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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Archive name: pete.txt (Mg, ped, inc, voy)
Authors name: GM (gm@mr double.com)
Story title : Pete and Cindy
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2004. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
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Pete and Cindy
by GM (gm@mr double.com)
***
In the three years since he'd grown aware of his
feelings for Cindy, Pete Hopkins had never once let his
mask slip. He'd mastered his libido with a will of
iron, affecting the facade of the doting older cousin.
But all that was going to change tonight. He'd waited
long enough. He was ready to play. (Mg, ped, inc, voy)
***
The following story depicts explicit sexual contact
between adult and under aged participants. Those
offended by graphic descriptions of incestuous
relationships should read no further. This is entirely
a work of fantasy, and does not advocate the abuse of
minors in any way, shape or form. All characters and
events represented herein are completely fictional.
***
1.
It was one of those fine, blustery days towards the end
of autumn, when the sun sets early and the winds begin
to sharpen to a knifepoint. Peter Hopkins shouldered
his backpack and headed down Domain Road, brown hair
whipping around his face. His young cousin Cindy
Connors trotted along beside him, her long blond
pigtails flying in the slipstream.
Pete glanced down at her in quiet amusement. She was a
pretty little child with pale blue eyes and lips the
color of rose petals, chattering way in fluent
girlspeak. Her bright red sun-frock lifted in the
rising gale, flickering above her knees. It was Friday
afternoon. Pete had picked her up from school and they
were walking home through the Domain.
"Can we stop and play on the swings?" the nine year-old
twittered in her high canary voice. Pete shook his
head, glancing at his watch.
"No, not this time, Honey-girl. Your Mom's working
tonight, so she's expecting you home straight after
school. We're running late as it is." Cindy's Mom was
Pete's Aunt Julia. She'd phoned him up last night
asking if he could do some babysitting over the
weekend.
This was a comfortable arrangement for both of them;
Julie was night editor at The Messenger, Pete was an
Arts major without a nickel to his name (and even less
to his account). Most weekdays, she had no trouble
finding a sitter, but the weekends were slightly more
problematic. Given his tenuous economic circumstances,
Peter could be most accommodating. Julie Connors paid
well and allowed him unlimited access to her
refrigerator.
Of course, there was another reason why he was willing
to forego Friday night drinking sessions at the Uni Bar
- but it wasn't something he could have explained to
any of his friends.
Cindy skipped along the footpath, singing some nonsense
song she'd picked up in the playground. Her face beamed
with simple, childish joy. Pete was a beloved constant
in her life, a kind of walking, human playground who
could keep her entertained for hours at a stretch. She
always looked forward to their Friday night snuggle-
sessions; Pete usually let her stay up and watch TV,
nestled in his arms until she fell asleep. Sometimes,
drifting away on the slow tides of slumber, she would
feel his fingers stroking her cheek so gently she could
barely feel his touch. Times like that, she'd imagine .
"This way, Kiddo," Pete directed, inclining his head
towards a path leading away to the right. They turned
off Domain Road and cut through Memorial Park,
following a trail composed of woodchips and pine
needles. A wild, green scent engulfed them as they
descended into the woodlands. Cindy curled her fingers
around Pete's wide palm, listening to the bellbirds
chiming in the branches. This was her favorite part of
the Domain; walking down these sunlit corridors, she
could almost believe the woods were populated with all
manner of elves and hobbits and faeries.
"Know what I can do?" Cindy asked entirely out of the
blue.
"No," Pete replied absently, "what can you do?"
"I can do handstands!" she declared proudly, swinging
his hand back and forth. Pete looked down at her,
raising his eyebrows.
"Get outta here," he said in a carefully disbelieving
tone, "where'd you learn to do handstands?"
"At school," she told him, eyes glittering with
excitement, "one of my friends showed me how." Cindy
paused, bit her lip, then added shyly, "Wanna see me do
one?" Pete grinned his reply, making her pulse jump a
beat.
"Sure, I would," he nodded, releasing her tiny hand. An
exuberant giggle escaped Cindy's lips as she scampered
a few yards up the path and swung back to face him. Her
cheeks were flushed with pleasure, her heart was
hammering in her chest. She'd been practicing all week,
preparing for this moment. She had just reached that
age where boys were starting to matter, and Pete's good
opinion meant everything to her.
Raising her arms straight over her head, she flipped
over onto her hands, kicking up her legs in mid-air.
Her dress immediately fell inside out, revealing her
white cotton panties to the open sky. Her thighs
gleamed in the hazy sunlight, soft and lush and crystal
smooth. Her pudgy round bottom bulged through her
tightly stretched underpants, the cleavage plainly
visible. Cindy had never completely lost the puppy fat
around her hips and tummy.
Arching her spine slightly, she pointed her feet
towards the heaven, teetering on the fine edge of
balance. Her skirt inched down several inches,
exhibiting a generous sweep of milky-white torso. The
hem was practically trailing on the ground. Cindy held
her stance for nearly ten seconds, wavering on the
brink, then dropped lightly onto her feet. The frock
returned to a more modest position, skittering about
her knees.
