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Freezing air rushed into the cabin, bringing with it a few swirling flakes of snow.

"Get in," I barked, and she obeyed. "It's freezing out there."

It was obvious why she had hesitated. I presumed she wanted picking up, because she was standing by the side of the road, but clearly she was hoping for someone other than me. Perhaps she thought some nice family would come along and offer her a lift, but that wasn't going to happen, because nice families didn't stop for hitch-hikers. Nice families drove on by and left hitch-hikers to die of exposure on the side of the road. Only those with an air of menace about them stopped and offered a lift, and usually it was a means to alleviate boredom, not an altruistic desire to help those in need. It was certainly the act of a man (or woman) who could handle themselves in the event that their pick-up turned bad.

This one wouldn't be that way. Too small, too young. Female, too, so less prone to bouts of stupidity. Yeah, I'm a guy, and I know exactly how stupid men can be. I've served alongside any number of idiots, and seen plenty of them die because they didn't have a brain in their heads. No, if it's smart stuff you want doing, ask a woman.

Of course, this was no woman. It was a girl. I don't really know if that had any bearing on my decision to stop. I didn't, usually. I'd have called her a liar if she said she was a day over 12. Freezing, and not entirely well dressed for the weather. Runaway, at a guess; the bag stuffed to the brim, the unwillingness to look me in the face - it all added up.

"How far are you going?"

She shrugged. Her hood was still up - fake fur lined, but at least it had that to offer. All I could see was the reddened tip of her nose, adorned by a smattering of freckles. Cute. In an "aww, cute" way, not a "jump into bed, cutie" way. I know what you're thinking, and I reckon you're not unjustified in thinking that way, but really, I didn't pick her up to try it on.

She probably thought things might head that way, though, because she kept her distance. Kept well over in her seat, pressed up against the door.

"Running away?"

Another shrug.

"I ought to turn you over to the police, you know. There's a station in the next town."

That got her attention. I had no intention whatsoever of turning her over, but she didn't know that.

"Please, don't. They'll send me back."

"Home?"

She nodded.

"That bad?"

I shouldn't have asked. A bad home drove me into the army, so I knew not to pry, but she intrigued me for some reason.

"Yeah, I guess. Hey, are you British?"

Oh yeah, that.

"Yeah, I am."

"Oh, cool. What are you doing here?"

It was a good question. Rural North America was hardly the typical place to find a Brit abroad. Not very touristy, but I had my reasons for being there. It was my third year and I was happy there, so I saw no reason to move on. Five years previously I'd left the army. A couple of years after that an old comrade had put me in touch with a landowner in the USA who needed a hired gun. I needed work, and my spell in the SAS gave me just the training he wanted. It was a strange one, and I was a bit wary at first, but it turned out to be legit - a privately owned company held a spot of land which was known to be rich in gold deposits. They'd bought it on one proviso, that they left it fifty years before starting to mine it, and in the meantime they had the job of protecting it from illegal prospectors. All rather wild west, if you ask me, but there it was. It was an out of the way little spot up in the hills, so there was plenty of opportunity to sneak in. It was my job to live up there during the winter months, when the hills were largely deserted, and to keep an eye out for anything untoward. It was a harsh existence, but it offered me the one thing I craved above all else - a chance to be alone.

"I work here," I answered, and left it at that.

She seemed satisfied, and returned to her contemplation of the world outside the window. It was barely mid-morning, and I had a long way to go, but at least now there was someone to share the journey with.

Hang on, didn't I just say I wanted to be alone?

***

"You could take me with you up to the cabin. I could help out. I can cook. Well, sorta."

She'd defrosted somewhat, physically and socially. We sat eating pancakes in a diner. I'd already checked the place had no CCTV. Didn't need a manhunt if the girl was reported missing, not that that was likely. Mother was a druggie, dad nowhere to be found. Big sister had got out a few years back and promised to return for Alanis, but never came. She was pretty much alone in the world, as far as I could tell.

"That wouldn't work."

I didn't try to tell her that her mother would miss her, or that anyone would care that she was gone. She wouldn't buy it. But I didn't need - or want - the company.

"Please, please take me. I've got nowhere else to go."

Well, that was true, from what she'd told me. Only the state would care for her now, and I wasn't sure that was in her best interests. But if I was denying her that, shouldn't I at least offer her something?

"You'd get bored, and I'd get arrested."

