Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. The Opportunity (pt. 1) Mg(7), molest, coercion,cons. by Donny Brooks --------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---- The whole thing was ludicrous, he knew that. But, still, he fantasized. And schemed. The intense masturbation left him raw and unfulfilled so he sought more (and longer) contact. The child was sweet, naive and very young. Seven, maybe eight. His son's best friends little sister. Her name was Louise. She tagged along with her brother often, having no other friends her age in the area. The boys would roll their eyes in exasperation, doing their best to be rid of her. His son was unhappy when he would intercede on her behalf. She was so grateful when he did. So he did, on a regular basis. She was a little shy of four feet tall, long, wavy, dark brown hair, dark, soulful eyes and a skinny little girls frame. Of course. He sat and ruminated often about his fixation. For sexual gratification with pre-pubescent children. He felt vaguely ashamed. Unless there was a small, pretty little girl nearby. Then, all he felt was an overpowering lust. His imagination would run away with him at times. Scheming, plotting, fantasizing. All ending with the pretty child and himself in a naked embrace. Of course, being his own imagination, the little girl was always willing and eager to share her body with an old man like him. In reality, he knew how unlikely that really was. How fast any unappropriate actions on his part, in the everyday, actual world, might result in public condemnation, arrest and incarceration. Still, he took small chances. The child began to become his little confidant and friend. Her mother was already familiar with him and thought him to be a very nice guy. Single father. He was careful not to overplay his hand, to include Louise in their little excursions. To the pool. To the mall. To the go-kart track. But he ensured that his son and her brother became close friends, inviting the boy on many outings that are great fun for 11 year old boys. And, once in a while, he pretended to give in to her pleas for inclusion. Not often, rarely really, he bided his time and never made his intentions...how to say it?...prosecutable. Yes, that was it. No one suspected. Not the boys, nor her mother. and certainly not the little girl. Now, here he was, alone with her in the swimming pool. The boys had rode their bicycles to the nearby Mom and Pop store for ice cream. At his urging. His manipulation, really. He was certain neither had any notion they were being used for his own sly purpose. To be alone with Louise. He smiled down at the child and lifted her onto his hip. Put her sweet little pussy right up on his hip. He glanced about. They were alone, for sure. He laughed quietly. She giggled delightedly. And he purposefully rubbed her up and down on his side, where her center, between her skinny legs, pressed against him. His hand gripped her tiny butt cheeks, splayed across her crack and he pulled her up and down, in and out. Gently, easily but also definitely as he attempted to stimulate her. Her face suddenly became serious, realizing the motive behind his game, perhaps. Was she feeling the sexuality? He wondered as he stared into her pretty dark eyes, her suddenly silent, parted mouth. He let her right leg brush against him. In his swim trunks. The passionate hardness he harbored secretly for her. Now, not so secret. He gauged her reaction. Read her look. Was that a sultry, naughty look? Or his imagination. He queried her. Having fun Lulu? His pet name for her. He brushed her again. Longer this time. Her leg, below her right knee, contacting his desperate hardness. Was it obvious? He wondered. She nodded assent. Yes, fun. She seemed a little breathless. He spun her off his right hip onto his front. His cock was pointing up, tucked into his trunks. It shuddered and spasmed there. He brought her spread legs around him just above his hips and firmly pressed her center against himself. Then eased her away. Gauging again. No apparent negative reaction, he pulled her in again, then away. This time she hooked her feet behind his ass, slipping up to his lower back, close to coming away from his frame completely, pulling herself back in. Pressing against him. Prolonging the contact. He looked at her face closely, liking what he saw, hoping he wasn't merely seeing what he wanted to see. A misinterpretation. Her head was back, eyes hooded, almost closed. A little half-smile, half smirk on her pretty lips. Her pretty dark, red lips. Was that a wanton look? He wondered. She was only seven, for heaven's sake. A second-grader. He hoped he was reading this right, realized it didn't really matter. He was committed. He pressed her firmly to his raging erection, lifting her up and then sliding her down, both his hands on her little bubble ass, his fingertips on her upper thighs. Quickly, he surveyed the immediate area. Still alone. She hung off him, the only contact at her crotch and his hands on her bottom. Her hair spread on the water, her smile unknowable. And he