TRISH by:
Jem Aura © 2006
Chapter 1
My name is Scott Burwell,
or Coach Burwell if
you like. I coached my sons soccer teams and baseball teams for several years. Inevitably,
you become friends with the parents and siblings of the team. You get to take a
leadership role when discussing a child’s behavior, accomplishments, and
challenges. They almost blindly trust my judgment prescribing discipline for
their own children. Being on the sidelines constantly created situations where
team mothers, fathers, sons and daughters all interacted with me. Familiarity
inevitably instills trust and confidence, which in turn creates endless
opportunities to do people “favors”. Not
that I didn't like it. It’s just that each family thought they were the only
ones requesting favors of me.
My truck is so obvious at
the games. Many of the favors were requests to help move or tow something. More
times than I can count, I’ve been asked to bring children home with me after
games and practices, to be picked up later.
On the other hand, I did
pile up an awful lot of credit, which made it much more comfortable delegating
duties to the mothers and fathers regarding the games. Rotation of who brings
drinks and snacks, Who coordinates team photos, who
carpools on road trips, etc. So it did go both ways.
During one of the
practices, a mother got a call on her cell phone. I could hear the tone of the
conversation and I knew it wasn’t good. Afterward, she was looking around in a
panic trying to decide what to do. It was a hot day and most of the parents
just drop the kids off, so she was the only parent who had stayed for the
practice. I dreaded doing so, but I went over to her.
“What’s wrong Julie?” I
asked.
Tears welled up in her
eyes and she went on a tirade of cry-talking that I couldn’t understand.
“Sister” was the only word that I caught.
“Take it easy, tell me slowly what has happened.”
She took a few deep
breaths and swallowed a couple of times while she dug in her pack for some
Kleenex. “My sister, Jackie, she collapsed at work and they found out she has a
brain tumor.” She started sobbing again.
“It’s okay, just go and
I’ll take Josh home with me.”
“Thank
you Scott, but you don’t understand, she lives in
“Where’s Josh’s dad?” I asked. They were divorced but they all
lived close to each other.
“He’s in
She calmed a little and
stared at her feet.
“Well, you have to go.
Don’t you?”
“Yes, we are very close.”
She choked up again. “It’s just that I have a busy week planned. It’s Trish’s
birthday and she’s having a slumber party Friday, I don’t know what to
do.” She sniffed and blew her nose.
“Look, it’s okay, you have
lots of friends with the team and we will look after everything. Just get on
the phone right now and buy a ticket.”
So I went back to coaching
while she frantically punched numbers on the phone and dug in her pack for
credit cards.
She insisted on paying me,
since I was the only one actually doing anything. I didn’t bother calling the
other families. We lived fairly close to each other. Her son Jack, on my team
with my son Brendan, needed looking after since he was only 9 years old. She had pets to be fed (fish, hamsters, cats
and a dog). She said that Trish would help out if I needed her to. I agreed, needing a break from the monotony
of my home life.
I approached my wife very
carefully. She had a reputation for trying her best to pussy whip me. Many of
my friends just cringed when she was around - and would make themselves scarce.
I had never given away the secret I had kept so close for so long. Ever since I
started suffering emotionally at the hands of my wife, I became interested in
young girls, in the budding stages of their sexuality. As time went on, I
gained much arousal and gratification from it.
It is strange how the
changes in me occurred. Really, I never gave much thought to girls that young.
And my wife had been hounding me for fifteen years. She was pretty. At least I
thought so. And I loved her. No doubt. But family and friends would ask me how
I could put up with her treating me the way she did. But I was resigned to
being her husband and the father of our sons - and for my part I was happy with
that. It was when she confessed that she was having an affair that the changes
in my attractions occurred. From that point on, I was acutely interested in
every nuance of femininity that turned me on or off. And as the picture began
to clarify - the ideal, perfect object of my desires, it became obvious that I
was now a pervert. I was not a pedophile. The media calls someone a pedophile
if they stare too long at a 17 year old. Technically, a pedophile is sexually
attracted to pre-pubescent children. That means no signs of physical maturity.
Chest, arms, butt, legs, all indistinguishable between boys and girls. I
actually have fairly normal sexual attractions. I like breasts, hairy pussies,
hourglass hips and a round ass. These are traits of physically mature women.
But there is a big difference between physical maturity and social maturity.
Social maturity in the
I have resolved, however,
that I will never have any contact with a girl that could be construed as
molesting. I am convinced that if you enter into a secret agreement with a
young girl, there is a 98% chance she will tell someone. Women, and especially
girls, have an instinctive need to gossip. This is not good for someone who
likes his freedom. So the trick is to give them all the freedom they want and
sit back and watch. That way, the only secrets you enter into are the ones they
think they are keeping to protect themselves.
To do this, simply create an environment where they test your
boundaries, and your permission for them to continue doing whatever it is takes
the form of “Well, I don’t mind, but if your parents would mind then you need
to either not do it any more, or you better keep quiet about it.” That way, they believe that everything that
happens was their own idea, and their own peril if
they should be found out.
