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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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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2006.  Please
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Babydoll
by Your Ghost (address withheld)

***

Warren was never attracted to girls that young before, 
but then he saw Erica in her babydoll nightie and 
everything changed. (Mg, ped, 1st, oral)

***

Last year I got a job as an intern at the Seattle 
Review, and I was looking for a place to stay so that I 
wouldn't have to suffer through life in my parents' 
house anymore. I checked out a lot of apartments in the 
Seattle area, but they were all too highly priced for 
my financial situation, so I ended up having to look in 
Tacoma. I wasn't very happy about that, since Tacoma 
was so far away and meant a daily rush hour commute to 
and from work, but I was desperate to finally have my 
own place. 

I checked out a lot of apartments, found none of them 
to my liking, and was fighting the urge to just give up 
when I happened to see an ad in the paper for a room to 
rent on the North End. According to the ad I'd have a 
large master bedroom with a view of the Sound, my own 
bathroom, and "lots of privacy." It sounded too good to 
be true, but it was within my price range so I went to 
check it out.

Turned out it was everything it promised to be. The 
room was on the second floor at the back of the house, 
was large and roomy, and had an excellent view of Puget 
Sound. There was a bathroom connected to the room 
itself and, according to Sandra, the woman who was 
renting out the room, she and her daughter Erica were 
very quiet. Sandra was a beautiful woman, in her mid 
thirties with long fine blonde hair and a great body, 
and even though I figured I'd never have a chance with 
her, since I was only twenty-two, she was what 
convinced me to take the place.

We sat at her kitchen table and went over the rental 
agreement while I tried not to stare at her lovely face 
or her even lovelier tits. She was wearing a thin white 
peasant blouse and I was almost sure she wasn't wearing 
a bra, but I couldn't tell for certain without openly 
staring at them. When we were finished with the 
paperwork I gave her the money for the first and last 
months' rent and she wrote me a receipt. 

She had to kind of lean over the table while she did 
this, and I surreptitiously looked down her blouse. 
Nope, no bra, although I couldn't quite see her 
nipples. When she finished with the receipt she looked 
up just in time to catch me looking down her blouse, 
but instead of getting mad she just laughed an 
embarrassed laugh and said, "Now, Warren, I'm not going 
to have to worry about you, am I?"

"No, of course not," I lied. "I'm sorry, that won't 
happen again." Another lie.

"Well, let's hope not," Sandra replied. "After all, I'm 
old enough to be your mother." I figured either she was 
exaggerating or she was older than I thought.
I was too embarrassed now to say anything but I was 
saved from having to do so by the sound of the front 
door opening. We both looked around and a moment later 
Erica came in, clomping her feet on the hardwood floor 
and waving some papers in her hand.

She was a pretty little girl, with long blonde hair 
done in a ponytail and bangs, a narrow face with high 
cheekbones, a tiny baby nose and bright blue eyes. She 
looked liked a twelve year old version of her mother, 
actually, which was what I was thinking as I watched 
her come to the table and hand the papers over to 
Sandra.

"What's all this?" Sandra asked as she looked over the 
two pages Erica had given her.

"Permission slips," Erica replied, revealing a light 
munchkin-like voice. She looked at me and said, "Hi."

I waved to her as her mother said, "Let's see... field 
trips to the museum and... the science fair."

"I don't wanna go to the science fair," Erica 
announced.

"Well, then, why did you give me the permission slip? 
You could have just tossed it away."

Erica shrugged but didn't reply. Sandra balled up one 
of the permission slips and handed it to her daughter, 
told her to throw it away. Erica took it over to the 
trash can and casually tossed it in. As she came back 
toward me and Sandra she looked directly at me and 
mimicked the small wave I'd given earlier. Sandra was 
signing the other permission slip.

"Erica," she said, "this is Warren Lightner. He's going 
to be moving into the room upstairs."

"Hi," she said, her hands now clasped together in front 
of her.

"Hi, Erica," I said in that patronizing talking-to-a-
kid tone that all children despise. "You looking 
forward to going on that field trip?"

