrets she was. If she turned out to be very good, we might have some
fun, I thought to myself. As she skipped out of the shop, Mandy did
something which sent my heart racing from a combination of fear and
desire - in a very girly way, she blew me a kiss.
That night I couldn't stop myself thinking of Mandy reading Lolita. I
wondered if she'd made it to the naughty bits yet, the descriptions of
Lolita, the things she and Humbert did together. My heart raced as I
played with myself, images of Mandy in (and out) of her tight jeans
flashing through my mind.
I longed to see more of Mandy, and not just in the sense of nudity. She
rarely came to the shop, and when she did it was with Amy, and our
rapport could not continue. I was glad to notice she realised that when
her mother was around she couldn't be as flirtatious with me as she
otherwise was. It was a good sign that if anything happened between us,
she would keep it a secret.
The next time I saw Mandy was to prove the defining time in our
relationship. I won't say 'moment', because it was a whole evening, and
then a whole night.
Amy was gracious enough to invite me to her engagement party a few
weeks later. Apparently she and Dave had really hit it off, and had
decided to get married. I didn't know what Mandy thought of that, but I
doubted she was happy. Amy clearly considered me enough of a friend to
invite to such an occasion, and since it was to be held at a local
hotel, I decided to do what a lot of the guests were apparently doing,
and booked myself a room for the night so I didn't have to stumble home
in the early hours.
It was a rather upmarket party, and not really the sort of occasion I
was used to. I stood around feeling rather awkward, not knowing anyone
really, until Mandy appeared by my side. She was wearing a floral print
dress that seemed somewhat out of place on her, even if it did make her
tight little backside look wonderful.
'Hey Mandy, you alright?'
She looked up at me with a thoroughly grumpy expression.
'I'm bored.'
I laughed.
'Me too. Not really that interesting, is it?'
She shook her head, agreeing. I sensed an opportunity here.
'Tell you what, shall we go exploring around the hotel?'
Mandy's face brightened up immediately.
'Yeah, that'd be really cool!'
So, off we went, tearing up and down corridors, trying to open random
doors, and generally making a nuisance of ourselves. We ended up
outside, walking by an ornamental lake, and I felt Mandy's warm little
hand snake into my own, sending a bolt of electricity up my arm.
'Do you like me, Tom?' she asked. I could hear the hope in her voice. Fortunately, I wasn't about to disappoint her.
'Yes, of course I do.'
'Like Humbert and Lolita, I mean.'
I paused. This was it, the crunch moment. Get this one wrong and it could be all over. I took a risk.
'Yeah, I suppose I do.'
'Cool.'
And that was it, we continued walking, her hand in mine until we neared
the lights of the hotel once more, and she let go without me having to
suggest it. Just before we were in earshot of her mum, she whispered to
me.
'Are you staying tonight?'
I nodded.
'What room?'
I told her, 402.
'Cool.'
Then she was gone, running up to her mum and hugging her, and then
surprisingly turning to Dave and hugging him too. From what I'd managed
to gather about the guy he was decent enough, and I was pleased Mandy
seemed to be getting over her hatred of him.
I didn't know what to expect that night. Mandy had asked for my room
number for a reason, but I had no idea why. About ten past eleven, as I
could hear the festivities winding up downstairs, there was a soft
knock on my door. I was there in an instant, opening it to Mandy who
rushed in and jumped straight onto my bed.
'My mum thinks I'm in bed. How cool is this?'
Very cool, I thought to myself. I didn't even have to come up with an
excuse to get her into my hotel room, and there she was on my bed,
sitting cross legged in jeans and a t-shirt, having changed out of the
dress. And she had a pack of cards in her hand.
'Want to play a game?' she asked.
'What game?'
She beckoned me closer and leaned up to speak in my ear.
'Strip poker!' she whispered, and then collapsed in a fit of giggles.
Wow. That was straight out of left field. I didn't expect her to be so
keen to be so naughty, but I should almost have expected it, I suppose.
For weeks I had been giving her little signs, and now I was getting the
pay-off.
'Sure, let's play.'