Any time I am in charge, I
don’t set rules. If they are being obnoxious or destroying things, I get mad
and yell - but I use it as an opportunity to convey my philosophy to them,
“Hey, knock it off!” my booming voice freezes them into statues, “Look, I don’t
care what you do. You can run around naked and eat your boogers for all I
care. I just don’t like a lot of
obnoxious noise or violence. If you want to keep me happy, you’ll play games
that are about kindness, love and tenderness towards each other, rather
than… If you gotta
play blood and guts, go outside!”
That sort of ambiguous set
of rules brings a whole new world to light for them. It encourages testing of limits in a
different direction. Children will always test the limits of the adult in
charge. After I blow-up at them, a young girl in the throws of puberty will
eventually test me with flirting and some round-about sex talk. All you have to
do is not protest - and the behavior will increase exponentially. However you
should protest every behavior that is not in line with the type of behaviors
that turn you on (or give you peace). This is done with indifference. The kids
are testing to see what angers you, and what pleases you. If you don’t get
angry, just show indifference, it’s boring and they move on. If they touch you
in an affectionate way, or wear something sexy, you reinforce that behavior
with appropriate praise.
It took 14 hours before
Julie left for the airport. I spent that time dwelling on Trisha and the party.
We would be in the same house - during showers, bedtime, jammies,
getting dressed, everthing. It was incredibly
enticing. So when I approached my wife, I suggested that she use this as an
opportunity to take a break. I could take all the kids and manage the whole
bunch without her. She would be able to get all the things done that she had
been complaining about never having the time to do (and a few she couldn’t with
me around, if you know what I mean). Needless to say, I was pushed out the door
with the boys, suitcases, and her blessings.
As I helped Julie to her
car with her suitcases, She apologized profusely and said, “They are all very
well behaved girls and should give you no trouble. There's $500 on the table
for whatever you need. I'll be in touch every day. Bye."
Well, a lot of bonding
occurred during the three days leading up to the slumber party - for all of us.
I really didn’t have a chance to scold them about anything, opening the door to
my philosophy, but I did catch Trish and my son Brendan playing "I'll show
you if you show me" in the closet under the stairs. When I opened the
door, my son was standing in front of her with his small, erect penis sticking
straight out, and she was touching it and examining it very closely. My son and
I exchanged a quick smile. He knew I wouldn’t be mad. Trisha on the other hand
was very ashamed, mortified to be more accurate, and she was bracing for
punishment. The blood had drained from her face and that long look of dread and
anticipation was carved like stone.
I sent my son upstairs,
took Trisha by the arm, and led her to an over-stuffed chair across the room. I
sat down and turned her to face me. I looked in her eyes for a few seconds to
assess her emotions. She was about to cry. "Trisha sweetheart, you haven't
done anything wrong." She was taken aback by this and did a double take.
Her eyes refocused and bored into mine - reading me, but she said nothing.
"Angel, every kid in the entire world plays those games. it's perfectly
natural. In our society there are a lot of people who try to make those kinds
of games seem dirty, while at the same time they let their kids watch movies of
people killing each other. I don't think that way. I believe children should be
free to show that kind of tenderness for each other. Don't you? "
She was standing in that
submissive posture, hands behind her back, tummy sticking out, head down. She
nodded.
"What would your
parents think? do you think they would be angry with you?"
She shrugged.
"Well if you're not
sure, then we better keep this our little secret. Okay?"
She nodded much more
emphatically, and managed a smile. I
opened my arms for a hug and she fell forward.
I reclined the chair and
she curled up in the crook of my arm. I pushed the hair from her face and
stroked her head softly. The moment stretched into several minutes. We didn't
speak at all. Eventually, she fell
asleep, and so did my arm. I moved her to the other arm. I studied her as she
slept and caressed her hair. She was perfect in every way. When my other arm
went numb I picked her up and carried her to her room. As I laid her down, her
eyes opened a slit and then closed.
"Are you
faking?" I asked.
A smile glinted for a
moment.
"A-hah!, you are faking, you little turkey"
Now she giggled, and I
tickled her in the ribs a little.
"How long have you
been awake?"
She stretched and sat up.
"I never was asleep. I just like pretending. My dad does the same thing -
playing with my hair. I like it. It really feels good and I fake like I'm
asleep."
I sat down on her bed.
"Well I was getting ready to put your jammies on
and tuck you in. It's only 8:30. Are you tired?"
With a quizzical look she
said, "You were going to dress me
in my nighty?”
"Oh, your nighty, I only have boys and we call them jammies. Where do you keep your nighties?"
She pointed. "They're
hanging in the closet, on the left side"
I opened the closet and
saw about two dozen nighties ranging from Barbie
prints, pastel terrycloth, to see through with ruffled sleeves and ribbons.
"Hmmm…, Which one do you like?”
