The Girl Stories

                      by Tempest

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: The material herein is fictional and is intended as ADULT entertainment. It contains material of an adult, explicit, SEXUAL nature. It contains themes of incest and underage sexual activities. If you are offended by (or it is illegal for you to read) sexually explicit content or language, please DO NOT read any further. All characters in the story are fictitious; any similarity to any persons, places, individuals or situations is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone nor endorse any of the activities described in this story.
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This is my "The Girl Series of Stories." Most of them are less than 4,000 words, but the occasional one may run over and a few are very short, less than 2,000 words. I will add new ones to the top of the index from time to time, and repost.

I hope you will enjoy them, and thanks for reading. Please fill out the comments section at the end, and let me know what you thought of them, as it gives me feedback as to what my readers like and don't like.



Story Index

Click on the title in the list below to jump that story.

NEW The Girl On The Swing

The Girl In The Water

The Girl On The Bicycle

The Girl On The Bus

The Girl On The Train

The Girl On The Train

Mf 13, pedo, exhibitionist, ws (light), oral, con.
Jeff catches a glimpse of a young girl's knickers on the train ride home.
Word Count: 3,542
Date Published: February12 2018

I don't know how long I'd been looking at her—ten seconds, thirty seconds, a minute—I'd lost track of time. I was mesmerized by the sight of the small vee of lime-green in the tunnel formed by her dress and her slim thighs. She was seated opposite me on the train, reading a book. Earlier that day, I had been shopping for clothes in Birmingham; the train had left the dark-blue, glazed brick and smoke-stained steel rafters and roof of New Street station behind. The carriage rattled and lurched as the train trundled over the points, crossing three sets of tracks. I heard the sharp, shrill steam whistle as the train gathered speed with a rhythmic clattering as the wheels of the carriage crossed the small gap between each pair of rails—clackety-clack, clackety-clack, clackety-clack.

I was on my way home to Alvechurch, where I lived alone with my cat Leopold, and was seated in the Second Class carriage. The only other person in my compartment was the young girl whose knickers I was staring at. She was attractive, around eleven or twelve years old I guessed, with long auburn hair tied loosely at the nape of her neck. She had an oval face and pointed chin, with deep-blue eyes, a small nose and full lips. She wore a sleeveless, pale-blue summer dress that buttoned down the front, with white, knee-high socks and black court shoes.

I suddenly realized that she had looked up over her book at me staring up her dress. I felt heat in my cheeks, so I quickly looked out of the window. The lush English countryside rushed by, with its green fields, hedgerows and horse chestnut trees—as a boy, I used to collect their hard, shiny-brown fruit to play conkers with my friends. There were sheep grazing peacefully in a field next to the track, indifferent to the vision and noise of the train as it sped by. I glanced back at the girl and she had a small smile on her lips.

When she went back to reading her book, I stole a look up her dress again and noticed that she had widened her legs. I could now clearly see the crotch of her knickers. Is she coming on to me? What a stupid thought; eleven or twelve-year-old girls don't come on to men twice their age. As she heard the compartment door slide open, she quickly closed her legs.

"Tickets please," the conductor said as he walked into our compartment. I handed him mine; he punched a hole in the return portion and handed it back. He did the same for the girl's ticket. After he had left and closed the door, I looked at the girl again. Her legs were back open and they were now a little wider than before; I could definitely see a small camel toe in the front of her lime-green cotton knickers. She now had a definite smile on her face as she put her book aside. I could feel heat in my face again.

"Why did you get embarrassed looking at my knickers?" She said.

"I … I … I'm s–sorry miss," I replied, somewhat tongue-tied and stuttering slightly.

"You don't have to apologize," she said, still smiling. "I wanted you to look."

Good God, she was coming on to me after all. I sat there not saying anything—not knowing what to say.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Larry, it's Larry, my name's Larry," I blurted. What the hell's wrong with me? I'm acting like some stupid love-struck schoolboy.

"My name's Samantha," she said, "but you can call me Sam; most of my friends do. Where are you headed Larry?"

"Alvechurch," I replied. "I live there."

"You seem like a nice man Larry. You married? A girlfriend, maybe?"

"No, I'm not married and I don't have a girlfriend currently." I was finally starting to put coherent speech together. I wanted to find out more about this girl; I had never had a young girl come on to me before. Women, yes. I was fairly good-looking and was never lacking for a date or a roll under the sheets.

"How old are you Sam?" I asked.

"I'm thirteen," she replied. "How about you?"

"I'm twenty-seven. Do you always flash your knickers at men twice your age?"

"Not always. You're a very attractive man and you don't appear to be a serial rapist or an ax murderer," she replied with a giggle.

I had to chuckle. "So what does an Axe murderer look like?"

"Oh, I don't know. Probably wears a hockey mask and carries an Axe."

This girl's funny, I thought. "I think you've been watching too many horror movies," I suggested.

"Yeah, Mom says I have 'a fertile mind' is how she puts it."

"Okay, we've established I'm not an ax murderer—well, I could be; I could have left my ski mask and Axe at home today."

She giggled again. For some reason I found her giggles to be very sexy.

"You're very funny Larry, and I like you."

"So, how do you know I'm not a serial rapist preying on vulnerable young girls who flash their knickers at me?"

"I've never met a serial rapist, but I think I could spot one if I did."

Warming to this repartée, I asked, "So, tell me, what else does your 'fertile mind' come up with?"

"Lots of things. Like, what would it feel like to be a man? I know my older brother wanks, I've seen him do it, so I wondered what it would be like to have a cock and wank."

"Interesting, I've never tried to imagine what it would feel like to be a woman. I guess you get a thrill from showing men your knickers. I could get the same kind of thrill from, say, flashing my cock at a girl."

"Is that what you want to do, pull your cock out of your trousers and flash me?"

"If we were somewhere more private I would." My cock was now fully erect and was straining at my trousers. I'm sure she could see the telltale bulge.

"But it wouldn't be as exciting as doing it here, would it? Knowing someone could look into this compartment as they passed by in the corridor," she said.

"I guess you're right," I replied.

Sam got up and slid open the compartment door; she looked left and right, then closed the door and quickly sat back down.

"Coast's clear, Larry," she said, "you'd better be quick."

God, she was right, this was exciting—I'd never done anything like this before. But, there again, I'd never had such a conversation before; a conversation rife with sexual overtones. I quickly unzipped my trousers, fished inside my briefs and pulled out my erect cock. Her eyes got wide as she stared at it. I quickly put it away and zipped back up.

"Was that exciting, or what?" She said.

"As a matter of fact it was," I replied, flushed with excitement and slight embarrassment.

"You've got a nice cock Larry."

"Well, how many have you seen?"

"Oh, about six or seven, but that doesn't include my older brother; his is a lot smaller than those were."

I gasped. "Six or seven! How did you manage to see that many at such a young age?"

"On a train or bus and sometimes in the park."

She lifted her dress and pulled the gusset of her knickers to one side, exposing the lips of her plump vulva. She had just a smattering of auburn hair.

I gasped.

"Like this," she said. She covered her pussy and pulled her dress back down. "Most men don't do anything; they just stare at my pussy. Some pulled their cocks out like you just did."

"Weren't you worried they would attack you?"

"Not really. If they tried to, and one man did, I would just grab the emergency cable up there," she said, nodding in the direction of an aluminium cup, with a steel cable running through it, set into the compartment wall above the outside window. "I didn't even have to pull it. Just my hand around the cable sent him running out the door."

"I must say Sam, you are the most interesting young girl I've ever met."

I felt the train start to slow. Looking out of the window, I saw a sign that said Barnt Green; I was one stop away from my station. The train stopped and I could hear the outside wooden doors open and close. Five minutes later, I heard the whistle of the stationmaster and the train jerked forward, stopped, jerked forward again and started to move. The compartment door slid opened, and an older couple came in and sat next to Sam. Ten minutes later, the train started to slow again. As it came to a stop in the station. Sam picked up her book and a bag I hadn't noticed earlier and rose.

"Come on Daddy," she said. "This is our stop."

I didn't say anything; I just picked up the bag of clothes I had purchased that morning and followed her off the train. She held my hand as we walked up Tanyard lane. I took a left turn into Brookside Close.

"Tell me, Sam, is this the first time you've gone home with a man?"

"No, you're the second—man, that is. I've had sex with a couple of boys from my school."

"So you're not a virgin then?"

"I'm not."

I unlocked the front door to my unimposing semi-detached house. All the houses on this street were built by the same builder—Wimpey homes. They were what's known as cookie-cutter homes: identical except for a few varied features. Some had an enclosed porch; some had different coloured front doors or a different brick.

I closed the door behind us. I still found it difficult to believe that a thirteen-year-old girl has had sex with a man and I don't know how many boys.

"Where's your loo? I gotta pee," she said.

I led Sam upstairs to the only bathroom and stood and watched as she kicked off her shoes, hoisted her dress above her waist and pulled down those lime-green knickers I had been admiring for the last half-hour. A strong stream of clear urine gushed out of her tight slit, splashing into the bowl. When she was finished, she grabbed a wad of toilet paper and dried herself. She got up and pulled her knickers back up. After flushing, she washed her hands and asked where my bedroom was. I walked into my bedroom where I started to get undressed; I kicked my shoes off first.

"No, let me," she said.

Sam stood in front of me, pulled my shirt out of my trousers and slowly unbuttoned it. She pulled it off and dropped it on a chair. My undershirt followed close behind. Next, she dropped to her knees and unbuckled my belt and pulled the zipper of my trousers down. I helped her take them off. My erection was poking at the front of my blue cotton briefs. As she pulled them down, my cock sprang out and almost hit her on the chin. She took it in her hand and examined it.

"Yes, most definitely a very nice cock," she said. "I've never seen one with a curve to it though. You want to undress me now?"

She stood back up and I undid each button of her dress in turn. When I got to the last one at the waist, she lifted her arms and I pulled the dress over her head. It joined my clothes. She had on a plain, white cotton, un-lined bra. I reached behind and unhooked the fastener. She let it fall off her arms; I caught it and hung it over the back of the chair.

Kneeling in front of her, I admired her breasts, two swells the size of half-lemons with slightly puffy areolas and small pink nipples. I kissed each one in turn.

"You've got gorgeous breasts Sam," I offered. I still couldn't get over the fact that a thirteen-year-old girl was semi-naked in my bedroom.

"Thanks, Larry, although I wish they would get bigger. I've been stuck in a 32A bra for what seems like forever."

"I like small breasts; they'll never sag and will always look perky like they are now."

I hooked my fingers inside the elasticized waistband of her bikini-cut, lime-green cotton knickers and tugged them over her hips, letting them fall to the floor. I couldn't help but gasp as I saw her vulva up close with its broad vee-shaped pad rising up between her bony hips. I thought that the little creases where her plump labia met her thighs was very sexy, as was her slit that was tightly closed, though the small ridge of her clitoral sheath showed.

"Let's get on the bed," I said.

Sam lay on her back with her legs open wide, offering her pussy to me. Her slit opened up to reveal a longish clitoral sheath with her little pink nubbin at the top and the dark opening to her vagina at the bottom. I could see clear liquid seeping out of her vagina. Lapping at it, I could taste her sweetness with a little tartness from where she had wiped herself after urinating. I liked the taste of her pussy.

