The Little Girl and the Flirty Dare
-by Alvo Torelli, January, 2018
(Author's Note: This story is the result of correspondence with a reader. Thanks Paul!)
I looked at the pretty redhead and decided that despite the shapely breasts stretching her light school sweater she was no more than fourteen, and maybe a young fourteen at that. So why the hell was she trying so obviously to flirt with me? Sure, I'm good looking, well dressed and pretty obviously well off - and I don't have a wedding ring - but fourteen year old girls don't usually run around flirting with thirty year old men. Especially not girls as pretty as this one. God, her hair was amazing - thick red locks that cascaded half way down her back. And everything else about her was magazine perfect: perfect pale skin, perfect rounded cheeks, perfect long pale eyelashes, perfect pouty, small mouth with a perfect deep dip just below her perfect button nose. And those deep green eyes!
Again, why the hell was she flirting with me?
"Why are you flirting with me?" I said across the table in the coffee shop.
She gasped. Her eyes went wide with shock and she blushed hard, which just made her that much more gorgeous.
She started to get up, to flee. I grabbed her wrist and held tight, pinning her arm to the table. I did my best not to look scary. I didn't want to scare her. But I was curious. I smiled. She did her best interpretation of a frightened rabbit. I leaned in closer, gripping her wrist.
"Why are you flirting with me? I'm not letting go until you tell me." I whispered too low for anyone else to hear. Since I was sitting in the corner she had her back to the room. Nobody would notice what was going on unless she screamed. She wasn't going to scream. I could see it in her eyes. She wouldn't risk the embarrassing attention. I raised my eyebrows. Well?
She bit her pretty, full lower lip. God, she just got prettier by the second. But I really wasn't interested in frightening her. I just wanted to know.
"I'm not going to bite you," I whispered. "Come on, just tell me. Why were you flirting with a man twice your age?" I tried to seem relaxed, but I didn't let go of her wrist.
"It, it..., it was a stupid dare. Jenna and Megan dared me to try to flirt with you enough to get your number because they know how hard it is for me to talk to boys, or men. And when we play the dare game you just have to do the dare no matter what or they'll make fun of you for, like, forever. Oh god!"
Her words flowed out in a jumbled rush. I stared into those big green eyes and I smiled, just a little.
"Why would it be hard for you to talk to boys, or men?" I asked.
"What?" she squeaked.
Slowly and calmly, looking her in the eyes, I asked, "Why would it be hard for a gorgeous young lady like yourself, practically the prettiest girl I've ever seen, to talk to boys... or men?"
Surprisingly, her eyes could flare even wider and she could blush even deeper. The few freckles she had perfectly sprinkled across her high cheeks disappeared. "Oh gosh," was all she replied.
Now she was starting to learn what flirting was really all about. I don't think she even noticed that I was no longer gripping her wrist. I simply held it loosely in my hand and lightly stroked one finger up and down the perfect smooth skin of her forearm.
"Where are these friends of yours, this Jenna and Megan?" I asked. She glanced over her left shoulder and I saw the shapes of two young girls on the far side of the coffee shop. The bright afternoon light coming from behind them kept me from making out any more than the fact that they were both watching us. They both looked away the second I looked in their direction. "Hmm, I see. So, would you like to play a joke on your little friends?"
"What?" she asked again, with only half the squeak of her last question.
"A joke - on your friends. Wouldn't it be fun to play a joke on them."
"But - how?"
"Well, let's see. For starters you should run your fingers through that gorgeous hair of yours, and toss it over your shoulder again, like you were doing just a few seconds ago. You know, when you were flirting with me."
"Oh gosh! Did I really do that?" she asked, even as she ran her fingers through her gorgeous hair and tossed it over her shoulder, yet again. She only realized she'd done it when I smirked. I tried not to let on just how crazy hot it was when she did it.
Fourteen! I said to myself. Fourteen! I sternly told myself: It's okay to help her out, talk to her, let her have a little fun. No harm in that, no harm at all. Right? But that's all!
Damn she was pretty. I didn't know eyelashes could be that long on their own.
I avoided looking at her friends again, but I was fairly sure they were back to watching us.
"Do you really think it's pretty?" she asked.
I smiled a bit more. So young. "That's really not how you flirt," I said.
"What?" No squeak at all. Just confused interest.
"You don't ask the guy if he really meant the compliment he gave you," I said very quietly. "You just smile a little, and look away, like you're a little bit embarrassed that he said anything. But really you're letting him know that secretly you were pleased that he noticed. It's a secret that only the two of you can share; it's intimate."
Those amazing eyelashes made her eyes so big.
"And then, maybe, you reach out and touch him somewhere - his shoulder, his arm or his hand - and you leave your touch just a little too long." I barely whispered. "It's an invitation."