She just shrugged and
said, “I don’t care.”
While I thumbed through
the collection, I said, “My boys fake sleep all the time just so they can lay
there while I get them ready for bed. I guess I thought all parents did that.”
“They used to, but not so
much any more.” Her tone was happy. I
got the sense that she believed I would have done it with good natured intent.
“Well, they love to fake
asleep. It’s a game with us. You see, while I kiss them good night, I rub my
whiskers into their neck. They know it’s
coming and they start squirming right after I pull the covers up. I really rub
them in so they have to scrunch all up."
I chose a modest white
cotton nightie that looked like it might be a little
too small for her. "You probably wouldn't like that I guess, being a
girl?"
She pulled her knees up
and wrapped her arms around them. She was blushing and smiling. I know kids,
and there's not one on the planet who wouldn't like that little game, if it was
with someone they liked and trusted. She was thinking - staring blankly at the nighty I laid on the bed, and wondering if I was actually
going to try and dress her in it myself. Finally I spoke again. "Well, it
doesn't matter now anyway. One of the rules of the game is that if I catch you
faking, you have to get yourself ready for bed,
and then I'll tuck you in. You blew it."
She performed a perfect
"Aghast" look and said "That's not fair, I didn't know that
rule!"
As I left the room I
stated, "Well you know it now. Besides, the only reason for me dressing
you is because you are asleep. Right?"
She stared blankly, her
face still flushed as this little fact sunk in.
I closed the door.
I went back to the recliner
in the basement and put in a DVD. Earlier in the day, while I was out running
errands, I stopped by the video store and carefully chose a few DVD’s. Pretty
soon I had a room full of kids watching a feature length anime movie with lots
of young girls in skimpy animated clothes doing magic and Karate. Guess who
curled up in the chair with me and (apparently) fell asleep.
After the movie I looked
around the room. The large sectional had three boys sound asleep. My oldest
went to bed earlier. Trish was actually asleep now, even if she was faking at
first. She was purring and drooling in a most sleep-like way, and she was
sweating around her neck and forehead. I struggled to my feet with her hanging
in front of me, propped her butt up with my forearm and headed off to her room.
It was dark. I placed her on her bed and turned on her desk lamp.
Standing over her I
brushed the hair off of her face. She showed no signs of wakefulness, but I
strongly suspected she woke up during the trip to her room. She was wearing
blue jeans with embroidered flowers and shining studs. They were bell-bottoms,
the kind that are so short that the tops of her socks showed. She had on blue
tennis shoes and a tan T-shirt. On her bed, sticking out from underneath her,
was a nighty, different from the one I had picked
out. I rolled her toward me by pulling her arm across her chest then rolling
her over. The nighty was pink with lacey edges. The
fabric was sheer. Having freed the nighty, I let her
roll back. Despite my apparent calm, I was extremely aroused and excited.
I began, rather roughly,
to take her shoes and socks off. I figure if she is faking, no amount of
roughness will cause any stir because she is focusing on not moving, and I
don’t want it to seem to her as if I am trying to be sneaky in any way.
However, if she is asleep, some roughness will cause her to wake up, and
hopefully start faking it.
She was as limp as a rag
doll. I felt confident that she was awake, and loving the thrill of the
titillating attention she was getting - she knew what I was about to do.
I sat beside her and
slowly unbuckled her belt, unsnapped her jeans, and unzipped the zipper as far
as it would go. I knew the panties would be clinging to the jeans. I hooked a
few fingers in the waist and began working them down. Sure enough, the panties
were slipping off with the jeans. Trisha surely could feel the panties slipping
down, and would probably stop me.
her hand twitched slightly
and raised an inch off the bed. I stopped.
I removed my fingers from the waist of her jeans. Her hand settled back
onto the bed. Stalemate. An inch of her mound was visible. Thin, soft,
delicate blonde hair peaked out.
I mumbled out loud as if
talking to myself. "Shit, sorry 'bout that... Let's see... " Rolling her back toward me as I had before, I
fished the elastic of her panties out of her jeans and pulled them up. Rolling
her back, I carefully fished them out of the front.
Her jeans were still
holding on to her hips. I went to the foot of the bed and grabbed on to her
bell bottoms. Yanking them down in one pull, I fished her legs out and tossed
them by the door. Unknown to Trisha, her panties had slid back down. I think
the quick motion masked the sense of sliding down. I was staring at the whole
of her wonderful girlness. Shit, I just realized that
had I been paying attention while fishing her legs out of her jeans, I would
have had a full view.
I gotta
pull them back up. I mumbled out loud some more, "Oh man ! I didn't mean to... ", I started pulling
them back up, "...do that. I am sooo sorry."
Her legs raised and lowered one at a time, nervousely.