I couldn't stay away from her clit any longer. I sucked it between my lips and swirled my tongue around it, causing her to catch her breath.

"You sure know how to please a girl, don't you Larry?"

"Mmm," I murmured as I continued to suck and lick her clit. I put both hands on her petite breasts and squeezed gently. Then I got a little rougher and pinched her nipples and pulled them.

"God yes," she cried. "You can do that all day long."

As I worked on her clit and breasts, I could feel her bum jerk and small spasms causing her legs to twitch; her orgasm was near. A few minutes later, it came crashing in.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god," she cried. I wondered if my neighbour Tom, who worked a night shift, could hear her. She wasn't exactly screaming but, God was she loud. I think she realized the noise she was making and pulled a pillow over her face to muffle her cries. She grabbed fistfuls of my hair, pulling my face into her now very wet pussy. Her bum came off the bed and she started bucking my mouth. This went on for a good minute. I had never fucked a woman who was as vocal as Sam as she orgasmed.

Finally, she relaxed as her orgasm waned. Small jerks of her bum or legs came and went like aftershocks. She pulled the pillow off her face and looked down at me. My face was wet with her juices.

"Oh, sorry," she said, "should have told you I get quite wet."

"That's okay," I said, "I kinda liked it."

"That was the most intense orgasm I've ever had."

"You mean the other fellas you had sex with didn't do what I just did?"

"Nah, all they wanted to do was fuck me. That one older chap was so worked up from seeing my pussy on the train, he shot his load into his Durex on the third stroke."

Damn! Condoms. I hadn't thought about getting condoms as I'd used the last ones just before my last girlfriend and I broke up.

"I'm sorry Sam, but I don't have any condoms."

"That's okay," she replied. "I just had my period so I'm safe."

"So you don't mind me cumming inside you?"

"Bloody heck no! I've only ever had unprotected sex once. It was with an older boy, and I loved the feeling of his stuff spurting inside me."


"C'mon, my turn to make you happy," she said, patting the mattress. I crawled up the bed and lay beside her. She leaned over me and started licking her juices off my lips, my chin and my cheeks. It was an extremely erotic experience. She lifted my cock off my stomach and lowered her mouth over its bulbous head.

"Mmmm, I love your cock Larry," she said in between sucking the end and licking the shaft from its root to its tip. She was very good. In fact, for a thirteen-year-old, she was incredible. She was giving me better head than Lisa, a thirty-nine-year-old woman I had fucked, and I thought she gave good head.

"I want you inside me," she said urgently.

For a thirteen-year-old girl, I was amazed at her sexual appetite. I obliged and got between her legs. She bent her knees and pulled her legs up beside her chest, causing her vulva to flower open for me. I grasped my cock and swiped its engorged head up and down her wet cleft, letting it rest on her pronounced perineum. She wasted no time; she took my shaft between her finger and thumb and pulled the head inside her. She was tight alright, but well lubricated, and as I pushed she took the whole of my average six inches inside her.

She moaned. "Oh gawd, that feels so good Larry. I love how the head of your cock slides against the front of my pussy. Having a nice curve to it really gives me a lot of pleasure, rubbing against my g-spot."

What the heck do thirteen-year-old girls know about g-spots? I thought. I was rapidly finding out that Sam was not your average thirteen-year-old. She draped her long, slim legs over my shoulders, letting me slide in deeper, bumping her cervix. That caused a loud gasp to escape her lips.

"God, I've never felt that before. What was it Larry?"

She must have been fucking boys with short dicks if none of them had ever bumped her end, I surmised.

"That's your cervix, the entrance to your womb," I told her.

"I love it; it feels so bloody good."

I started thrusting gently in and out of her very wet but tight pussy. It was like I was being jacked by a wet silk glove. The fact that I was fucking a thirteen-year-old girl who had just given me an incredible blow job, albeit not to conclusion, had aroused me so much that I was close to my climax.

"Almost there sweetheart," I murmured as I felt my scrotum tighten and pull my testicles up against my body. She was squeezing my forearms; my hands were on the mattress, supporting my weight. As my cock swelled and pulsed, I stopped thrusting. The first rope of cum spurted so hard it hurt. Then the second and third spurts flooded her pussy. The fourth took her over the top and she came hard again. I felt her hands tighten on my arms and her body shudder as she orgasmed.

I was done long before her orgasm was over. I lay on top of her, supporting my weight with my forearms, my head next to hers, feeling the hot puffs of her breath on my shoulder. Damn! I could fall for this girl big time.

With her orgasm finally over, I lifted up. She opened her eyes and smiled at me.

"Now that was good," she said. "I've never had two orgasms back-to-back before. I might just keep you around."

I chuckled. Then I saw she wasn't joking.

"I know, I know," she said. "It would never work would it?"

I just shook my head.

She sighed heavily. "What time is it?" she asked.

I looked at my old Timex wristwatch; it used to be my late father's. "It's four thirty-five," I told her.

"Got to go Larry," she said, with resignation in her voice.

I started to get up. "No, stay here for a bit," she said. "I can walk by myself to the station. I'll take the five o'clock to Redditch."

"Can I see you again?" I asked. It was more of a plea than a question.

"I don't know," she replied. "If Dad found out, he would beat me again."

I blinked. "Your father beats you?"

"Yes. I think it's because I won't let him do stuff with me."

"Your father wants to have sex with you?"

She didn't reply. Instead, I lay quietly watching her get dressed.

When she had finished dressing, and before I could say anything else, she kissed me on my lips and was gone. By the time I had gotten dressed and down to the station, the train had just pulled out. I watched it disappear leaving behind a trail of white steam and gray smoke.

I rode the same train for the next two weeks, but I never saw Sam again. Even though I only knew her for a few precious hours, she'd left a big hole in my life.

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The Girl On The Bus

Mf 13, pedo, exhibitionism, petting, con.
Katy meets a teacher on her daily bus ride to school.
Word Count: 3,547
Date Published: February12 2018

Kathleen Perry, Katy to her parents and friends, was riding the number sixteen Midland Red bus from the town of Redditch to Alcester–some ten miles away. She made this trip at seven-thirty every weekday morning to attend the Saint Mary's Catholic school for girls. As usual, she dressed in the school uniform comprising a dark-red, woolen blazer with the school crest sewn on the left breast, a white, long-sleeved blouse with a dark-red tie with silver diagonal stripes.

The dark-gray, pleated skirt that came to just above her knees, white ankle socks and black court shoes completed the outfit. The leather satchel over her left shoulder carried her exercise book and a pencil pouch. Sat opposite, was a man that she thought to be in his early thirties. He was very good-looking, clean shaven, and, as he smiled at her with his deep-blue eyes, she started to get a nice tingly feeling in her pussy.

He wore a brown tweed jacket with dark brown patches at the elbows, tan coloured shirt with an ugly brown tie and dark-brown trousers with argyle socks and brogues. Katy thought he might be a teacher, as there was an old, beat-up, brown leather briefcase on the seat beside him.

At almost fourteen years old, Katy was a beautiful girl with ash-blonde hair drawn tightly back off her head into a pigtail. She had pale-green eyes, a smallish nose, and full red lips. At five foot six, she was tall for her age and played guard on her school's netball team. She wished her breasts would grow some more, as most of her school classmates' were bigger; as it was, she wore a 32A bra.

She had not seen this man before, even though she had ridden this same bus at the same time every school day for the last three years. Katy was enjoying the attention he was giving her; in fact these last two years, she had noticed a lot more men had been looking at her, giving her more attention than before. Her friend Rachael had said it was because she now had breasts. Some of the men were good-looking whose attention she welcomed, and others grossed her out by the way they leered at her. The man sat opposite was most definitely one of the former.

Katy decided to have a little fun with him. Rachael had come up with the idea to part her legs a little and give whoever was watching a view of her knickers. As it was a school day and she was required to wear dark-blue, gray, or white knickers, today she had on a pair of white knickers. While he looked away, she parted her legs a little, and, as her skirt had ridden up to mid-thigh, she was sure he was getting a good eyeful.

She watched his face, and as he turned back and looked at her, his eyes widened some, and his lips parted. He was most certainly looking up her skirt as his gaze was low. Katy's pussy was tingling like crazy as were her small breasts. He picked up his briefcase and laid it in his lap to hide his growing erection.


Ken Barlow, an English teacher at Studley High School, could hardly believe his eyes as the beautiful girl opposite to him was showing him her knickers. He taught fourteen, fifteen and sixteen-year-olds, so he knew all about their flirting with older men–mainly him; the flirting was sometimes so blatant it embarrassed him. It was their way of asserting their sexuality, knowing the effect their developing bodies were having on men.

Of course, he was enjoying their attention, pleased that they found him attractive. But there was no way he was going to respond to their flirting as it would mean his job if he did. This girl, however, was not one of his pupils, so that made her, in his eyes, fair game. He had to find out her name and how old she was; although that last statistic was of little consequence because whether she was thirteen, fourteen or fifteen–she was still underage.

The bus pulled to a stop in Studley High Street, and the man stood up and hurriedly got off. Katy pulled her skirt down and closed her legs just before an elderly woman sat opposite. Ten minutes later, the bus pulled to a stop in the center of Alcester on Stratford Road. Katy got off and walked the quarter mile to her school.

After school let out, Katy walked to the bus stop on Stratford Road and waited in the bus shelter. Five minutes later, the number twenty-six bus pulled to a halt. She got on and took her usual seat. Twelve minutes later, the bus stopped in Studley High Street. Katy saw Schoolteacher, as she had dubbed him, get on and sat opposite her. He held his briefcase protectively in his lap and waited.

Katy didn't disappoint him. She parted her legs, giving him a good look at the white vee of her knickers. She could feel herself getting wet again. The conductor came by so she quickly closed her legs. She showed him her bus pass as did Schoolteacher.

She kept looking at him the whole way from Studley to the bus depot next to the small Select theatre in Redditch's town centre a trip that was only five miles, but with all the stops it took fifteen minutes. He would look up her skirt for a few moments then stare aimlessly out of the windows. Then back to her knickers. She noticed that he squirmed a little in his seat. She knew what he was doing; he was trying to give his erection some relief from his underwear.

Boarding the bus in Alcester to return home the next day, Katy saw that the facing seats had already been taken, so she sat in a regular seat facing forward. She placed her satchel on the seat beside her to deter anyone from sitting there. Ken Barlow got on board at the Studley High Street bus stop, showed his pass to the conductor and walked to where Katy was seated. Katy removed her satchel as he approached her seat. He took the hint and sat beside her, placing his briefcases on the floor between his feet.

He offered Katy his hand. "My name's Ken," he said, "Ken Barlow."

Katy shook his hand. "I'm Katy," she said.

"I see that you go to Saint Mary's."

"That's right," she replied.

"I teach English at Studley High," he told her.

As the bus pulled away from its stop, and with no one sitting in the seat opposite, Katy surreptitiously hiked her pleated skirt. She then took Ken's hand and placed it on her bare thigh. He could feel the heat of her arousal. Ever so slowly, he inched his hand higher up her thigh. He heard a small gasp escape her lips as his fingers touched the cotton crotch of her knickers. Katy opened her legs to give him freer access. She could hardly believe that she was doing this with a grown man on a public bus.

