Plaything

By T. Rockne Blumen

T

here is no feeling more delicate than a child’s mouth on your cock. I’ve been sucked off countless times, once by a twelve-year-old with the technique of a professional, but nothing compared with the lightness of Bobbie’s bird-tongue as it tickled the head of my dick, or her lips as they pecked, pecked, pecked at my shaft. Her first blowjob, and she was flying blind, but her willing excitement, the eager luster in her brown eyes, added weight to her feathery touch. It was an effort not to come too soon.

We were on the two-seater sofa in my apartment, our clothes jumbled together on the floor. Her panties lay on top of the pile, faded and thin, with rows of pinholes along the crotch seam. She was curled between my legs, so that all I saw of her body was the hollow of her backbone snaking between the twin crescents of her bottom. Her hair was a short black mane that seldom felt the discipline of a brush. She was my little lion, an unkempt wild child with ragged fingernails, dirty feet and a wiry tomboy’s body. Clothed, there was little soft about her. Her softness had to be discovered, dug for, when the tight denim shorts came off, in the lips of her baby pussy.

I laid a hand on her head.

“Daddy loves you so much,” I said.

I regretted the cliché before it was out, but she didn’t know her father, and it had pleased her when I took on the role. She turned her eyes up at me expectantly as her tongue lingered at the tip of my dick. Warm, wet. Foamy with spit. For a long moment, neither of us moved. My cock seemed suspended in air, resting lightly in her curled fingers. Then she tipped her head forward, her face disappearing under the shock of hair, and closed her lips around me. She sucked on me like a straw, working her rough tongue between the under-lobes of my glans — a happy kid slurping up a vanilla shake. My sweet cream clotted behind the slit, awaiting the lap that would send it streaming into her mouth.

“Daddy …” was all I could say through my gasps. “Daddy …”

“Aa-Ee?” she repeated, her mouth full of prick. Her voice hummed down my shaft and into my balls.

“Baby …” I said. “Baby … please.”

“Puh-lee-zhh?” she said, sending another delicious vibration through my cockhead. Young as she was, she knew the power she had, and the pleasure she was giving me. There was pride and playfulness in her next gesture: she threw back her arms like a skydiver and slid slowly down the pole, taking me all the way in.

Look, she was saying. No hands.

I grunted, loudly, so the neighbors could hear, but at this point, the fear of discovery could not restrain me. Maybe I wanted them to know. Maybe my noise was a form of bragging, an announcement to anyone who happened to walk through the courtyard, Yes, I, a man in late middle age, with nothing special about him, using no tools but kindness, have been favored by a nine-year-old girl, who said to him, of her own accord, “Show me what grownups do.” Punish me if you want, any way you want, but I will always have this moment.

What I really said was, “Auuggh!”

There was no way to hold back, and no reason to. The peak was all-consuming — a flash of blackness that crushed me and Bobbie and all the world beyond us into the wispy tingle at the end of my dick. An eternity, yet all too brief. The world returned in an instant, and I was pumping come into Bobbie’s mouth. Poor thing. She couldn’t hold it. At the first gush she pulled away, leaving my cock to swing free. I grabbed it at once. I couldn’t bear to leave it untouched while I was coming, and Bobbie was too stunned to complete the act. She sat on her heels, watching in shock as I smeared spit and semen over the head the head of my dick. It was sweet, but I was already losing power. The height and distance of the streams diminished, and the last weak glob oozed out, dripping through my fingers like molten pearl.

Bobbie wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

“Ick,” she said.

“I warned you that would happen.”

“Yeah, but … ew!”

I was a mess. There was come all over my chest and hand, and scattered drops on my arm. Bobbie, charmed as an angel, had escaped the flood, save for one gummy pendant that hung from a tangle of her hair.

“Here,” I said, “you’ve got— ”

I reached to pluck it off, but as I touched it, she pounced on me, laughing and trapping the semen between our bodies. The shock of my ejaculation had worn off, and here was a fresh new mud puddle to play in. She wallowed in it. The stuff spread to a thin film between us, drying and sticking. Reaching around, I held her butt in my come-covered hand — another spot of softness she kept hidden in her shorts.

“You’re silly,” I said.

She stopped squirming, suddenly serious, and we kissed. Her lips tasted of oil and salt. My tongue found hers and gradually coaxed it into my mouth, where it rolled and lapped and played. She was a bright kid, a quick study, and she relished every new sensation. This child was born for sex.