I felt the need to say something to her, knowing she knows I just saw her in
all her glory. "Well, that was a
happy little accident, What a beautiful girl." A million other things I could have said
would have been better. What an idiot I am sometimes. I know my seeing her made
her uncomfortable. I wasted no time getting them back up. I tried to force them
up with her laying on her back. She helped a little by raising her ass, but the
elastic got stuck on her butt. I managed to cover most of her mound
This scene was making me
incredibly aroused. Trisha moved, rolling away from me on her side. She must
have felt how her panties were askew. But now her bare butt was facing me so I
took the opportunity to fix her panties over her butt. The good news is, if she
felt too uncomfortable, she would stop pretending to be asleep. Even fully
exposed like she was, she still wanted to continue. After fixing her panties in
the back, I rolled her back to lying on her back. Now her panties were sagging
in front again, with two thirds of her soft
mound visible, and a hint of her slit at the elastic. If I didn't keep
moving, I would have sat there staring, tipping her off. I needed to keep
moving.
She was incredibly
beautiful. One of those perfectly proportioned bodies with silky perfect skin,
narrow hips. A little heft was forming in her butt, heavy peach fuzz peeking
out from the elastic of her panties, and small round breasts.
I started narrating again,
out loud while I worked. In a low voice I mumbled to myself, "How am I
going to get this shirt off?" Sitting beside her I pulled her arms until
she was sitting up. Suspiciously, her head did not fall back as I pulled. I continued
to mumble, "Okay, now if she would just stay right there..." I
balanced her and slowly let go. Predictably, she dramatically plopped back onto
her pillow. oh, what a performance.
mumbling some more I said, "Hmmm... Maybe I can do it like this..." I worked her t-shirt up to expose her whole
tummy. Then I pulled on her feet to slide her away from the headboard: This ooched her shirt up in the back. I placed her arms over her
head in the space I just created between her head and the headboard, and with
much anticipation, I slid the shirt up exposing her breasts and covering her
face. I made a big deal of carefully extracting her arms from the sleeves of
the shirt, the whole time drinking in the wonderful view. A lot of 11 year olds
only show a tiny sign of breast development. Trish was above average. No
question that they were breasts, even though they were still very small. While
I fussed with her arms, my forearm brushed her nipples several times. They
stiffened and I catalogued that image permanently into my mind. Finally I freed
her head from the shirt and threw it across the room. Standing and fussing with
the nightie again I stared down at Trish's beautiful,
mostly naked body. Her arms still stretched over her head and her panties
barely doing their job...
Sitting down on the bed
beside her, I laid the nighty over her, covering her
breasts. I grabbed her right leg and right shoulder (I was sitting on her left side) and rolled her
toward me to fix her panties one last time. I also wanted to see her butt
again. I’ve never seen such perfectly smooth skin. She was leaning against me
as I straightened her panties and (like the gentleman I am) I made sure they
were covering all the important parts. Before rolling her back, I gently carressed her back with my rough fingers. I mumbled
"My boys get lots of back scratches....
too bad you're not awake..." after a few seconds of carressing I tried pushing her back over - but she
resisted.
There was nothing left for
me to see. This little game had paid off and I didn’t mind sabotaging it to
have some fun with her. So, with my
mission accomplished, I was ready to move on to something new. "Uhmmm - you're awake... " I pushed again and she
resisted. With her face somewhat buried in the bed, she signaled with a waving
hand for me to continue the back scratch (and to hell with your rules). So I pulled the nighty
away from her and said, "Okay, move over.... all the way over." She ooched to the far side of the bed and I layed
down beside her. I draped my left leg over her the back of her thighs and
settled in for a long, arm-aching back massage. She was in heaven. Looking at
me periodically and smiling, making little cooing sounds. Finally, I got up and
threw her nighty at her. "I think you can handle
this now."
As the nighty
and my words hit her, she started to flop like a fish in protest, still lying
on her stomach. I wonder why she didn’t just talk.
"Hey, you know the
rules." I watched her carefully to see what she would do.
Now she spoke, “C’mon.
Please?” She said, pleading.
I don’t like breaking the
rules. It seemed important to maintain the illusion of her being asleep - to
benefit her perspective. So she can’t say “He knew I was awake.”, but I’m not sure why, or what good it would
do. In any case, I just stood there for a while, watching her. She sensed me still standing there.
With one movement, she flipped over onto her back and held the nighty out to me with a stiff arm. She was not taking no
for an answer. I laughed, sat down beside her, and kissed her forehead.
Even in an erotically
charged situation like this, I firmly believe that this little girl is simply
playing a juvenile titillating game. She hasn't even had an adult sexual
thought. They can sense bad intent, and the dominoes of this wonderful event
would not have fallen the way they did if I intended to take advantage of her
overtly. On another note, I wondered for
a moment why she was so willing to expose her breasts to me. She was developed
enough to be conscious of them. I tend to believe that males and females have
some instinctive things going on that we are not even aware of. In this case,
males typically are aroused visually, while females are not. I think females
are instinctively aware of males being visually aroused, and will flaunt their
stuff (at this age it’s purely a subconscious thing).