He explored her pussy through her knickers, feeling its radiant heat. As his hand slipped deeper between her thighs, he felt a wet spot. She quietly moaned as he rubbed her clit through the thin cotton. Ken jumped a little as he felt Katy's hand tentatively touch his erection inside his trousers. She got a little bolder and started to rub his shaft. Now it was his turn to moan quietly as she stroked his cock.

Their mutual pleasuring came to an altogether too quick an end, as the bus came to a halt in Redditch town centre. Katy straightened her skirt and blushed as he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"That was fun," he whispered. He picked up his briefcase, stood up and got off the bus.

She followed and stood next to the bus and watched as he hurriedly crossed over to Church Green East; he disappeared as he turned the corner onto Peakman Street. Katy walked down Alcester Street to met up with her friend Rachael at a small cafe; she was eager to tell her all about her new 'friend.'

"His name's Ken Barlow," Katy told Rachael. They were sat at a table by the window sipping straws from their bottles of Vimto.

"Like the teacher on Coronation Street?" Rachael asked.

"Yeah, and just as good-looking," Katy replied. "He's an English teacher at Studley High."

"What are you going to do Katy?"

"I dunno. Ken makes my pussy all tingly and wet. I think I might let him fuck me."

"Katy! That's not like you at all. Flashing your knickers at men is one thing, but letting one fuck you is another thing altogether."

"I know Rachael, but I'm tired of being a nice respectable Catholic girl. I wanna have fun; I wanna get a little wild like Sara Kaplan."

"Sara Kaplan's a slut, Katy. You sure you want to be like her?"

"She's only called a slut because she gives blowjobs to the boys. And you know how boys like to brag. I'm not going to let some boy fuck me then tell all his friends. I know Ken won't breathe a word as he would be in big trouble if anyone found out."

"I guess you have a point. But make sure he wears a rubber, you don't want to get pregnant."

The next morning, a Saturday, Katy was walking on Church Green West and was just passing Woolworths when Ken Barlow came out of the shop and ran into her. He dropped his bag of hardware and managed to grab her before she fell.

"Oh I'm so sorry," he said. Then he noticed who it was he had almost knocked over. "You're Katy–the girl on the bus."

She looked at his face. "And you're Ken Barlow," she said nervously, a slight blush on her cheeks.

He offered her his hand. "Nice to meet you again Katy," he said as she shook his hand.

They stood there in awkward silence as shoppers moved around them like river water flowing around a rock. Katy bent down and picked up the plain light-brown paper bag; she handed it to him.

"What brings you into town Katy?"

"I was going to the market to pick up some fresh veggies for Mom."

"How old are you Katy?"

"I'm almost fourteen," she replied. A couple of giggling boys almost plowed into them.

"Can I walk with you for a while?" Ken asked.


"Where do you live Ken?"

"Down Easemore Road, it's only a fifteen-minute walk."

"Why have I just started seeing you on the bus?"

"I just moved here. Got a job teaching at Studley High."

"Oh, yes, I remember you telling me that." They walked through the open-air market. "Did you like looking at my knickers and touching my pussy on the bus?"

"Yes I did, and thanks for letting me do it; it was so exciting doing it in public."

"I'm not wearing my school knickers today," Katy said."

"Oh, and what are you wearing?"

"A pair of lacy knickers; you wanna see 'em?"

Ken was trembling slightly at the thought of seeing Katy naked in just a pair of knickers.

"We could go back to my house if you like," he offered.

She thought about it for a few moments.

"You don't have to," he suggested, sensing her hesitation.

"No, it's okay, let's go," she replied.

Ten minutes later, Ken unlocked the front door to his part stucco, part brick semi-detached house. Once inside, as he turned around from closing the door, Katy put her hands behind his neck and pulled his head down to hers and kissed him on his lips. He quickly put his arms around her and pulled her body to his. Their mouths opened, heads tilted as they French kissed.

"You sure about this?" He asked.

"Very sure," she replied. But the nervousness in her voice betrayed her.

"Are you a virgin Katy? Is this the first time you've done anything like this?

"Yes," she replied.

"Once we do this, there's no going back; I hope you know that."

"Yes. I'm tired of being the little miss goody-two-shoes."

He took her hand and let her upstairs to his bedroom, where he proceeded to get undressed. She stood there like a statue as she watched him remove his shirt. He had a very toned body, and as he removed his trousers, she saw the bulge in his briefs. When they too came off, she gasped as she saw his erection standing straight up against his stomach.

She felt herself leaking into her knickers.

Ken noticed she was still dressed. "You want me to undress you?" He asked.

She just nodded. He walked over to where she was stood by the bedroom door and proceeded to unbutton her blue blouse. As the last button was undone, he pulled the blouse out of her pants and slipped it over her shoulders, letting it fall off her arms. She was wearing a white, lacy bra with a little padding. She kicked her shoes off as he unzipped her fashionable bell-bottom pants. She helped him remove them.

Now she stood there in her bra and knickers. She crossed her arms over her breasts.

"Wow!" He said. "You weren't kidding. You do have lacy knickers. I love them as well as your bra. But I still think seeing your school knickers on the bus was a bigger turn on for me."

"I know," she replied. "I saw you hide your erection with your briefcase."

"Do you know how sexy you are?"

She shook her head.

"Just look at you Katy, you're hiding your best asset–your breasts."

"But they're so small," she replied.

He moved her arms away and reached behind and unhooked her bra. She let it fall off her arms; it joined the rest of her clothes on the bedroom floor.

"You have perfect breasts," he said. "Petite and perky."

"But petite is just another word for small," she replied.

He dropped to his knees. "I've seen a lot of women's breasts. Big ones, small ones and none come close to being as perfect as yours."

He kissed each of her nipples, feeling them get bigger and harder. Taking each breast into his mouth in turn, he swirled his tongue around her areolas and sucked her now quite hard nipples. Ken could feel Katy tremble as he eased her lacy knickers down over her slim hips and let them fall to the floor. He looked down at the crotch, noting the wetness. He marveled at her vulva with its broad vee-shaped pad and a small, thin bush of ash-blonde that stopped at the top of her slit leaving her plump lips bare.

As Ken bent and planted a delicate kiss on the thin ruffle of her clitoral cowl, she moaned and ran her fingers through his tousled mop. He stood, scooped her up and carried her to his bed where he lay beside her with his arm around her. She nestled her head into his shoulder and played with the small patch of hair between his nipples. Her excitement was palpable as she lay naked with her leg over his and moved her hand down to touch his hardness–tentative at first–then bolder, as she wrapped her fingers around it.

Now it was his time to moan as he saw and felt the hand of a thirteen-year-old girl wrapped around the shaft of his cock, her finger and thumb just touching. He inhaled the smell of rosehip shampoo in her hair and the unmistakable odor of her sex. As she slowly rubbed his cock, he caressed her breast. Yes, petite indeed but firm with puffed areolas that he loved so much. His hand left her breast, and he trailed his fingers across her flat stomach causing her whole body to tingle.

As his hand touched the small, sparse pubic bush, she opened her legs, offering herself to him. Katy gasped as his hand cupped her pussy, feeling the heat of her arousal. She gasped again, louder this time, as his finger pressed into her tight slit, parting her plump, engorged labia. The inside of her cleft was very wet; he dipped lower, touching the opening to her vagina.

"Oh God," she cried, as he penetrated her up to the second knuckle of his middle finger.

She was tight; he could feel her pussy clenching his digit. He had never had sex with a virgin before, so this was going to be a new experience for the both of them. He shuffled down the bed and got between her legs; he started to lick from her wet vagina all the way up her open cleft to her clit where he stopped and flicked it with his tongue.

Katy was so aroused being naked with a man; having her clit licked and his ministrations to her pussy, that it brought her to a quick climax. She was moaning and shaking as her orgasm engulfed her. She grabbed fistfuls of bed sheet and squeezed hard. Ken was still sucking and licking her clit, and it was just too much sensory overload. She grabbed his head and pulled him up on top of her, where he lay, feeling her body tremble. After a few minutes, she had finally calmed down.

"Wow!" She said. That was the best orgasm I've ever had."

"I'd like to give you more," he said. "How about one with my cock inside you. Women always tell me that their orgasms are more intense that way."

"More intense! I think I might die if it's better than that one."

Ken sat on his haunches and pulled her legs closer, then draped them over his thighs. She looked down at the large head of his cock lying in the small bush of her pubes. It seemed way too big to fit inside her. She had been masturbating with the handle of her hairbrush, but the girth of his cock looked to be twice as big.

She watched as he opened a foil packet of Durex and rolled it on his cock. He grasped his shaft and swiped its head up and down her wet slit. As he positioned it against the opening, she put her hand on it.

"Let me," she said.

He let go of his cock, and she started rubbing its head in circles around her vagina, pressing in at the same time, testing to see how much he was going to stretch her. Slowly, she was pushing his cockhead into her, stretching her vagina more than it had ever stretched before. Then, as a wince escaped her lips, the head popped inside.

"Wow!" She said. "I thought it would hurt more than that."

Ken took over and started to fuck her gently with slow inward strokes and slightly quicker outward ones. She put her long slim legs around his waist and her hands on his forearms that supported his weight.

"It's okay Ken," she said; you can do it a little harder."

He started to push into her a little harder, bumping her end, causing little "ughs" to escape her lips. Katy could feel another orgasm rising up, spreading a warm tingly feeling in her pussy. Her small breasts felt full and turgid, and her nipples tingled. Ken was fucking her harder now; the sound of his ball sack slapping Katy's buttocks filled the room along with the squishing of his cock sliding in and out of her wet pussy.

"Oh God Ken, oh God, oh God," she cried as an incredibly intense orgasm crashed into her. Her tight grip on his forearms turned her knuckles white, and her whole body shook as if she was having an epileptic fit. Ken kept fucking her as his orgasm was near. He felt his cock swell and pulse as he filled the end of the condom with his spunk. Spent, he collapsed on top of her.

Finally, Katy's orgasm faded, only little jerks of her leg remained like aftershocks until they too disappeared. She lay there panting; sweat was trapped between their two bodies. He pulled out of her and rolled to her side. Soon, their sweat evaporated cooling their bodies. She leaned over and kissed him on his lips.

"Thanks Ken," she murmured, "that was fantastic. You were right; my orgasm was more intense with your cock in my pussy. Even though I was orgasming, I still felt your cock swell as you came."

"God, you're so tight. I've never had sex with anyone whose pussy was so tight."

"That's because you've not had sex with a virgin before–right?"

"Yeah, you're right on that fact. You know, girls your age seem to come on to me. My students do, but I was scared to do anything; then I met you. I hope this isn't the last time we have sex."

"Bloody heck no!" She replied. "Will you show me how to give you a blowjob."

"I'd love to," he replied. How about next Saturday?"

"Fabulous Katy replied."

