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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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		                WARNING!
		This text file contains sexually explicit
		material. If you do not wish to read this
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2005.  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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Home Delivery
by Dan Perducci (danperducci@yahoo.co.uk)

***

An apartment dweller gets unexpected assistance with 
getting his groceries from his car. (M/F-teen, rom)

***

I arrived home with my groceries. It was hell to shop 
for one but it was even more tortuous for me to haul 
all the bags to my apartment on the fifth floor since 
there was no elevator.

I pondered the possibility of taking the perishables 
and leaving everything else in my car until I felt like 
taking the rest back to my pad. I agreed with my genius 
idea and slammed the car door shut with my foot.

"Do you need help?"

She asked me with a sweet purr that could not be 
denied.

Eve had shoulder length blonde hair that sat gently on 
her soft shoulders. I followed her hair with my eyes 
until they settled on her gracefully developing chest. 
I smiled evasively and took a few tentative steps to 
the building.

"I can help if you need me."

I didn't want her to think me rude. I turned around to 
engage her altruism.

"If you want to, you can," I offered.

I fumbled for my keys in my jacket pocket and returned 
to open my trunk. She eagerly took two of the seven 
remaining bags into her arms. She closed the trunk and 
we were on our way up.

"It would be nicer if you lived on the first floor," 
she said to me.

"Why?"

"Then you would be home by now," she teased.

I laughed at her gentle rib about our impending journey 
up several flights of stairs. She skipped ahead of me 
and beat me to my own apartment.

Eve was practically a stranger to me because I was 
usually on my way to work when she was rising to attend 
school. She was in bed when I arrived home from work. I 
happened upon her name only from hearing friends call 
for her on the weekends.

Today was an unusual Saturday on which we crossed 
paths. 

I opened my apartment door and remembered that I had 
not made my place family friendly at all. There were 
clothes strewn all over my floor and a couple of 
'gentlemen's' magazines on my coffee table.

"You're a slob!" she exclaimed when she caught her 
first glimpse of my abode.
"I wonder if I could find your kitchen!" 

I pointed past the living room and wondered if she was 
playing dumb. All of the apartments in our building had 
the exact same layout. 

She started shelving my things in the lower cabinets 
first. She took over like she knew how I wanted things. 
I didn't complain because a woman's touch is what my 
place needed.

I dropped my bags at her feet. She spun around and 
grabbed a chair from my dining table. 

"Do you want me to put your soups up here?"

"Sure, you already think you know what goes where." I 
said with a wink.

She boosted herself onto the chair and put the cans in 
the cabinet above the sink. I was instantly charmed by 
the view that I got from peering up her loose denim 
skirt.

Her panties were orange with green flowers. I saw a 
hint of a camel toe briefly before she descended again. 
Did she know that I was looking? Was this her plan?

She kind of stumbled on the way down and I 
instinctively grabbed her to keep her from falling. She 
planted her foot awkwardly between my two feet that 
were braced for a clumsy fall.

Her hands grabbed my shoulders to steady herself for a 
moment.

She was only slightly shaken and she scampered to the 
front entrance of my apartment.

"Ready for another trip…" she paused to elicit my name.

"Grant," I said, "You can call me Grant."

I was thirty-three and of the age to be called Mr. 
Dowd. She obviously knew this and giggled. 

"Shouldn't I call you Mr. Something?" she asked.

"That's fine, I'm more comfortable not feeling like I'm 
old before my time."

"OK," she said before hurrying down the stairs to 
retrieve more items from my car.

We came back with five more bags and continued our 
ritual of stocking my house with my foodstuffs and 
other sundry items.

"Do you get tired of having to go up and down the 
stairs?" she asked. Eve was breaking a sweat on this 
May afternoon.

"Let's just say that I would pay twice as much rent if 
it meant us getting an elevator," I answered.

She stopped for a moment to turn on the radio. She 
lingered a while to pick a station that was more to her 
liking. I could tell that she was no fan of my National 
Public Radio.

She sat down on my couch and sang along with one of the 
songs that were on the charts that week. Her head 
bopped with the rhythm of the song and I stared 
furtively at her sweet form reclining on my seat with 
her feet propped against my coffee table.