"How did I look?" she asked in her warbling, girlie
soprano, "did I do OK?" A faint crimson blush had
suffused her features: despite her exhilaration, she
was almost fainting with embarrassment. She'd wanted to
impress him, wanted to bask in his admiration. Most of
all, she'd wanted to show him her underwear, which she
knew was something boys liked to see. Now that she'd
actually done it, she could barely meet his gaze. She
suddenly placed both hands over her mouth, as if she'd
been caught out telling a great big fib.
"Pretty good, Kitten" Peter answered, flashing his
devastating, two hundred and fifty volt smile, "any
chance of a repeat performance?" Cindy's heart soared
in innocent rapture. He hadn't laughed at her, hadn't
made fun of her efforts (as she'd half expected him to
do). He wanted her to do it again. She ran over to him,
swirling her skirt up to her calves, unable to hide her
enthusiasm.
"OK!" she giggled, feeling almost unspeakably naughty,
"I can walk on my hands, too, Petey! You want to see me
walk on my hands?"
"You can walk on your hands too?" Peter tilted an
eyebrow in mock skepticism.
"Yes, I can!" she exclaimed, still holding her dress up
around her thighs, "watch this, Petey! I'll show you."
She backed up a few paces, giving herself some extra
space. Pete leaned back against the trunk of a nearby
pine tree, smiling at his cousin's endearing precocity.
It was obvious how excited she was, how much she
enjoyed displaying her fresh, white underpants to his
indulgent gaze. He gestured for her to proceed, his
expression betraying nothing of what he was really
feeling.
Cindy lifted her hands over her head and stepped over
into a perfectly controlled handstand. Her dress fell
way once more, fluttering down over her face and upper
body. The frock crept down to her ribcage, exposing an
impudent young belly button. She weaved precariously
back and forth for several seconds, then started hand-
walking around in a rough circle, showing off her
panties from a variety of angles.
They were sheer full briefs, the kind with elastic
trims around the legs and waistband. They rippled like
liquid silver in the late afternoon sun. Peter shifted
his weight to one foot, tilting his head for a closer
look. His breath came in quick, shallow spurts; he felt
a familiar tugging at the base of his stomach. Cindy
called out to him from behind the sweeping red curtain.
"See Petey?! I told you I could!" she chirruped in her
sweet, giggly voice, "am I doing it right?"
"You're doing great, Kiddo," Peter nodded, glancing
over her lusciously contoured body. Her dress had
slipped so far down it was practically dropping off her
body. Her plump, curvaceous tummy was humming with
gooseflesh; her tiny, pink nipples poked from her chest
like crimson dart-points. They seemed to pulse in time
to the girl's racing heart beat. Pete moistened his
lips, eyes devouring her small, voluptuous figure. He
drew in a deep, calming breath, willing his temperature
back to normal parameters. Electric fire streaked
through his nervous system.
Cindy was hand-stepping in his direction now, her legs
splayed out like a pair of half-opened scissors. The
gusset of her panties was stretched taut between her
thighs, the shadowy outline of her love-rose was
visible through the thin cotton. Pete could actually
make out the complex folds of her vulva, framed by a
rim of white lace. High, girlish laughter tinkled
through the pine trees. She kicked her legs several
times, frilly white girl-socks glinting in the evening
sky, then dropped gracefully back onto her shoes. Her
dress was still hiked up over her back, so that her
ripe, pantied bottom stuck out in rude display. She
looked cute and funny and sexy all at the same time.
Pete remembered to breath again. He looked back down
the trail, listening for approaching footsteps. Anyone
could come rambling down the path at this time of day,
just cutting through the woods or roaming about the
Domain. How would he explain what he was doing here, a
grown man watching a nine-year old girl turning
handstands in the middle of a pine grove? The show had
been entertaining in the extreme - spectacular, as a
matter of fact - but he had to get her home.
Where the show could continue.
"Did I do it OK, Petey?" Cindy trilled, naively
struggling with the rebellious sun-frock, "you want me
to show you again?"
"No, I think you've shown enough panty for one day,
young lady," he answered in vaguely amused tones.
Cindy's rosebud mouth popped open in surprise; her
tummy tingled with simple, childish delight. She stared
up at him, blushing more in pleasure than embarrassment
now. He'd actually noticed, just as she'd secretly
hoped he would. He'd even decided to tease her about
it, making her feel unbelievably wayward. Of course,
she didn't want him thinking she'd shown off her
panties on purpose (even if it was true). Despite her
age, she'd learnt the value of playing hard to get.
"Peter!" she exclaimed indignantly, folding her arms
and looking away with a stereotypically feminine toss
of her head.