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The Girl On The Bicycle

Mf 16, pedo, oral, con.
A girl on a bicycle crashes trying to avoid Chris. He tends to her wounded knee and one thing leads to another.
Word Count: 3,584
Date Published: March 24 2018

It was an unusually warm and dry day in early April–well for England it was. April in England is wet and cold most of the time. I guess the old adage March winds and April showers bring forth May flowers, didn't apply to this Saturday. I was taking my daily stroll along the river Arrow, enjoying the sound of water running over rocks in the shallower sections, and the tranquility of the deeper pools.

This one straight section had a sandy beach on my side of the river and a steep bank on the other. As kids, we used to come here to swim, and we called it the clay banks, as the steep bank was made of red clay and we would make a slide down one sloped section.

Further on, I came to a bridge spanning the river. It had only been added some years ago. Before that, we boys had our own way of crossing the river without getting wet. During an unusually wet and windy winter, a large elm tree had blown down across the river providing a way for the more daring of us to cross. The girls would venture out a few feet before chickening out and turning back.

After crossing the bridge, I saw a young girl riding a bicycle along the gravel path toward me. She was around fourteen or fifteen, I guessed, with long dirty-blonde hair that was tied in a pony tail; it swished from side to side as she pedalled. She wore a sky-blue, lightweight, long-sleeved sweater, a plain dark-blue skirt, ankle socks and a pair of blue Converse high-top trainers.

She was moving at a good clip, and as she got nearer, I stepped to one side to let her pass. Unfortunately, she had already committed to that side of the path, and at the very last minute, and to avoid colliding with me, she tried to go in the opposite direction. The swerve caused the handlebars to cross up, and she was thrown over the top.

She screamed as she landed hard on the gravel path. She lay there crying and holding her bloodied knee. I knelt beside her.

"That was a nasty fall you took," I said, "better let me look at your knee." Her skirt was up around her waist, and her white knickers were covered with dirt.

"Can you stand?" I asked. I helped her up, but she couldn't walk.

"You live far?"

"I live in Hewell Road," she replied.

Hewell Road was on the other side of town–a good thirty-minute walk, and she was in no shape to walk a few yards let alone three miles.

"Listen, I live just a little ways away, and there's no way you can walk home, so why don't I take you to my house and get you cleaned up then I'll drive you home."

"I guess it's okay," she replied.

I straightened her handlebars, but the front wheel was bent.

"What's your name sweetheart?"

"It's Jenny," she replied.

"Okay Jenny, why don't you get back on your bike and I'll push you to my place."

I helped her climb onto the saddle and walked alongside her with one hand on the back of the seat and the other on the handlebars, pushing her; the bent front wheel wobbled.

"What's your name sir?" she asked.

"It's Chris. How old are you Jenny?"

"I'm sixteen. I leave school in a few months."

"Ah, sweet sixteen and never been kissed."

"I've been kissed lots of times," she protested.

"By lots of boys no doubt."

"Yes, so what?" She said a little indignantly.

"Boys don't know how to kiss a girl," I countered.

"How do you know?" She said, a little haughtily.

"Well I was a boy once, and I remember my pathetic attempts at kissing girls."

"Hmm," was all she said.

We arrived at my house; it was a flat. The building in which it was located, dated back to the eighteen hundreds, and had once been a factory of sorts, with machinery driven by leather belts around pulleys in the ceiling, their shafts turned by the water wheel fed from the millpond. I remember playing here when I was a young boy. We used to call it the Haunted Mill. It was a dangerous place with broken floorboards and a leaking roof. Pigeons had taken up residence in the rafters and would swoop down whenever we came in, angrily flapping their wings at our intrusion into their roost.

Some enterprising developer had purchased the old building and renovated it, creating one and two-bedroom flats. The one-bedroom unit I lived in, was on the second floor and was quite spacious with high ceilings. It had a large living room with floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the millpond with its family of swans. There was a sizable kitchen-dining room combination and a bedroom with an en-suite. Each flat had a double garage in a separate building.

I parked her bike in the building's entrance hall and helped her upstairs to my flat. She half walked–half limped, wincing as she put her weight on the leg with the bloodied knee.

"Let's get you to my bathroom and see about cleaning up your knee."

Jenny sat on the edge of the tub as I took a damp washcloth and gently washed her knee.

"Ouch, ouch," she cried as I dabbed the wound.

"Sorry Jenny," I said. "I know it's going to hurt a little, but I have to get it clean and get these bits of gravel out of the wound."

She pulled her skirt all the way up to her waist, and as I saw the small camel toe in her white knickers, my erection made itself known. I'm reasonably sure she saw me stealing glances at her crotch, as the corners of her mouth up-ticked in a smile. She seemed to be enjoying getting me aroused.

I got the wound pretty well cleaned up, so I washed her legs and dried them off. I then got a bandage and some gauze out of the medicine cupboard, and, after putting some Germolene on the scrape, I added the gauze and wrapped the elasticated bandage around her knee, fastening it with a clip.

"I think I need to wash your skirt and underpants before I take you home," I suggested. "Why don't you take them off and wrap a bath towel around your waist."

I stood up, but before I could turn to leave, she lifted her bum off the tub and tugged her knickers down and handed them to me with a small smile on her face. I looked from her plump vulva, with its smattering of blonde hair on her mons, to her face, and noticed for the first time that she had the most beautiful dark-green eyes with flecks of gold. Truly stunning.

There was no easy way to hide the bulge in my trousers without drawing more attention to it. So, before she could shed her skirt, I beat a hasty retreat to a fit of giggles. A few minutes later she came into the living room with a bath towel around her waist. As she handed me her skirt, she had a smile on her face. She was enjoying my discomfort.

After putting her skirt and knickers in the front loading washing machine, adding a soap sachet, I turned it on. I went back to the living room where she was standing looking out of the window at the swans on their nest in the reeds. The sunlight was shining through her hair, making it look much lighter.

"You have a very nice flat, Chris," she said.

"Thank you," I replied. "I love it here as it's so tranquil."

"You must be rich to own this. Dad said they sold for a pretty penny."

"I must admit, it wasn't cheap but worth every penny."

She turned. I caught my breath as I looked at her. She was indeed a very beautiful young woman. I noticed she gave a quick glance at the now smaller bulge in my trousers.

"Where do you work Chris?" She asked.

"I have my own company. We make all kinds of springs."

"You seem awfully young to own your own company. How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-three. It was my father's company before he passed away two years ago. I used to work there in the school holidays, which is why I know all aspects of the business."

"Is it called Lewis Springs?" She asked.

"Yes, why?"

"Dad works there."

"Oh he does, what's his name?"

"David Wilson. You know him?"

"Jenny, I make it a point of knowing all my employees. And yes, I know David. He's my heat-treatment shop foreman. He's a good man–a hard worker."

"I can't believe I'm stood half naked in the flat of my Dad's employer. He'd have a fit if he knew."

"You're not half naked Jenny, and . . . "

Before I could finish the sentence, she undid the fold of the bath towel at her waist and let it drop to the floor.

I gasped. "Good God Jenny. You can't be doing that. You'll get me into trouble."

"Only if anyone finds out," she said calmly, as if standing half-naked in a man's flat was an everyday occurrence. "And I won't tell."

"You're making me uncomfortable Jenny. I don't normally have women as young as you standing half naked in my living room."

"But do you like what you see?"

"No . . . I mean yes . . . I mean no. Darn it, Jenny! You're absolutely beautiful. I've dated lots of women, but you are by far the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on."

"I am!" She said. It seemed a genuine response.

She limped over, got on tiptoe and put her arms around my neck, pressing her breasts against my chest. I knew she could feel my erection.

"So, boys don't know how to kiss huh?" She murmured.

"No, they don't," I replied. Her lips were inches from mine; I could feel her hot breath on my face.

"So, show me what a real kiss should be like."

As our lips touched, it was if a bolt of electricity had surged through our bodies. I could tell that she felt it too.

"Wow!" She said. "I've never felt that before."

"Me neither," I replied, still shocked at the feeling.

I kissed her again, this time my tongue probed her soft lips. She opened her mouth, admitting my tongue; it soon found hers. Our heads tilted and we French kissed for the longest time. I was sure it was the first time she had done it.

She eventually broke away. "You're right," she said, panting hard, "boys don't know how to kiss. That was amazing."

She looked at me with those amazing deep-blue eyes with flecks of gold. Then she did something that surprised me. She put her hand between our bodies and felt my erection inside my trousers. Jenny's action even surprised herself.

"I'm not a virgin," she said. "Will you make love to me? I want to see what it's like to have sex with a real man. I lost my virginity in the back seat of a chap's car, and it wasn't what I was expecting. He couldn't kiss either."

I didn't know if what I was about to do was illegal, as I didn't know what the age of consent was. But I couldn't resist her. She aroused me as no other woman had, and it wasn't because she was so so young. It was something else. The French have a word for it–je ne sais quoi–that little something that eludes description. I scooped her up in my arms and carried her to my bedroom where I laid her on my bed.

She crossed her arms, grabbed the bottom of her sweater and pulled it over her head and dropped it on the floor. She wore a plain white bra with lacy cups that pushed up the twin swells of her good size breasts. She quickly unhooked it and dropped it on her sweater. I couldn't help but stare at her breasts. They were the size of half-oranges with largish darker-pink areolas and red nipples.

"Good lord, your breasts are gorgeous Jenny," I said.

She watched as pulled my shirt out of my trousers, unbuttoned it and dropped it on the floor. My undershirt came off next followed by my shoes and socks; my trousers and briefs came off last. I could see her staring at my erect cock that stood straight up against my stomach.

"You've got a nice body," she said.

"Thanks Jenny, I work out twice a week."

I climbed onto the bed beside her and put my arm around her. She snuggled up to me and gingerly put her hand on my hard rod. Then she got a little bolder and started to rub it; she had her hand around its shaft, her finger just touching her thumb. I leaned over and sucked each of her turgid nipples in turn. Her breasts were a nice handful; I squeezed each one, feeling how firm and full they were. We lay there for a good fifteen minutes, Jenny rubbing my cock and me sucking and licking her breasts and nipples.

The temptation was too great to resist. So I slid my hand down across her tummy to her prominent mons with its smattering of dirty-blonde hair. She parted her legs for me and I obliged by cupping her plump vulva. She started to coo as my middle finger parted her labia, feeling how wet her slit was. A good minute ministering to her now firm clit brought her to her first climax. She held me tight as her intense orgasm coursed through her young body.

"God that was good," she said a minute later with a shaky voice.

"You want to go all the way?" I asked. I wanted to make sure she wanted what I desperately wanted.

"Yeah, I do," she replied.

I reached over and opened the drawer in the bedside table and took out a Durex. I started to open the pouch with my teeth, but she stopped me.

"You changed your mind," I asked.

"No," she replied. "I've always wanted to see what it felt like to have a bloke's cock in my mouth. Can I do that before you put it in me."

"Be my guest," I offered and lay back down, "but make sure you cushion your bottom teeth with your tongue."

She shuffled down the bed and grasped the shaft of my cock. At first she examined it; then she kissed the end and lowered her mouth over it, taking the whole head inside her mouth. As she did so, she raked my frenulum with her teeth.

"Ouch," I cried. "What did I say about your tongue Jenny."