I gave in, but not
completely. Instead of slowly and erotically slipping her into her nighty, I instructed her to sit up, hold her arms over her
head, (while I fumble with the nighty, glancing at
her breasts), I managed her hands through the arm holes, and finally, and
sadly, covered her body. She laid back and I leaned over to kiss her goodnight
- she scrunched up anticipating the whiskers. I didn't disappoint her. Rubbing
my whiskers on her soft neck and feeling her body shiver and convulse,
giggling. This was more than I could take.
Having the images of her body fresh in my mind, I left her room and went off to masturbate.
Chapter 2
The next day (Friday) I
had all the boys and Trish working around the house to get ready for the
birthday party. Really I just wanted them out of my hair so I could put my plan
into action. Over the past few days I had been dwelling on the fact that all
those girls would be downstairs, doing who knows what, dressed in who knows
what…., and slowly an idea had formed. The basement TV room, where we watched
the movie the night before, was where the girls would be partying. It was a
very large room with no windows, and only one way in or out - the stairs. At
the top of the stairs the door knob had a lock, but the latch didn’t even catch
so the lock was useless. Then I noticed there was a hook to lock the door from
below, - so the girls could keep the boys out. This was important, because when
girls feel they have achieved complete privacy in a slumber party atmosphere,
you know what usually happens. My job was to encourage that behavior any way I
could.
Back to my plan: The TV
was a large big screen projection model with DVD, VCR, Surround Sound, Stereo
music system, etc. I went out and rented a Karaoke system and picked up my
video camera, tripod, and VCR from the house. I went by Wal-Mart and bought a
100 foot coaxial cable.
Above the recreation room
was the master bedroom. It had a nice TV with a cable box and a new VCR/DVD
combo. I drilled a hole in the floor above the entertainment center and ran the
coaxial cable up to the master bedroom. I set up the Karaoke system with video
cam on tripod and tested it all out. Now the girls could sing the songs while
watching themselves on the big screen (and of course I would be monitoring
everything from above.) Once it was all
set up, I left the cameral on and pointing at the stairs, so that whenever
someone came down, they would immediately see themselves on the big screen.
It wasn’t long before
Trish and the boys started messing with the setup. They didn’t turn on the
karaoke. They just wanted to act goofy and see themselves on the big screen. I could
hear them from the kitchen. Apparently one of Trish’s brothers shot the moon
and they all laughed like crazy.
Trish came up the stairs
and asked, “How do you get that to record? We want to do some stuff and then
play it back.”
“I’m sorry sweetie, I
didn’t bring any tapes for the camera. It’s just for the karaoke. Maybe there’s
one in it already.” I went down and they all watched as I opened up the camera
and showed them that the tape compartment was empty. (I felt it was important
for them to know there was no way the camera could record anything, If you know
what I mean.)
“What about your VCR?” I
asked, knowing the answer already.
Trisha stomped her foot
and said “no, no, that thing doesn’t work.”
I said I was sorry and
went back upstairs.
When I set everything up
downstairs, I didn’t plug the camera straight to the TV. I hooked it to the
input of the old VCR, and hooked the cable from my room to the output. I had the old VCR feeding the camera signal to
the big-screen using one of those three color RCA cables. This way, no matter
what they choose to watch on the big screen, I will be watching (and recording)
whatever the camera sees and/or hears all night long.
Back in my room I locked
the door and turned on the VCR and TV.
Isn’t technology wonderful? The
video camera was expensive when I bought it, even though it had become a little
dated, it still had fantastic picture quality. The kids were taking turns
acting silly in front of it and doing some things they probably wouldn’t have
wanted me to see. I was a little disturbed to hear how their language changed
when I wasn’t around. Sailor mouths. F this and MF that. Really it was just the
boys though. I know I was that way - but not quite at that age.
Well, the girls started
arriving, each with their backpacks, pillows, sleeping bags and presents. I got
a few of the parents to stay for cake and ice cream and then politely ushered
them out. Earlier in the day I had emphatically urged the boys to get
themselves invited to sleep over at one of their friends houses - which wasn’t
hard to do considering I told them to tell the story of their aunt having a
brain tumor, etc. As luck would have it, they were picked up by one of the
mom’s dropping a girl off. So from that time on, I only had the girls to worry
about. I sat downstairs and supervised some party games, and tried to get them
doing karaoke but it wasn’t catching on. Except for one girl who couldn’t sing
very well, and of course she wore it out.
I went upstairs, turned
the thermostat up a few notches then came back down and put in one of the DVD’s
I rented for the occasion. Just before
turning out the lights to leave them and go upstairs, I said what I had
rehearsed in my mind all day: “Hey girls, I want you to have fun tonight. I
don’t mind if you stay up all night. There are no rules except don’t destroy
the house, don’t hurt each other, and don’t go outside, You can make all the noise you want, but try
to limit the screaming a little. I have a sister, and I know what goes on at
slumber parties. All I ask is if you come upstairs, please put some clothes on.
