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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
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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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
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A Tiger By Any Other Name
by Peter Pan (uds3@hotmail.com)
***
A young girl discovers that being devoted to erotic
story sites can have its worrying aspects. (M/F-teen,
ped, 1st)
***
So far as "Good Catholic girls" go, Tiffany Mitchell
embodied all that might be associated with any true
young lady of the faith. Even at seventeen, she still
exhibited a child-like innocence, an expression of
chaste simplicity and an air of well-mannered breeding.
Always dressed tastefully, even her year-eleven school
uniform managed to bridge effortlessly, the yawning gap
between teenage naivety and adult promise.
It was an illusion of which Houdini himself might have
been proud.
Tiffany had a secret you see. One that would
unquestionably have shattered her parents' delicate
psyche, had they known or suspected.
Tiff read sex stories. Not just the odd naughty tale
but ALL of them. No fantasy was too "outre" for this
young lady's taste. Words and descriptions that would
contort the features of the average social-worker were
no more than nourishment in her voracious appetite's
quest for yet darker doings. An aperitif if you will,
for that as yet, undiscovered gem of fully unhinged
erotica.
Of the many fantasy sites she would surf on her
notebook until the early hours of the morning,
www.sextails.com was now her unchallenged favorite.
Why? Because in her eyes it was the best, offering as
she saw it, a greater variance of topics and with the
easiest of navigational software. She became familiar
with specific authors, scanning the archives nightly,
looking for their latest stories and her impending
encounter with yet another pair of sopping-wet panties.
Life was fun.
The more she read of girls receiving their sexual
comeuppance at the hands of boyfriends, fathers,
strangers, uncles, brothers, sisters, teachers...even
mothers, and in one recent instance a colony of
entrenchedly deviate gorillas, the more she fantasised
as to her own de-virginising and what form exactly it
might take. One could reasonably speculate that at
seventeen she had indeed left her run a tad late, but
with the exception of this - her one little night-time
electronic indulgence she really had been a good
Catholic girl!
That was however until she came across "Holly's Story."
Penned by an author calling himself Tiger, the tale
recounted the events leading up to a father's intimate
deflowering of his fourteen-year old daughter the night
of a school dance. What exactly it was about the story
so intrigued her was hard to define. Perhaps it was the
image of so young a girl dressed-up to the nines,
returning home early to find her father splayed out
across the lounge, arm-wrestling his pecker as he
drooled over a computerised slide-show of digital
pictures, zoomed-in to highlight multiple features of
his daughter's youthful anatomy. She read on
breathlessly as, sobbing with embarrassment and shock,
Holly fled to the cloistered refuge of her bedroom,
only moments later to be confronted by her father who,
knowing she would inform her mother on his wife's
return, told his daughter "I may as well give you
something to really tell her."
At the point he subsequently pulled her panties down as
she stood there shivering and commenced upon a program
of fully indecent exploitation of her virginal body,
paying especial attention early on to her young
breasts, Tiff was a lost cause and midway towards her
second orgasm of the evening.
In the ensuing days, "Holly's Story" was all Tiffany
read. Having cut and pasted the article, she would sit
cross-legged on her bed, in just her panties the
notebook between her slim legs, submerging herself more
and more into the girl's character as the self-made
waves of ecstasy washed over her.
It wasn't, she was sure, any reflection of her own
paternal lusting, although, if one were honest, she had
conjured up the odd wide-screen image of being forcibly
taken by her father on more than one occasion. It was
she decided, the skill of the author in painting such a
vividly realistic picture of what could only be
described as white-hot incestuous carnality.
Mornings now, she was beginning to wake-up with her
hand in her knickers and her nipples in a fully aroused
state. Tiff began wondering if in fact the story had
any basis in truth. Was Tiger perhaps publicly
cleansing his own conscience? Hell, she knew nothing
about him he might only be a teenager himself for all
she knew. It was only a fantasy-site after all. She had
to know more.
Figuring she might contact the site direct and make
enquiry about the author, she emailed the webmaster
there - with little expectation of hearing back from
anyone. "Gonna look like just another author-groupie,"
she told herself.
Imagine then her wholehearted surprise, when she
received a reply overnight from none other than
"Sextails'" resident webmaster/administrator. The
elusive "Tiger" himself.
