There was something about the way that
Rosie's hair fell into my lap that I will always remember. Her soft,
dark hair would spill around her head as she lowered it, tickling the
tops of my legs as her tongue teased my foreskin, working its way
inside. I loved Rosie going down on me, even if she wasn't the most
adept. There was just something about the passion with which she
performed the act, truly doing it as an act of love, as a devotion, not
as some sort of chore she would put up with if needs must. I couldn't
help being excited by the fact she was just twelve, either.
The story of how Rosie and I came to be lovers is almost unbelievable.
I won't try to convince you that the following really happened the way
it happened; that's for you, the reader, to decide for him- or herself.
I'll simply relate the facts as best I remember them, and let you make
up your own mind.
It started, the way these things often seem to, purely by chance. There
was no planning involved, no premeditation on my part, and to be honest
at first I didn't even realise what was happening. Rosie is the
daughter of one of my ex-girlfriend's friends. My ex and I still stay
in touch, are still good friends, and we do little favours for each
other whenever possible. The break-up wasn't acrimonious - after all,
she couldn't help being a lesbian deep at heart. I got a little bit of
teasing from my friends about 'turning her to the dark side', but I
knew from conversations we'd had that really she'd been feeling that
way for years and denying it to herself.
Anyway, it was because I owed Faye a favour that I ended up babysitting
Rosie one night. One of Faye's friends had asked her to look after
Rosie for the night while she went to visit an elderly relative who
wasn't expected to last long. Faye couldn't make it, already having
made plans she couldn't easily break, and so recommended to Alison that
she ask me, since I owed her a favour. I'd met Alison once or twice in
the past, and even met Rosie once before, when she was much smaller and
still clung to her mother's legs. I liked Alison - she was clearly the
most normal and down-to-earth of Faye's friends, and we always got on
quite well. She obviously trusted me, because out-of-the-blue I
received a phone call from Alison asking if I could watch Rosie. She
stumbled on, explaining over and over how difficult the situation was
for her, and when I finally got a word in edgeways, to say that I would
be happy to help her, the relief that flooded down the line was almost
palpable.
We agreed that Rosie would come to my house, so that I could continue
working into the evening in my studio, while Rosie watched TV and did
her homework. She was the first overnight visitor t my new house, as it
happened, and so I had great fun trying to find where the hell I'd put
all the bedding for the spare bed, and then deciding what to do with
all the models I had on the bed. I'm a free-lance model builder,
working mostly for ex-military pilots who want their jet re-created.
The only reason I can make any money out of it is that I've cornered
the market a little, and the old guys seem so impressed by my work that
I can charge a fair whack. To be fair, the man hours I put into the
projects make them worth the money, even if it's actually just my
hobby. I work from home in a little studio I've made out of the attic,
so I'm often around when people need favours.
Rosie turned up about four o'clock, standing on my front door with an
overnight bag. She and her mother lived only a couple of streets away,
and while it was still daylight it was safe for her to walk round. I
had expected her to be rather nervous, but in fact she was quite the
opposite, bubbly and excitable, grabbing my hand and demanding to be
shown around my new house. She was nothing at all like the shy eight
year old I had once met, and I could see a lot of her mother in her.
I showed her around the place, smiling at her infectious and endless
enthusiasm. She seemed quite impressed by the house, which had been
mostly funded out of inheritance money from my grandfather’s passing.
He had been a fairly wealthy man, and with only one son and a couple of
grandchildren to leave the money to, we'd all been generously endowed
by his will, enough so in my case to buy myself quite a respectable
pad. Rosie laughed at the state of my bedroom, which was the typical
bachelor’s mess, and told me in no uncertain terms that if she was my
girlfriend a lot would change around the house.
That was the moment that I got the first twinge in my stomach, the very
faintest flutter of a butterfly. At the time, I didn't recognise it for
what it was, and I just thought she'd struck a nerve, reminding me of
what I hadn't had since Faye and I went our separate ways. The tour
continued without incident, and before long Rosie was settling down in
the living room in front of the TV, with a handheld console and an
unhealthily large glass of Coke.
I retreated to my attic, and set about camouflaging a 1/48th scale F-16
I had to have done by the end of the week. Grey on grey isn't the most
exciting scheme the world has ever seen, but work is work, and there
would be plenty of time later for my own projects. I almost lost track
of time in the attic, and it was six o'clock before I knew it. Dinner
wouldn't make itself, so I cleaned out the airbrush and headed
downstairs. Rosie was where I'd left her on the sofa, with the glass
half empty, still playing whatever game she had been playing earlier.