The first part was certainly true, but from what I knew of the area - everyone kept themselves to themselves and no-one asked any questions - trouble with the law was surprisingly unlikely to be an issue. As long as no-one reported Alanis missing, it would probably work.

"Don't you get bored? What do you do?"

"Hunt. Fish. Walk the land. Read. That sort of thing."

"Yeah, does sound kinda dull," she said, looking dejected. "Don't you even watch TV?"

Actually, I did, from time to time. The first time I visited the cabin I was surprised to see the television in the corner, but the big fat satellite dish out the back should've given it away. Mainly, the dish was there for the summer crew to send out data - an environmental impact team were conducting a long term study on the site - but it had its benefits. Mostly, I left it alone, but sometimes I wanted to see something of the real world. I love my isolation, as I've said, but too much can start to harm your mind, I reckon.

"I need to get moving," I said, ignoring the question.

"What am I going to do?"

For the first time genuine fear entered her voice. I looked across at her. We were at a fork in the road; one way led to common sense, the other to madness. As I sat there, trying to think how I might possibly choose, a little scene was playing out over her shoulder in which I became engrossed. A middle-aged man had been sitting at a table alone for the whole time we'd been there. In front of him, placed neatly on the table, was a smart-looking carrier bag - it was hard to tell what was inside, but I was left in little doubt that it was expensive. He was a well-dressed man, neatly groomed - I guessed the BMW I'd seen nestling between two battered trucks in the car park was his. He was nervous, too - he kept looking at his watch, and playing with a ring on his finger. If I had to guess, I'd have said he was a married man meeting his mistress, but in fact I was some way wide of the mark. As I contemplated him, a young girl of thirteen or fourteen walked into the diner. She looked around nervously, and then when she saw the man she ran forward with a cry of,

"Daddy, you came!"

Immediately he enfolded her in his arms, and I could see a tear track darkening the skin of his cheek.

"Yes, pumpkin," he replied as they broke apart. "I told you I would. I've brought you these," he continued, handing over the bag.

The girl took it excitedly and reached inside, pulling free a pair of gleaming silk ballet shoes.

"Oh wow, they're perfect!" the girl exclaimed, turning them this way and that. "Thank you so much."

"That's OK, sweetheart. Anything for my princess. I've paid up your fees for the rest of the year, too."

"Oh wow, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"So, do you have a bit of time? Do you want to get a soda?"

"Yeah, mom won't know I'm gone for an hour or so."

"Great."

There was no way of knowing what the father had done to require his daughter to lie to her mother about meeting him, but clearly this was clandestine. And it meant a great deal to the girl, too. As they sat chatting she was practically bouncing in her chair, excitedly relating tales of her daily life. That was the moment which changed my mind. I turned back to Alanis, who now sat staring out of the window, as if contemplating her fate.

"Ever fired a gun?"

She turned to face me, her brows knitted in confusion.

"No. Why?"

"Want to learn?"

It took a few seconds for her to realise what I was saying, but when she did her mouth dropped open and tears sprang up in her eyes. She sat staring at me for a moment, then blinked, sending a salty droplet tumbling to land on her plate.

"Thank you," she whispered, and then was silent once more, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

***

"It's for your daughter, you say?"

The gunsmith looked doubtful, but when I pointedly lifted the cuffs of my sweatshirt up past my elbow and his eyes had the time to register the tattoo on my forearm, his attitude changed somewhat. Even in rural America those who know warfare recognise the symbol of the SAS.

"Yes, of course,” he replied to my unspoken answer. “Come this way, I have limited stock in that size."

He led me through into what appeared to be a storeroom, but which - of course - had a hidden door into his real store, where the proper guns were kept. I'd actually been here once before, but if he recognised me he showed no sign. There were some quite interesting specimens in that room, but what I was there for was hidden at the back. A rack of three smaller rifles, suitable for children but still capable of killing.

"Hard to get hold of, so they're not cheap," he said. I nodded, acknowledging the opening parry of our inevitable haggling. "Are you sure your daughter doesn't want to come and have a look for herself, and try it out?"

"No, it's OK, thanks. It's a surprise. I'm sure I'll be able to tell what will fit."

There was no way I was taking Alanis into that shop with me. Now I'd made the decision to take her up into the hills I wanted as few people as possible to see us together.

"Well," he said, sounding a little disappointed for some reason, "I'm sure a man with your experience knows what he's doing."

I nodded again, and left it there.