Pleased that his story had been well received and
especially by so young a girl of all people, he
confided in Tiffany his earlier background as a long-
time subscriber, writer, editor and later co-founder of
the re-vamped site. Far from being a teenager he
admitted diplomatically to being "considerably older."
There was he assured her, no factual person upon which
"Holly's Story" was based. "If only", he was
understandably thinking.
In the coming weeks, Tiffany exchanged many emails with
Tiger, and if the truth be known, he began to find
himself spending an inordinate amount of time dwelling
upon the "cute little Aussie brunette" whose picture,
down-loaded from one of her emails, smiled back at him
from the east-face of the filing cabinet.
She was very pretty he had to admit. Just five foot
four as she had told him, she looked considerably
younger than her years almost a little beach girl he
thought to himself. He traced the outline of her hips
with his finger, studying her nicely tanned skin,
contrasting as it did, with her neat school uniform. He
looked again at the short summer skirt and her crisp
white shirt and tie. What wondrous sights they alone
hid? Such a beautiful and well featured little face,
highlighted by deep blue eyes that sparkled with youth
and tease. Her shoulder-length hair was neatly cut and
styled.
What he would have given to be able to run his fingers
through it just once! His gaze dropped to her small
hands clasped neatly in front of her and knowing what
activities they had obviously wrought in areas he only
dared imagine, he was suddenly finding the room
unusually warm for that time of year.
Propped-up near her pillow, Tiff hugged herself as she
read Tiger's latest email. She too had his picture and
had often wondered what it must have been like growing
up in the southern States. Could anything be further
removed than a comfortable middle-class upbringing in
suburban Sydney? Around six foot, he had obviously
looked after himself physically and reminded her
vaguely of Kevin Bacon during his Footloose days. When
she had finished reading his words, she simply closed
her eyes and wondered...
In the run-down to her final exams that hopefully would
see Tiffany graduate (like her sisters) at the end of
the year, her father had informed them all that due to
business commitments, he would by necessity, be
travelling to the US mid September, which as it
happened, was the traditional three-week school
vacation before that last term. Tiffany took this
information on board with but polite indifference,
until she heard the words. "For most of the time Tiff,
I'll be holed-up in Kansas City."
KC of all places she thought, and Tiger she knew, spent
so much time at Springfield, barely a couple of hours
drive south-east of Kansas City so he'd told her.
How she ever convinced her father to take her, would
make for interesting reading, but is surely evidence of
his youngest daughter's powers of persuasion or perhaps
of his own inability to deny his sexy seventeen-year
old anything when she gets the "I love you daddy" and
the "I'm sooo cute you got no choice" eye-flutters in
full swing.
She emailed Tiger with the news of her impending
itinerary of course, but this achieved little besides
their jointly increased peristaltic rates. She knew
that for the week they'd be there, they were booked
into the Marriott on West 12th Street, but what
latitude that would give her for any sort of freedom
she couldn't say. Asking her father if she could spend
some quality time with the webmaster of an erotic-story
site might not be the way to go.
Tiger, not without his own social restrictions, merely
wrote back, telling her that there was no way he wasn't
going to see her and that "something would be arranged
whatever it took." The clandestine intimacy of it all
appealed somehow to Tiffany's sense of the romantic. At
heart, she really was a wild child.
Even as the cab pulled up at 200 West 12th Tiff gazed
up at the huge edifice. Boasting just shy of a thousand
guest suites, this was a seriously large hotel. That
probably translated as seriously efficient room-service
too, she thought. Could her father's Amex stay the
distance?
Their suite was palatial. Two double beds, a bathroom
big enough for a decent size fashion show and cupboard
space for the most committed serial shopper. Being
alone that night for the first time with a man... her
father notwithstanding, had Tiff all at sixes and
sevens.
For his part, watching his daughter emerge from the
bathroom in her unavoidably revealing nightdress and
then climbing into the bed the far side of the room,
breezily calling-out "Goodnight daddy," stirred things
beneath his own covers that might in other
circumstances have led Tiffany to be reminded of
Holly's fascinating learning curve.
The next morning, Tiffany was still snuggled-up three-
quarters asleep when her father called out to her.
"Tiff, I'll be gone probably three or four hours What
are you going to do this morning?" She'd love to have
told him.
"Ummm, well, if I ever get up dad" she purred, "I'm
gonna walk around town for a while and go shopping."