rubbed himself with her little pussy. Now there could be no doubt in the childs mind, he thought. How can I be more obvious than that? He looked down at her, her suit, a one-piece, displaced at his actions. It had pulled up into her sweet, secret triangle on his hip, sliding left when he brought her around to his front. His eyes locked on the pure white skin of her privates. The left side of the heaven he wanted. Rubbing up and down on his twitching cock. His eyes raised to see her watching him looking at her. Her little smile was inscrutable. He pulled her away from him and swam away. The fear of exposure wilted his erection though he hoped she had known his desire for what it was. What it is. Embarrassed, he looked for unseen witnesses. There weren't any. Louise beckoned him, supplicating. Do it again. Please, please, puh-leeese! Pretty please. His cock surged with blood again. No one nearby. She likes it. She wants it, even. He moved closer and she latched onto him. Pressing herself into him now. From the other side, her left leg made contact with his dick. Once, twice. She grinned up at him. Naughtily, he thought. So he ran his right hand up her leg from knee to thigh and then to her little pussy. He looked deeply into her smiling face and pressed her very deliberately on the top of her prominent mound. Her mouth dropped half open, in pleasure, not in aggrieved shock at his rude action. He hoped, his finger delving down the tight slit beneath the mound, pressing into her gently, tap tap tapping his way to her vaginal opening. She looked surprised. Pleased. Wanting more. He suggested a way to be alone with him at his house. She agreed. It had to be secret. No one else was to know. She agreed vehemently. When the boys get back, we will do it like this, he whispered to her, his finger eagerly searching her private places. She nodded. Okay...okay. When they get back... He was elated, victorious inside. He kept it inside, for the boys chose that moment to appear. Quickly, they moved away from each other. He though it was too obvious, the boys would see through their subterfuge. Studiously avoiding each other, to a ridiculous degree. The boys remained oblivious. They all had ice cream. Louise came up next to him, kicking him gently, rolling her eyes, nodding her head in the direction of his house. He rose to use the bathroom, stopped and outlined their little dodge. For the boys benefit. So they could be alone, together. Red-faced, he spun to the bathroom, ducking inside. How obvious, how stupid. It would never work and they hadn't made a back-up plan. This was never going to happen. He tried to bend his stiff prick into a successful trajectory for urine to hit the toilet bowl. His dream was so close...finally he made water in a strong, loud stream into the bowl. Exiting, he saw the little girl, the second-grader, Louise, gesture at him from the street outside the pool area. Amazed he turned to the boys, they had fallen for his bull-shit. Eager for it, even. He smiled, warned them to use caution, warned them against asking any other adults for permission or telling anybody else about their mission. He handed them the money, cautioned them yet again and sent them on their way. Excitedly, he dried himself with the large bath-towel and quickly walked to his house. The mobilehome park lay somnolent in the heat, he saw not one of his neighbors at all as he almost trotted to his place. Slow, he told himself sternly. Ha ha ha, his inside elation shouted...fuck slow. Let's go do this. Yeah!! Her scooter lay in the back, just past the gate. He smiled, evilly, he thought. The door was open a slight crack, he bounded up the stairs, sliding quickly inside and firmly closing the door behind him. The dead-bolt snicked into place. He turned slowly and beheld the loveliness before him. She smiled conspiratorially at him, her little belly flat, the deep innie belly-button visible beneath her still damp suit. He strode to where she stood, a little shy, a little unsure. He would dispel that. He bent, picking her up to his chest, he massaged her ass, pressing her firmly to himself, the throbbing tip of his cock, jumping with his pounding heartbeat. He noted her quick alarm and petted and praised and promised her back to willingness. He stroked her bare back. Then carried her into the bedroom. Don't be scared, Lu. This'll be fun. I promise. You can be a big girl for awhile. She settled down and he laid her gently upon the topsheet of his bed. So pretty, so very pretty. He murmured. And she relaxed further, her eyes on his as he murmured compliments and praise. She lay back, her body still damp, arms at her sides, legs straight and pressed together. His eyes absorbed and recorded her beauty, her almost perfection. Little drops of water clung to her calves, reluctantly drawn by gravity to slide down her tan skin. He noted the fine dark hair on her legs and thighs. He rebuked himself silently, aware his haste may frighten her. Go slow, idiot. Don't ruin this before it even starts! He didn't want to frighten her. He wanted to please her but he was doubtful