She lies in bed, letting the early morning sun warm her as it dapples through her window. She is a young girl--only a child. But as she slowly runs her fingers over the soft fabric of her nightgown, she knows she is beginning to change. She sits up and looks at herself in the mirror of her dressing table. She smiles at the vision, then makes a silly face, sticking her tongue out. Then she slips her nightgown off and looks at herself again. Yes, she is beginning to change, isn't she?

She sits up on her knees and slips her panties down and looks in the mirror again. Naked now, she admires her body. Is she pretty? Is she sexy? She plays for a moment with her hair, soft and blond, then runs her fingers over herself, enjoying the electric feeling of the touch. She looks down at herself. Yes, there is no doubt, she is becoming a woman. She's still a young girl, just a child, but soon--

There is, she knows, one thing she needs before she will truly be a woman. She needs a man.

Only when she has a man to touch her, only when he holds her and kisses her and caresses her breasts. Only when he lays her down on his bed. Only then will she be a woman.

She opens for him, like a delicate new blossom spreading her petals for the morning sun. He enters her. She accepts him inside her. He makes love to her, and she to him, using her body to give him pleasure. He finishes inside her.

Only then--only when he has poured himself out, only when she has accepted the issue of his manhood into her, only then will she be a woman.

Her body begins to shudder as she thinks about her man. He stays inside her after he has finished, kissing her; he never wants to leave her. He turns her over, she gets up on her hands and knees, he enters her again.

She can see herself in the mirror now, her bottom up in the air. She feels very dirty, and it is wonderful, liberating. She spreads her legs open further and she can see the pale skin around the opening of her vagina. She reaches between her legs and spreads herself open again, and she can see the pink flesh inside her now. She is very, very wet.

Her lover has sex with her again, from behind her. He is aggressive, overpowering. He fucks her.

She collapses onto the bed, her face and chest against her pillow, her bottom still in the air. Her body begins to shake, her fingers are soaked now. She moans loudly, the sound muffled by her pillow.

He ejaculates into her a second time. She collapses completely onto the bed and just lays there for a moment, breathing hard.

She rises. She stretches, and admires herself in the mirror again. She smiles. She really is sexy, isn't she? She dresses, then goes downstairs for breakfast.

"My, we're in a good mood this morning, aren't we?" her mother says.


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Manrolle As always, beautifully written. This short story asks so many questions, is it real or just in her imagination? But I guess that is by intention, i like that, keeping our minds busy. I would have ended it with her mother asking, "Is your father still asleep?"

Thanks for all your captive stories
Zab Very nicely written.

One critique, you used the word "shutter" (which is a covering for a window) when I think you meant to say "shudder" (which is to tremble)

I enjoyed it.
Thanks for the typo fix, Zab! Much appreciated.

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