Erica rolled her eyes and walked out of the room. I 
looked at Sandra apologetically and she said, "I try 
not to talk to her like she's a child."

"Wow," I said, "I've only been here about an hour and 
I've already managed to offend both of you. I'm sorry."

Sandra gave me a very charming smile and said, "Don't 
be sorry. Just don't do it again."

***

I didn't think much more about Erica, at least not in 
any unusual sense. I spent the first month in my new 
place just getting settled and used to the 
surroundings, the household routine. I went to work in 
the morning and made it back home in time for dinner, 
helped with the dishes afterward (Erica washing and me 
drying), and spent my evenings either watching 
television in my own room or watching in the living 
room with Sandra while Erica played on the internet. 
Occasionally I brought home a manuscript to work on, 
usually secluding myself in the kitchen or my room to 
get it done. 

It was, as Sandra had promised, a calm and relatively 
quiet experience, except for Friday or Saturday nights 
when Erica had one of her friends over for the night 
and they would stay up late. On those nights I always 
lay in my bed in the dark, trying to go to sleep while 
listening to their girlish voices coming from across 
the hall, talking and giggling, with the occasional 
scream thrown in, well past midnight.

I managed to become something like friends with Sandra. 
We spent a lot of time just sitting in front of the 
television talking, mostly about our work lives or 
Sandra's challenges as a single mother, but sometimes 
about our past failed relationships. I got better at 
not ogling her, and on the few occasions when I did 
look her over, I managed to do so without getting 
caught. There were a few times when Sandra would go 
through the house in just her panties and a t-shirt, 
usually having just gotten up and still too sleepy to 
consider the effect she might be having on me, but I 
didn't complain. Erica did too, but she was still just 
a kid to me then and I hardly paid her any attention.

That changed, though, on a Saturday night in the first 
week of August. Sandra had been telling me about a guy 
she knew at work whom she believed was interested in 
her but was just too shy to ask her out. He finally 
did, though, and they were going to dinner and a movie 
downtown. Sarah had arranged for a babysitter to look 
after Erica (a development I was eagerly looking 
forward to, since the babysitter was reportedly a very 
attractive teenaged girl), but the babysitter canceled 
at the last minute and, without any other alternative, 
Sandra had asked me to watch her daughter.

"You don't actually have to watch her," she'd 
explained. "Just kind of keep an eye on her, to make 
sure she doesn't get into any trouble. She probably 
won't, she's a very well behaved girl. She should be no 
problem for you at all."

Poor Sandra had felt bad about leaving Erica with me, 
convinced that she was palming the girl off just so she 
could go out and enjoy herself. She was, of course, but 
I didn't mind. I liked Erica, she was a cool little 
kid, and I didn't foresee any problems. Most likely 
we'd just hang out in the living room, watching a movie 
while she kicked her feet and chattered.

And it did go like that, for a few hours anyway. But 
then, around nine o'clock or so, just after we'd 
finished watching a particularly violent cop movie on 
cable, Erica announced that she was going to go take a 
shower. She got up from the sofa and headed toward the 
hallway, calling back over her shoulder, "And don't 
come peek at me."

I laughed, thinking she was just being silly. I really 
didn't have anything like that on my mind; I wasn't 
into little girls, preferring adult women (like her 
mother), and if I did happen to drop below the legal 
age limit in my fantasies, the girls I fantasized about 
never got any younger than fourteen or fifteen.

I forgot about her remark, focusing on the television 
and the possibility that there might be something else 
to watch beside Cops or America's Most Wanted. I spent 
about twenty minutes flipping from channel to channel, 
found nothing, and decided to go on in my room and try 
to get caught up on my work.

I went down the hall, and just as I passed the bathroom 
door it opened and Erica was there, wearing nothing but 
a towel around her slight body, her hair wet and sleek. 
She paused to let me pass, then just as I got to the 
door of my room she asked, "Were you peeking?"