"Oh, I'm so sorry Chris."

She put her tongue out and slipped her mouth over my cockhead and sucked. The sensation of having my cock in a sixteen-year-old girl's mouth was incredibly arousing. She started rubbing the shaft with her finger and thumb while sucking the head and swirling her tongue around the end.

She pulled off. "Am I doing it right?"

"Yes, you're perfect," I replied.

Jenny carried on giving me an exquisite blowjob for the next few minutes. I could feel my orgasm rising, so I put my hand over hers.

"If you keep that up, I'm going to spurt," I said.

She climbed back up the bed and lay beside me. I leaned over and kissed her soft, sweet lips.

"That was very good Jenny."

"Maybe next time you can cum in my mouth," she said, thrilling me to death. "I'd like to see what your spunk tastes like."

I got between her knees and draped her legs over mine. She watched as I rolled a lubricated Durex onto my cock. Grasping its shaft, I swiped it up and down her wet cleft, oozing her plump labia aside, letting it come to rest at the entrance to her vagina. Slowly, I pushed into her, feeling her vagina dilate to accept my cockhead. She winced a little as I penetrated her.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It was just a little twinge," she replied. "Yours is fatter than the boy who took my virginity."

I pushed, and she took the entire length inside her. She was tight alright; it was like being held in a warm, wet silk vise. As I fucked her, I tweaked her rubbery nipples, pulling them, making them longer. Her areolas were now a dark-pink and had tiny goosebumps all over them. Her breasts and upper chest were tinged with the red of her intense arousal.

After a few minutes, I started to feel her bum and legs jerk–telegraphing her impending orgasm.

Then she climaxed for the second time.

"Oh God Chris," she shouted, as she came hard. She pulled me down on top of her and put her arms around my waist. I kept on thrusting in and out of her pussy, but at a slower pace. He whole body shook with her intense orgasm. This went on for a full minute until she calmed; she put her hands on my face and kissed me.

"Now THAT was good," she said.

Jenny watched me as I started thrusting faster, chasing my orgasm. She held my face in her hands, rubbing my cheeks with her thumbs. All I could see on her face was sheer adoration. I wondered if she was falling for me–a preposterous idea given that we had just met. But there again, she'd already had a profound effect on me, so maybe the idea wasn't so nonsensical after all.

I had been on the cusp of my orgasm for going on five minutes now, and I was ready to explode. I grunted a few times, something I usually didn't do and spurted hard into the end of the condom.

After I was done, I pulled out and was amazed at how much semen I had shot. I was glad I had squeezed the air out of the end otherwise I would surely have busted it.

Jenny looked at the condom lying on my stomach. "Wow, that's a lot of spunk," she remarked.

"I know," I replied. "That's the most I've ever spurted. You have got me really turned on."

"I'm glad I can do that," she said. "Can we do this again?"

"I sure hope so," I replied.

Two days later, I was in my office; I picked up the phone handset and pushed the PA button and spoke into the mouthpiece.

"David Wilson to Christopher Lewis's office–David Wilson to Christopher Lewis's office." The sound of the public address speaker could be heard even in my office.

Five minutes later, Helen, my secretary buzzed my intercom.

"David's here to see you Mr. Lewis."

"Send him in Helen," I replied after pushing the TALK button.

A few moments later David Wilson walked into my office. I stood up to greet him. We shook hands.

"Sit down David," I said, beckoning to a chair at my small conference table.

"How can I help you Mr. Lewis," David said. He was not used to being summoned to the boss's office and fidgeted nervously.

I noticed his demeanor. "It's okay David. You're doing a great job as my foreman, and I'm well pleased with your performance. Can we talk as man-to-man and not as employer and employee?"

David cleared his throat. "I guess we can," he replied not sure what all this was about.

"It's about your daughter Jenny."

"Oh, yes. My daughter told me that you helped her when she fell off her bike the other day. I want to thank you for bringing her home and getting a new front wheel. Her mother was worried when she was late."

"I was glad to be of service," I replied. "Now this may seem to be a very strange request. I mean I'm twenty-three and Jenny's sixteen–almost seventeen."

Now it was my turn to be nervous.

"I want your permission to go out with your daughter David."

I thought that David had a somewhat unsurprised look on his face.

David chuckled quietly. "I'm not surprised Mr. Lewis. Jenny has talked about no one else since you helped her. If you are as smitten with her as she is with you, then I say go for it. The missus has been telling Jenny not to get her hopes up, but I'm sure she's going to be all for it as well."

"You sure about this David. I mean . . . what I'm trying unsuccessfully to convey, is that as employer and employee I don't want there to be any pressure."

"Mr. Lewis. I've known you since you were thirteen years old when you used to come and work beside us on your summer holidays. You're a good man Mr. Lewis, and I'd be happy for you to go out with my daughter."

"You're not concerned with our age difference?"

"Jenny may only be sixteen, but she's very mature. So no, it doesn't concern me."

They both stood up. "Thank you David. I'll treat her right."

"I know you will Mr. Lewis; I know you will."

Jenny and I had regular sex for the next months, and on her eighteenth birthday we got engaged.

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The Girl In The Water

Mf 15, pedo, exhibitionist, oral, con.
Fifteen year old Merry gets caught skinny dipping.
Word Count: 3,542
Date Published: March 00 2018

There's a large lake about a mile from my house that has some of the best fishing around. I usually like to go there on a weekday morning when there are often no other fishermen, unlike the weekends when the banks are dotted with men and some women with their lawn chairs, fishing poles and keep nets. Today was Tuesday, a sunny day in July. The afternoon would be unbearably hot and humid, but at ten o'clock in the morning, the weather was pleasantly warm.

I parked my old but boringly reliable Subaru Outback at the end of a gravel road that was two hundred yards from the lake. I noticed a girl's bicycle leaning against an old horse chestnut tree. It was not unusual to see bikes parked here as children would often come to this part of the lake to swim as there was a sandy beach and it was not conducive to fishing. Most fishermen parked in the parking lot on the far side of the lake, but this was closer to my house.

With my fishing gear sitting on the ground, I closed the tailgate and hit the button on the remote to lock the vehicle. After picking up my gear, I hiked the two hundred yards through a wood of loblolly pines, sweet gums, maples, and oaks. As I emerged from the woods, not twenty feet from the lake, I saw a young girl splashing around in the water a few yards off the beach.

She was around thirteen or fourteen–maybe even older, with long blonde hair. She was in water that came to just above her breasts. Her clothes sat in a pile on the beach. I walked over and looked at them. There was a pair of pink Keds sitting on top of a pair of neatly folded jeans, a plain white teeshirt, a sky-blue lacy bra and matching panties. It was apparent she was swimming naked. Immediately blood flowed south.

With all thoughts of fishing now banished from my mind, I quietly laid down my fishing gear and sat on the wicker creel. The girl still had her back to me so had no idea she had company. I watched as she dove under, giving me a beautiful view of her buttocks before they disappeared under water. When she surfaced her hair was plastered to her head, and she was facing me. At first, she didn't see me sitting there, then I saw her mouth open with the realization that someone was watching her.

"Who are you?" She asked, "and why are you looking at me?"

"My name's Ian," I replied. "And who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"

"I said why are you looking at me?" she repeated indignantly.

I was beginning to like this girl; I loved feisty women.

"Well, you are very beautiful. Why wouldn't I look? I'm sure you get lots of men looking at you."

She was indeed stunning with pale-blue eyes, a small nose, and full red lips. I noticed a smattering of freckles on her cheeks and the across the bridge of her nose. Even though the water almost came to her neck and the sunlight reflecting off the water meant I couldn't see her, she had her hands hiding her breasts.

"You one of them pervs that like to look at little girls?"

"No Little Mermaid, I'm no pervert; in any case your not a little girl, you're a young woman." She seemed to perk up at being called a young woman.

"I'm not a mermaid," she said. There was that feistiness again.

"Well, you won't tell me your name, so I have to call you something."

She frowned. "It's Merry," she said.

"Well, it's very nice to make your acquaintance Merry. I love your name by the way."

"Why do you talk funny?" She asked.

"Well, where I come from, everyone talks 'funny' as you put it."

"And where's that?" She asked.

"England–I'm English."

Her face lit up with a smile. "You know Prince Harry? I think he's very sexy."

"Unfortunately I've never met the prince."

Her smile disappeared.

"Why aren't you at school and why are you skinny dipping?"

"I'm playing hooky today, and I like to swim. I didn't want to get my underwear wet, and there's usually no one here during the week."

"How are you going to get dry; you don't have a towel?"

"I usually lie on the ground and let the sun dry me."

"I'm sure that would be a beautiful thing to see."

She huffed. "Why aren't you at work?"

"I don't have to work. I was going fishing, but then I saw you. And watching and talking to you is much more fun than sitting and waiting for a float to bob."

"So you're rich?"

"Not really. I'm comfortably off."

"You use funny words. Do all Englishmen use funny words?"

"I guess we do. Are you going to stay in the water all day?

"If you'd turn 'round I could get dressed."

"Now why should I do that Merry?"

"Cuz I'm naked," she replied. This time there wasn't the feistiness in her voice.

"I've seen lots of naked women, so one more won't hurt."

"So you're just going to sit there?"

I've got no better place I would rather be than sitting here talking to you."

"Well, I'm not going to let you see me naked if that's what you think."

"You do know that there are lots of little wiggly things in that water."

"So what!"

"They like dark, moist places like your pussy."

"No they don't," she said defiantly.

Just then I saw a fish jump behind her, and it must have grazed her leg as she jumped and screamed.

"What was that?" She shouted.

"Probably one of the wiggly things trying to find your pussy."

I decided to have a little fun with her as I wanted to see her naked body. I undid the laces of my boots and pulled them and my socks off.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

I stood up and pulled my light sweater over my head; next came my jeans.

"You can't do that," she said. You can't . . . "

She stopped mid-sentence as my boxers dropped to my feet; my cock stood straight out, pointing at her like a bird dog that had just spotted a quarry.

"I'm sure you've seen a man naked before," I said in all certainty that she hadn't.

"Just my brother and his cock's smaller than yours."

She stared slack-jawed at my member as it swayed from side to side as I entered the water. To my surprise she didn't move or try to escape–in fact, she walked toward me. As more and more of her body came into view, my cock hardened and stood straight up. We stood facing each other a few feet apart at the most with the water at our waists; she was almost as tall as me.

I looked (well more like stared) at her breasts; they were a perfect pair, the size of half oranges, high on her chest and close together. Her areolas were dark and stippled and her nipples turgid and large. There was a slight tinge of red on her cheeks.

"Wow Merry, you have such beautiful breasts. How old are you?"

"Thanks Ian. I'm fifteen."

"You often let men look at your naked breasts?"

She looked down for a brief moment. "I like to go without a bra sometimes and look at the men's faces as they see my nipples poking at my top. I get a big kick out of that."

"Yes, I'm sure that gets you wet."

She blushed a little. "Yeah, it does. I flashed my pussy at a guy once."

My cock was at full attention now, and the very tip was just above water; I saw her glance down at it from time to time.

"How did you manage to do that and wasn't it a little dangerous? I mean you didn't know how he was going to react."