“Now it’s my turn,” I said when our long kiss was over.

“What’re you gonna do?”

“I’m going to eat your baby pussy.”

“You’re dirty.”

She pushed off. The air rushed in, cooling the dried come on my chest, as she settled against the armrest opposite. We half-sat, half-lay, admiring one another from either end of the cramped sofa, our legs open and genitals nearly touching. Her cunt lips were outsized compared to the rest of her, fuller and fatter than you would expect from her thin legs and her flat tummy, as if they’d matured on their own and were waiting for her to catch up. They stood open in a narrow fissure, exposing a pink satin thread. It seemed she was inviting me in, but just as I lifted my head, showing my intent to go down on her, she thrust her toes against my mouth, barring me with a stiffened leg.

“Smell my feet,” she said.

The splendors of the adult world were hers for the taking, and here she was, insisting on a child’s game — one she should have outgrown long ago. Even so, it was as good a place to start as any. I lifted it an inch and took a dizzying sniff. She had arrived at my place barefoot, and she smelled of grass and moist earth and the rubbery band-aid around her big toe. I traced the arch with my tongue. Reflexively her foot jerked in my hands. She looked as though she might laugh, but checked herself.

“Tickle?” I said.

“Kind of.”

“Not really?”

“It feels funny.”

“But you like it?”

“Uh huh.”

I licked between her toes, cleaning out the dark grains of earth. The ball of her foot was scuffed. I nibbled it, and she slipped her hand between her legs. Her middle finger sank between the puffy white lips.

“Here, let me do the other.”

But she didn’t move. She had lost the energy and the arrogance she’d had moments before. The initiative was mine. I lowered her foot to the floor and picked up the other, which had sunk behind the sofa cushion. Her eyes grew dreamy as I nibbled and licked. Her lip hung sensuously, her child’s front teeth just a bit too large for her face. The finger in her pussy pressed deeper. I wondered if she touched herself like that, late on a cold night, while her slut of a mother lay drunk or high in the next room, fucking one of her countless johns. How often, curled beneath the covers, did Bobbie comfort herself deep in the warmth of her pajamas?

Moving her foot aside, I kissed her ankle, her calf. She held her leg straight up, and I kissed her behind the knee. I brought my tongue down along the slender thigh, and as I moved toward the prize, her leg bent over my shoulder, and the sharp heel rested on my back.

“Here,” I said. “Let Daddy.”

Her finger, shiny wet, made a soft squelching sound as I drew it out of her pussy. I took it in my mouth, sucking off the tasteless juice. Masturbation had swollen her insides, which filled her lips like pink cream in a donut hole. She was ready. The moment my tongue slipped through the doughy ring and grazed the pink froth, I could feel the air go out her. The last bit of tension left her body with a sigh. Her butt settled into the cushion. The leg on my back became a dead weight.

I worried she was too young to come, but she had no expectations, and this new sensation was pleasant enough. The problem, if any, was mine. Without a climax, I couldn’t know when to stop. I could be stuck licking her pussy until she dropped off to sleep. It was a fate I could live with.

She sighed a second time, with greater satisfaction. My tongue wormed through the folds at the top of her slit. Her cunt seemed to grow in my mouth. The inner whirls loosened, opening like rose petals.

“Daddy,” she said, and ran her fingers through my hair. “Daddy, that feels so good …”

Love talk? From a child? I could never get my wives to talk in bed, and this baby girl instinctively knew how to encourage, how to appreciate.

“You like it?” I said, pausing in my attentions.

“Yeah.”

“Tell me how much you like it.”

“I like it a lot.”

“What do you like?”

“When you eat my baby pussy.”

This was a mistake. She was just repeating what I’d said. I was distracting her. If I persisted, I’d ruin her mood. Better to put my mouth where it would do the most good. So I opened wide and sealed my lips around her swelling cunt.

She forgave the interruption at once. The sighs returned. Her eyes clamped shut, and her loose limbs began to stiffen. She raised her hands in tight fists beside her head. Pushing harder into her crotch, I lost my balance and slid halfway off the sofa, my knee thumping on the carpet. But I kept my mouth on her cunt. My tongue found her hole, prodding it open and slipping inside. She was slick in there, creaming, and I tongue-scrubbed her with her own cleansing juice, barreling through her inner lips and over her clitty. It was unmistakable presence now, a tiny diamond.