"No, sorry," I said. "My name's not Chester the 
Molestor."

I continued on into my room and once again forgot about 
her. I sat down at my desk to start working, but only 
about five minutes into it I decided I needed some 
coffee, so I got up and headed back out of my room. And 
just as I got into the hallway I saw her.

She was in her room with the door open, standing in 
front of the full length mirror on her closet door, 
examining herself. That by itself might not have meant 
anything, but for the fact she was wearing a powder 
blue silk babydoll nightie. She'd brushed her golden 
hair into a ponytail (with bangs), and she looked 
absolutely stunning.

Out of reflex I stopped and stared, and she looked up 
at me. Her big blue eyes met mine, blinked slowly, then 
she turned back to her reflection, apparently 
unconcerned that I was just standing there looking at 
her in her night clothes. She knew I was ogling her and 
she didn't care. Or maybe she did. Maybe she wanted me 
to see her this way. Maybe she wanted me to desire her.

That thought snapped me out of it and I continued on 
down to the kitchen. I poured a cup of coffee, returned 
to the living room to find my cigarettes, sat on the 
sofa and lit one. I took a long drag, blew smoke into 
the air, then told myself, "Come on, man, she's just a 
kid. She has no idea what she's doing."

I believed it too, but that didn't stop me from making 
certain additions to my fantasy life. In fact, I did 
more than just add Erica and her silky blue babydoll 
nightie to my vast warehouse of sexual utopianism, I 
pretty much superimposed her over the entire structure. 
She became the only girl I thought about when I was 
laying in bed at night trying to fall asleep or in the 
shower stroking my cock like a maniac. Hell, aside from 
Sandra, whom I couldn't eliminate from my mind simply 
because she too lived in the house, Erica became the 
only girl I thought about at all.

I became obsessed with her, with the idea of her, 
creating in my mind scenarios that explained, to my 
advantage, her motivation for allowing me to see her in 
that sexy nightgown. She knew about my attraction to 
Sandra and was jealous, and wanted to prove to herself 
that she could be a serious rival to her mother; she 
hated Sandra for some reason unknown to me and wanted 
to get back at her mother; because her father had 
abandoned her she was experiencing an unresolved 
oedipal conflict and was looking to me to help her 
resolve it; she'd recently had an intensely satisfying 
intimate experience with a little girlfriend of hers 
and wanted to make sure she wasn't really a lesbian; 
and, my personal favorite, she was simply indulging a 
naturally occurring (and ultimately voracious) sexual 
appetite that had developed in her a few years earlier 
than it did in most girls.

And then, of course, there were the fantasies 
themselves. Standard porn variety sex fantasies, 
involving everything from uninhibited blowjobs to 
uninhibited fucking, utilizing various positions and 
locations, sometimes involving a third partner, such as 
her little girlfriend (an actual person named Emily, 
who was brown-haired and lovely, though not quite as 
developed as Erica and, for all I knew, had no lesbian 
inclinations), assorted television and film actresses, 
and sometimes her mother. I also entertained the idea 
of Erica being molested by her father, and in about 
half of those fantasies she was not as reluctant as a 
daughter would normally be. I even began to fantasize 
that I was the father.

That was when I decided that my inordinate 
preoccupation with her had gone too far. It was bad 
enough that I was masturbating to thoughts of sex with 
a twelve year old girl (up until that time my last 
fantasy involving a preteen had occurred when I was a 
preteen myself), but now I was actually entertaining 
ideas of incest. And liking it way too much. I began to 
fear that I would eventually become the molestor of my 
own child, should I ever have one, or worse, molesting 
this child in the very near future. I had to stop 
thinking about that kind of stuff, find ways to get 
Erica out of my head and get normal adult women back in 
it.

I tried paying more attention to Sandra (and less to 
Erica), and spending less time at home, either hanging 
around at work or stopping off at a bar or cafe in the 
evenings, but none of that worked. It seemed like every 
girl I saw reminded me of Erica somehow, and while a 
lot of them were young and lovely they just didn't 
measure up anymore. Not even Sandra seemed as 
delectable to me as she'd once been.