Pete chuckled good-naturedly, leaning down to scoop her
up in his arms, and subjected her to the torture of a
thousand tickles. Cindy screamed at the top of her
lungs, writhing about in his grasp as his fingers
sought out her ribs and belly with merciless accuracy.
This was a liberty of the most insufferable
proportions. Needless to say, there was absolutely no
escape: Pete Hopkins was a world-class tickler, having
had years to perfect his technique on Cindy's
defenseless little body. The torment went on until she
had tears running down her cheeks and she was certain
she was going to explode with helpless mirth.
When she'd finally caught her breath, Cindy peered
around and realized they were emerging on the other
side of Memorial Park. Peter had carried her all the
way through the woodlands and she hadn't even noticed.
They'd already passed through the playground; Domain
Fountain was a circular white smudge in the distance.
They were maybe five minutes from home. She looked back
over his shoulder, lower lip pooching out in
disappointment.
"I wanted to play on the swings," she sulked, just a
little.
"Don't worry," he replied offhand, "I'll play with you
tonight." The corner of his mouth twitched up into a
lop-sided crescent, indicating he had something special
in store for her. Cindy twined her arms around his
neck, gazing into his face with that vast, pure love
only a small child can feel.
Peter was tall and strong and handsome - handsomest boy
in the whole world, she was absolutely certain.
Sometimes, she wished she was all grown up, because
then, Pete would be her boyfriend, just like Kate and
Leonado in Titanic. He could lie on her tummy and kiss
her on the mouth and tell her how beautiful she was.
And when they snuggled up on the sofa to watch Friends,
she wouldn't be wearing her PJs. She wouldn't be
wearing anything, not even her underpants. The very
thought made her head spin with feelings she couldn't
put a name to.
"Are we gonna play hide 'n' seek?" she asked, melting
comfortably against his chest.
"Nope."
"We gonna play Twister?"
"Nope."
"Monopoly?"
"Nope."
"Well, what then?!" she demanded, literally squirming
with curiosity.
"You'll see," he told her enigmatically. The lop-sided
crescent returned to his lips, as if he was savoring
some strange, exotic fruit. A cold thrill of
anticipation traveled the length of Cindy's spine.
Whatever he intended for this evening, she honestly
couldn't wait. Pete knew every game ever invented since
the beginning of the universe, and whenever he came up
with something new, it always left her trembling with
exhilaration. Leaning in closer, she laid her forehead
in the hollow of his shoulder, closing her eyes in a
kind of drowsy bliss.
She never saw the change come over his features.
2.
Pete shifted Cindy higher up on his hip, enjoying the
way her thighs coiled around his waist. He loped along
with the stride of a hungry predator, the blood
pounding in his temples like a trip-hammer. His stomach
was as tense as an over-tuned guitar. She wanted to
play with him.
The words flashed through his mind in huge neon
letters, over and over again: she wanted to PLAY with
him. Tonight. After dinner, after Aunt Julie had headed
off to work. Then he'd teach her a few games she hadn't
learned in school. They'd have all night to practice,
up in her bedroom. He'd take her upstairs, stretch her
out with her thighs spread apart and her...
No.
Not now. Not yet. He couldn't afford to lose control.
He had to stay focused, restrain his libido, even after
they arrived home. He couldn't allow his Aunt to see
what he had in mind, not by word or thought or careless
gesture. She didn't suspect a thing at the moment; no
one did. He'd spent years constructing his jovial,
picket fence identity, hiding behind his easy-going
manner and Apple-Pie good looks.
It was all a question of control. In the three years
since he'd grown aware of his feelings for Cindy (and
other girls her age), he'd never once let the mask
slip. He'd mastered his dark Eros with a will of iron,
affecting a facade of doting affection. This had been
almost indescribably difficult: his cousin was breath-
takingly beautiful, and the temptation to satisfy his
rampant lusts was almost overpowering.
Nonetheless, he'd managed to confine himself to
sporadic, furtive touching, usually under the guise of
"harmless" tickling and horseplay. Their Friday night
cuddling sessions were a typical example. Once Julie
was out of the house, he could take Cindy onto the sofa
and spend the night caressing and fondling her sleek
young body.
Once she fell asleep he was free to stroke her small,
tight labia; drawing his fingertips across her flimsy
cotton gusset so lightly she never so much as stirred.
Pete had gone to great lengths to cover his tracks; so
far, he'd never even removed her underwear.
Well, that all that was going to change tonight. He'd
waited long enough, playing the devoted cousin and
stealing the odd grope and fumble in the living room.
He was ready to play. More importantly, she was ready
to play - he'd seen that during her "impromptu"
handstand exposition this afternoon. He closed his eyes
momentarily, recalling her thighs, her navel, her
virginal white underpants.
Pete felt his manhood rising at the memory. In an hour,
maybe less, he'd be taking those panties down in
preparation for the evening's festivities.
Yes, they were going to play tonight.
Oh, how they were going to play.
To be continued.
Email me for part 2
gm@mrdouble.com
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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a
fellow convict in their local prison.
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