This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or
dead is entirely coincidental.

This story contains content which is not suitable for those under the
age of 18. Reader discretion is advised.

This story contains graphic descriptions of pedophilia and incest. If
you find this disturbing or distasteful, feel free not to read it.

This story is fictional. None of the characters presented in this story
are based on real people and none of the actions taken by the characters
are based on real actions. The author does not condone any type of
sexual intamacy between a teenager and a child.

All that said, sit down, shut up, and enjoy the story.

Catagories: f solo, mastrubation
 

  It was three AM according to the readout on the digital clock
that sat on my bedside table, and I was wide awake.  I lay on my
bed, the sheets pulled up to my chin, the heavy bed-cover, a
patchwork monstrosity sewn together by my grandmother, kicked to
the floor along with my pajama bottoms. Outside, I could hear the
howling of the late January wind, a cold and lonely sound, almost
like a person sobbing.  Further off in the distance came the
sound of the cattle mooing in the pasture, and further than that
the forlorn sound of the local freight train as it passed by our
tiny west Texas town.

  My room at grandma's house is pretty big, the bed is parallel
to the wall opposite the door, and it takes me a good ten or so
steps to get from the bed to the door.  The walls of the room are
painted off-white and the ceiling is painted with that bumpy
white paint.  There's a window at the bedside, near my head, and
through it shines the pale light of the sodium lamp in grandma's
front lawn.  The light comes in at an angle and illuminates a big
portrait that hangs at the foot of my bed.  It's a photo
portrait, a cousin who passed away several years ago.  He was
young when he died, fourteen or fifteen I think; I was just a
baby at the time, so I don't remember ever actually meeting him.

  The boy in the portrait is tall and slim, but not scrawny; his
hair brown with honey blonde highlights from days spent under the
sun.  His skin is tan and smooth, his eyes a brilliant blue.  He
wears an easygoing grin, one of those that lights up his entire
face.  It's a look of pure happiness, I think.  He wears a white
button down shirt, crisply starched jeans and a black tie.

  I sometimes stare at that portrait at night, wondering what
kind of boy he was.  I like to think he was the kind and gentle
type, quick to laugh, slow to frown.  I also like to think that
he's watching me as I lie here in bed.  I imagine that he's
smiling just for me.

  Slowly, I lower the sheets and reveal myself to him, just a
tease since I'm still in my pajama top, but the shape of my
budding breasts is quite clear.  The sheet passes lower, over my
stomach, and lower still, until the top edge lies just below the
top of my panties.  I don't want to expose everything to him just
yet.  I stare into those blue eyes and feel myself begin to warm,
especially my lower belly.

  My hands pull at the hem of my pajama top and it begins to
slide upward over my belly, revealing my soft stomach, my belly
button, my ribs.  I stop just below my breasts, I still want to
tease a little, leave something to the imagination.  My hands
move across my exposed flesh; my eyes slip closed and I imagine
that his hands have taken the place of my own.  They gently
caress my belly, exploring me.  I smile as the hands grow a
little more bold, the fingertips sliding just under the hem of my
shirt, testing my willingness.  I make no move to stop him, and
so he explores further, moving slowly and carefully, as if my
breasts are small, timid creatures that will flee if disturbed. 
Finally his hands reach the swell of my breasts and stop again. 
I nod my consent and his hands cup my small tits.

  My body instantly responds to the touch, my nipples are firm
and, as I slowly roll my palms over them, a very nice feeling
radiates from my belly throughout my body.  I suck in a deep
breath and let it out slowly, savoring the pleasure until the
place between my thighs begins to ache for attention.

  My left hand remains at my breast while my right slides
downward until I feel the hem of my panties beneath my
fingertips.  My fingers glide over the smooth cotton until they
reach my slit, and I hesitate, letting the anticipation build
while my left hand teases my nipples, gently pinching and
pulling. My right hand gradually shifts downward, exploring the
entrance beneath the fabric of my panties, pressing lightly
against my lips, until my middle finger finds it's way into the
slightly damp crevice that hides my most secret spot.

  I gently bite my lower lip as my finger begins to make lazy
circles around my clit, the cotton of my panties slightly rough
against the sensitive spot.  My other hand continues to tease and
play with my nipples, pinching a little harder as my middle
finger draws small, tight circles between my nether lips.

  I pause for only a moment to strip off my panties and drop them
to the floor, then spread my knees as wide as I can.  Both hands
go to my crotch and I spread my lips open, exposing my virginity
to the night.  The tip of my right index finger returns to my
clit, circling.  My breaths begin coming in rapid gasps and I
loose focus on my clit, my fingers caressing the soft flesh of my
sex, lightly brushing the opening.  My hips move on their own,
matching the pace of my fingertips, and my left hand clutches at
the bedsheets as the pleasure builds.  Time stops for a moment as
the pleasure is suddenly released throughout my entire body.  My
body spams for an instant, then again.  The intensity of the
orgasm leaves me feeling weak for a moment, then time once again
begins to flow.

  Quietly, I slip back into my underwear and pajamas, then
between the bedsheets.  A whispered goodnight to the portrait on
the wall, and then I slip away into peaceful sleep.