It was her turn to notify the neighbors. She let out a little-girl whine that grew louder and higher in pitch, like an approaching siren. Suddenly she grabbed my shoulders and pushed. Her head reared and her back arched, puffing out what little chest she had. She made me pay in pain for the privilege of eating her out: Her nails bit my flesh, the heel on my back pounded more than once, and her ass angled down into the seat, forcing me to crook my neck if I wanted to keep my face in her crotch. And I did want to. I stayed with her, despite the ache, sucking more intensely on her clit, matching the force of her rising pleasure. The whine burst into a squeal of surprise. Then she was silent. She turned inside herself, fixing all her mind on the novel reactions of her writhing body. She had forgotten me. I was nothing to her but the wet tongue on her pussy, although that was the most important thing in her life right now.

She stretched, twisted, and snapped like a rubber band. She let go of my shoulders, and she seemed to shrivel as she sank into the cushion. I tried to keep going, but she slapped me away. I slid wholly off the sofa, kneeling before her and resting an elbow on the cushion, rubbing my neck as her eyes flickered open.

“Uh,” she said, blankly.

For a while, all she could do was make faces, rolling her eyes and blowing out her cheeks and saying “Oh,” until she worked up the strength to utter the first articulate word of her adult life — “Wow!”

“Good?” I asked. The proud papa.

“Is that coming?”

“Sounded like it from here.”

“Oh my God.”

I leaned over and kissed her forehead, her nose, her still lips. I tried tweaking her nipples, but, though hard, they were set so flush against her flat chest that they slipped through my fingers. I settled for stroking, and from there I ran my hand over her body, down her tummy and from knee to knee across her thighs, over her drooling cunt. She breathed deeply, recovering, and happier than I’d ever seen anyone.

“Here,” I said.

I gathered her in my arms and stood. Oh, she was light, nearly weightless. Balancing her against my chest, I kissed her again on the head. Her face rose and her lips met mine. My dick was half-hard again, hanging heavily, and I realized I had to pee. I carried her into the bathroom, still kissing her, my bare feet feeling the way, and set her down on the cold counter beside the sink. The first piss after an ejaculation, when the slit is clogged with come, always shoots out sideways. Bobbie was right next to the toilet, and my yellow spray spattered her thigh and the flattened globe of her butt. She wiped it off — actually, she rubbed it into her skin — and watched, gleefully, I thought, as I corrected my aim and filled the bowl with bubbles.

“That’s a lot,” she said.

Still a kid, fascinated with bodily functions. If I had farted, she would have howled.

“You have to go?” I asked, shaking the last drops.

We changed places. She squatted on the lowered seat while I washed my hands in hot water. The two streams — the bass of the faucet, the soprano of her pee — harmonized in the echoing bathroom tile. She finished and wiped, stood up and smacked the lever, sending our urine swirling away together, and when she stepped in front of me to wash up, I got my first good look at her behind since we’d taken off our clothes. I could rhapsodize at length about those ivory cabochons — the gentle swells, the inward curls that joined them to the legs without a shadow of a crease, the indented sides, like the pinch of an unseen thumb and finger, and all so compact that I could cover each with a single hand, which I now proceeded to do.

I pumped a palm-load of soap from the dispenser, and, reaching over Bobbie’s shoulders, lathered my hands with hers under the stream of warm water. As she rinsed off and shut down the faucet, I reached behind and gently rubbed my foamy hands over her butt, circling symmetrically as the suds slithered down her legs. Pretty pretty ass. A quick but reverent toweling, and I knelt behind her, pressing my lips to each freshly cool and lemon-scented cheek. I gave them a thorough second rinse, this time with my tongue.

And Bobbie liked it. She braced herself on the edge of the sink, leaning over and spreading her legs, which separated her cheeks enough to reveal the shadowy spot inside and the pink wedge beneath. My tongue found the rubbery ring of her asshole.

“God, you’re so dirty!”

My hard-on returned in full flower. I was about to take the biggest risk of all, but I wanted it more than I’d ever wanted anything. She wanted it, too. Or she would have, if she had known what “it” was.