She looked down where my hand rested lightly on top of hers, my middle finger barely brushing across her skin. She gave out a tiny gasp, but she didn't pull back. As if she was mesmerized she slowly turned her arm over so that our hands were palm to palm and she let her longest finger, like mine, gently brush the inside of my wrist.
"And one of the best ways to flirt is to lean close, when he's not looking, so that when he looks at you again it startles him, just a little, and gives him a chance to smile back at you, accepting you into his space," I whispered.
She looked up to realize our faces were only inches apart, drawn together by the soft words spoken in the noisy room that no longer seemed to have any other people. She gave a tiny gasp, then smiled - at the joke or the closeness, I couldn't tell. Did it matter? And just to show me that she wasn't completely innocent, or at least that she had some instincts, she parted her lips and sucked in the smallest breath as she dropped her eyes for a moment, then looked back up.
She slowly pushed her fingers through her gorgeous hair and threw it over her shoulder again, then smiled.
"Quick learner," I whispered, tilting my head and leaning just a bit closer.
Fourteen! My hindbrain yelled in my head. Fourteen!
She smiled and looked away, coyly embarrassed, and the blush came back to her cheeks to let me know that she really was pleased I'd noticed.
When her eyes came back to mine her head was tilted too. Her gorgeous lips, full and round, drew my appreciative gaze.
"And then what?" she whispered.
"And then, if you really want to torment your silly friends," I whispered, our lips almost touching, you kiss me and we leave together, holding hands. Then I drive off with you in my Mustang while your friends pee themselves."
She paused and I saw the way her big green eyes sparkled. I watched trepidation, confusion, excitement and finally delight each whirl across those amazing eyes in three, thudding heartbeats. I was lost in the fireworks in her eyes.
Our lips closed together and she tasted like cherries. Her lips were so soft. It was just a brush, a moment of connection, completing the circuit formed by our hands, but the electricity that flowed through us in that moment nearly stopped my pulse.
Fourteen! God! Damn! It! Fourteen!
We rose from the table, hand in hand, and walked to the door. I carried her book bag slung over my shoulder. From the corner of my eye I saw that she saw the dumbfounded looks on the two little girls sitting by the window. As we walked down the sidewalk in front of their window they stared, slack-jawed, at our every step. I helped her into the front seat of the muscle car, noticing for the first time her thin, but shapely legs, covered to the knee by her school skirt. I pulled out of the parking space. She carefully ran her fingers through her gorgeous red hair and threw it over her shoulder, turning to smile at me just as we passed her gawking friends, standing on the sidewalk in front of the coffee house.
She didn't start laughing until we were around the corner, out of sight of her two friends. She gave out a tinkling, thrilling giggle of pure joy. It seemed to erupt from every pore, lighting up her face, energizing her pretty form, filling her with beauty. I laughed along with her. How could I not?
It was the laugh, her infectious, beautiful laugh that finally wore me down and broke me.
Fourteen, my brain whispered to me as I stole yet another glance at her perfection. You are so screwed.
"So, Miss Mysterious Flirt," I said once our laughter was calm enough to let us speak, "what's your name?"
She bit her lip and worry flashed across her face for a moment before she smiled, trying to look mysterious. "It's 'Maybe I Shouldn't Tell You,' Mister Stranger who talks to Little Girls," she said. Smart girl, I thought again. Names are powerful.
"Ah, I see, so we're flirting again," I said. "In that case my name is 'Dangerous Stranger!' You can call me Danger. Shall I call you Maybe?"
She laughed again and my heart stopped for a moment.
"Where are we going, Danger?" she asked.
We stopped at a light and I turned to look hard into her eyes, no smile, no smirk, all serious. "Wherever you'd like to go, Maybe," I said slowly. "Anywhere you want."
It wasn't the kind of flirting she was prepared for. Her little gasp gave her away. But she recovered quickly, dropped her eyes, and said "Could..., could I go somewhere with you?"
As she looked back up I smiled. The light changed and I turned back to my driving.
We drove in silence for a few minutes before she said, "Will you, um, will you teach me a little more? I mean, about how to talk to boys?" From the corner of my eye I saw her blush again before she finished. "Or men?"
"Sure, Maybe," I said when I opened my mouth. Not 'maybe that's a bad idea,' or 'maybe I should run you home now,' or 'maybe you shouldn't be talking to dangerous older men.' Just 'sure, Maybe.'
"Gosh, Mr. Danger, thanks. You're...you're easy to talk to."
"Just Danger, Maybe," I said as I pulled into a parking spot at the north end of the big city park. "You don't want to be too formal when you're flirting with a boy... or a man." I smiled at her. "Let's walk. Walking is good for talking. Especially one girl and one... man."
We started down the path that led deeper into the verdant, warm park. The romantic park.
