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Archive name: pete2.txt (Mf, voy, ped, inc)
Authors name: GM (gm@mrdouble.com)
Story title : Pete and Cindy - 2
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2004. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
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Pete and Cindy - 2
by GM (gm@mrdouble.com)
***
Pete wanted her. He could already feel his lips closing
around her jutting red nipples, sucking and gnawing
until she moaned in ecstasy. Oh yes, he'd make her
moan. (Mf, voy, ped, inc)
***
The following story depicts explicit sexual contact
between adult and under aged participants. Those
offended by graphic descriptions of
pedophilic/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.
***
PETE and CINDY
PART TWO
3.
As Peter expected, Cindy's Mom was rushing about in a
dither by the time they arrived home. Her shift began
in less than fifteen minutes, and she'd barely finished
blow-drying her hair when they walked in. Julie Connors
had been this way as long as Pete had known her; like
many highly organized professionals, her personal life
was an unqualified shambles.
She darted into the main hallway, hurriedly tucking her
blouse into her loose blue Levis, raising a miniature
tornado in her wake. She was a tall, slim thirty-
something with dark brown eyes and the face of an
errant pixie. She paused just long enough to bend down
and kiss Cindy on the cheek.
"Hey, Baby. Have a good day at school?" she asked
without listening for an answer. She was ferreting
around for her shoulder bag, which she was certain
she'd left on the coffee table. Or on the sofa. Or
maybe out in the kitchen. Cindy managed to fire off a
few words edgewise before her mother vanished into the
living room.
Pete hung his backpack over a wall hook and ushered the
girl through the doorway, keeping his face carefully
neutral. His Aunt probably wouldn't notice anything
unusual, but he wasn't about to take any risks. Cindy
stood next to him, unconsciously kneading the hem of
her dress, listening to her mother's rapid-fire banter.
"I'm sorry, I didn't have time to cook a meal tonight,"
Julie prattled, clipping on a pair of gold ear-rings,
"so I've put a couple of those frozen casseroles in the
microwave. Just set the timer to seven and push the
button." Pete nodded his assent, grateful for the
general chaos that seemed to surround Julie's
existence. She'd be out of here in five minutes, and
he'd have the place to himself for at least the next
nine hours.
"What time are you coming home?" he asked, just to make
certain.
"Probably around six tomorrow morning," she replied
distractedly, "unless we decide to hit McDonald's for
breakfast." Casting around distractedly, she clocked
over to the coffee table in her impossibly tall high-
heels, reaching down for her shoulder-bag. For once, it
was exactly where she remembered leaving it.
"There any desert, Mommy?" Cindy chipped in, never one
to overlook the most important meal of the day. She'd
long since grown accustomed to her mother's nightly
absences, and knew precisely the right questions to ask
as she was on her way out.
"Yeah, there's some Sarah Lea in the fridge, Sweet-
heart," Julie said, then straightened up, looping the
bag over one arm. "chocolate mudcake, I think. Pull it
out of the freezer now, it'll be ready by the time you
finish dinner." She checked her watch, then glanced
across at her nephew with an oddly quizzical
expression. Pete knew that look, he'd seen it
practically every week over the past three years. She
was about to make some kind of request.
"Pete, could you do me a favor?" she asked, immediately
confirming his hunch.
"Yeah, sure," he answered without hesitation.
"I'm running a bit short on time here," she said,
rifling through the bag, "do you think you could you
run a bath for Cindy?"
Cindy giggled, eyes widening with surprise. She put a
hand to her mouth to hide an embarrassed smile; a fine
carmine tint began to creep into her cheeks. Showing
off her underwear had been (mostly) innocent fun, but
this was completely different. The thought of actually
taking all her clothes off in front of her cousin set
her heart galloping like a race horse. A swarm of
butterflies started cartwheeling in her belly.
(petey's going to see me NAKED)
"Well sure," Peter agreed, disguising his astonishment
behind a shrug of indifference, then added, as if in
afterthought: "I mean, if Cindy doesn't mind ..."
"Of course she doesn't mind," Julie interrupted, a
little impatiently, "you're like a brother to her. See,
she's laughing." It was true, the little girl was
sniggering behind both hands now, blue eyes dancing
with a kind of mischievous joy. Peter glanced down at
her, unable to believe his good fortune. This was
literally the last thing he'd been expecting. A vast
wave of elation washed over him, almost boiling the
blood in his veins. It was almost too good to be true.