she would really let him try. Not in the way he wanted to. He sat next to her and softly stroked her legs, arms and belly. She tensed up at first but soon relaxed, gazing at him in her trusting way. He was an adult, she was inclined to trust him. Even obey him. He made nonsensical small talk with her while his brain feverishly labored for a clever opening. An opening through which she might happily follow his lead towards the events he desired. On a completely different level he considered the irony of the situation. His mouth was on autopilot trading inanities with her. It didn't require much of his brain power. The fantasies he had harbored for her, for pretty little girls he had any contact with, usually involved the child sleeping or otherwise incapacitated, freeing him to molest their little bodies to his hearts content. Without their knowledge or consent, necessarily. He hadn't seriously approached the realities of the seduction. In a fantasy the whole point was to cut to the chase. Reach the climax, so to speak. Pun definitely intended. The pornographic literature on the subject, mostly fictional, gleaned from the internet was, on the whole, useless. Bordering on the ridiculous. No basis in reality. Eager children for sexual partners, experienced and orgasmic and engaging pedophiles in consensual orgies with the approval of their parents. That just didn't happen. He attempted to rein in his libido now. To be satisfied with what he'd already achieved. It would fuel his nocturnal fantasies for the foreseeable future. His gaze locked onto the forbidden place, the sweet skin beneath the swimsuit, where her legs connected to her torso. Where the skin faded from tan to white. He ached physically from his sudden overwhelming desire to see her, to smell her, to taste her. As if in response her legs drew away from each other, her knees rose from the surface of his bed slightly as they parted. Okay, he was going to give his perversion a little room to run, a little more time. What was he risking, anyway? His good name, reputation and freedom...to name just a few. He thought of her risk. Something he could never forgive himself for. He had long practice forgiving himself for his sexual preferences. Could he forgive himself for irreparably harming this lovely child's self-esteem, her future sexuality, her innocence, her trust? No, not ever, he decided as he slowly stroked her legs and tummy, half-listening to her patter, responding vaguely as demanded by their easy chatter. Could he find a way to coerce her, convince her to happily participate? And, if so, to then ensure her silence? He was here, she was here. It would be a shame not to try. Did little girls ever keep secrets? He wondered. He doubted it. He tore his eyes away from her momentarily, checking the green numbers on the clock next to his bed. Fortunately time was crawling by, he was amazed at his propensity to entertain the child on one level and mentally assess schemes to fondle her and the likelihood of exposure if he did. Unexpectedly, she gripped his hand as his fingers trailed up her left leg, caressing her bare skin as they traveled upward, past the fabric boundary of her swimsuit. He stared at the dark line of fine hair atop her thigh, the sweet lightening of color hinting at the place where the suns rays hadn't touched. He trembled a little, like an adolescent beginning to divest himself of his virgin status. He stared at her pretty dark eyes, noting her impossibly long eyelashes, her brows, the wet shiny spot where she had lost a baby tooth, her perfection. His ideal. Are you still wet? She giggled. My suit, I mean. Pulling his hand from the bony rise of her hip to a place he could sample. To check. He watched her little hand drag his large hand across to her center. Am I? She smiled up at him delightedly. Wet on your bed? She released his fingers, depositing his hand on the damp cloth below her belly button. His fingers rested on her lower belly, almost on the prominently raised mound. For a moment he was slack-jawed, she giggled up at him. Naughtily. Her young eyes held a hint of atavistic awareness which he recognized immediately. She knew. What she was doing, to him. What they were doing on his bed, really. She already perceived her effect on members of the opposite sex. At least a glimmering of the potential possibilities she possessed. To influence with her feminine charm. To assert herself. Of course, he thought. She was a female, after all. Undoubtedly eager to test her abilities, to begin to explore the extent of that power she shared with every other female of the species. Was it genetics? Could that explain the knowledge in her eyes? Did evolution prod her to use her youth and beauty and attract a male? At seven years of age? These questions flashed through his mind while he obediently sampled the level of moisture in her swimsuit. He seized upon the theme, the opening she had provided. Knowingly or not. Wet? On MY bed? We better see, little girl!! She squealed in mock terror, her feet under her, lifting her bottom off the sheet and thrusting her