I didn't walk too close. I didn't take her hand. I was enjoying her company and helping her out. She was just a sweet little girl. She needed someone to talk to. That's what I told myself. We walked along silently for a hundred yards.
"You really are gorgeous, you know," I said, surprising myself. I was supposed to be teaching her how to talk to males, not just flirting - but that's what came out of my mouth.
She did that insanely cute thing with her hair again. I don't think she even realized it. But she also turned her face away from me, letting me catch just a hint of the smile I'd brought to her face. Damn she was a fast learner. With her face turned away I stepped closer to her as we walked. When she turned back she bumped into me. Our hands touched. She made a little gasp, then bit her lip, but she didn't step away from me.
At a branching in the path we stopped, in the shade of a large maple. Standing so close, face to face, she had to put her head back to look up into my face. Oh, those amazing green eyes, those lashes. I realized I was more than a foot taller than she was. She seemed petite for a girl her age. She was scared again, and her chest, with the shapely breasts that strained at her thin school sweater, rose and fell with her nervous breathing. No, not scared - agitated - worried that she was going to do something wrong. I could see it in those eyes. I waited, trying to show patience.
"So, um, what does a girl say to a... a man, if he doesn't say something first?"
"A man likes to hear that he's admired just as much as a girl does, Maybe," I said and I smiled when I used her silly pseudonym. "But, well, not about being pretty, or even handsome - although that's okay. A man would rather hear about his character - his strength, his courage, even his kindness, that sort of thing. Some men want to hear admiration for their possessions - their cars, their expensive clothes, their expensive toys - they think those things make them important. But be careful of those men, Maybe. Men like that let their possessions define them and define their significance. You wouldn't want to become one of those possessions, like some women would. You're so beautiful - lots of men would want that, to think they own you - eye candy to show everyone else how very important they are."
"Do you really think I'm so..." she said, but she stopped herself and looked away again, tossing her hair.
Driving me crazy. Damn.
I touched her chin and gently turned her face back to look up into my eyes again. "Yes, I really think you are that beautiful." But instead of leaving the invitation of my touch on her skin, I dropped my hand and turned away from her. "If we go that way," I said, pointing down the left path, "it winds along the creek for half a mile. It's a lovely walk. But, if we go this way," I indicated a little-used path to the right that disappeared at once through a thicket of high bushes, "it leads to my favorite hide-away: quiet and dark, private and secluded. Or we can stay on the main path, with all the walkers, joggers and families - the safe way." I turned back to her and made her look into my face. "Tell me what YOU want, Maybe. The choice is yours."
She stood thinking for a minute. I could see the wheels turning in her young mind. "You're, ah... very nice, Danger" she said and I chuckled to show I'd gotten the joke. But I didn't look away.
"And you, my sweet, are very clever," I returned. She blushed, but she held my gaze.
"Let's go that way - where it's dark and quiet, secluded and... private."
She took my hand and I think she noticed the way I couldn't hide a flush of excitement. I think she liked it. We walked through the small tunnel in the bushes and into the soft, dim light of the understory of a small wood. There were no paths, but the ground around the trees was bare and easy to traverse. I led her towards the east, where I knew there was a bench - hidden from plain sight - a perfect place to contemplate the beauty of this little piece of nature in the middle of the city. I brushed the bench off and we sat, still holding hands in the pale light.
"So," I started as I raised her hand up to study it. When I placed my other hand on top of it, swallowing the small appendage completely, she took a deep breath, waiting. "You want to know what to say to a man," I said.
"Uh-huh?" she whispered and bit her full lip again. I don't think she had any idea she was doing it - or how cute it was.
"Well, Maybe, you need to understand something. Sometimes, when the mood is right, when it's quiet and romantic and the flirting has had a chance to work it's magic..., when you're sitting close and he's touching your hand..." I continued to hold her little hand, but I trailed the fingers of my other hand up her forearm, barely touching the smooth skin. I saw the goosebumps rise. I saw her bite her lip. "Sometimes, the best way to talk to a man is not to talk at all." I leaned in closer, catching her huge green eyes, giving the slightest smile as she tilted her head. "Sometimes it's what you don't say that says the most." I stopped. It was my turn to open my lips, just a little.
I let her choose to close the distance between our faces - the last inch. Her soft, full lips touched mine and this time they stayed. Our mouths opened and our lips caressed. I tasted her upper lip with my tongue - cherries, again - trembling cherries. I tasted her tongue. Was this her first, real kiss?
Fourteen! Fourteen! Fourteen! the voice in the back of my head screamed again. What could I do? I ignored it.
My hand slid along the smooth curve of her jaw, under her hair, towards the back of her neck. My fingers pressed into her long, glorious red hair. Her head tilted back as I pressed closer, kissing her harder. I let go of her hand to slide my other arm behind her back and I felt one thin arms around my neck. Her other hand clutched at the collar of my shirt. The soft pillows of her breasts pressed into my chest.