"I'd leave my panties off when I went to the mall or maybe McDonald's. If I saw a good-looking guy–and I only did it to good-looking guys–I'd make sure I got his attention and pulled my dress up to mid-thigh and open my legs giving him a good view of my pussy."

I was quickly warming to this conversation. "Wow Merry! Do all young women your age do stuff like that?"

"Nah, not all of my friends. My best friend Beth said I was taking a risk, but I only ever did it in public. My friend Sara flashed her tits at a guy one time. She wasn't wearing a bra and just pulled her teeshirt up."

"So you don't take risks, yet you're standing naked in front of me, and we're not in public. Isn't that risky? I mean I could be a serial rapist or worse still a murderer."

"You don't look the type and aren't all Englishmen supposed to be gentlemen?"

"What do serial rapists and murderers look like, if I may ask?"

She never answered; she just reached out and grabbed the end of my cock. I'm sure she felt the shudder run through my body.

"You do this with your brother–just grab his cock?"

"No, he's too shy to let me touch it."

"But I thought you said you had seen his."

"I did, but he didn't know I was looking. He was masturbating in his room, and he'd left the door ajar."

"Did you see him cum, you know spurt his stuff?"

"I'm not stupid Ian; I know what cum is," Merry said somewhat indignantly.

"Sorry Merry, I didn't mean to disparage you."

"You not only speak funny, but you use big words."

"What? Oh, sorry. It means to belittle someone."

We stood there, with Merry holding my stiff erection.

"Are we going to stand here like this or get out of the water and dry off?" I offered.

She let go of my cock, and I turned and walked back to the beach; Merry followed me. I lay on my back on the sand, and she stood next to me. I looked up at her stupendous vulva with its engorged labia and tight slit with just her clitoral hood showing. She had a small bush of curly blonde hairs on the top of her prominent mons that stopped at the top of he slit. My cock was laying flat on my stomach.

"Good Lord, you have a beautiful pudendum," I said after catching my breath.

"There you go again," she said, "with your big words," she said as she lay beside me.

"Sorry, you have a beautiful . . . "

She cut me off. "I may not know what that word means, but I was pretty sure you were admiring my pussy."

"Mmm. I was indeed." I turned to my side and admired it in profile. She had a very sexy mons that rose up from her flat–almost concave tummy like a mound between the twin peaks of her bony hips. She was indeed a gorgeous and sexy girl, and all I could think about was making love with her. I wondered what it would be like to penetrate a fifteen-year-old girls vagina. My cock twitched at the thought.

She saw it. "What caused your cock to twitch like that?" She asked.

"I was just thinking about something."

She waited. "Well, are you going to share it with me?" She said as she turned to face me. She had her head propped up on her hand.

"I'm not sure I should. It's sort of naughty," I replied.

"I like naughty stuff," she said. "Come on pray tell," she added in a faux English accent. Her giggles made her breasts move a little. Hmm, nice and firm, I thought.

"Well, if you really want to know, I was trying to imagine what it would be like to make love to you," I replied.

She went very quiet, and, as the moments passed by, I worried that I had pushed too hard–she was only fifteen after all.

"Why imagine it?" she said, her voice trembling just a little but enough to be noticed.

"Wh . . . what did you say?"

"I said, why imagine it. Why not do it . . . you know . . . make love to me?"

I was stunned into silence for a minute or two while I mulled over what she had just offered. I apparently took too long as she said rather disappointedly,

"If you don't want to, that's okay."

"Sorry Merry, I didn't mean my silence to indicate that I wasn't interested. It's just that no one has ever come onto me in such a direct way. I've had lots of women–how do you Americans put it 'hit on me' but they were usually more subtle."

"I never was very subtle. If I want something, then I go for it."

"I admire that in you as well as your feistiness. I was thinking about what you said. You do know I could get into very hot water if anyone ever found out; I don't relish seeing the inside of an American jail cell."

"I would never tell Ian; I hope you know that," she said. "And I'm not a virgin," she scoffed.

"I take it that the last scornful remark meant that losing your virginity was not exactly your idea of a cup of tea."

She chuckled. "I have no idea what a cup of tea is, but if you mean it wasn't very enjoyable, then yes you're right it wasn't."

"That is a crying shame Merry. A girl's virginity is a very precious gift and should not be given away lightly."

"You wouldn't believe how much the peer pressure for a girl to have sex is. If you don't you're called frigid and a prude; if you do you're called a slut or an easy lay."

"May I ask if you loved the boy?"

She scoffed again. "Love him? No, he was a jock–the football team wide receiver; I was a cheerleader, and it's an unwritten rule that the stars of the A-team get their pick of the cheerleaders. I resisted for a while, but my friends kept telling me that it would be great and not to be such as prude. I finally caved, and we fucked in the bed of his pickup truck. It was over inside a minute. I never even had an orgasm."

"I was surprised that Mom wasn't angry when she found out I'd been having sex with a guy: she took me to the doctor's office and had an IUD fitted. I got a good lecture on what nasty diseases I could catch having unprotected sex. She said the IUD was for when I settled into a long-term relationship and to use condoms until then."

I put my hand on her arm. "Oh dear, I'm so, so sorry you didn't enjoy it. That's awful. I promise you that when we make love, you will never forget it."

She brightened up after telling me her sad tale. "So is that a yes?"

"It most certainly is Merry."

"So can we do it now, here?"

"Good heavens no. Can you get a lift to say the mall this coming Saturday evening?"

She thought for a moment. "I can get my older brother to drop me off, but I have to be home by ten o'clock."

"What will you tell him?"

"Oh, he does this all the time. He complains, but he's pretty good to me."

"I would love for you to dress up, but that might beg the wrong questions from your parents. I'm going to take you out to dinner at a nice restaurant and then back to my place. That sound good?"

"Aww Ian, you are such a romantic. I always dress up to go to the mall on a Saturday evening anyway."

"Okay. I think we're dry. Let's get dressed and go home.

When I saw Merry standing just outside the mall entrance at six o'clock, I had to catch my breath. She had her blonde locks piled up on the top of her head with a few wisps of hair on either side of her cheeks. She wore a cream long sleeved blouse, a pair of designer jeans and pink Keds.

Merry smiled broadly as she saw me pull up to the curb and came running over. I saw that she was wearing just a little makeup as she got into my car and I could just make out the outline of her bra under her blouse. The image of her breasts as she walked out of the water earlier caused my cock to swell, straining against my trousers. She leaned over and kissed me on my lips.

"Hi Ian," she said. "I've looked forward to this all afternoon. My brother wanted to know who my date was. I didn't tell him."

Dinner was wonderful, made even more wonderful as I gazed into her pale-blue eyes and looked at her full red lips with just a hint of lipstick. The small talk was just that–small and insignificant. But there was an undertow of sexuality as we were both keenly aware that dinner was merely an entrée to what was going to happen back at my house.

As we drove to my house, I saw her steal glances at my crotch. She was fidgety, playing with the wisps of hair at her cheek or smoothing the legs of her jeans, or flipping the sun visor down and checking her makeup. I pulled into the garage and closed the overhead door behind us. She waited for me to open the passenger door–something I had insisted on when we parked at the bistro.

She followed me into the house where I flipped on the lights. She walked around looking at the books on the bookshelf, the photos on the mantle and the old, well-worn, leather sofa and armchairs.

"You have a nice place Ian," she commented.

"Thanks, I like it. I like how cozy it is. That armchair is probably older than you and I combined. If its arms could talk, there's no telling what they would say."

She walked over to where I was standing by the staircase and put her arms around my neck and kissed me on my lips. The delicate kiss soon turned passionate as our mouths opened and our heads tilted. We locked mouths for two or three minutes–I lost track of time; our tongues did their dance–first in my mouth–then in hers. Merry finally broke our kiss; we both were panting with arousal.

"Make love to me Ian," she said.

She followed me to my master suite on the ground floor where we quickly undressed. I pulled the covers down and lay on my back, Merry knelt beside and immediately raised my erection off my stomach and kissed the end. I groaned loudly. It had been a while since I'd had a blowjob as my last girlfriend wouldn't let my cock anywhere near her mouth, let alone inside it.

As Merry lowered her mouth over my cock and started to suck and swirl her tongue around the end, all the while stroking my shaft, it was obvious she had done this quite a few times before.

"Bloody heck Merry, you give one incredible blowjob. I hate to ask where you learned to do it so well?"

She pulled off me with a loud pop. "My brother. When I was twelve he showed me what to do and what not to do."

"Well if I ever get to meet your brother I'm going to shake his hand."

She giggled and went back to sucking the end and licking the shaft all the way from its root to its tip. She had her legs slightly parted, so I reached over and ran my finger along her slit. As I pushed in, her plump outer labia parted, and my finger found the wet opening to her vagina.

"Mmmm," she hummed with my cock in her mouth.

I gathered some of her wetness and started to rub and press her firm clit. She was moaning with my cock in her mouth. One hand expertly stroked my shaft while the other gently squeezed my balls. I'd had blowjobs from women experienced in the art of oral sex, but Merry was in a class by herself.

She pulled off my cock. "God I love sucking your cock," she said. "It's a perfect size, and I'm going to love having it inside me."

"Are you ready because another minute of your fantastic blowjob and I'm going to fill your mouth with my cum."

"Let's save that for another day shall we."

That last comment excited me so much. She started to lie on her back.

"Why don't you go on top," I suggested. "That way you can control the action."

"Wow, that sounds like fun," she replied as she straddled my hips. She lowered herself onto my cock lying on my stomach. I watched as her plump labia pooch out either side of the shaft. She started rubbing her pussy back and forth; her creamy juices soon coated my shaft.

"Now THIS feels good," she said with a big smile on her face.

She carried in sliding back and forth, feeling the stabs of pleasure in her pussy as her clit dipped and bumped up against the underside of the head. After a few minutes, she lifted up, and, grasping the shaft with her finger and thumb, positioned my cockhead at the hot, wet entrance to her vagina.

"Wait!" I said. "Do I need to put a condom on?"

"No you don't Ian. I don't know why but I trust you not to have any diseases."

I watched as she slowly lowered herself onto my rigid member; she took all of me inside her hot, wet, tight vagina, bumping its rubbery end. She experimented with different techniques. First, she moved up and down, but she kept raising up too high, and my cock would slip out. After the third time, she abandoned that method and started to scrub back and forth. She apparently liked that technique as it caused my cockhead to rub the front wall of her vagina, touching her G-spot.

She kept up a good rhythm for a minute until her second orgasm hit her. She dropped onto my chest.

"Oh gaaaawd Ian," she cried.

I held her two perfect, firm buttocks in my hands as her body convulsed. She shook and jerked for a good minute. I could feel her heartbeat slowing and her breathing getting back to normal. She rose back up and sat there with my cock still buried deep inside her.

"WOW! Was that good," she said. "That has to be the best orgasm I've ever had."

Without pulling out of her, I rolled her onto her back and started to thrust into her again. I knew that I wouldn't last long with my cock gripped tightly by a hot, wet, silk sheath. She draped her long slim legs over my shoulders, allowing me to go deep. She was moaning loudly as I fucked her with long, languorous strokes, bumping hard against her rubbery end, causing gasps to escape her lips. I felt my scrotum tighten and that wonderful warm feeling in my groin.