I don’t want to explain to the neighbors why there were naked girls running
around the house.” I winked and started
heading up the stairs.
“Thank you Mr.
Burwell,” came a chorus of voices behind
me.
I turned and waved, then
remembered, “By the way, you don’t have to watch that movie, There’s a stack of
DVD’s on the speaker over there,” I pointed, “so take your pick or do something
else if you want. I heard a few giggles as I ascended the stairs.
In my subtle (and
admittedly clever) way, I just told them it is perfectly alright (and expected)
for them to get naked.
The stack of DVD’s I
pointed out to them contained several normal titles for that age group - almost
certainly already seen by every kid down there, and very boring. But I spiced
up the selection with a few I know they have never seen, like: “Cruel
Intentions”, “Boarding School”, and
especially, “Beau Pẻre”. These I left in the bag, as if I forgot to
take them upstairs with me, and set the others on top.
Back in my room, I sat and
watched the girls for a while. The camera was pointed at the large sofa
sectional. I turned up the volume to hear what they were saying. The movie was
a little too loud.
“I heard about your aunt,
God that really sucks.”, said one of the girls.
“Are you close to her? I
mean since she lives in
“Not really, I haven’t
seen her for a few years, and then usually only at Christmas.”, replied
Trisha. “My mom and I were supposed to
go see her next summer, but maybe not now.”
They paused and turned
their attention to the big screen.
“This is stupid, why would
Scott pick such a lame movie. He seems so cool. Hey Gillie, go see what else is
over there.” I recognized this voice as Lindy, even though I couldn’t see her.
She is a bit of a bossy bitch, but I’ve never seen such a pair of legs in my
life.
“I like this movie, but
I’ve seen it three times already.” Said Trish, hopefully just defending my
honor.
“Hey Trish, have you seen
him in his underwear?” asked Lindy,
followed by a lot of snickering.
“Yeah, I wish I had a
babysitter like that. He is so gorgeous. Tell us, C’mon, what have you been
doing?”, another girl was asking.
My heart flittered and my
ears perked up. Shit, I hope Trisha doesn’t decide to brag about “pretending to
be asleep”
“Nothing really. You’re
right, he is so cute, and he‘s so nice, He doesn’t treat us like kids.”
This started a chorus of “oooooo’s and ahhhhhhh’s” “What do you mean?”
“Not like that. I mean…,
not like that.” Trisha said emphatically.
He’s just really nice.”
“So nothing happened? You
didn’t see anything? Nothing?”
“I only saw him with his
shirt off...” Trisha got up from the
floor and squeezed between two girls on the sofa. “… but he saw me.”
“He did? What? How?” they said together, now excited.
“What difference does it
make, I really don’t think he’s interested in girls our age.” Said Trisha.
Lindy got up and squeezed in
next to Trisha. “Maybe, but tell us anyway. What happened?”
She paused, thinking how
to explain. Skipping the part about my son under the stairs, she described the
whole event. To my astonishment, Trisha
narrated the entire story from the perspective that she was the one
manipulating me into dressing her for bed.
She ended by saying, “I
was tingling all over. It was sooo cool. He is just such a nice guy, he never gets mad
really, I mean sometimes he yells but he’s really not mad. It makes us laugh when
he does it. He’s so nice, you can get him to do anything you want. You just
have to know how he thinks.”
Lindy was still leaning
forward, listening carefully. “And he never touched you?, I mean other than the
back rub?”
“No! Really Lindy, not
everybody thinks like you do.”, that got
some big laughs from the other girls.
“His arms touched my breasts when he was leaning over me, trying to get
my shirt off, but he wasn’t meaning to.”
“I can’t believe you let
him look at your breasts.” Gillie piped in.
“He did exactly what he
always did with his sons. That’s all. He was just being a dad.”
“Hey look guys, I think he
didn’t mean to leave these down here.”
Gillie was holding the bag of DVD’s out for the other girls to look at.
Score one for the coach.
They settled in to
watching ‘Boarding School’, so I opted to watch a ‘Star Trek’ re-run since not
much was happening, but I kept switching back and forth just in case. After
about twenty minutes I noticed it was suspiciously quiet. I felt a surge of
excitement as I realized what I might be missing. I quickly fingered the remote
and focused in on the scene in the basement. One
of the girls was fiddling with the camera while the others were moving pieces
of the sectional into a circle. What were they doing? She’s pointing the camera
away from everyone ! “Awe Shit!” I yelled out loud. I’ll have to go down and try to.., “God damned, crap a monkey !”. But how? Well, shit! it was a nice try. It
would be too suspicious to go down there and try to fix it. I flipped back to
the Trek flick. The night was still young. I had the VCR recording whatever the
camera saw anyway - regardless of what I was watching on the tube.