***

Alanis held the rifle possessively, stroking the stock in a way which stirred something unexpected deep inside me. We were barrelling down the road now, in a hurry to get to the cabin. There were only a few hours of daylight left, and the gunmetal clouds above our heads were thick with snow.

"It's really mine?" she asked, and I grinned to myself. It was about the twentieth time she'd asked that. Her reaction to receiving the gun was rather like the ballet girl's receipt of her shoes - she'd shown utter joy and instant love for the sleek metal killing machine.

"Just keep it out of sight, yeah?" I admonished, but not too seriously. We would definitely be the only car out on these roads this afternoon so there was little chance she would be seen with it, but it paid to teach her to be careful. "I don't have that gun registered to me, so we could be in big trouble if the cops saw you with it."

"And you're really going to let me shoot things?"

"I'm going to teach you how to shoot. Whether or not you hit anything is up to you."

She was silent for a few moments.

"You know, your accent is really funny."

I glared at her and said nothing. She simply grinned back.

***

"If we're going to spend the whole winter together, we should know more about each other," Alanis said.

We were sitting in front of the wood burning stove, warming ourselves through. True to her word she had pitched in to help get the cabin up and running, and we'd managed to unload the truck in record time, which was fortuitous given the thick blanket of snow which had fallen in the last hour or so.

"There's not much to know about me," I replied. "I'm thirty four. Been in the army most of my adult life. Served in Iraq and Afghanistan with the SAS. What about you?"

She shrugged.

"I'm eleven. Just. My mom is a loser and my dad left years ago. Then my mom's boyfriend turned up and she got into all kindsa stuff, and then she started hitting me and calling me names, so I just got out of there."

"No other family you could go to?"

She shook her head and looked down. I put an arm around her shoulders and drew her into me. I felt so desperately sorry for her right then. As I held her, I felt her starting to shake, and then she turned to me, burying her face in my chest and sobbing her heart out. I held her until she was cried out, and for a little longer after that, until I could feel her breathing become steady. A faint snore told me she'd fallen asleep. Picking her up, I took her to the spare bedroom and deposited her on the bed, where she rolled over and snuggled into the pillow with a faint smile on her face. I covered her up with a blanket and walked out of the room.

***

Morning brought clear skies and freezing temperatures. Sunlight glittered on the freshly fallen snow outside, like thousands of tiny diamonds scattered across its surface. I woke early and made a quick scout around the property. I'd normally go for a long walk on day one, just to get a feel for how things had changed since last year, but with Alanis around I decided to take it easy - no-one was going to sneak up through that snow to try their hand at a little prospecting. Instead, I thought I'd spend the day looking over the cabin and checking for any repairs which needed making.

Alanis emerged from her room at around nine o'clock, four hours after I'd risen. During the night she'd thrown off her jeans, so she wandered around in just a t-shirt and little cotton panties which looked like they'd seen better days. I cursed myself for not provisioning better for her, but now we were up in the hills it would probably be weeks before a break in the weather where we could get out and buy her new stuff. I wasn't being a very good parent so far - I'd bought her a gun, but no underwear. Like a naughty uncle, I suppose.

"Aren't you cold dressed like that?" I asked, to which she just shrugged.

"What are you drinking?"

"It's tea. You want some?"

Alanis rolled her eyes, as if to say 'you Brits and your tea', but she came and sat down next to me and took the mug anyway. One tentative sip and a sour face later and she was demanding to know what I possibly saw in "that disgusting drink". I laughed at her pantomime of dying from the effects of tea drinking, and pretty soon she was in stitches, too. Already she was beginning to come out of herself a little, and what was inside I found I liked a lot - she was sweet and funny, and unpretentious. I wasn't attracted to her, of course, but I realised there would have been plenty of people whose company I would have enjoyed less. I grabbed her in a hug and she melted into me with a contented hum.

We sat like that for quite some time, until I decided that we really must be getting on. I pushed Alanis up from the sofa, and caught myself staring at her round little bottom, barely encased by her threadbare underpants. I looked away guiltily, and then rather gruffly suggested she get showered. She grumbled at the suggestion, but went anyway, casting a glance back at me over her shoulder and rather provocatively giving a wiggle of her bum. Of course, it was only innocent horseplay, the kind of thing all kids do, but not for the first time I found my pulse quickening when looking at her.