"Ok sweetheart," he said, "Well you be careful and hey,
I've left some money for you here on the dresser." He
came over and kissed her on the cheek.
"Thanks dad, I'll be fine," she replied. "I'm
seventeen, I think I can look after myself."
"I'm sure you can too love," he smiled at her, before
closing the door and heading off to the express lifts.
"Three hours?" she thought. She had to call Tiger. He
would know they were in KC by now.
Fascinated by her Australian twang, he took down the
details of her residency.
"You real positive your dad won't be back until after
two Tiff?" he asked. "I sure would hate for you to get
in any trouble with him." She assured him all was cool.
"Well I figure I can make it by noon if I leave now,"
he told her. She smiled at the sound of his own drawl.
After they both hung-up, she opened up her suitcase and
selected a pretty blue dress she had bought just before
leaving Australia. Fairly short with a scalloped neck,
she wriggled into it, smoothing the material over her
hips. The lightest application of make-up and a little
lip-gloss and you can well understand why the bell-boy
near the upper landing did a double-take. He wasn't
going to be on his game for the rest of the morning.
Even as she strolled around the near one hundred and
fifty year old City Markets at Twenty, East Fifth, she
was imagining Tiger and the reality of actually meeting
him in an hour or so. Would she be embarrassed? Would
he? After all, running a sex-site might be considered a
slight handicap when meeting a seventeen-year old girl
for the first time and especially given the cradle-
snatching age difference.
Tiff headed back to the Marriott, arriving there
shortly before 11.45. Tossing the same bell-boy a
killer smile, the poor kid fell over himself securing
her a lift. She was glad it was empty as she wanted to
get back to the room well ahead of her expected guest.
She only made it in fact with seven or eight minutes to
spare. She heard the knock at the door while she was
still in the bathroom. Likely their combined harnessed
pulse-rate at that moment could have emptied Lake
Michigan in thirty minutes.
Opening the door, neither moved for a moment. It took
Tiger's "Well hello there young lady," to partially
thaw the impasse. She was sure she blushed but seeing
as she wasn't on her own in that department, she felt
marginally better. Tiff recalled later that her very
first impression was that he didn't seem like the kind
of guy to be running a sex-site.
Tiger on the other hand, could barely credit that this
dream of an import was still a schoolgirl. Having only
seen the one pic of her in uniform, what stood in front
of him right that second, appeared several years more
worldly. He hadn't felt such an inept dick-wad for the
best part of a decade.
"Can I get you a drink Tiger?" she asked quietly,
indicating a rather comfortable looking chair to the
left of the glass-topped table. For some reason she was
quite content to use that term and never thought to ask
his real name. His own thoughts, momentarily swinging
wildly between the need to balance some southern
hospitality with sudden irrepressible images of himself
unzipping that hot little dress, stymied his attempts
to answer her.
"Oh, y-yes please Tiffany... a beer if you have one
there," he finally got out.
She found a Budweiser in the mini-bar and held it up
for him.
"Great," he said smiling at her. "God, was she ever a
step-up from the girls round Springfield?" he thought
to himself. "Make that most girls south of the North
Pole," he mused.
Finding herself a 'Cruiser,' Tiff sat down opposite her
guest, providing both with the opportunity to assess
the situation and each other. For her part, Tiffany was
fascinated by Tiger's presence. With no experience of
Americans much beyond the big screen, his mannerisms
and innate politeness were in sharp contrast to that of
Australian males. She felt just a little intimidated
being alone with a man so much older than herself but
at the same time, it was not without its inherent
arousal factor.
For Tiger, being in the close proximity of what
represented in essence, a living photograph, brought
its own re-awakening. As she spoke so animatedly about
home, her school and some of the highlights of her
brief seventeen year tenure on the planet, he knew he
could so easily fall in love with this girl. Her
freshness, exuberance, youth, accent...even her very
inexperience, all conspired to stir his yearning and
his desire to know her better. Way better.
Inevitably, alcohol stifles the inhibitions and by the
demise of their second bottle, the body language of
each, suggested a relaxation of their earlier enforced
formality. Tiffany in fact not so much broke the ice,
as signalled the onset of a new playing field, when she
asked him quite off the cuff.
"How long have you been writing those stories Tiger?"