I won't bore you with a hand-by-hand play, suffice to say that we ended
up both in our underwear, Mandy down to her little white cotton panties
with pink trim around the edge, and me in my boxers, with my rock hard
dick barely constrained.
She didn't even have the buds of breasts; her chest was flat and her
nipples still those of a child. Just looking at her naked, undeveloped
flesh was almost enough to send me over the edge.
'Do you want to carry on, or do something else?' I asked, sensing that she wasn't too keen to play until we were both naked.
'Let's snuggle.'
Ok, I thought, snuggling is a bit tame compared to what I want to do,
but ok. With a gentle hand on my shoulder, Mandy made me lie down
first, and then climbed on top. This was snuggling, but not as I knew
it. Her panty-clad mound was right on top of my raging boner, and as
she lay there hugging me and giving me little kisses she ground her
fanny against my shaft. I was so close to coming that I almost warned
her to stop, but she did so before I could say anything.
I wondered what was next, but I needn't have worried, Mandy knew
exactly what she wanted. She sat up on my legs, straddling my thighs.
There was a big wet spot on my boxers, and one on her panties, although
I couldn't tell what were my juices, and what had leaked from her
immature vagina. She sat back, regarding my crotch with interest, her
head on one side with a cute little expression on her face. Then,
impulsively, she reached down and pulled back the band of my boxers.
My dick was absolutely rock and leaking precum like it had never done
before. Some people would curse being afflicted with a small dick, but
I always saw it as a blessing, because it wasn't such a monster that it
scared kids off. Mandy was obviously not afraid, because she reached
straight down and grabbed it, straightening it up until it was
vertical, making veins bulge out on the side. My other advantage is a
long foreskin, so the raging purple head is well covered even when I'm
as hard as I can be, which makes the whole thing a lot less
intimidating.
Mandy was fascinated, tweaking my dick this way and that, rubbing up
and down on it, nearly enough to make me get there. But somehow I held
off just for the moment, and she lay back down, letting my boxers snap
back into place. She kissed me a couple of times, then whispered in my
ear,
'You can look at mine if you want.'
With that, she rolled off me and lay back with her eyes closed. She was
mine to play with, although obviously she was a little nervous, her
limbs shaking a little as she lay there. I wasn’t about to pass up an
opportunity to have a look at her little fanny, and I grabbed her
panties and pulled them down.
Mandy's mound was a little like an adult's, but so much more like a
little kid's. The faintest wisps of blond hair adorned her upper lips,
but beyond that the swelling of an adult vulva was totally absent. What
really stuck out, literally, was her clitoris, a strong, crimson peak
in the flesh of her mound.
I went straight to it, stroking the mound, eliciting a gasp from a
shocked Mandy, whose legs drew together and up, then fell apart. That
stretched her mons, exposing the glistening inner lips to me, and
showing me exactly where I needed to go. I put my finger back against
her lips, then drew downwards, pressing in as I did so. I knew my
finger would find her little vagina, and within seconds I was pushing
the tip of my digit against her little, tight hole.
It was so very tight I didn't think I would be able to force my way
inside, so strong was the grip. Slowly, teasingly, I drew my finger
around the ring of muscle, and every so often it would quiver a little
bit. Eventually, it slipped wide open, suddenly very loose, and Mandy
sighed as I quickly slipped my finger all the way in up to the knuckle.
Immediately Mandy tensed right back up, her tight little pussy trying
to expel my finger, but it was too late, I was buried and held it in
there, feeling the walls of her vagina rippling. Eventually she relaxed
a bit again, and I started to slide my finger in and out a little.
The middle joint of my finger was pushing back and forth through the
tight ring of muscle at the entrance to her hole, causing Mandy to buck
her hips slightly every time I pushed in. She gasped once in a while,
and her writhing was becoming more and more intense, and before I knew
what was happening she sat bolt upright, grabbing my arm and pushing
her hips towards it, mashing her clitoris against my hand. She was
cumming, and cumming hard. As Mandy lay back panting and I let me
finger slide from the new rather open hole at the centre of her body, I
realised that suddenly everything was different, and I wanted more,
much more.