***

The cabin was in excellent shape, thankfully. I had no real intention of going out into the snow and doing DIY unless I had to. The only problem was a broken gutter bracket - it had given way beneath the weight of last night's snow, but without a replacement there was little more I could do than cobble together a makeshift repair using a spare shelf bracket I found in the shed, and put it on the list of things to get when we could next get out.

That list was growing by the hour, and included some decent warm weather gear for Alanis. I really hadn't realised quite how under-prepared she was for our trip, but it was stupid of me to assume she had a decent coat and boots, or gloves for that matter. I lent her what I could, but with everything fitting her so poorly she was soon freezing, and so we retreated indoors as the snow started up again.

We lounged decadently in front of the wood-burner, letting its warmth soak into our bones. Alanis lay in nothing more than her t-shirt and underpants, reading one of the books left behind by the summer crew, some dire romantic fiction in which she was quickly engrossed. I was slightly surprised by her, because despite her unfortunate background she seemed well-educated, and was happy enough to read rather than turning on the television. I found it hard to concentrate on my task - paperwork to record the successful handover of the cabin - because, quite of their own volition, my eyes kept flicking up to look at her. She was very feminine in the way she lay, without the gawkiness kids sometimes have. I observed the faintest hint of swelling on her chest, and then spent the next fifteen minutes hating myself for having looked. But I looked again that day, and more than once. Her legs and bottom, too, were perhaps beginning to feel the effects of the onrushing change; they were slender and shapely in all the right places. Again, I berated myself for having noticed, but that didn't stop me.

In fact, I found myself becoming more and more obsessed with Alanis, especially with her figure. At first it was nothing more than casual intrigue - she looked as though she were blossoming into a very attractive young lady. But then I realised that it was something more than that. I wasn't predicting that I would find her attractive when she grew up, I was finding her attractive now. Eleven years old, with only the barest hint of the form she would one day take, and already my pulse quickened to see her lying there half naked, her modesty barely protected.

"What? What is it?" she asked, suddenly.

Shit! I'd been staring at her, and she'd noticed. How could I have been so fucking stupid? And yet... was that the hint of a smile curling the corners of her lips? Was she teasing me? I tried to recover as best I could.

"I was just thinking, you really ought to get some clothes on. It's too cold to be sitting there without anything on."

"I do have things on!" she protested. "And anyway, aren't you enjoying the view?"

She had me there, but I'd rallied sufficiently by this point to have the nerve to stick to my task.

"I really think you ought to put something on."

"Uh, fine," she said, standing, though the tone was hardly as annoyed as it could have been. "Thought you might like it, was all."

That last sentence was said in barely more than a whisper, almost to herself as she turned away. This time there was no look over the shoulder, no bum wiggle, just a rather dejected looking girl walking away. I consoled myself with the fact that I'd done the right thing in getting her to cover up.

But if it was the right thing, why did I feel so disappointed when she gave in and agreed to my demands?

***

She fell asleep in my arms that night as we watched a film on TV, snuggling together for warmth on the sofa. After I had deposited her sleeping form into her bed - not daring to trust myself to remove even her jeans or sweater - I fell back onto my own mattress and sighed heavily at what had happened to me over the last couple of days.

She was pretty, that much was irrefutable. I should have thought her cute, someone with potential for the future, but instead I found my mind drifting to lurid fantasies of her naked body. I wasn't stupid enough that I couldn't work out what was happening here, but it came as a damn shock. I'd never known myself to be attracted to young girls, but here was a barely eleven year old girl whose appearance seeded all manner of inappropriate thoughts in my mind. She wouldn't even have hair down there, I guessed; it made me shudder to think of it, but it aroused me beyond belief. I lay shaking with the strength of it, feeling my stomach doing back-flips. I thought I had been turned-on before in my life, but now I realised that was a pale shadow of true sexual excitement. This felt like being caught in a gun fight and realising the only way out would be to kill every single enemy combatant - I knew, because I'd been there before. Only on that one other occasion had I felt so drunk on adrenaline.   Mere moments after touching my hand to my manhood it was all over. I fell into a fitful, unsatisfied sleep.

***

Pale light crept around the curtain, which meant I'd overslept. I went to roll over and find my watch and was halted by a warm lump in my bed. My heart leapt into my mouth when I realised it was Alanis, her head buried beneath the covers. My movements made her stir, and she poked out with a smile.

"Uh, morning," I said, not quite able to disguise my surprise. My heart was thundering in my chest, but at least my nervousness was stopping my unclothed manhood inflating. Yet.