My next attempt to blot my little housemate out of my 
head was to go to a porn shop and load up on videos. I 
spent more than a hundred dollars on such titles as 
Nymph Fever and Wet World and Horny Blondes and White 
Girls Who Suck Black Cocks. I took them home and 
watched them in the privacy of my own room, the sound 
turned down and the images glaring in my eyes for 
hours, but even that had no effect. Erica was in my 
world to stay. I decided I only had one alternative 
left: I had to move out.

***

I waited until the middle of the week, when Sandra was 
at work and Erica was in school. I was supposed to be 
at work too, and I'd actually driven all the way to 
Seattle, but then I stopped at a coffee shop for about 
twenty minutes before turning around and driving back 
home. I still had the boxes I'd used to move in, and 
figured I'd just start packing stuff into them as 
quickly as I could, stick it all in my car, and take it 
back to my parents' house. I was trying to estimate how 
many trips it would take to get all my things moved out 
when I spotted her at a bus stop downtown.

She was standing among a group of people, but obviously 
alone as she waited for whatever bus she was planning 
to get on. She was wearing her blue summer dress, the 
one I liked the best because it was almost exactly the 
same color as her babydoll nightgown. As soon as I saw 
her I started looking for a place to park. I didn't 
know what she was doing waiting for a bus downtown when 
she should have been in school, but I was determined to 
find out.

I drove into a parking garage, found a space quickly 
enough, then rushed back outside. Erica was still 
waiting at the bus stop and I went up to her, smiled 
and waved in a way that I hoped let her know she wasn't 
in trouble, and asked her how she was doing. Erica 
showed no surprise that I was there, no shock at being 
discovered playing hooky. She just shrugged her 
shoulders and said, "Okay, I guess."

"What are you doing?" I asked. "Shouldn't you be in 
school right now?"

"We had a half day today," she replied. "The teachers 
are having a conference. I was gonna go the mall for a 
while."

"Oh, okay. Well, you want a ride? That way, you don't 
have to spend any money on the bus."

"Okay."

We walked together back into the parking garage and got 
into my car. I was feeling a little nervous, because I 
knew I wasn't taking her to the mall. I felt like 
circumstances had pretty much conspired against me, 
that I could no longer resist the feelings I had for 
this beautiful little girl, and that I was going to do 
something about them, even if it meant having to spend 
the next twenty years in prison. As I drove back to the 
house, I made plans in my mind to just go ahead and 
take off, but not back to my parents' place; instead 
I'd go on the run.

Erica noticed that we weren't heading in the direction 
of the mall and asked me where we were going and I told 
her I had to stop by the house first, to pick up some 
money so I could buy her something at the mall. She 
seemed happy with this and changed the subject, talking 
about some silly thing a class clown had done at 
school. When we got back to the house I told her to 
come in with me.

"I have something I want to show you," I said.

She followed me into the house and up the stairs. When 
we got to my room I went over to the side of the bed, 
stopped and turned around. Erica had stayed right 
behind me, so now she was just a foot away, within easy 
reach.

I'd had some vague plan about trying to seduce her, of 
talking her into getting into bed with me, but the plan 
never materialized. Because she was so beautiful, so 
young and fresh, looking at me with such innocent trust 
in those big blue eyes of hers. My desire suddenly 
overwhelmed me and without even thinking about it I 
simply put my arms around her, found the zipper on her 
dress, and pulled it down to the small of her back. 

Erica kept her eyes locked on to mine as I pulled her 
dress down off of her shoulders, let it slide slowly 
all the way to the floor. She was wearing nothing 
underneath but a pair of white cotton panties, and I 
saw her breasts for the very first time. They were 
small, pale, and very slightly pointed, capped with 
tiny pink nipples. The most beautiful little tits I'd 
ever seen.
I held my breath as I touched them. They were warm and 
soft, and yet youthfully firm at the same time. I 
caressed them, massaged them, and watched with wonder 
as their nipples grew harder under my fingers. I got 
the sense that Erica was holding her breath as well, 
and realized she was probably more nervous than I was. 
For a moment I considered stopping, but I knew that I 
wouldn't. Not even if she resisted.