She kissed with desperation. I was more than happy to use my lips and my tongue to try to assuage her need. One hand ran up and down her spine, crushing her delicate young body to my chest. The other tangled in her flaming locks, gripping at her neck. We probably looked like the cover of some terrible romance novel. I didn't care. I was lost in the sensation of kissing the most beautiful child.
We finally came up for air and our lips parted, but our eyes found one another again. We stared deep, for a moment. "You really are danger, aren't you, Danger?" she asked, proving just how closely she'd been listening before.
I didn't answer. I just gave her half a smile, then rose and pulled her to her feet.
We practically ran back to the car, hand in hand, giddy. She even giggled once or twice and I grinned like a madman. I roared out of the parking lot. I risked speeding tickets and nearly sideswiped an unexpected parked truck as it unloaded furniture. But I pulled into the big chain motel in record time.
I couldn't think of a way not to leave her waiting in the Mustang. But I hurried, half convinced she would get frightened and flee before I returned. I balked when the idiot at the desk insisted on ID, even when I was paying in cash. Fortunately, an extra forty bucks smoothed that over and Mr. Smith Johnson was checked into room 217. No, I didn't need any help with my luggage thank you very much.
My heart skipped two beats when I saw she was waiting. She looked scared and uncertain. I couldn't blame her. I slid into the driver's seat and twisted to face her, ready to see her bolt out the door. She was flushed and trembling, on the edge of panic. I reached out and rested the tips of my fingers on her cheek to turn her head as gently as possible. Her pulse was racing. Hell, my pulse was racing. The problem was, I wanted her pulse to race, just not with worry and fear. I thought of a thousand things to say as I turned her green eyes to meet mine. Something funny to break her fear? Something romantic? Something deep and revealing, teaching her the ways of love? Nothing seemed quite right.
Instead, I kissed her, as soft and sweet and warm as I knew how. I held the kiss patiently. I felt the panic subside, both our pulses slowing together. Her eyes closed. She leaned into the kiss, deepened it, moaned. And just as quickly our pulses sped up.
Her eyes snapped open and we broke the kiss. I could feel my heart beating and I was sure she felt hers. "Do you... Do you want to go home?" I whispered. She shook her head, a vehement 'no!'
I pulled the car around to the back of the motel as fast as I could. Once again giddy, we ran, hand in hand, using the stairs instead of the elevator. At the door to 217 I swept her into my arms like a groom with his bride - yet another level of teasing flirtation. She blushed as she understood my meaning, but she didn't say no. She didn't make me put her down and run away.
As soon as the door swung closed and I set her down our clothes started coming off in a desperate dance. We should have been slower, more patient, but neither of us could wait. We wanted skin against skin.
But it's one thing for a young girl to lose her sweater, her blouse, her skirt. Standing in front of a man she barely knows, it's another thing entirely to lose the protection of her bra or her cute, blue panties.
Suddenly shy, in bra and panties, she stood in front of an adult man, me,who wore nothing but his slacks. She crossed her arms over breasts that I was getting more and more impressed by every second. But her arms didn't stop me from taking in her breathtaking beauty. Her legs were thin, yes, but perfectly formed. And now that her ugly school skirt and unflattering sweater were gone I found that her figure was enticing. Not yet womanly, but curvaceous in ways that made my blood boil and my fingers tickle. And that face, that beautiful, long red hair. And yes, hidden under her arms - precious and perfect - breasts that would be more than a handful.
But she was scared. She was embarrassed. She was unsure.
She was so young.
Fourteen, you idiot! Fourteen! What the fuck are you doing?
But she was so beautiful.
I lifted my shirt from the floor, where she'd dropped it in our frenzy of removing each other's clothes. Her eyes showed a moment of shock as I put the shirt around her shoulders and pulled it closed across her front. It was a dress shirt, dark blue, expensive and it fell almost to her knees. I watched her calm as she felt the fabric envelop her and hide her luscious body from my eager gaze. As she slipped her arms into the sleeves, I buttoned the second to top button to secure the shirt around her frame.
"Better?" I asked. She bit her lip and nodded. But she gasped a little when I ran the tips of my fingers along her smooth jaw and when I leaned in to kiss her she trembled. Enveloped in my clothes and my scent, I think she was very aware of who's shirt was protecting her modesty.
I stepped back, clearly giving her space back to her.
"I... I'm sorry," she said, looking down.
"Maybe - you never have to be sorry about this. Never!" She looked at me with a puzzled frown. "I'm sorry if I rushed you. But... men are always going to want... I mean... it's just that you're so beautiful."