"Hey," she said with a yawn, stretching like a cat. "I was cold. You're really warm when you sleep."

So that was that, then? She'd just decided it was OK to sleep in my bed? Well, in that case... well... what? What was I going to do about it? Other than celebrate, of course. Her upper body was covered with yesterday's t-shirt, but there was no knowing what she was wearing down below, and with that thought in mind I instantly became hard. I realised I was still hovering over her, and drew back with a muttered "sorry", but it seemed she wasn't too concerned about the close physical proximity because she rolled toward me, picking my arm up and putting it around her back, pressing herself into my side. She felt so hot to the touch, burning up almost.

"You're not cold anymore," I said, wishing I could have thought of something, anything smarter to say.

She simply said, "No," in reply, and brought her leg up to lie across the tops of my thighs. It was so close to my balls that I shuddered involuntarily, and felt a surge of excitement which dripped out to wet my stomach.

"Alanis, I'm not sure..."

"I am," she said. "It's OK, I know what I'm doing."

Her hand, which had been resting on my chest, drifted down my stomach, playing with the hairs there for a moment before continuing south. She took hold of me possessively and confidently, and started to bring me off. It took no time at all before I was crushing her to me as my ejaculate surged from the tip of my manhood to coat her hand and my torso.

I lay there on my back, panting, as she climbed out of beneath the covers and walked over to where my towel lay over the back of a chair, wiping her hand clean. She was wearing nothing below her waist, and as she turned back to me I saw, for the first time, her delicate, pink sex, with the nubbin of her clitoris sticking out between the folds, dark and engorged. She smiled down at me and whipped back the covers, and then lovingly cleaned the semen from my body. I marvelled at the confidence with which she did so.

"Alanis, where did you-" I started, but she cut me off.

"Shhh, don't. Please, just don't."

There was the hint of an unshed tear in the corner of each eye. I held my hands up in apology, but the spell was broken.

"I'm going to shower," she said over her shoulder as she turned and left the room. I lay there wondering what had just happened, but quickly gave up trying to understand.

***

"I wanted to say thanks, OK?" she said.

The snow had turned to rain, and now to glowering grey skies. What had fallen had quickly melted, and as we walked along rarely-used tracks we splashed through puddles and rivulets, Alanis clumping along in a too-large pair of women's boots we found in the shed. We hadn't even been talking about the morning's turn of events.

"I'm sorry I upset you," I said, aware in hindsight quite how clumsy my words had been. She shrugged it off.

"It's OK, really it is. It's just..."

She stopped walking and stared out over the forest. I carried on a few yards then turned back to face her. She let out a huge sigh and stared straight into my eyes.

"Please don't get mad at me, OK?"

"Why would I be angry?"

"Adults always get angry about shit like this."

"What shit?"

She paused for a moment, apparently trying to work out how to put her confession.

"It's not the first time I've done that."

Well, no shit, I thought to myself, but didn't say anything to her. She was far too experienced for that to have just come out of nowhere.

"There was this guy," she said. "My babysitter. He was fourteen, and I was ten. It was last year. Mom was still working then, and she paid this boy who lived next door to look after me, and we fell in love and we did stuff."

My heart raced at the revelation - just how far had she gone with this boy? I didn't bother to ask what she could possibly know of love - she seemed a little too worldly wise for that.

"It's not something for me to get mad about," I told her. "It's your choice. Did he hurt you?"

She shrugged.

"He didn't mean to, but we were trying to put it in and it made me bleed a bit. It never went in properly."

Jesus, they really had gone at it. I was actually asking whether he'd hurt her feelings; perhaps I should've been clearer, but it excited me to know how willing she had been.

"What happened to him?"

She shrugged again.

"Don't know, just didn't turn up one day and when mom went round the whole lot of them were gone. Guess they skipped town."

"Do you miss him?" I asked, and immediately regretted it. Tears sprang up in her eyes. I walked over to her and grabbed her in a hug, crushing her into me as sobs racked her body.

***

"A little bit higher, and to the left," I said, as the sound of the gunshot continued to echo around the valley.

Alanis had shown herself to be a better than average shot, but had a habit of ignoring the wind over longer distances. Still, for her first day shooting she was doing well, and there would be plenty of opportunity to practice - I shot almost every day while I was up at the cabin, either hunting or just honing my aim. It was a great way of letting anyone in the hills know that they weren't alone, and that I was armed.