Her dress was pooled around her ankles and I helped her 
step out of it. She was wearing nothing now but her 
panties and her shoes and socks. I pulled the panties 
down her slim smooth legs, helped her step out of them 
as well, then guided her over to the bed. She lay down 
on her back, her eyes still on me, and I removed her 
shoes and socks, then took off my shirt. I tossed it 
somewhere, then crawled onto the bed, on top of her 
young naked body.

Erica opened her legs and I settled myself between 
them, reached down to the fly of my jeans and struggled 
with it for a minute. I got the button and zipper 
undone, fished my cock out of my underwear. It was as 
hard as iron. I didn't think about how much it would 
hurt her, or how long I'd be able to last inside of her 
tight young cunt before I went off, or even how wrong 
this whole thing was. The only thought I had was of 
getting it into her, fucking her, possessing her.

I guided my cock up to the soft lightly haired lips of 
her cunt. Erica's arms came up and she placed her hands 
on my shoulders and closed her eyes, apparently bracing 
for what would happen next. I only glanced at her for a 
moment before returning my focus to what I was doing. I 
pushed the head of my cock between those smooth pink 
lips and into her cunt, moving slowly but resolutely. 

Erica sighed, then moaned, and as I burrowed past the 
thin membrane of her cherry she gapsped and clutched my 
arms tighter, buried her face against my chest. I 
hugged her to me and kissed the top of her head as I 
pushed my cock the rest of the way into her, then, 
still holding her, I began to fuck her. 

I pushed my cock repeatedly up into her tight little 
cunt, and Erica, though she obviously wasn't having the 
most delightful experience of her young life, didn't 
cry or complain or even resist. She just held on and 
let me go at her until finally, after only a few 
minutes, I felt the tide of orgasm swelling in my groin 
and stopped. I shoved my cock as deep in as it would 
go, then held it there and let it pump its load of warm 
come into her cunt, grunting and moaning into her soft 
sweet ponytail.

When I was done I collapsed on top of her, tired and 
sweaty, and we lay there wordless for several minutes. 
Erica was the first one to stir, moving under me and 
asking me to get up. I got off of her and she went to 
the bathroom and shut the door, and a moment later I 
heard the shower running.

There was a small spot of blood on the bed, but it 
wasn't nearly as bad as I expected it to be. I got up 
and threw my clothes on, bundled up the sheets from my 
bed, and packed them into one of the boxes I had 
standing ready. I packed the rest of my stuff too, and 
by the time I was finished Erica had come out of the 
shower and gone into her room. I thought about going in 
to check on her, to see if she was alright, but instead 
I just carried the boxes out to my car. It was some 
time during the three trips I made out to the car with 
the boxes that she took off, probably on her way to the 
mall.

I took what else I could of my stuff and jammed it into 
my car, going over in my head the route I would take to 
get out of the state. The last thing I did was leave my 
keys to the house on the dining room table, with no 
note, then go up to Erica's room. I fished through her 
dresser drawers until I found the powder blue babydoll 
nightie. I took it out and held it up in the morning 
light, just looking at it for a moment, then folded it 
and took it with me as I left.

It's been more than a year now, and I still think about 
her. I regret not making Erica's first time more 
pleasurable for her, more romantic, maybe gentler, not 
just for her sake but my own as well. I wish I could 
look back on what I did and recall it with fondness and 
love, but all I can remember now is how it had felt to 
be inside of her, how good it had felt to actually fuck 
a twelve year old girl. That sensation is still 
relatively fresh in my mind, and ever since that day I 
haven't wanted anyone else, or even been with anyone 
else. It's Erica I want. And the good news is that I 
still have her powder blue babydoll nightgown. I fool 
myself into thinking she'll want it back when I return 
it to her.

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 46