She looked up when I came downstairs, brushing the hair away from her
face, tucking the stray strands behind her ear, and smiling warmly at
me.
It was the nicest smile I'd received in some time, and it lit up the
room. I smiled back as I told her dinner would be ready soon, and then
turned and walked to the kitchen, grinning slightly to myself. I was
floating slightly, feet not quite on the ground, and I couldn't work
out quite why.
Still a little high, I pulled the ingredients I'd already prepared out
of the fridge. I'm fairly conscious of the food I eat, and I'd prepped
the ingredients for a low-fat chicken and ginger stir-fry. As I heated
the wok and started frying off the chicken, Rosie wandered into the
kitchen and leaned against me, watching what I was doing. It was a
strangely affectionate thing for a girl who hardly knew me to do, but I
reasoned that she must have thought me fairly safe, being the
ex-boyfriend of her mother's best friend.
We sat at the dining table to eat, a practice that Rosie was apparently
unfamiliar with. I wasn't about to judge Alison on her child-raising
skills, but I always considered it important to sit up at the table to
have a meal, instead of watching TV. It turned out that Rosie was quite
the conversationalist, and that she was quite bright. Obviously she
wasn't interested in politics - which 12 year old is? - but she kept
abreast of current affairs, and had a commitment to environmental
affairs that matched my own.
We ended up chatting long after the food
was finished, and it was only as I drained the bottle of the last dregs
of wine that I guiltily realised that I had been pouring a glass for
Rosie every time hers was empty. I hadn't thought about what I was
doing at all - it was like being on the best date ever, and you just
carry on drinking until you both realise you've probably had too much.
Rosie had probably only drunk two glasses, and it was with food, but it
was more than enough to get her tipsy. I thanked God that she was
staying the night and had the chance to sleep it off.
We retired to the living room to watch a little TV when the
conversation faltered a bit. Rather than sitting in a chair of her own,
Rosie snuggled up next to me on the sofa, leaning in and working an arm
around behind my back. At this stage it all seemed to be just innocent
to me, like I was her favourite uncle or something, but that impression
wasn't to last long.
As the evening wore on, and it got later and later, I started to think
that perhaps it was time or Rosie to go to bed. It was a hard decision
for me to make, because the warmth of her beside me was a pleasure I'd
forgotten after being alone for so long, but eventually I worked myself
up to telling her it was bedtime. Just as I turned to her and looked
down, she looked up at me, and suddenly our faces were inches apart,
our noses almost touching. I opened my mouth to speak, but never got
the chance. Rosie closed the gap between us, and her lips were upon
mine in an instant. I almost pulled away, but realised all of a sudden
that I didn't want to. This didn't feel bad, or unnatural. Quite the
opposite, in fact.
I started to kiss back, and we were locked there, lovers now. An arm
went around her back, and to make us more comfortable, I lifted her
onto my lap. She hardly weighed anything, and it brought it crashing
home to me with a start that this was a child I was kissing. I broke
free, but didn't want to seem like I was telling Rosie off, so I told
her with was time for bed with a little bit of a smile on my lips.
Bad move... she read far more into what I had said than was there to be
read, and smirked back at me, a glint of something quite grown-up in
her eyes. She hopped off and disappeared around the corner, heading
upstairs before me. I took a moment to compose myself before following
her, also allowing myself a little time to lose the hardness in my
pants.
I suspected I knew exactly where Rosie was, and my suspicions were
confirmed when I glanced through the doorway of the spare room and
found it empty.
I carried on to the master bedroom, and when I walked through the door,
it was no surprise to see Rosie there, lying languorously on my bed,
stretching and yawning. I told her that perhaps she'd found the wrong
bed, and should try the one in the guest room, but she just smiled,
shook her head, and told me this was where she wanted to be.
I walked over intending to lift her out of my bed and take her to the
guest bedroom, and end the madness there and then. But when I got
there, I found that, rather like cats have the ability to do, Rosie
could be very heavy when she wanted to be. I had to lean further over
to get a proper hold on her, and it was then that she sprung the trap,
shifting my weight around and making me tumble over her onto the other
side of the bed.