pelvis upwards under his hand. He allowed his hand to slide down between her legs, cupping her mound, pressing into her genitals. His every fiber concentrated on the tactile sensations in his fingertips. Wanting to remember the forbidden mysteries they explored between her skinny legs. She sank back to the bed, emitting a long exhalation as he gently touched her little pussy. Ahhhhh!! He glanced at her face, her eyes closed, a tight little smile on her lips. Her knees fell further apart, the soles of her feet pressing together in the impossibly limber, effortless way of the very young. He wanted this moment to go on forever. His fingers shamelessly investigating her privates, tracing the lips there, the slit there. The little dimple low in her center where he knew her vaginal opening lay. His cock was a steel rod in his own swim suit. He had easily reached a new level of arousal merely by touching this beautiful second-grader on the crotch of her swimsuit. She allowed him to. She WANTED him to, he thought. His watched his right hand caress her, shaken by desire. She was breathing deeply, the little smirk on her face, eyes still closed as he felt of her. His concern, his awareness of the negative consequences as a result of indulging his desire, his shame of the opinion of greater society and the helplessness he had to change any of them within himself were forgotten in an instant. However briefly. He surrendered to his overwhelming desire, his physical pleasure and the need to satiate that silent monster residing within himself. The silent monster usurped complete control by first utilizing the areas where it had been briefly given autonomy in the past. The fantasizing schemer within was that monster, the seductor that powered the dreams of the night. The flights of fancy. The molestor of the truly innocent, to cajole, manipulate, trick or even threaten. The demander of secrecy. His decency flew away. Abandoned him. Helplessly, from within, he watched. As though from a dark fantasy in a dream he was deeply asleep and unable to wake himself. "You ARE WET!" Tickling her. Still very gentle. She shrieked in laughter. "Uh uh!" "A little bit...right here." His left hand slipped beneath the inverted vee of her left leg as he leaned down towards her, his nostrils flaring, seeking the scent of her sex. She opened her eyes, looking up solemnly, a little unsure how to wield her sudden power. "Where?" He pressed his finger into her pussy, probing lightly, in and out. Finger fucking her in his mind. "Right...HERE!!" He bent into her, sniffing. Like a dog. Or a wolf. She giggled as he alternated the pressure he was applying to her. Firm. Soft. In. Out. "Did you PEE yourself?" "Nooooo..." she said, laughing. The physical sensations were new to her, not unwelcome. The naughtiness of it delighted her. She raised up, pressing into the probing finger, her pulse visibly hammering in her neck. A fine sheen of perspiration dampened her hair, plastered stray tendrils to her forehead. This was fun. Being nasty. He was nasty. She was, a little bit, too. His hand gripped the fabric of her suit, at the narrowest part, pulling it to the side as his other hand, with the insistent fingers plied her exposed bare skin. Gently. Insistently. "Lemme see", he said, "I better check." He pressed her left leg down, leaning down farther as she feigned struggling to stop him. Her excited laughter betrayed her, though. He bent his face to her belly, sniffing. "I don't smell anything." He sniffed loudly. "Yet." He nosed down, his eyes fixed on the white, tender skin of her pussy, his fingers spreading the little lips apart. He placed his nose squarely on her, drinking in the scent of her youth, her sweat, her excitement. She stopped struggling, frozen as his head dipped into her private place. His warm breath was bathing her. She lifted her little ass off the bed as far as she could, pressing up into his warm breath. He felt the rippling muscles of her belly on his palm, her urgency, her wonder. Her animal desire, probably, he thought. He dove lower, his head rising, his neck bending and his tongue extended, slipping out of his mouth to taste the top of her, the softness of her skin atop the bony mound. Her scent drove him on. She was nectar, he thought. Faint tang of urine, faint chlorine from the pool, tart, fresh sweat and her own desire. He suppressed the urge to ravage her with his mouth, engulf her sex, drink from her sweetness. Gently does it. Don't frighten the child. Stimulate her, slowly, methodically. Make her want more. Like you want more. Finesse. Slowly...the saliva pooled in his mouth, spilling over in small increments to facilitate his oral ministrations. He licked her firmly, gently, up and down her bared slit, reacting to her physical cues, recognizing the pleasure she was relaxing into, the short panting breaths interspersed with deeper inhalations, the frantic hammering of her heart beneath her skinny ribs and the involuntary arching of her back as she pressed into the sensation of his mouth on her. He did NOT want to stop. He stopped. Calculatingly. He