My Playboy magazine sat next to her feet. I was tempted 
to rush over and throw it in the trash. I was afraid 
that I would look too guilty if I did that. Before I 
could even blink, the young girl made a strange 
comment.

"Do you think that I look as good as your 'girlfriends' 
in those magazines?" she quizzed me.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm a guy and 
I like to read magazines."

"You know what I'm asking you."

"You're too young to know," I said defensively.

"I'm fifteen and I'm this close to getting my license," 
she offered with her fingers indicating how close she 
really was to driving.

"Watch this," she said suggestively tugging at her t-
shirt.

It was a white shirt that revealed a black bra 
underneath. She cupped her hands under her breasts to 
show that she had a much to offer as any of my two-
dimensional playmates.

She was definitely jailbait and she was definitely 
tempting me to do something that I would regret.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I asked her as my cock 
ached from her sex kittenish ways.

"Because I can," she whispered, "relax and have a 
seat."

I was at once eager and scared. She detected this and 
she pulled my wrist when I was within her reach.

"You're a nice guy. I promise I won't tell," she said 
as she gave me a peck on the cheek. The peck slowly 
turned into her full on kissing my lips. I was being 
seduced by a girl from my own apartment building.

Something in my mind clicked and took me back to the 
times that I never had in my own high school days. My 
inner sophomore took over and placed my hand on her 
nicely rounded breasts from under her shirt. I caressed 
and rubbed gently like a teenager never would, though.

She told me that she tired of the clumsy pawing and 
grasping that she received from her boyfriends. She 
wanted to lose her virginity the way it "should be 
lost. To someone with experience."

I nimbly loosed her shirt from her and kissed her 
chest. She shivered like she was experiencing something 
divine and special. A real sexual experience was lusty 
but sensual as well.

She unclasped her bra and released her supple breasts 
for my inspection.

"Beautiful," I told her. She smiled and thanked me. I 
was pretty sure that nobody complimented her on her 
body like that before. I was as awestruck as she was by 
this spontaneous exchange of our affections – if you 
could call it that.

The steady hum of the air conditioner and the upbeat 
singing on the radio was the soundtrack for our 
unfolding moment of sexual awakening.

For her, it was her virginity. For me, it was the first 
time with a woman in three years.

I knelt to remove her panties from beneath her skirt 
and I tunneled my head under her garment. I placed my 
lips on her sweet young sex and was soon intoxicated by 
her scent and taste.

Going down on an underage girl was like smuggling Cuban 
cigars. It was a connoisseur's dream but he dare not 
tell anyone who could not keep a secret.

She writhed gently under my spell and placed her hands 
on my shoulders as if to steer me to her most special 
of special places. The g-spot was not fount but she 
didn't blame me for trying. Her knees pressed against 
my ears and her wetness signaled to me an orgasm that 
came once, twice and even three times.

She muted herself from screaming too loudly but she was 
making herself heard just the same.

"I want it now," she told me. I knew what it was.

The joy of deflowering a virgin was seventeen years 
delayed but I rose to the occasion if one would pardon 
the expression.
I eagerly stripped myself from the waist down and 
caught myself before I started acting like an 
overexcited child on Christmas morning.

I toyed around with my wet penis at her opening. She 
sucked intently on her fingers as I teased her for a 
minute or two. She reached around me and dug her nails 
into my back to draw me closer, to draw me inside.

I felt myself piercing the physical barrier to her 
innocence. My darker angels only thought about the 
white couch that I almost bought last year. Thankfully 
I avoided the fiasco of having furniture that looked 
like it belonged to a serial killer.

I humped, pumped and thrust gently into her. She gave 
me hickeys of all sorts around my neck and shoulders. I 
loved this moment like no other. 

In the broad daylight of my living room and high above 
my neighborhood, I was enjoying the body of a girl half 
my age. 

We changed positions a couple of times in our hour 
together and then we cleaned up. Once we parted ways, I 
remembered that I had two bags left in my car. I was 
too tired. They can wait another day, I said to myself 
before lying down to pick up one of my magazines.

END

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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 34