"Talk about getting to the point," he thought to
himself. He placed his near-empty Bud on the table.
Explaining as best he couldn't what had motivated him
to get involved with erotica, Tiff wanted to know the
ins and outs as it were, of being a sex-story writer.
Fully comfortable in her guest's presence now, she
finally asked the question that was to bring her
undoing. "What made you write Holly's Story?"
He just looked at her. Was she subconsciously putting
out? Was she that naοve that she hadn't figured that
talking about this was unavoidably moving out of the
shallows into deep water? Did she in fact want to
experience at first hand, Holly's degradation?
He confided in her, that like the majority of men most
likely, he had always been attracted by very young
girls and that Holly's Story was little more than a
recurring fantasy. He was curious what it was about it,
that had so held her interest?
"Are you still a virgin Tiffany?" he asked quietly.
She blushed deeply for the second time that morning but
told him she was. He was quiet for a minute or two just
staring at the table top.
"Do you want to stay one baby?" he asked her, not with
any menace or even pressured sentiment.
As she slowly looked back at him, shaking her head
perceptibly, he knew what she knew the conversational
part of their new relationship was about to wind down.
He patted his knee and with every internal alarm
frantically ringing its warning, she got to her feet,
crossed to Tiger's chair and sat down on his lap. He
could feel her heartbeat even as he pulled her to him.
She raised her head, leaving him little option but to
kiss her. At the point his lips met hers, she knew her
childhood would be leaving her for good that afternoon.
She put her arms around his neck and melted into him as
she crossed the line for that first and last time.
Confronted with what amounted to a hot and willing
student on his knee, Tiger found restraint of any sort
difficult to maintain. Making things harder still, in
more ways than one, was the proximity of those
perfectly shaped small breasts, encased from what he
could see down her cleavage, in a remarkably hot little
green push-up. He doubted she even knew to what extent
having her on his lap was affecting his sanity, let
alone his motor-sensory system.
Experimentally, he brought one hand up beneath her
breasts and merely supported the beginnings of those
twin outward curves. He felt her squirm a little as she
sighed perceptibly and the feeling of her soft little
bottom making contact with his lap was doing little to
regulate his breathing.
Unable to prevent his tongue from behaving, he found
her a willing student indeed and between the soft
little groans and noises issuing from her mouth came
forth her own tongue, more than willing to play the
game. Moving his hand upwards, he encircled her right
breast now and commenced squeezing and caressing that
softest of little mounds. No girl had ever aroused him
to this level so quickly.
She heard herself moan but the pleasure radiating
outwards from his contact with her breasts, was such
that she simply kissed him harder and with a hitherto
undiscovered passion. He slipped his hand inside her
bra where the contact with her smooth skin as it curved
inwards, began to shred the last of his former
honorable intentions. As his thumb and forefinger
closed about the young girl's swollen nipples
successively, her wriggles became spontaneous and her
moans of increased output.
He could no more have backed-off at this point than
slash his own wrists with a potato peeler. If she
couldn't detect by now the savage beast uncoiling its
lustful and primitive needs beneath her hot little ass,
her biological knowledge was sadly lacking. As it
happens she had noticed, but was in such a state of
early arousal that panic really wasn't an option.
Withdrawing from the heat of her breasts, Tiger placed
his hand on Tiffany's thigh, right at the hemline of
her dress. The heat there was volcanic and her urgency
apparent. At the point he began pushing her dress up
slightly, she half-muttered "Nooooo," but such was her
body language in denial of that statement, he simply
continued. Even as the barest hint of her matching
green panties was revealed, Tiff's legs were anything
but closed-up and he knew without the slightest doubt,
this was no straight-up tease-session.
He had reached ground zero. The front of her panties
were wet as he had suspected they must be and softly
rubbing her there she became aroused to the point of
chronic need.
"You sure you want to do this Tiffany?" he whispered.
Breaking off from kissing him and with full-on glazed
eye contact, she just nodded, barely murmuring, "Uh-
huh!"
No man in such a position is gonna ask a second time,
let's face it!
Rubbing the front of a young girl's panties is fun...
no doubt about that. Slipping one's fingers inside
though is asking for trouble. Tiger was in trouble! As
his middle finger began to separate the folds of her
labia, Tiffany's legs were making like an easel.