ª
I dosed off. When I woke
up it was about two in the morning, and I could hear music. Rap music. I
switched the inputs to the camera and… to my astonishment, There
was Lindy, the gorgeous long legged brunette almost twelve years old,
completely naked and dancing to the rap music - arms up high and hips gyrating,
spinning around and jiggling her ass and pussy at the camera. My dick almost
got whiplash from snapping to attention so quickly. The other girls were
hooting and egging her on. The big screen was visible in the camera angle and
she was watching herself dance. That’s why they turned the camera around. They
wanted to see their backsides when facing the TV. I guess that makes sense. You
are used to seeing yourself in the mirror - frontal, but not from the back. Wow
she was really getting into it.
Suddenly, I heard footsteps
and hushed voices in the hall. I quickly switched back to the SCI-FI channel
and went to see what was up. As I opened the door a crack, there was small
gathering of girls outside the hall bathroom.
I heard them whispering, “What did you find?” “Nothing - I told you it’s in my mom and
dad’s bathroom. In the back of the drawer under the sink.”
That was obviously Trisha
speaking. I closed the door and went in the bathroom to investigate. I guess my
mind wasn’t fully awake yet. I really had no idea what I was expecting to find,
but as I opened the drawer and fished in the back, I found two vibrators and a
variety of things like diaphragms, KY jelly, and a snowstorm of loose tampons.
All of them hiding behind an impressive collection of hair ties and barrettes. What should I do?
I purposely made some
noise in the room. The girls heard me and went padding away down the hall. I headed for the kitchen. I knocked around in
the fridge, made a sandwich, ate it, was hunking
pieces of birthday cake with a fork when Trisha emerged from the basement. To
my surprise, she was wearing the see-thru nighty with
puffy sleeves that I saw hanging in her closet. I didn’t realize how see-thru
it actually was. Wow.
“Well
how’s the birthday girl?”
“Fine. Um excuse me I have to go to the bathroom.”
Such a polite girl, I
thought to myself as I watched her little butt careen around the corner.
While guzzling a glass of
milk, she emerged carrying a crumpled up towel. She quickly headed for the
stairs while I tried to clear my throat of milk so I could speak.
“Hey !” I almost choked.
She had the door knob in
her hand, pulling the door closed and cradling the towel like a baby.
“yeah?” She said.
“What are you girls up
to?” I asked.
“Oh nothing” she said as
she pulled the door closed, latched it, and ran down to her friends.
I put my ear to the door.
There were excited squeaks and some ooh’s and ahh’s, and then a buzzing noise followed by louder laughs,
“C’mon, let me see”.
Needless to say I was back
at control central in warp speed. All I was getting was a clear view of the
entertainment center. I waited a while and then went back to the basement door
to listen.
They were up to something.
I could hear furniture being slid across the floor, and a lot of orders being
issued by too many chiefs at the same time.
“NO, put it right here so
we can see!”
“There’s not enough light
over there. Put it here.”
Things calmed down a
little and all I could hear were the chiefs dictating rules to a game, I guess.
It was sounding a lot like truth or dare, but not exactly. Oh well. I headed
back to the bedroom.
After brushing my teeth
and getting comfortably propped up to watch a movie, I was just about to switch
to the TV-guide channel when the camera moved.
It turned and bounced around a while until it finally settled in on a
well lit piece of sofa sectional. The air had caught in my throat and my heart
stopped beating. What was going on? I turned the volume up…
“Why do we have to do it that way? Why
don’t we just do rock scissors paper or something?”
“Because it’s too quick. It’s the
mystery and anticipation that makes it fun.”
“Not for me. I think we’ve wasted too
much time. Look, Stacey is already asleep.”
“No I’m not”.
“See!”
There was a pause in the
discussion. “Okay, Is it like, we DON’T
want to be it, or is it like, we DO want to be it?”
“You don’t want to be it.”
“Why not?”
“because it’s embarrassing.”
“But it feels good.”
“Okay…, I got an idea. Who does NOT want to be it, raise your hand.”
“Nobody wants to be it except me, so
I’ll be it.”
“Okay
- fine.”
“What about Trisha, it’s her birthday,
shouldn’t we make her be it?”
Lindy’s voice rang out, “Her story got
us thinking about this. She got to be it with Mr. Burwell, and you all are
chickening out. After me you can fight over who’s next.”
Onto the sectional came
Lindy. She already proved she isn’t shy with her dancing. She just sat there
watching the other girls off screen. Three of the other girls appeared (two of
them were topless). (By the way, by now
you should have an idea about how I plan things out. What do you imagine the
temperature is in that basement? Exactly the right temperature so that excited
little girls will want to take their clothes off to be comfortable.)
They knelt down beside her
like handmaidens and began doting over her. One was brushing her hair, one was
massaging her feet, and one was laying out items on the floor beside her like a
surgeon getting ready to operate. Lindy was really into it. She had her eyes
closed and her head tilted forward. Once Gilly had
all the items arranged properly, she said, “Okay, I’m ready” and signaled to
the other two topless girls (I guess they were in uniform as the “assistants”
to the grand mistress) They moved with an air of formality, like it was a
ritual. They pulled Lindy to her feet and ceremoniously removed her T-shirt and
panties. Then they positioned her on the sectional, on her back with her feet
pointing toward the camera.