She took aim once more, and this time a puff of rock dust went up as she nailed the sandstone rock I'd placed on top of a fallen tree trunk about a hundred feet away.

"Not bad," I told her, though inside I was giving her mental high-fives - it was actually a great shot, but it didn't pay to give her too much confidence; she was still new to shooting, after all, and overconfidence leads to accidents.

"I'm not sure I want to shoot a deer, though," she said, as she carefully retrieved her shells and pocketed them, just as I'd taught her.

"It's OK, we're unlikely to get a chance anyway. They'll have moved slightly south to their winter grazing. It'll get too cold for them here in a few weeks. Speaking of which, the temperature's falling. We need to head back to the cabin, there's snow on the way."

We trudged the last half mile through thickly falling snow. It mounded up on us and seeped through our clothes, so that by the time we made it back we were soaked and freezing. Without ceremony she shed her clothes, hung them over the hot water pipes and walked naked to the wood-burner. She added some logs, stoked it up and lay down, wrapping herself in a blanket. I hesitated for a moment, but emboldened by her actions I, too, quickly joined her in nudity, and she generously shared her blanket with me.

At first we were too cold to even consider fooling around, but as the warmth spread through our bodies, our ardour returned. She squirmed round to sit in my lap facing me, peering down between us with a wicked grin as she felt the underside of my thundering erection pressing against the hot, delicate folds of her sex. For the first time she kissed me - what the kiss lacked in skill it made up for in intensity, and as she ground herself into my jutting spike my juices spilled out and ran down between us, adding lubrication and letting her slide easily up and down as she rolled her hips. My hands went to her round backside, grabbing her and lifting her up and down, pressing her hard into me at the same time.

Before I came, I was determined to offer her some of the pleasure she had given me. I tipped us over onto our sides and then put a hand on her shoulder to roll her onto her back. Still kissing her, I reached a hand down and took my tentative first feel of her sex. I pushed my fingertip down into the top of her crease, pressing hard  down on her clit, making Alanis arch her back and gasp, eyes tight shut. I roughly pushed it from side to side, mashing the hardness against her pubic bone until she cried out for me to stop. Only then did I relent, allowing her to sink back to the floor. I wasn't done yet, though. My finger pushed further down, into the hot pocket of her sex, pressing against the ring of muscle at the mouth of her vagina. It parted ever so slowly, and my digit sank into her warm, infinitely soft depths. She panted as I pushed into her, her thighs bouncing open and shut as waves of stimulation hammered into her, each stronger than the last. When I could go no further I pulled back slightly then pushed back in, my thick second knuckle torturing the entrance to her sex until it admitted defeat and went slack, and a pulse of her juices squeezed out around my finger. With my thumb pressed firmly against her swollen clitoris I quickly sawed my middle finger in and out of her and in no time she was there, her vagina desperately milking my finger as her hips rolled from side to side, rhythmically pushing up into the air, forcing my finger deeper inside each time. She panted and mewled as she came, and the muscles of her tummy fluttered uncontrollably.

As the last few contractions ebbed away she fell lifelessly onto the floor, her half-closed eyes a sign of her exhaustion. I lay down next to her and enfolded her in my arms, dragging the blanket over us both. She slept then, for maybe five minutes, until with a start she jerked awake, struggling against my enclosing arms until she realised where she was and settled back with a sigh, a contented smile playing across her lips.

"It was never like that with him," she whispered. "I never did that. Was that an orgasm?"

"Oh yes," I replied softly. "Good?"

She nodded enthusiastically and grabbed my arm, hugging it tightly to herself. Her movements made my hardness move against her lower back, smearing it with wetness.

"It's big. Bigger than his was," she said with a grin, wriggling her hips around to feel it better.

"It's not that big. Pretty average. He probably wasn't grown yet."

She shrugged. "I guess. You're still hard. He said I shouldn't leave him hard. Want me to use my hand on you? I'm not sure it'll go in my mouth... or... down there."

"Yeah, that would be nice," I replied, rolling onto my back, taking the blanket with me. Goosebumps sprang up on her arms and back, and she shivered in the sudden coldness. She reached over me to grab the blanket, and as she did so the tip of my manhood smeared across her stomach. I gasped slightly at the contact and she giggled.