"I'm cumming," I cried as my cock swelled. I exploded and flooded her pussy with an incredible amount of my teeming fluid. Spurt after spurt after spurt, until I was done, empty, sated, happy.

"Gawd Ian, you've flooded me."

She was right; I could feel my cum leaking past my shaft gripped by her tight pussy. As I pulled out, a stream of the pearly fluid gushed out and ran in the crack of her butt and pooled on the sheet.

"You made a mess of the bed," she observed.

"No Merry, WE made a mess of the bed." I countered.

"Well you have to sleep in it tonight," she added with a giggle.

"Is there any chance you can get to stay the night sometime, as I'd love to wake up with you beside me?"

"I'd love that too," Merry said. "Let me see if I can work something out."

Over the next six months, Merry and I had sex at least once a week except for the weeks she had her period. For those occasions she would fellate me. At the end of that year, on a Saturday morning, she called to say she had to meet me; she sounded distraught. It turned out that her father had gotten promotion with his company and that it would entail a move across the country. Merry was devastated. She had professed her love for me a few months after we started having sex. I cared for her deeply–maybe loved her even, but I knew in my heart of hearts that a romance between a sixteen–almost seventeen-year-old girl and a nearly forty-year-old bachelor could never work. She was sobbing as I held her for the last time.

"I love you," she said. She kissed me, turned and left. I just stood there, alone and despondent.

A large and very happy part of my life had just been ripped out of me. We texted each other and spoke on the phone at least once a week for the next month, but I realized that I had to turn her loose. I finally had to be harsh with her and tell her that it was time for her to move on with her life. She begged me not to cut her off; it pained me to do so, but it was for her own good, and I hoped that in time she would understand that.

Seven years almost to the day Merry and I first met, I received a letter in the mail. Inside was a handwritten note.

My darling Ian.
I hope you haven't forgotten me because I have never forgotten those magical six months we were lovers. It took me a year to accept what you told me in that last text. Do you remember what you wrote? You said I had to move on with my life. Well, I did move on, and when I was nineteen, I met this wonderful guy who I fell in love with. We got married after I graduated from college and six months ago, I gave birth to a very healthy baby boy who we named Ian. I have enclosed a photo of him and me. I hope you find as much happiness as I have.

I will love you always.



My tears fell, making the ink on the paper run. I looked at the photo of Merry smiling and holding a beautiful baby boy in her arms. It made me sad in a way as that baby could have been mine if I had only been younger when I met Merry, or more adventurous and thrown caution to the winds and held onto her. But I knew in all reality that it would never have worked.

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The Girl On The Swing

Mf 14, MF, pedo, exhibitionist, oral, con, romance.
A very lucky pedophile meets up with a very willing fourteen year old girl.
Word Count: 4,387
Date Published: March 00 2018

I didn't usually walk to the UPS store in the small strip mall; I usually drove there since my packages were a good size. I made my living selling on eBay, and it was a pretty decent living. Although the UPS store was a mile from my apartment, the route through the park was a shortcut and cut the distance in half. There was a school across the street from the main park entrance. On weekends or after the school let out I would take a stroll through the park to see if any young girls were playing on the swings.

Today, at ten-thirty, the place was devoid of young girls; there was only an elderly woman walking her dog. I nodded to her as we passed each other; she smiled at me and wound in the retractable leash since the dog seemed to like the scent of my shoes. It was probably the scent of my cat who was the only other inhabitant of my modest two bedroom apartment.

I walked on and after a short while came to an entrance that was on the opposite side to the school. The gate automatically closed behind me as I stepped onto the sidewalk. After crossing the busy street at a four-way intersection, dodging cars and ignoring the angry honks, I walked the five minutes to the UPS store.

"Small package today Scott," Simon the store owner commented.

"Yeah, I've started selling stamps and banknotes a friend sends me from England," I replied. "You wouldn't believe the beautiful designs the Royal Mail and the Royal Mint puts on their stamps and banknotes. The mint just issued a new five-pound note; you should see it Simon; it has an image of Sir Winston Churchill on the back with his famous speech about blood, toil, tears, and sweat. They even have a window. I've heard it's made with some animal fat which has the PETA folks getting their panties in a wad."

Simon chuckled. "Speaking of panties, I've got some photos of little girls showing their panties–some holding them in their hands. You want me to email them to you?"

"Yes please Simon," I replied. I had discovered that Simon was a pedophile quite by accident. I was sending an overnight envelope to a good friend and fellow pedophile who ran a video editing company in California. Simon recognized the address, and I later found out that he had been sending the company video files of him doing stuff with his twelve-year-old niece.

Our conversation got around to young girls, and when we both found out our predilections, we started to swap videos and photos. I had tried to get him to let me in on a session with his niece, but he said it was too risky. He wet my appetite though when he described to me how a young girl's pussy tasted.

We exchanged pleasantries, and I left. As I neared the playground in the middle of the park, I was surprised to see a girl on one of the swings. She was tall, with long ash-brown hair that fell to mid-back; her hair covered her face as she swung back and then streamed out behind her head as she swung forward. The other thing that caught my eye was the flash of her panties as the hem of her dress billowed up on the forward swings. The lemon-yellow triangle caused blood to flow south.

I sat on a bench facing the girl, taking in the sight of her young body. I figured her to be thirteen–maybe fourteen. The twin swells of her breasts strained at the tight bodice of her summer dress. It was apparent that she was not wearing a bra as I could see small lumps in the cotton where her nipples would be. The bulge in my pants was now quite evident, and I did not attempt to readjust my cock to make it less apparent.

She kept swinging back and forth, the sexy lemon-yellow triangle tempting me. The smile on her face told me she was enjoying flashing her panties at me, causing my erection. I knew some girls who were into puberty, were discovering for the first time what effect their developing bodies could have on men. Simon confirmed that when he told me that as soon as his niece entered puberty and started to grow breasts, she started flirting with him. That morphed into flashing him with her panties and eventually letting him touch her developing boobs and her pussy.

I asked him one day when she had turned twelve if he had ever fucked her. He told me she was too small. I reminded him of the child pornography videos he had sent me where grown men fucked girls as young as ten. He said his cock was too big and when he showed it to me I was shocked. He was indeed hung as the saying goes and it wasn't the length but the girth. To my way of thinking it was more a liability than an asset as there would be few women who could or even wanted to accommodate him.

The girl got down off the swing and came over and sat beside me.

"You liked the color of my panties?" She asked nonchalantly. It was if she was asking me if I liked the color of her dress.

"Yes I did; I like yellow," I replied. "Thank you," I added.

"You're welcome. My name's Lucy."

"Scott," I replied, "nice to meet you." I offered her my hand. She shook it. "Why aren't you at school?"

"I played hooky today. I hoped there would be a nice man in the park that I could show my panties to. During the week there's usually no kids around."

"So did you meet a nice man?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

"I guess I'm nice enough–maybe even nice enough to eat."

She giggled at that remark.

"How old are you Lucy?"

"I'm fourteen; is that too old for you?"

This girl is one very astute cookie, I mused.

"How did you know?" I asked. I was anxious to find out. "I mean wasn't wearing a raincoat."

She threw her head back and laughed, her mane dancing on her shoulders. I just now noticed her beautiful pale-green eyes. Stunning.

"As many times I've done this, you get to know the small almost insignificant signals."

"And how long have you been flashing your panties at men?"

"Since I was ten years old. I sometimes don't wear panties. Now THAT gets me very wet."

"You wet now?"

She lifted her dress and opened her legs; grasping my hand, she put it between her legs. Blood pounded in my head, and my heart rate jumped as I felt her plump vulva through the very wet gusset of her cotton panties. I brought my fingers to my nose and inhaled. I almost got light-headed as I drew in the aroma of her sex.

"Mmmm, very nice," I said. She pulled the hem of her dress back down.

"So you were going to tell me how you knew I liked young girls–and no, fourteen is not too old."

"It's mainly your eyes. Most non-pedos don't look at girls' tits or their crotch, or if they do, it's a quick peek. Pedos look at my tits and then look me in the eye to gauge my reaction. They want to see if I was letting them see my panties on purpose, or that I'd left my bra off intentionally so my nipples would show.

"Of course then there's the tell-tale bulge in their pants with no attempt to cover it up. I guess it's the modern version of opening the flaps of a dirty raincoat and exposing their cocks–erect or otherwise. By the way, in the four years I've been doing this, there's only been one man who wore a raincoat and exposed himself to me, and he was an older gentleman."

"Hmm, interesting. So this is how you get your kicks? I guess it's the female version of the dirty raincoat."

She laughed again. It was a very sexy laugh, and it reminded me of Lauren Bacall's sultry laugh.

"I've never thought of it that way, but you're right. I guess opening my legs to show a man my naked pussy is the equivalent of a man opening his raincoat to expose his cock."

This sexual repartee was getting me very aroused. I liked Lucy a lot, and I wondered if I could do anything with her.

"Is that all you do Lucy–expose your pussy to men, with or without panties?"

"Are you trying to find out if I let any of them fuck me?"

"Err . . . I guess in a roundabout way, and I don't much care for the word fuck; I prefer to say 'have sex with me' or 'make love to me.' "

"Ahh, you're a romantic. I've never met a romantic pedophile before."

"So how many?"

"I've only fu . . . had sex with two guys."

"And how do you decide which ones?"

"I talk to them like I'm talking to you now. Most men are just happy to look, and if I even try and walk over to them, they beat a hasty retreat."

"So you have sex with the ones that stay and talk?"

"Scott! Are trying to find out if I'm going to let you fu . . . have sex with me?"

I just smiled.

"The answer to your question is no, not all. I have to get to know them; I have to like them, and above all else, they have to be good-looking and intelligent."

"I've been told by a few women that I'm good-looking and I run my own business selling stuff on eBay which takes a fair amount of intelligence."

"You're funny Scott. I'm beginning to like you. How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-six."

"Do you date women or are young girls your only passion?"

"I've dated a couple of women. I would really like to settle down but all of the ones I would even consider marrying had young girls."

"But unless you date older women, then their daughter's couldn't have been more than what–four or five years old?"

"Yes, but four and five-year-olds eventually turn into ten, eleven, twelve-year-olds."

"Good point. You could marry me and have the best of both worlds."

Now it was my turn to laugh. "I like you a lot Lucy. I think our personalities go well together.

"You live nearby Scott?"

"Is that small talk?"

"What do you think?"

I stood up and took her hand. We walked the quarter mile to my apartment complex chatting as we walked. I unlocked the door and stood aside to allow her to enter. I followed, closing the door behind me.

She looked at the piles of stamps and English bank notes on the dining room table.

"You said you sold stuff on eBay. Is this what you sell?"

"Yes, that's some of it. The other stuff I sell I have the manufacturer to ship direct."

She picked up a British five-pound note. "Wow, this is beautiful; it's like a piece of art. Can you make money selling money?"

"Oh yes. At the current exchange rate, this five-pound note is worth about seven bucks including shipping. I have a good friend who gets un-circulated notes and ships them to me. I sell them for fifteen bucks including shipping."