She took the complement in and turned away, just barely letting me see the way her face lit up. Yup, she was a fast learner. She ran her fingers through her hair and tossed it over her shoulder. I could no longer tell if she was doing it on purpose, or just out of nervous habit. It really didn't matter, because when she turned back to face me she was much closer - almost touching me. Damn.
My arm slid through the front of the shirt and encircled her bare back, skin on skin, electric. She sighed as I pressed into her and kissed her. Soon I felt her arms around my neck. I could tell she was standing on her tip-toes and still I had to bend at the waist and knees. We were still kissing when my other hand slid up along the smooth skin of her torso and settled over the top of her thin bra. We were still kissing as I gently lowered her down onto the bed.
Even through the bra I could feel how perfectly formed her breast was. Soft, yet firm. Surprisingly large, yet delicate. More than a handful, yet perfect to hold. I'd never touched a more arousing, attractive breast - and the little gasp she gave off at my touch told me volumes. I could tell she was hypersensitive about her breasts - the feature that probably brought her far too much attention from all the boys in her life. I knew enough not to push the issue. I moved down instead.
Slowly trailing kissed down her neck, I moved lower. I pushed the shirt open but left it buttoned between her breasts. I kissed her collar bone, her shoulder, her arm, then skipped down to her sternum. My hands caressed her sides and her hips. She shivered. I moved lower. My tongue explored her small navel and my hand found the backs of her thighs. She was starting to writhe, subtly, with each new tickling caress or lick. She moaned and I felt her fingers find the top of my head, swirl through my dark hair.
I paused before I started to slide her panties over her round bottom and down her legs. I made it clear what I intended, but gave her every chance to demur. When I rose a few inches and twisted my neck to make sure, to lock eyes with her over the curve of her breasts, she was biting her lip and at once she looked away, unable to meet my gaze. But she understood the unasked question and the merest moment later she nodded her little chin.
She stiffened when I growled and carefully slid the panties down, down, down, trailing kisses along the top of each leg, all the way to her tiny toes. I saw her clutching at the spread on the bed as my nibbles tickled her in places she'd never been tickled before. She allowed me to slowly spread her legs wider as I kissed back up along each of them, concentrating on the inside of her thighs. As I slowly approached her sex, closer and closer, by the centimeter, she shivered. But she acquiesced to part her legs as I slid my arms underneath them.
Her little cunny was beautiful. Only the barest hint of her inner labia were visible until her legs were spread wide. I was taken aback that she had only the merest wisps of pubic hair, the same gorgeous light red as the magnificent mane she used to such flirtatious advantage. My lips barely brushed across her outer lips, then up over her clit to brush through the thin locks of fine red hair before I descended again and took my first taste of her.
As my tongue took its first wet slide along the outer lips of her cunny she went wild. Her hands grabbed my hair and she pulled me tighter. I was only too happy to ramp up my attentions to her young pussy, but I didn't let her rush me too much. I wanted her to fully understand that this kind of foreplay was its own type of flirting, that she'd entered a whole new realm of the secret language a man and a girl passed back and forth as they explored their mutual attraction.
Fourteen, the little voice in the back of my head whispered, then gave up.
She moaned. My tongue slid inside her. She was sweet and wet, warm. I teased her, exploring the sensitive folds where I was certain no man had ever visited. I raked across her hood and forced out her tiny clit, bracing for her reaction. She tore at my hair in her desperation, but the pain was tolerable and drove on my desire to send the sweet child over the edge. I pulled her tighter. I used my shoulders to lift her legs and ass, improving my access to her most intimate places.
"Aaagghhh!" Her moans finally gave way to a long, plaintive scream and then she settled into ragged, fast panting. I redouble my attention. She came. She came hard, creaming her little pussy against my tongue and lips and chin. She writhed to increase the pressure against her clit. She pulled at my head, getting me to tongue her where she wanted, as if she was the one who controlled what was happening. Silly child.
Eventually, sensing that she couldn't take much more, I let up and quickly climbed her young, perfect body. I pressed her into the bed and kissed her hard, passionately. I let her taste herself and held her face in my hands as she slowly regained her mind and her little body recovered. When I finally propped myself up on my elbows to smile down at her, her beautiful green eyes were still wild and she still breathed shallow and fast, but her pulse was slowing and I could see her sanity returning.
Her eyes finally met mine with recognition, but they flared and she looked away, blushing. Not having any of that, I gently touched her chin and turned her face back, forcing her to look at me.
"That, that was..." She didn't have the words.
"I know," I whispered. "Obviously." Her blush deepened and I smirked. Then I kissed her again and she kissed me back.
"I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?" I whispered a few moments later.
"Okay?" she answered.
I rose from the bed and walked to the bathroom, knowing she needed a few minutes of her own space, alone in her own head.