raised his head from her, stopped his caresses and listened as her breath rasped in and out, feeling her diaphragm rise and fall in concert with those sounds. "Does that tickle?" He rose above her, seperating his body from hers, falling down next to her, chin on his hand, elbow bent. Not touching her. Almost touching her. Her swimsuit, released, returned to concealing her privates, her hairless little pussy. He watched intently, seeing she was unsure now. She shrugged, responding to his query. "I dunno." "What do you call this?" He gestured to her pussy then lightly touched it. With a pointing finger. She raised her crotch a little, pushing into his finger. He moved it back a little, smiling at her. "You know!" "I know?" She nodded fiercely, frowning a little. "I know what it's really called. A vagina. I don't know what you call it. Everyone's different." She thought that over. He resumed stroking her skin. Her arm, her shoulder, he smoothed the hair on her neck, tucked a wayward strand behind her ear. "It's my privates. Whattaya call yours? Your penis?" The word sounded funny coming from this child. But he had her interest still. "My dick, my cock, my boner, my wiener." He recited it accompanied with facial expressions, deliberately being silly, emphasizing each. She laughed, as he had hoped she would. Relax her, be fun. Be funny. Act like this is no big deal. Like this is pretty normal, sucking on a second graders pussy. "Do you call it your pee-pee?" She shook her head. "That's for babies. I'm NOT a little baby!" He agreed with her. "I KNOW you're not a baby. And you have very pretty privates, Lulu-belle. Do you know what 'private' means?" She smiled at him before straightening her legs and covering herself, her privates, with both little hands. He noticed her fingers were busy, though. She was nodding vigorously, thinking about her answer and her little fingers were kneading the flesh underneath them. The flesh in question. He surmised it was an unconscious action, she seemed totally unaware, her mouth opened slightly. He held her eyes as she nodded, formulating her reply. "Yes, private means my brothers can't come into my room unless I say they can. My rooms private." She grinned when he nodded in agreement, proud of her analogy. It worked for him, too. "Right. No one can go in until you let 'em." "Uh-huh..." " ' N if they go in but you didn't say they could..." "They get in trouble 'cuz I'll tell." She smiled triumphantly, her head raised, her upper half supported by her hands beneath her, elbows bent. Proud of herself. He was proud of her too. Her acumen. Following down the trail he was blazing for her. Happy with his approval, she laid prone again, her hands returning to her 'privates' and resuming their business. He smiled happily, nodding at her, watching her hands. He examined her face. Her expression. She WAS oblivious. A very tactile young lady, obviously. His cock jumped excitedly, throbbing between his stomach and the king-size mattress. He stole a look at the clock. Plenty of time. He continued the train of thought. "I'd be in trouble if you told 'em I saw your privates. Even if I told 'em you let me see your privates or you told 'em YOU let me see privates." He let that sink in for a second. She looked a little worried now. He pressed her. "Huh, Lu? We'd both be in trouble...wouldn't we?" She was becoming mildly alarmed. He noted that with a little thrill. Time to ease her little mind, he almost chortled. "I'll keep it secret. I don't wanna get in trouble, I'll keep it super secret. Okay? Cross my heart 'n' hope to die, stick a needle in my eye. I promise." He crossed his heart, stuck the imaginary needle in his eye then offered her his smallest finger, extended alone from his fist. To close the deal. Second grade style. "Pinky swear." She quickly intertwined her pinky finger with his, relieved. He saw she had been close to tears when she thought she might be in trouble. Her parents were notoriously strict. He knew they frequently spanked their kids for the smallest infraction. He'd witnessed an episode himself while at their house for a neighborhood BBQ. He personally did not ascribe to that method but had noted its effectiveness. Those kids were the most well-behaved he had ever been around. "I pinky swear, too." He pulled her to him, hugging her, praising her. She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him back. Her scent was intoxicating. He glanced in the mirror on the dresser. It looked so sexy, his large frame, her tiny body seemingly welded to his chest, her sexy little legs and butt, long brown, silky hair tickling his hands behind her. He rubbed her little bubble butt, her thighs, her bare back where her suit was open in the back. He put his lips next to her tiny, perfect ear. "You are so pretty, Lulu. You have the prettiest privates I've ever seen." He saw the blush those words initiated. She shivered lightly. He grinned a bit at the wave of goosebumps, the spreading flush as the blood rushed to the surface of her skin. To enhance the sense of touch, he knew. A physiological sexual