I stood too fast, old man that I am. The blood drained from my head. My vision darkened, and I felt deliciously faint. It lasted only a few seconds, and as I regained my sense of solidity, I spun the weightless child around and propped her on the counter once more. It was the perfect height. My stiff dick pointed straight at the shiny pink ribbon between her open legs. A cloud of fear passed over her face, as if my cock was an iron spike, and she was hanging over it by a frayed string. She knew instinctively what I wanted. She knew, as well, that nothing she could say or do could stop it.

But I had to be careful. In the mirrored cabinet beside the sink was a tube of sensitizing gel, which, for months, I had used only for masturbation. I could take it or leave it when I fingered my prick, but it was indispensable with a hopelessly tight and trembling little virgin. I reached out, careful not to move my menacing prick from its target, and the cabinet opened with an angry snap.

“Don’t be afraid,” I said. “This is going to feel fantastic.”

Bobbie watched in rabbit-eyed terror as I streamed the shimmering gel over my cock, base to tip, tip to base. The load bent me downward, and when it threatened to drop to the floor, I tossed the tube in the sink and smeared it into a thin, glistening sheath. It felt so fucking good I was tempted to jerk off for her. She watched me closely, her tongue pinched between her teeth, and I saw I was being selfish.

“Try it,” I said, and I handed her the dented tube.

Carefully, with a look of focused curiosity, she squeezed a big ball onto the tip of her slit, and then, holding the tube up like a torch, slathered it all over with her other hand. The stuff gleamed on her lips and her clitty, which made a sudden, sparkling appearance from its rubbery shell. Her shiny finger pumped eagerly, slid down, and, before she knew what had happened, found and penetrated her hole. It went all the way in, vanishing like a stone in a pond.

My dick grew in my hand as she dug around in there. Her knuckle circled her clit. Her eyelids fluttered. She was ignoring me, turning inward again with the unexpected pleasure. It wouldn’t take either of us long to come, and if I wanted her cherry, I had to act.

“Hold on,” I said. I yanked her hand out of her cunt and thrust my dick into the narrow V of her legs.

“Are we gonna?” she said.

“We’re gonna,” I said. “Is that all right?”

A “no” wouldn’t have stopped me, but she said nothing, gave no sign. She only gaped at the wolf at the door, but in fear or fascination, who knew? Reaching around the small of her back, I pulled her butt closer to the edge of the sink and pressed my cockhead against her glistening fissure.

But a man’s cock is not a little girl’s finger, and even with the gel, penetration was an effort. I tried everything. I tipped her against the big mirror over the sink, spread her thighs, crooked my knees to bring my cock level with her opening, but she was tight, resisting, and each abortive thrust ended with my dick slipping harmlessly toward her outie.

This amused her. I’d gone from an experienced lover to a clumsy old fool, and she enjoyed my embarrassment.

“What’re you doing?” she said.

“Hold on.”

I started over, and used what little weight she had to my advantage. Gripping my shaft, I stirred the tip of my cock into the thick stew of her pussy and rested it there. Then I slipped my greasy hands under her ass and lifted. Her butt came off the sink. Her legs went around my hips, her arms around my neck. My dick, pinched between her inner lips, angled up with her cunt, and she came down on it with an audible crunch. Her cherry had burst. I stuffed in her up to the pubic bone, and I had never felt anything so tight and soft. She was a velvet vise. We were silent, stunned.

“You OK?” I whispered in her ear. With her face over my shoulder, I couldn’t see her expression.

“Uh huh.”

“Hurt?”

“Uh uh.”

She kissed me on the cheek. Her face felt damp, but we were all right. I leaned back, balancing her on the pivot point of my cock, and playfully bounced from my knees, swirling inside her. She laughed, and her tender pussy rewarded me with a squeeze.

She loosened her grip and hung back at arms’ length, her fingers locked behind my neck, which only pressed her cunt tighter against me. We stood there in the bathroom like a tree with its two great branches rising from the trunk in a “Y.” I turned a quarter way around, and we looked at ourselves in the bathroom mirror. Yes, she’d cried when I’d broken her seal, but her teary face was smiling — beaming, in fact.

“Look at you, all grown up,” I said. “Feel good?”

“Kinda.”

“Let’s see if we can make it ‘definitely.’”