I stripped to boxers before I returned, not sure she would even be there, but she was. My heart flipped over when I saw what she'd done for me. She was in the bed with the covers pulled up to her nose, looking frightened but excited. My shirt was carefully folded, placed on the foot of the bed. Her thin bra was folded on top of the shirt. I looked back into her eyes and I'm sure I showed a mirror of her excitement. I flipped off the lights, leaving the bathroom door open to give the room a soft glow.
Dropping my boxers, I slid under the sheets and reached out for her small, warm body.
Fourteen! My hindbrain made one last feeble attempt to stop me. Fuck off! I answered.
I took her in my arms and kissed her, gently. She was trembling, so I spoke quietly. "Maybe, sweet Maybe. Don't be scared."
"I'm not scared, Danger," she whispered back, "it's just... I don't know..."
"Hush!" I whispered back and pulled her closer to my body, pressing her soft breasts into my chest. As I rolled over, I pulled her on top of me and kissed her. I was struck again by how small she was. But so warm, smooth, soft. I caressed her small, shapely ass, then let my fingers slip between her legs to find that she was wet, again.
Suddenly, bringing out a squeak of terror as I startled her, I grab her by the waist and lifted her, moving her up my body to settle those amazing, perfect breasts on my face. She giggled as she recovered. She giggled more as I tickled her sides. But she gasped when I cupped one breast in my hand and latched on to the nipple of the other with my mouth. She tried to be silent. I tweaked her nipple and she writhed. I knew I was having my way with the source of both her pride and her torment. At heart, she was a shy, innocent girl, and her amazing, ample breasts brought her unwanted attention, even as she reveled in their perfection. It was all written on her face.
But she couldn't hide the way her nipples quickly hardened. She couldn't stifle a moan.
When I lifted her again, forcing her to sit up, astride me just below my throbbing, eager cock, she was shocked. I'd thrown the covers off of us, eager to take in the sight of her beautiful form in the soft light, and eager to watch her first sight of my excited manhood. I wasn't disappointed.
She bit her lip and stared down at my cock, wide eyed. I took one of her soft little hands in mine and brought it to my raging erection. She wrapped her fingers around me with a tentative, frightened touch.
"You won't break it," I whispered. Her eyes flashed to mine then back to my cock. She bit her lip again, then she stroked it. It felt amazing, and I gave her a few moments to lose her fear of my manhood. But I wanted to be inside her. I couldn't deny the incredible desire.
"I want you, Maybe," I purred, surprising her. With her frightened eyes locked on mine, I engaged in the ultimate flirting. "I've never wanted anything more than I want you now. You're so gorgeous, so attractive, so sexy." She continued to stroke my cock as she processed my words. I saw comprehension cross her face as she realized that we really weren't playing.
"I want you too, Danger," she whispered. "But... it's so big."
What man doesn't like to hear that his partner thinks he might be too big for her. I tried not to let it go to my head.
"It's not too big," I said seriously, stressing the word 'too.' "Are you... are you ready?"
She couldn't speak, she could only nod her pretty head. So I lifted her and let her pull the head of my cock into the warm folds of her wet, ready sex.
I didn't force my cock up inside her. Instead, I let her control the beginning of our first love making. I was more than certain it was her first time ever. She moaned as she let me enter her, allowing little more than the tip to penetrate. "Oh gosh," she cried out, "Danger, will it hurt? I'm scared. I don't know what... Tell me, please!"
I gripped her small hips and took control. She dropped her little hands to my chest and squeaked with fright when she felt me press harder inside of her. I tipped her pelvis forward, then back, undulating her body and easing myself inside of her. But there was no getting around the fact that it was her first time, that I was going to have to tear my way into her body.
"Don't worry," I said, "I'll go slow. It will hurt - but not long, just for a minute. Are you ready, Maybe? Are you ready to become the gorgeous, alluring woman you're meant to be? Are you ready for your first lover?"
She bit her lip, eyes wide, and then she nodded, quickly, before she lost her nerve.
I pressed upwards, hard, and pulled her down at the same time. "Aagh, aagh, aagh, aaaaggghhh!" She gave out a small, pained scream as I pierced her hymen and drove deep inside of her. But I didn't pause. I knew the pain would wane more quickly if I started to fuck her, if I filled her with my throbbing cock. I controlled her hips, tilting her pelvis back and forth to meet my thrusts - until I could see that she had the rhythm and the motion. Then I let her take over and it wasn't just me fucking her - it was both of us, making love. Her little moans of pain quickly turned to pleasure.
As we continued, she sat up higher, pressing up onto her fingertips, still undulating with my thrusts. She gave me better access and I drove deeper inside of her tiny body. I couldn't fit my cock all the way inside - she was simply too small - but I drove as deep as I could without hurting her. She was amazingly tight and she clutched at me with her taut young muscles.