"Oh look, I can't get the blanket," she said playfully, grinding her stomach onto mine, the tip of my hardness trapped between us. The hot silk of her skin was too much, and with a grunt I flooded us both with my slimy load.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, pulling away and giggling. "How much?"

I shrugged.

"I suppose you're just that damn hot," I said, running my hand up her thigh to where her reddened sex sat at the juncture of her legs. I pushed the side of my little finger into her folds and she made an 'mmph' sound and pushed it away.

"Too ticklish now. Can we get a shower? I'm all icky."

***

We slept in my bed that night, all pretence regarding our desires having evaporated. She snuggled into me, naked, as I was. I could easily have done more, but she was spent for the evening, and I resisted the temptation to push it, knowing that though she had already experienced everything we'd done together, she needed time to process our actions.

In the morning, though, she was a different beast, sexually charged, willing, playful. She dived beneath the covers and spent several excruciating minutes teasing me with her hands and gentle kisses from her hot, wet lips, eventually suckling on just the head for a moment, lifting free and giggling as I groaned and pushed my hips upwards. She emerged breathless and red-faced from beneath the sheets and hugged herself to my side, throwing a leg over my thighs and gently teasing my erection with her inner thigh. She ran a hand across my chest as she did so, playing with the hair there. She was so short that my hand, drifting down her flank, was able to play with her firm backside for a moment, before my fingertips found her soft sex, tracing along its soft divide before dipping between the folds to feel the heat of her, and the slick dampness which seeped from her inflamed centre.

"What are we going to do today?" she asked after a moment.

"Don't know. Want me to try and fuck you?"

It was said in jest, but she took it seriously.

"No, not yet. You could... well, there was this one thing he did once. He used his tongue down there. Would you... no, sorry, I shouldn't -"

"Shush," I breathed, placing a finger to her lips to silence her. "I'd love to go down on you. Want me to do it now?"

She looked up at me, something unreadable in her eyes. She seemed to be searching me.

"Would you really?"

The scent of her hit my nostrils before my tongue ever touched those soft, undeveloped folds. Lying there on my stomach, thumbs pulling her lips wide to offer me access, I mused on how neat and tidy her little girl's quim was. Such a neat little package, her engorged clit wrapped in its sheath of wrinkled skin, her blushing and wet vagina gaping slightly beneath, its inner darkness utterly inviting. I pushed a finger into it, delighting in the way her hips jumped upwards in surprise, and quickly lowered my tongue to her desperate sex.

"Oh shit!" she exclaimed, her thighs flying up to clamp around my ears. Both hands landed on the top of my head, fingers curling into my hair and pushing me away, and then immediately back down again.

"Softly," she commanded, and I obeyed, ever so gently lapping at her, listening with increasing pleasure to the sounds of excitement drifting down from above. I'm no expert with my tongue, but she was hyped up already, and easy to pleasure, and after only a handful of minutes her thighs and tummy were shaking with convulsions of desire, and her little cunt rhythmically sucked at my middle finger as she reached her peak.

"Mmph... mmph... mmph... mmmmmmph," she mewled as she approached, and then, "FUCK!" she exploded, expelling all the air from her lungs in one epic breath. She writhed beneath me, pinned by my free hand on her stomach. She twisted and rolled for nearly a minute as I continued my assault.

"Stop!" she shouted at last, pulling hard on my hair to lift me away from her hypersensitive sex. I crawled up the bed and embraced her, and she planted kisses all over the side of my face and neck. I cruelly pushed a hand between her legs to press against her burning skin and she shrieked, biting down hard on my shoulder as she spasmed again. I rolled us over until she was lying atop me, panting, hot tears dripping onto my chest and rolling off, leaving damp tracks in their wake.

***

She slept for a while after that, her fragile body exhausted. I was desperately aroused, but unwilling to take matters into my own hands. So, instead, I lay with her on top of me and ran my hands over her back, across her bottom and onto the tops of her thighs, pressing the tip of my penis down between her buttocks to nestle in the warm, damp pocket there, but making no further effort to stimulate myself. When she came to, she looked up at me with a sweet, impish grin and began to grind her hips around, mashing the head of my now rampant manhood against her sex.

She stopped with a gasp and a little whimper when a spasm in the muscles of her sex let me squeeze inside. It was barely in, the very tip pushing apart the ring of muscle at the entrance to her hole, but that was all it took - with a grunt, holding her hips in place, I held myself just inside and pumped her full of everything I had to give. When I was done we lay without speaking or moving, doing nothing more than breathing in the scent of each other for what felt like an eternity.