I ended up on my back, and before I knew what was happening, Rosie was
lying full length on top of me, lips pressed to mine, pelvic grinding
out a rhythm on me that started blood pumping to the wrong place.
Again, it felt totally natural, and I was too weak to defend myself
this time. I gave in utterly to the feelings. Rosie and I kissed for
what seemed like an eternity, her body a live-wire on top of my own,
her little buds of breasts pressing through the fabric of both our
t-shirts, nipples so hard I could feel them on my chest.
Eventually Rosie pulled away and sat up on my lap, her legs bent
beneath her. She smiled at me, a wicked smile, and then calmly grabbed
the hem of her t-shit and lifted it off over her head in one smooth
motion. I stared at her naked torso, glistening slightly with sweat in
the light. She was gorgeous, her breasts little more than buds, her
nipples little hard points at their ends, not yet grown. I took the
chance to whip off my own t-shirt, bringing an even brighter smile from
Rosie, who took the chance to grind her backside into the quite-obvious
lump of my erect penis.
We got back into some serious kissing, Rosie's naked chest rubbing
against mine, her little rock-hard nipples pressed into me. I ran my
hands down her back, rubbing up and down, working my way to the
waistband of her jeans. They were too tight for me to work a hand into,
but Rosie must have realised what I wanted, because she stopped for a
moment to sit up and undo the fly of the jeans. When she lay back down
on top of me, I could easily slide my hands beneath both the jeans and
her panties, and feel the soft warmth of her cheeks. She moaned into my
mouth as I felt her up, increasing the strength of her grinding into
me.
As we continue, I let a finger slowly work its way downwards, splitting
her cheeks and aiming for the point where front and back met. When I
slipped a finger in between her very moist lips, Rosie groaned loudly,
and drove her pubic mound into the hardness of my erection. I let my
finger play around her labia for a few moments, enjoying the motion
that it caused in her, until she could take it no more.
She lifted off me and almost frantically tugged her jeans and pants
down, and threw them across the room. She took slightly longer to get
me naked, but as soon as I was she was back on top of me, now grinding
her smooth mound into my flesh without a barrier between us. I could
feel the wetness on my erection that had come from her, letting her
slide up and down at an increasing speed. I was ready for a
mind-blowing orgasm when she suddenly stopped. I feared she might have
changed her mind, but there was nothing to fear. Raising up a little,
Rosie reached between us and grabbed my shaft, dragging it between her
legs, before hunching backwards. I could feel the tip of my erection
squashing into her, and then suddenly an incredible tight heat wrapped
itself around the head.
Rosie's face was a picture of concentration, and a little pain, as she
squeezed what she could of my erection into the heart of her. I'm by no
means a particularly big guy, but by the time she could go no further I
still only had about half of my erection in her. In the tight heat
though, it was enough, and I rolled us over, still connected, and
started to rhythmically push in and out of her.
Rosie lays back, her face slightly less contorted, but that look of
pained concentration still evident. She put her arms back over her head
and gripped the pillow as I worked in and out of her, loosening her a
little more each time. I looked down between us where our two bodies
were joined, and was surprised at how normal it seemed, at how it
didn't actually look all that obscene. It must have been the first time
in my life that I thanked God I had a slimmer than average penis. In
the dim light, I could see no sign of hair on Rosie's mound - if it had
been there, it would have been as dark as the hair on her head, and
would have stood out a mile.
To my sex-crazed mind, it seemed normal to be doing this. Rosie was
just another date, the best I'd had in years, and we were just
finishing a great evening in a fantastic way. We were no longer
babysitter and child, we were just lovers, and I wanted it to last
forever.
That couldn't be, of course. I had made a little more progress into her
before I felt my orgasm coming like an unstoppable train. I expended
inside Rosie, making her grunt quietly, both pained and surprised, and
then pumped hard as I unloaded into her, her vagina making sucking
noises as the semen started to bubble out around my shaft as I slowed and finally stopped, utterly drained.
I couldn't tell if Rosie had come, but I wasn't given the chance to ask; she grabbed me around the neck with her arms and around the waist with her legs, and hugged me very tightly to her. I rolled us over so that she lay on top of me, and held her until she fell asleep. I let her slide down beside me, and kissed her gently on the forehead.
This definitely wouldn't be the last time we made love.