I was mesmerized by the way her impressive young breasts bounced up and down with each hard thrust of our fucking. She saw me watching them and, despite the fact that we couldn't have been any more intimate than we were at that moment, she blushed deeply. Nervous habit took over and she pushed the fingers of one hand through her gorgeous red hair and tossed it back over her shoulder.
At that moment I thought I might be in love.
Fourteen! my hindbrain tried, one last time. And you're not wearing a condom you moron!
I should have stopped. It was too risky. But I didn't. Instead I sped up. I thrust faster and faster into her tiny body. I concentrated with all my might to make it last. I wanted our love making to last forever. I saw the moment when her eyes flared, her shoulders tensed and then, like an explosion, she climaxed. "Oh god, oh god, oh god!" she cried over and over. Orgasm made her arch her back and grip harder at my thrusting cock. I thrust as hard and fast as I could.
And then I came. I unleashed a flood of hot, thick, cum into her small body.
We lay in the big bed in the soft light with the sheets pulled over the lower half of our bodies. Her leg was draped over mind and her face pressed into my chest as I stroked her long, thick hair. I thought she'd fallen asleep until she spoke.
"Was... was that okay?" she whispered.
"Much better than okay, Maybe. Perfect. Spectacular. You are perfect."
I could just see the way she smiled before she dipped her face downward, out of my gaze. Ah, the after-sex version of flirting. Yet another lesson for my young, sweet protege.
"I... I liked it too. You're very...." I could hear the uncertainty in her voice, the trepidation of saying the wrong thing, or saying it the wrong way.
She looked back up into my face, biting her lip again before she could find the words. "You're nice. And... and, uh, you're very... manly."
It was my turn to smile and look away - not because I was so wonderfully flattered - but to hide the fact that I nearly laughed. Not cool. I changed the subject to save myself from embarrassment.
"There's, uh, a thing we should talk about, Maybe."
"What?" She sounded frightened again. That didn't help.
"I..., I'm worried. I shouldn't have... I, I don't want to get you pregnant. But..."
"It's okay," she whispered, but she sounded relieved. I gave her a quizzical look and she continued. "I just finished my, my, you know... yesterday, just yesterday. I, I think it's safe."
Before I could respond she suddenly tensed, then threw the covers off of us and jumped off the bed, running for the bathroom. Ah, the post-coital pee, I thought.
A sudden idea occurred to me, with the beautiful young redhead in the bathroom. I didn't even know her name! It really bugged me. But perhaps, if I was quick, I could find it out. Her school pack was sitting on a side table, just waiting. I flipped on the bed-side lamp and quickly zipped open the bag to find a cell phone, a complete change of clothes - a stretchy one-piece bathing suit that I'd definitely like to see Maybe wearing - some toiletries and two text books. I didn't see a wallet, but there was another pocket in the front of the backpack. Before I opened that I looked at the cell - locked, and the two books: 'World Civics' and 'Number Concepts - Sixth Grade Mathematics.' I shoved the books back in and reached for the front pocket.
Wait, wait, wait. Sixth Grade Math? Oh jesus. Could Maybe, my new lover, be in the sixth grade? Oh shit. If she was in the sixth grade then she couldn't be more than twelve-years-old. Oh damn, oh damn, oh damn. But those gorgeous, ample breasts of hers? How could she...?
"Danger?" I heard her say from behind me.
I set the pack down and I turned to face her. "Are you really only in the sixth grade, Maybe?" I asked, taking the offensive instead of apologizing for snooping in her pack.
Her eyes went wide. "I... I'm sorry!" She stepped to the bed, grabbing her bra and turned to look for the rest of her clothes. "I can just go. I'm sorry."
In two strides I was holding her in my arms, lifting her up like the little girl that she really was. I didn't hesitate. I kissed her. I kissed her hard and pulled her tight and willed her to kiss me back. She did. Her little arms went around my neck and she melted into my embrace and my kiss. Her body relaxed and she wrapped her thin legs around my torso, pressing her sex into my bare stomach.
When I broke the kiss and leaned back to look at her, I asked, "You're so young, Maybe. I... I though you were older - not old enough, I admit, but older. Why did you come with me? Why did you...?"
"You were so nice, and... handsome. And it was fun, the joke, on Jenna and Megan. And then... I just liked you."
"Jesus," I said. "You're twelve, aren't you?" She just dropped her eyes, embarrassed, and I knew I was right. "Jesus." I kissed her again, hard, to let her know that it didn't matter to me, that I still wanted her and I wasn't angry. But a sudden thought made me break it off. "How in the world can you be out here, with me? Won't everyone be frantic, searching for you. It's already - shit, what time is it?" The clock on the side of the bed read six-thirty.
"Jenna and I are supposed to spend the night at Megan's," she said. "They... they won't tell anyone. But I should call them. We're supposed to spend the whole weekend with Megan. But I could get them to tell Megan's parents something..."