You’d think a girl molded to your loins would make walking a burden. A woman, or even a teenager, would have dragged me down, but Bobbie was an easy yoke. And I loved her silliness. She hung her head back, watching our progress upside down as I carried her to the bedroom. Deep inside her as I was, each step pushed me in farther. My tread made her squeak with pleasure.

With an about-face, I sat on the edge of the bed. Her tousled head came up, and we were eye to eye once more. It took an adjustment, but she unhooked her legs from my waist and folded them under her, which put her squarely in my lap, straddling me, pressing on my dick with her whole body.

It was lucky I’d already come once.

“You know what we’re doing?” I said.

“Uh huh.”

“What? Tell me.”

“Being bad.”

“We’re fucking,” I said. “Say ‘fuck.’”

Her face brightened with the naughty thrill of the idea, but the word got stuck at the tip of her tongue. The lessons of her short lifetime held her back.

“Come on, say it.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s bad.”

“I won’t tell. It’s just us. Come on … Fuh … fuh …”

“Fuck!” she blurted out, and instantly buried her face in my neck.

“Good girl,” I said, pressing her close, kissing her ear, her shoulder. “Good girl.”

“Fuck,” she said again. She said it again and again, whimpering, while I stoked her hair and kissed her and pushed my cock up into her blind silky wetness. The filthy word-stream abruptly ended, and the rhythmic huffing began. She straightened up, and, her hands on my shoulders, she bounced excitedly, repeatedly, like a kid on a trip to an amusement park — only she wasn’t riding in Daddy’s car. She was riding Daddy’s dick.

“You never felt anything so good,” I said.

“Shhh!” She clamped her greasy fingers on my mouth. I had distracted her again, and, again, I didn’t count. She was pleasuring herself, and she didn’t need me to put her over. She didn’t need me for anything, except to stay hard. Letting go, I fell back and watched. Her hands found my chest, and she dug in hard. I’d be sore and red when the pleasure was over.

But what pleasure! The lube on her crotch slurped and slopped — blort, blort — as she bounced on my cock. She rose, stretching my dick like taffy in her tight, tight pussy. Then she rammed down, and I dissolved in the warm pudding of her cunt. My solid shaft seemed to melt. Nothing was left but the tingle at the tip, and the next stretch began.

The bouncing went on and on. She was inexhaustible, a quantum of childish energy. The passing expressions in her face became a study in the building of a climax. Her eyes squeezed shut. Her mouth gradually opened to a frozen circle. The jaw stiffened, the cheeks sank.

I touched her lips. She let go of bruising my chest and, clutching my hand, sucked a finger into her mouth. There was symmetry to the act, the holes at each end filled. My dick was quivering, and like all men, I wondered if I could hold out long enough to satisfy a female who took forever to come. I pushed up, jamming my dick all the way into her, putting a stop to the bouncing. She hovered on the brink, her back arched, her ribs straining beneath her paper-white chest. My arm was stretched to the limit, my finger hooked in her mouth.

She gave a muffled squeak. Then another. Then her shoulders humped and toppled over, shaking violently against my chest as though in the grip of a fever. Her cunt locked around me, and she wailed and drooled in perfect animal abandon.

I whispered endearments, talking her down from her peak. She grew still, but when I thought the climax had passed, her whole body shuddered. I clasped her tight.

“Shh, it’s all right. Daddy’s here.”

Another aftershock.

“You’re such a good girl. You’re so pretty.”

A final tremor, and she was done. I stroked her hair, her cheek. She mumbled something.

“What, baby?”

She repeated it, but all I caught was a louder mumble before she snuggled her face under my chin, as though settling in for a nap. It was a miracle I hadn’t come yet, and after all her noise and thrashing, my own climax was an understated affair. She was being such a drowsy angel I didn’t have the heart to ravish her. Barely moving, I drew my dick back through her slick bore. I paused, prolonging the moment, and when I pushed again, with a single smooth stroke, three soft waves of come surged deep into my plaything’s pussy. Ah.

“Feel that?”

“Mmm.”

“How about I give you a bath? Get all the goo off you. I’ll wash your hair and your bottom and all in between your legs. Nobody’ll know what you’ve been up to.”

“OK,” she said, “but you have to give me two hundred dollars.”

“Two hundred dollars? What for?”

“Mom said if you did anything to me, you have to give me money, or we’ll tell.”

She fell asleep.

Plaything indeed!

The End