She roamed the apartment, looking at my bric-a-brac. The master bedroom door was open, and my Devon Rex cat named Elliot jumped off the bed and came trotting over to where she was standing. He meowed loudly as he circled her legs, rubbing his cheek against her calves.

"That's Elliot, and he likes you; he normally doesn't take to strangers."

She bent down and picked him up. I like your pussy," she said. "Would you like to see mine Elliot?"

"I don't think he will be interested since he's been neutered. But I haven't been neutered so I would like to see your pussy."

She laughed so much that Elliot jumped out of her arms.

"I like your sense of humor Scott. I think we're going to get along just fine."

That last comment piqued my interest.

"Where's your bathroom or is it your loo?"

"Either is fine, and it's off my bedroom."

She entered my bedroom and made a beeline for my master bath, closing the door behind her. I sat on my bed waiting. A few minutes later she came out naked.

She had largish breasts–32-B in my estimation with very puffy areolas and turgid red nipples. Her hips flared out nicely from her small waist, and I was surprised that her prominent mons was bald. Either she shaved, which was unusual for a fourteen-year-old or they hadn't grown yet. The sexy gap between her legs was filled with a very plump vulva, the creases where her labia met the tops of her thighs were very sensual accentuating her vulva's plumpness.

"Why are you still dressed?" She asked.

"I . . . I didn't know if . . . you know."

"You think I came back to your apartment to use the bathroom. C'mon Scott. Haven't you figured out that I want to fu . . . Jeez, fuck just wants to roll off my tongue, sorry."

"That's okay Lucy." I stood and got undressed; Lucy watched in anticipation as I shed each item of clothing. She smiled as my boxers came off.

She grasped my cock. "You have a beautiful cock," she said as she pulled my foreskin back, exposing the purple rimmed crown.

We lay on the bed, and she lowered her head over the end of my cock and started to suck. The feeling and visage of a fourteen-year-old girl fellating me were intensely arousing. I had to stop her as I was getting close to cumming.

"Wasn't I doing it right?"

"No Lucy, you were doing it so well that if you keep it up, I'm going to cum in your mouth."

"I'd like to do that some time," she said thrilling me.

She obligingly opened her legs, and I climbed in between them. As her plump outer lips opened, they revealed her thinner inner lips that formed the cowl for her little pearl and ran all the way down to her vagina that looked so small. It made me wonder if she had been telling the truth when she told me she had had sex with two other men.

I lapped all the way from that tiny hole up her slit to her pearl that was just waiting to be polished and polish it I did. She got her first orgasm just a minute later; her legs closed around my head as she climaxed and what a climax it was. Her whole body shook and jerked as her orgasm washes through her.

A few minutes later she had calmed enough and had caught her breath so she could speak.

"Wow, Scott! That was the best orgasm I've ever had."

"You mean the other guys didn't use foreplay?"

"Not really. They just rubbed my pussy with their fingers to get me wet enough to fu . . . to have sex with me."

"That's a shame. Foreplay is almost as good as intercourse. Speaking of which, are you ready?"


I sat on my heels and pulled her legs over my thighs; my member lay on her almost hairless mons. Grasping the shaft, I positioned it against her small opening. As I pushed, I felt her vagina dilate, and with a slight wince, I was inside her. She was tight, the ring of skin that surrounded my shaft was like a rubber band. I pushed slowly, and inch by inch my cock disappeared inside her until I was buried. She had taken all of my seven inches.

"God you're big. It feels like I'm stuffed." She put her fingers on her tummy feeling for my cock. "It's there, I can feel it," she said.

I took up where I had left off and started thrusting again. I knew I was near as that nice warm feeling began to spread. Then as I spurted the first load of cum inside her, she climaxed again. This girl is amazing. As I humped her, she had her hands on my ass urging me on. I was finally done, and my cock softened and slipped out of her wet tunnel made even wetter with my semen.

We lay there, Lucy snuggled up to me, leaking cum onto my bed. I sighed. I guess I need to change the sheets I thought–a minor inconvenience if there ever was one.

"Can I see you again Lucy?" I asked after she had gotten dressed.

"I'd love to Scott, but school lets out Friday, and I'm going to spend the summer with my Dad who lives in San Diego."

"Will you stay in touch, texts and such?"

"Sure, give me your phone number."

I gave her my phone number, we kissed and she left.

The following week, I got a text from Lucy.

"Miss you already Scott."

I texted back.

"Miss you too. Can't wait until school's back in session. You been hanging out at any playgrounds?"

"No, I think my days on the swings are over," she texted back.

That last comment thrilled me. I replied

"Glad to hear that."

A couple of weeks went by, and I was in the UPS store one Thursday. There was a very beautiful woman talking to Simon the owner. She turned and smiled at me. She had the most gorgeous pale-green eyes and ash-brown hair. We struck up a conversation, and one thing led to another, and I asked her out on a date. Her name was Sherry, and she told me that she and her husband had divorced some four years ago and that she hadn't dated much since.

Two weeks later we were an item and the first time we had sex it was incredible. Sherry was very adventurous in bed–open to trying different positions. She gave the best head I had ever received, and I loved eating out her delectable pussy. I was surprised that she hardly had any pubic hair.

"God I love your cock Scott," she said as she had just deep-throated me. She was swirling her tongue around my cockhead while stroking my shaft.

She lifted off of me. "I need you inside me so bad."

She lay on her back, and I positioned myself between her legs. I lifted them over my hips and she locked her ankles behind my back. Her pussy was very wet; her vagina was leaking profusely. My cock easily slid inside of her all the way to her end, bumping her cervix causing a gasp to escape her lips.

"Only my husband could do that."

Her comment surprised me as I considered myself average at seven inches. I started stroking in and out of her snug pussy. I liked that she was vocalizing her thoughts and feelings as we made love. I squeezed both of her good-sized breasts; her dark areolas puffed up and as I rubbed her turgid nipples she moaned.

"I love having my nipples played with. One day you will have to concentrate on my nipples as I can have an orgasm from just having them squeezed and rubbed."

As we made love, the thought crossed my mind that maybe Sherry is the one to settle down with finally. She hadn't mentioned having any children which surprised me as that subject usually cropped up in conversations. I hadn't asked since I was scared that if she had a daughter, then it would lead to the breakup of what was a budding romance.

"I'm close Scott," she said. I had felt the signs of her impending orgasm; the jerk of her butt; the fluttering in her tummy; the spasms in her arms as she held me tight.

Mine wasn't far away, and I had never climaxed at the same time as my partner.

"Cumming too Sherry," I cried as my cock swelled. As soon as the first rope of cum hit her cervix, she too climaxed. We held each other–my hands cupping her firm buttocks–hers around my neck. We both shuddered as our orgasms consumed us. I could feel her vagina clenching then releasing my cock as she climaxed.

Mine was over too soon but here's went on for a while longer. She finally calmed, and as my flaccid cock slipped out of her, I rolled to her side and cupped one delectable breast.

"Wow!" she said. "THAT was incredible. We seem so compatible don't we?"

"Mmm. I love making love to you. You turn me on with your gorgeous body and your beautiful pale-green eyes."

"You want to me to spend the night? I'd love to wake up with you."

"I'd love for you to do that."

Lucy came home a week before school was due to start. She called and asked if she could come over.

She threw herself at me after I'd opened my front door. "God I've missed you Scott."

"I missed you too Lucy." We kissed for a good minute.

"Can we get in bed?" She asked.

"You betcha," I replied.

We went to my bedroom where we quickly got undressed and into bed.

"I've been sooo horny these last month, and my finger doesn't hold a candle to your tongue. As much as I want to suck your cock and for you to eat my pussy, I need you inside me."

I obliged; I climbed between her legs which I draped over my thighs; my cock sat on her almost hairless mons. What I thought was bald or shaved turned out to have very fine ash-blonde hairs. Her vagina was leaking her juices, waiting for me to penetrate it. As I placed my cockhead against the opening to her vagina and pushed, it dilated and admitted me. Her pussy was hot and wet and tight.

She pulled me down on top of her, with her hands on my buttocks urging me as I thrust in and out of her tight pussy. As I thrust she curled her pussy up against me.

"I missed this so much," she murmured. I missed having the weight of your body on top of mine; I missed feeling your cock fill me up. I love you Scott, I really do."

I had been thinking about what I felt for Lucy all the time she was gone and what I felt for Sherry; I knew I couldn't have them both and had to make a decision; I concluded that I wanted Lucy in my life forever.

"I love you too Lucy," I whispered.

"You do?"

"Yes baby, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

She peppered my face with kisses and squeezed my buttocks. I was near my climax as I had been so excited to see her again. I could feel that she was near as well since her body started to jerk and spasm. Then her orgasm crashed into her.

"Oh jeez," she cried as she climaxed.

She wrapped her arms around my back and pulled me tight against her breasts that I was sure had grown since before the summer break. I was next to cum; my cock swelled and spasmed as I spurted hard into her, filling her young womb with my teeming fluid. My orgasms, although intense and pleasurable was over way too soon. Hers carried on for another half a minute until she also started to calm, small tics and jerks of her aftershocks came and went.

My rapidly softening cock slipped out, so I rolled to her side. She snuggled up to me. After a while, she spoke.

"So tell me about this woman you've met."

I had texted her a few times telling her that I had met a woman. I had been a bit sketchy with the details as I didn't want her to feel jealous.

"Well, she's got similar color hair to yours and the same pale-blue eyes. I think that's what attracted me to her. She's thirty-six, quite tall and we hit it off right from the get-go."

"What's her name?"

"It's Sherry Best."

"Sherry Best!? Where does she live?"

"Over on Waterford Place. Why?"

"Well unless two Sherry Bests are living on Waterford Place, she's my Mom."

I was stunned and lay there not speaking. Lucy was the first to speak.

"Mom had told me that she had met a very nice guy and that she liked him a lot. She said their lovemaking was incredible."

"Your mother told you that?"

"Mom and I don't have your normal mother-daughter relationship; never had really. We've always been best friends, and we don't have any secrets between us. I told her all about you, and she was sooo happy for me."

"I don't know what to say Lucy. When I told you that I loved you, I had already made up my mind that I wanted to be with you."

"What I haven't told you Scott is that after she initially told me she'd met someone, and was having sex with him, we got into the details. As she slowly told me all about him, I sorta had an inkling it might be you. When you told me her name that confirmed it. When I told her that the guy she was dating might be you, she said she wasn't going to see you anymore but I talked her out of it.

"You did what!?"

"There's no reason we can't share you. After all, I did say you could marry me and have the best of both worlds. Now you can marry Mom and have the best of both worlds. I sorta like the idea of making love with my step-dad."

At that moment, if I wasn't lying down, you could have knocked me over with the proverbial feather. The first time I meet Sherry and Lucy is going to be very interesting I thought.

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This story is a work of pure fiction. The author does not condone any sexual activity among persons under the legal age of consent. This story is copyright protected.
(C) Copyright 2018 by Tempest. ALL Rights Reserved! This material may NOT be reproduced in any form without the written permission of the author. You may download them for your own personal use, but if you wish to post them on other websites, please get my permission beforehand.

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