I stared into her beautiful face, studied her big green eyes. Could I really trust her? Could she really protect our time together. It was too incredible to imagine. "We have the room all night," I said.
She suddenly grinned, a mischievous grin and I wondered how I had ever thought she was fourteen. It was so obvious now, despite her perfect breasts. She pushed at my shoulders and I set her down on the floor. "Give me a few minutes" she said, and she dug for her cell phone in the pack.
I just had to trust her, so I headed to the bathroom and gave her some privacy.
We dined out, trying not to giggle or make goo-goo eyes at one another. We didn't touch in public. By the time we were back in the car I couldn't keep my hands off of her. We necked for several minutes in a dark corner of a parking lot. She moaned at the things I did to her perfect breasts. I tried not to get a speeding ticket as we raced back to the motel.
We were barely in the door before I was tearing her clothes off of her again. I was desperate. And this time I didn't try to control my desperation for her. Somehow, knowing that she was only twelve was doing terrible things to me. Thankfully, she seemed just as eager as I felt. We were both naked in seconds.
I grabbed her and she giggled and I carried her to the messy bed. She tried to turn to me, to put her arms around my neck, but I surprised her. I pressed her into the mattress on her her front, then lifted her onto all fours. I wrapped my arms around her and held her in place, trapping her. A touch of fear crested through her body and made me that much more desperate. I cupped her left breast and I slid my other hand between her legs, entering her cunny with one, then two fingers. I stroked her and teased her little clit. She became more and more aroused, flooding her little pussy with fluids. She squeaked when I tweaked her nipple and before she could recover I forced her legs wider.
"Oh! Oh god, oh!" she grunted in surprise as I entered her from behind. I slid my long, thick, eager cock into the tightest cunt I'd ever known. "Ooooh. Ooooh." I rammed into her fast, deep, over and over. I played with her breast and nipple and fingered her tiny, swollen clit. I fucked her like an animal and stimulated her preteen body with everything I could handle. I loved that word - preteen. My preteen lover. My preteen sex goddess. My preteen fuck toy.
The beautiful child was forced into orgasm in no time. Her moans drove me wild. Her shivering and trembling made me crazy. I refused to let up. I wanted her to lose her mind. I wanted to overwhelm her with pleasure.
But most of all I wanted to fuck her perfect, small body for as long as I could. And I did. For twenty minutes I kept her orgasm raging, fucking her from behind and stimulating her with my fingers. Her moans of pleasure got more and more desperate. She was completely out of control, bucking and moaning and writhing when I finally, mercifully, filled her little womb with my seed again.
Exhausted and more than sated, we collapsed together onto the bed, spooning, with my cock slowly deflating up inside her incredibly tight cunny.
Later we woke and made love again. In the morning we showered together, soaping each other, caressing, kissing. Before long she was in my arms and impaled on my cock. I pressed her back into the tile as I thrust hard into her little body for a long, long time.
Let's hear it for motel hot water.
She bit her lip, trying not to cry, when I pulled up at the coffee shop where we'd met. We'd silently agreed that it would be better if I didn't know where her friend Megan lived. I didn't even know her name - and I never asked. She did the same. We both knew that we were impossible.
"I'll miss you, Maybe," I said, and I touched the tear that had appeared on her smooth cheek despite her efforts.
"I'll miss you too, Danger," she whispered.
"Be good," I whispered back. "And be careful with who you flirt with, okay?"
She gave a little gasp and looked into my eyes. Then she slowly ran her fingers through her gorgeous hair and tossed it back over her shoulder. She bit her lip, with a small smile, and slid out of the car.
"And don't let your friends give you any more stupid dares!" I called out as she started to walk away. She paused, but she didn't look back. Then she disappeared into the coffee shop. I could see her friends huge eyes through the window.
Three weeks later I was sitting in my Mustang in the shade of a huge maple, trying to pretend that I wasn't watching the front of Lady Bird Johnson Middle School. I just wanted to see that beautiful face again - that gorgeous, long red hair - that hot little ass. I knew I couldn't contact her. I still didn't know her name. This was the only thing I knew about her - that she was a sixth grader at Johnson Middle School, the only Middle School anywhere near that damn coffee shop.
Children flooded out of the school, excited for the weekend. But she wasn't there. I scanned the crowd, more excited than I should have allowed myself. I couldn't find her. Had something happened to her? Where could she...
The passenger door opened and she slid into the seat, tossing her pack on the floor.
"Hi, Danger," she smiled and batted her long eyelashes. "Want to go someplace?" Then she ran her fingers through her god damn red hair and tossed it over her shoulder, smirking.
Twelve! my hindbrain screamed at me.
I turned the key in the ignition and drove.
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