Julie had all but given him carte-blanche to take her
upstairs and -
"Anyway, I have to get moving," Julia said, pulling the
car-keys out of her bag and stepping into the hallway.
It was ten to the hour, she'd have to drive like the
devil to make her shift.
Cindy followed her mother to the front door, chortling
farewells and bobbing up and down like the Easter
Bunny. Pete brought up the rear, slowing his stride to
conceal his impatience. He wanted his aunt gone, out of
the way. His eyes crawled over Cindy's pert young
fanny, imagining how it would feel cupped between his
palms. He could hear the skirt swishing against her
panties as she moved. The sound was driving him crazy.
Opening the door, Julie paused to kiss her daughter.
"Bye-bye, Sweet-heart, see you tomorrow morning," she
said, touching her mouth to the child's lips, "you be
good for Peter. And no later than eight-thirty, right?"
Cindy accepted her curfew without complaint, knowing
she'd be up until ten at the very least. Julie lifted
her eyes towards her nephew.
"Thanks for coming on such short notice, Peter. I
really appreciate it." Pete opened his mouth to dismiss
her words with an airy wave of his hand (hey, no
problem, anytime, don't mention it), but she was
already turning away. A gust of wind blew into the
corridor as the door clicked shut. Footsteps were heard
clopping down the front steps, fading into the early
evening. Keys jingled, an engine roared, a car pulled
out from the drive way. And then she was gone.
Peter looked down at the little girl, that razor-thin
smile touching his features once more.
Time to play.
4.
"OK, climb out of that frock, Honey-girl."
Blushing to the hairline, Cindy began unbuttoning the
front of her dress. Moist, fluid heat seemed to swirl
though her belly, her complexion darkened to a deep,
feverish red. She simply couldn't believe this was
happening: Petey was running a hot bath, and she was
getting undressed. She had to take everything off,
right in front of him. In a few seconds, she'd be
standing completely nude with her clothes strewn
carelessly around her feet. The words ran through her
mind with a kind of frenzied urgency:
(petey's going to see me naked, petey's going to see me
naked, petey's going to see me NAKED!!)
Clouds of vapor drifted up from the tub, filling the
bathroom with a fine white mist. Peter was leaning over
the faucets, staring into the water while he fine tuned
the temperature. Cindy felt an odd pang of
disappointment. He hardly seemed to be paying attention
to her at all.
She opened the frilly bodice of her sundress, exposing
a delicious sweep of alabaster torso. Her nipples were
standing up in exclamation points. It was funny;
sometimes when it was cold, they grew so big and hard
she couldn't bear to touch them. They felt that way
now, except she wasn't cold at all; not with all the
steam whirling up from the bath tub.
Just at that second, Petey turned his head and looked
across at her. A rash of gooseflesh played along her
tummy, all the way to her upper thighs. She dropped her
gaze with a coy smile, wild strawberries standing out
on her cheeks. He'd been watching her out of the corner
of his eye for the last five minutes, waiting for her
to take off the dress. Her mind swam with a heady
cocktail of reluctant pleasure; huge waves of delight
seemed to cascade through her system:
(he WANTS to see me naked!)
Sliding the sleeves off her shoulders, Cindy lowered
the frock towards the floor. The thin red fabric glided
down her midriff, murmuring against her smooth flesh.
The breath caught in the back of her throat. A moment
later, she was standing up in her pretty little
panties, bath-mist whickering around her bare legs. A
bright carmine flush had covered her entire midsection,
from the dip of her throat to the thimble of her belly
button. Her nipples had begun to throb. She stared up
at her cousin, gapingly aware of how little she was
wearing.
Peter was sitting on the edge of the bath, idly testing
the water with his right hand. He was watching her with
that same gilt-edged smile he'd worn all afternoon,
regarding her like she was some rare, succulent morsel.
She couldn't have put it in such complex terms, but
that was precisely how she felt - as if Pete was going
to eat her alive. The image both frightened and excited
her.
"Over here, Honey girl," he beckoned.
Pulse slamming into overdrive, Cindy padded over to the
bathtub, her toes leaving prints on the slick blue
tiles. She halted before him, unable to meet his gaze
for more than a second. Her fingers skittered over her
pristine white underpants, playing with the elastic
trim. She felt a delicious tingling sensation between
her thighs, as if someone was tickling her down there.
Her tummy strummed and clenched with expectation. This
was so terribly, terribly naughty - much naughtier than
the handstands in the Domain.
Leaning forward, Pete hooked his fingers through the
lacy frill of her waistband.