Lubricated to the max, he slipped into her and was
lucky not to receive third degree burns, so hot was the
radiance. Gasping now, rather than moaning, he had her
so far past the point of no return, it was merely a
matter of how many fingers he could get inside that
cramped little room.
"Come on sweetie," he urged her, "Think you'd find the
bed a little more comfortable." As he slipped her off
his lap, aware now just how substantial his own
erection was, he asked her softly, "Mind if I take
those hot little panties off Tiff, they're only gonna
get in the way." She just stood before him, swaying
slightly and breathing heavily. It seemed to him that
she nodded.
As he knelt on the floor, his hands up her dress,
slowly drawing the skimpy little cotton briefs towards
her knees, he looked up at her. "Reminds you of Holly,
doesn't it?" His words echoed her exact thoughts at
that minute and so arousing did she find the comment,
she just stood there as Tiger pushed her dress up to
her hips, fully exposing her young pussy which he
proceeded now to kiss softly. Her legs were turning to
jelly and at the point she felt his tongue separating
her lower lips, she could not prevent a gasp or two.
Carrying her to the bed, he lay her face-down. She felt
his hands on her firmly caressing her back, her hips
and her ass and she was unable to prevent herself
wriggling beneath his touch. She made no move to stop
him unzipping her dress which left her lying there in
just her bra. She liked the thought of him seeing her
almost completely naked and she offered no resistance
as he unhooked her bra, slipped the straps down her
arms before discarding the item the far side of the
bed.
Lying there for a few moments, she felt his strong
hands turning her over. It was only the sudden shock of
seeing him kneeling there beside her fully naked as
she, that provoked recognition of the finality of her
predicament. He could see the apprehension in her eyes.
He lay beside her and kissed her. "Tiff, if you don't
want this, tell me!"
Torn between the inherent fear of her approaching fate,
yet the utmost desire for its accomplishment, she just
smiled at him, put her arms over her head and spread
her legs slightly.
He knelt then between her knees and lowering his face
directly to her forbidden zone, flicked his tongue
across her clitoris. She let out a loud "Ohhhh," her
hands instinctively reaching towards him. Penetrating
her this time with his tongue, he began to pleasure her
in ways of which she had previously no knowledge. She
could no more have stopped him than a two kilometre
freight train.
Actually, that analogy would have applied equally to
her partner, who at that moment was so aroused himself
by the immediacy of this compliant and submissive
teenager that procreation was the only thing on his
mind.
Taking a hold of her legs just beneath her knees, he
spread her so wide, the glistening folds of her labia
separated enough to provide a glimpse of that
wonderfully darkened inner sanctum. He brought the head
of his erection to the very gates of the Promised Land
and as she watched mesmerised, along that line of axis
directly between her own cleavage, he pushed into her,
the remnants of her hymen providing something less than
an impenetrable barrier.
It was as it turned out, to both their advantages that
Tiffany had expended so much time playing around in her
bedroom. Not only had her "fingers been doing the
walking," but that recently "borrowed" friend's dildo
had also played its part in 'weakening the
foundations.' A couple of cries of pressured discomfort
were but forgotten moments as Tiger hit the nitrous
button and took himself on a fast trip up the vaginal
highway. From there-on it was a case of The Fast and
the Furious, right the way to Cervix city!
Whether she was Holly or Tiffany at this stage she
had completely forgotten. All Tiff knew was that her
body was being treated in such a fashion that she never
wanted it to end. She heard a girl's voice pleading
"Fuck me Tiger, fuck me...please," but she never found
out who it was. Some little slut should watch her mouth
she figured.
As for Tiger, locked-in to so hot a session he doubted
he would ever recover, he could but penetrate her
harder and deeper with each thrust, his hands rubbing
her breasts, making them sorer by the minute. The girl
beneath him was crying now in complete ecstasy and at
the point he started ejaculating far up inside her, she
must have thought some jerk was loose with a high-
pressure water-cannon.
Both of them were shaking with their exertions and
Tiffany's hair was now damp and beginning to curl-up
around her hairline, beads of sweat looking rather
pretty, congregating round her forehead.
She clutched him to her, pulling him down full-length
on top of her. Still erect and not quite sure which
century it was, he just knew he didn't want to pull out
of her...not for several more hours at least.
And so it might have been, had not her father walked in
early at that very moment!
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 39