response. Amazing. From a seven year old. A very special seven year old, he was certain. Very responsive to touch, very tactile. He was sure it wasn't the norm for seven year olds. He smiled as she reacted now as a normal second grade girl. Hitting him with her tiny fist. "Uh uh...are not!" If little girls like you they try to punch you. He remembered that little factoid from his own elementary school days. He knew she was fishing for more compliments. More stimulation. More naughtiness. He wasn't going to disappoint her. "Yeah huh, so pretty I even kissed you there." He drew back, looking into her face. She was embarrassed but he saw she was pleased. Like any female. She was suddenly shy again. She smiled at him demurely. "I wanna kiss you again...right here." He slowly reached out his finger pointing at her belly, coming closer and then diving down and prodding her puffy, pretty pussy. She watched him, his finger. Let him poke her there, leave it there, then shyly she came back into his neck, arms around him, hugging him tightly. For a moment he thought this encounter was over. She wasn't going to let him do anything else. He had frightened her too much. He decided to relent, let it go. "But you're too ticklish, little girl. And too little for a big person like me to kiss anywhere, anyways." He dropped his arms from her, releasing her from his embrace. Hoping for a little reverse psychology magic. She shook her head. Violently. He knew it meant no. He waited to hear 'no' what. His dick throbbed, leaking from expectation. He placed his hand on his leg, pressing his cock with his wrist and forearm, furtively. She let him go, flopped down, half falling, bouncing on the bed, her hair bouncing on her shoulders. Bouncing a gleeful smile on her pretty face. He saw his tongue touching the pink gap where the missing tooth had been. He waited. "No. You kin do it again...I'm not ticklish...so, do it some more." He shook his head sadly. Inside his heart was leaping. Inside he was turning cartwheels, high-fiving, screaming YEAH! He kept that inside. His dick twitched and shuddered under his arm. He pressed it firmly. Wait. "Better not. You'd tell somebody...your friend. 'N' they'd tell someone else and everyone'd know." "Uh huh! I won't, pinky swear, cross my heart...do it again. Puh-leese, please, pretty please. I won't tell...ever." He looked at her eager, expectant, hopeful face. Doubtfully. She laid back from her sitting position, the hair that was hanging down, mussed a bit, covering her shouders in wild riotous beauty settled onto the sheet. She spread her legs widely, her hands beneath her thighs to hold them wider open, knees slightly bent, her heels the only part of her foot touching the mattress. Begging him to kiss her pussy. He fought off the climax the thought of that almost elicited from his balls. Not yet. Wait. Stop. He concentrated. She was unaware of the reason for his expression. Mis-interpreted it for rejection. "C'mon, I want you to. Do it some more...just one more time." One hand stole to her pussy, gripped the hem of her swimsuit and pulled it aside, showing her charms. He smiled. He thought he could just fall in there and never come back. And be very, very content. He decided to tease her a bit more. "You'd pee on me. Or fart out your butt in my face." She laughed, protesting. "Uh huh, I won't...once more. Puh-leese." "You gotta take your suit off. All the way. Then I'll do it one more time." "' K". Quickly she stood, swaying in the middle of the bed, peeling first one, then the other shoulder strap off her skinny frame and pushing the suit down, off her body, around her knees, wriggling delightfully, before kicking one foot free, stepping on the garment and pulling her other foot from it. He eagerly drank in the vision, trying to burn the sequence of images into his brain. Her cute little belly button, non-existent titties, the appearance of her fleshy, puffy pussy standing out beneath her tummy, a wonderfully noticeable feature in contrast to her skinny, straight, curveless little figure, each beautiful half pressed tightly to the other, a tiny crevice in the mound of reddened untanned skin. When she crooked her leg to pull the first leg free he saw her spread apart slightly, her soft small dimple above the starkly outlined tendon connecting to her inner thigh. His sexual desire, a white hot sun burning within him suddenly exploded into a super-nova dwarfing anything he had ever experienced before. His salivary glands shifted to warp drive, he wiped some involuntary drool off his chin as she flopped back down happily and spread her legs apart. "There. Do it again..." He crept between her splayed out legs, kissed her thigh softly, his nose flaring, seeking her sweet scent. She giggled, placing her tiny hand where he knew her little clitoris lay hidden in its protective shell, her slit opened slightly, the darker, flushed color beckoning him, Odysseus untied from the mast as the Sirens sang sweetly, loud and clear. "Not there, dummy. Kiss it here." To Be Continued...depending upon the level of positive feedback.