"Panties down, Kitten."
Stretching the elastic with his fingertips, Peter
slipped her pants down over her hips. Cindy gasped,
suppressing a nervous giggle. Her pudgy little girl-
spot popped into view - softly pouting lips folded
around a pink, dimpled cleft. A brief, flaring contact:
Cindy's hands twitched, but she made no move to cover
herself. She was close to fainting with arousal;
Peter's eyes were gliding all over her nubile young
form as he slid her panties down to the floor.
Literally everything she had was on open exhibition,
everything!
(I'm naked)
She stepped out of her underwear, looking down at
herself in naive curiosity. Like most little girls,
Cindy was fascinated by the sight of her own body; its
frail beauty; its flawless, feminine perfection. Her
hair was a sumptuous blond waterfall spilling over her
shoulders, her waist surprisingly slim for one so
young. She moved with an unconscious grace, an innate
sensuality unique to girls her age. She ran her hands
over her sleekly contoured torso, mesmerized by the
crystal texture of her skin.
(I'm naked. I'm naked)
She'd never been this undressed in front of any man.
She couldn't remember her father, and there were no
other males in her immediate family. Peter was the
closest thing she'd ever had to a brother (or a Daddy,
for that matter), and here she was, standing nude and
vulnerable and utterly helpless before him. She looked
shyly up at her cousin, large eyes filled with love and
trust and the unquestioning devotion of a child.
5.
Peter roamed his vision over Cindy's naked body,
drinking in her thighs, her nipples, her tiny pink
labia. His breathing shallowed, his pupils dilated, a
fine layer of cold sweat coated his neckline. He was
almost delirious with lust: peeling Cindy's panties
down had sent his overloaded libido into melt down.
When his fingers had skimmed over her plump little
vulva, he'd virtually imploded with yearning. He could
barely restrain himself even now. Shaking inside his
skin, he rolled his tongue over his teeth, eyes
circling back to her tightly pursed clip. It looked so
tender, so delicate, so . He wanted her.
He wanted her now, this instant. He could already feel
his lips closing around her jutting red nipples,
sucking and gnawing until she moaned in ecstasy. Oh
yes, he'd make her moan. He'd be as gentle as possible,
she was only a little girl after all; but she'd gasp
and writhe and shudder in his arms.
Maybe she'd even weep and plead for mercy ("no, Petey,
no, please stop, it hurts"), but he was going to have
her, all the same. He was going to satisfy himself in
her frail, yielding girl-flesh. And when he'd finished
stroking and sucking and groping and squeezing, he'd
splay her thighs and - He'd have to be careful.
He couldn't allow himself to leave marks or bruises. He
couldn't get too rough with her, no matter how much she
stoked his fire. As he said before, it was all a
question of control. He had to reign himself in: she
was a child - a rather fragile one, at that - and he
couldn't afford to harm her. A scrape, a scratch, a
single drop of blood, and the game would be over.
Forever. Her mother would guess the truth. She'd never
forgive him, never trust him again. And he'd never be
able to touch her again.
Control.
Peter wiped his mouth with the back of his hand (a
gesture he'd learned from his father, years ago),
giving himself a moment's breathing space. There had to
be an answer, some resolution to the paradox. Patience
was the key to the puzzle. The same quiet perseverance
he'd shown over the past three years.
He could still have her - there was absolutely no
question of that - but first, she had to be warm,
relaxed and comfortable. Not drowsy, the way she was
when they stretched out together on the sofa. He didn't
want her nodding off to sleep tonight. No, he wanted
her wide awake, lively, frisky . playful.
He smiled down on the small, naked girl, relishing the
spectacle of her exquisitely molded form. It would take
all his strength, but he had to postpone the
celebrations for a few minutes longer. He'd waited
three years to immerse himself in the lush delights of
her body, he could wait another half an hour. Then
she'd be his for the rest of the evening.
He'd carry her, clean and fresh and giggling into her
bedroom, her long golden hair smelling of wild green
apples. He'd lay her gently on the pink satin quilt,
her nude, damp torso open to his caresses. He'd touch
his mouth to her swollen, crimson nipples . and the
games would begin.
The tub was nearly full. Peter twisted the faucets and
looked back at his cousin
"OK, Kitten," he said, reaching down take her under the
arms, "let's get you clean."
TO BE CONTINUED
EMAIL ME FOR PART 3:
AFTER THE BATH
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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Kristen's collection - Directory 27