***

There was a spring in her step all that day and the next, and a constant swelling in my pants at the same time. We fell into a routine, walking the tracks by day, practising our aim as we went, and then passionately embracing during the evening. We shifted the television so that we could sit by the wood burner in perfect nudity, with not even a blanket to cover us, and while away the hours of darkness idly kissing, stroking and fondling, until we were both satisfied.

***

On the fourteenth day, as we lay together in bed planning a trip to town to take advantage of a sudden thaw, she rolled over to me and smiled coyly, her hand running up the inside of my leg until it brushed up against my balls. My dick, which had hardly deflated since our earlier passionate embraces, immediately sprang back to full hardness, and she grabbed it possessively, lifting it, running her hand up and down in a now-practised manner.

She rolled further and climbed on top of me, her light frame no burden, her body so frail compared to mine, but strong inside, I knew. Wordlessly she reached back and grabbed my dick, pulling it away from my body as she pushed back toward it, nestling the tip at the entrance to her body. We'd done this several times over the past few days, the soft, hot flesh of her vulva giving the gentlest caresses of my exposed head until there was no resisting and I came, making a mess of both of us.

She paused, staring deep into my eyes, her face intent.

"Inside?" she asked, as if the answer could ever be 'no'. I nodded.

"Slowly."

Another nod.

Her eyes were still locked to mine as the pressure built. She was pushing back against the intruder which had been knocking at the door for days, letting it in. Welcoming it in. She grunted and her eyes fluttered shut. Biting her lips she forced me painfully inside, not stopping until the ring of muscle at the entrance to her was stretched wide by the thickness of my shaft. She stopped there and panted, and I could feel her muscles quivering with the strain of having me inside. Ever so slowly her breathing calmed and her arms and legs lost their tension, and then, as if every muscle was relaxing at once the grip around my manhood loosened. I could go no deeper than those handful of inches, but I could withdraw and thrust, and do it again and again until I glided on her slickness, and her hips began to move.

It was so tight that the sensation all too quickly threatened to overwhelm me, but not before she had shivered and convulsed her way to a climax of her own, her legs and arms shaking violently and sweat springing out on her brow. She clenched her eyes shut and whimpered as her tight hole spasmed uncontrollably around my oversized invader, milking me until with a groan I pulsed and fired volley after volley of cum deep inside her quivering hole. She cried out as my manhood swelled inside her, falling forward onto my chest and grabbing handfuls of the sheets either side of my shoulders.

When I slowly withdrew my invading member she mewled, and shivered at the sensation, then gasped when the head passed through her still-tight opening.

***

She was quiet in the car. Thoughtful.

I watched her out of the corner of my eye, and when she spotted me doing so she smiled, but it looked forced. She'd been elusive at the house when I'd been getting the truck ready, though when she was nearby she was affectionate, and somewhat horny; we even stopped at one point so that she could show her love for me down on her knees out in the open air, giggling as she shifted to the side and finished me with her hand, watching the pearl droplets splatter uselessly onto the dirt. I leaned back against the side of the truck and panted, and thanked my lucky stars we were alone out here.

An atmosphere descended over us on the drive into town. She was suddenly moody, and took offence at everything I said, and eventually turned away from me on her seat, staring out of the window with her brows furrowed. She was little better in the shop, disappearing off when I asked her to stay close, and generally misbehaving; it was a stark reminder that she was only eleven years old.

It was probably best that she wasn't with me, though, because it was in the market, picking up a few pints of fresh milk - a rare treat - that it unravelled. I didn't see it on the first carton, or the second, but on the third I stopped for a moment to glance at the picture on the side. A missing kid, as they often were. 'Sarah' had apparently left home in California without telling anyone where she was going. She'd been missing for four months now, and her desperate parents just wanted her home.

My eyes dropped to the picture of the girl, and it felt like the world had fallen away beneath me. I simply stared and stared, unwilling to believe what I was seeing. 'Beloved daughter', 'devoted sister', 'cherished friend'.

I sank down onto my knees, no longer able to support my weight.

I knew, without even having to check, that the folded stack of notes in my coat pocket was gone. I stuck my hand in there anyway, and found a crumpled note.

"Dear Jack, thanks for giving me a place to stay. Sorry I took your money. I can't go home. You would of made me. I think I sort of love you but I can't go back. Alanis xx"