Gilly
arose and began slowly walking around Lindy dripping something onto her from a
squeeze bottle. The assistants began rubbing the liquid all over her body. It
made her glisten. It must have been baby oil or something. Supervising
everything, Gilly added some oil here and there and
they dutifully massaged it in.
Gilly
spoke, “It’s time to spread her legs open…..
All the way”. Gilly was standing in the
way. I could see Lindy’s feet sticking
out on either side of her. I yelled at the TV,
“MOVE OUT OF THE WAY !!”
Almost immediately after I
shouted that at the TV, a chorus of girls shouted “GILLY, MOVE ! YOU ARE BLOCKING THE CAMERA” Apparently the
other girls were watching the action on the big screen. Gilly
turned and looked, “Oops, sorry” and she moved out of the way.
Wow, what an angle.
Straight on. I checked the VCR to make absolutely certain it was
recording…… Looks okay. The camera was shaking,… someone is messing
with it….. Zooming in…. too close…
no wait, she moved the tripod and zoomed back. Now the camera was
closer, looking down on Lindy more that before. Much better to see her body
from this angle.
Gilly
handed each of the assistants a vibrator. “Now remember Lindy, you have to talk
about what you feel so we will all know. When the orgasm comes, you have to say
“now”, or “yes”, or something like that.”
Okay?”
Lindy nodded. She was
getting sore from having her legs spread so wide off the sides of the
sectional, so she held her knees with her hands and kept them spread. No one
seemed to object. I didn’t either. Assistant
number one started up her vibrator and moved slowly toward Lindy’s clit.
ª
When the show was finally over, Lindy left the sectional and the camera
just sat there, staring at an empty piece of furniture. I had been masturbating
while watching, but now I was quickly losing interest, not having sexy Lindy
spread open on the TV screen, gyrating to the throws of passion and the fantasy
playing out behind her closed eyes.
All was quiet. Some low
voices indicated they were getting ready for bed. Then Lindy and Trish sat on
the sectional in front of the camera. Lindy glancing over her shoulder to make
sure none of the other girls were listening.
“I wish I was you.“ Lindy
said, opening the conversation.
“Why?“ asked Trish.
“Because I know what to do
with a man like Scott.“
“You really think you
could get him to do something?“ Trish asked. Implied in her question was a
desire to know her method.
“I know I could. Men that age just act like they aren’t
interested. They don’t want anyone to think they like young girls. But secretly
they do. Sometimes I go to the mall dressed in really sexy clothes. I wear my
sunglasses and watch men look at me in the reflection of store windows. They
all do it.”
“Lindy, you always act
like you know so much, like a nympho. And I always
thought you were just pretending. But now I think you really are... Have you actually done it? Or is this just an
act?” Trish’s tone implied some genuine
interest. She was not being mean spirited and Lindy could tell.
Lindy sat thinking. The
long pause told Trish she had stumbled on something.
“C’mon Lindy, you can
trust me.” With brightening eyes Trish conveyed that she was not wanting to
judge her, just share in the excitement.
“Tell me who... what did
you... how did it happen?”
Lindy told Trish how she
and her older brother had talked openly about their sexual desires, but being
brother and sister, had not really been interested in each other. Instead, he
would have his friends sleep over and they would team up to manipulate them
into sex play. Eventually, she had learned how to manipulate any man into bed.
She had dozens of victims.
But Lindy was ripping
through the telling of it at a blinding pace. She was trying to get through it
so she could get back to the subject at hand:
Scott Burwell.
“Trish, you like Scott
don’t you?“
Trish nodded.
“Wouldn’t you like to make
love with him?“
Trish blushed and looked
at her hands, not answering.
“What? wouldn’t you?“
“Not all-the-way love. I
can’t...“
“But you think about it
don’t you?“ Lindy asked.
Again Trish sat thinking,
picking at her fingers.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,
you get to do what ever you want. The secret is to let him think you are only
interested in playing games, like an innocent kid. But sexy games. Then you
just keep doing more and more and more. He will play, and he won’t stop until
you do. I promise. But you have to know what to do.”
Lindy described a game called
“Simon Says Kiss Me Here” and explained the rules. Then she told Trish how to
behave during the game to get what she wanted. Mainly, she wanted Trish to not
be shy when it was her turn. “You need to let him know that you are willing to
do anything. So you need to point to your breasts, between your legs, and even
if he says no, you have to lift your shirt or pull down your panties and say
“you have to, it’s the rules.”
“I can see you doing that,
but not me.” Trish said.
“Trust me Trish, even if
he doesn’t do it right away, he wants to - really really
bad. And knowing you want him to, he will eventually do it. and you will love
it. It is so cool.”
They were speaking so quietly I had to turn
the volume all the way up. I was hard as a rock listening to this. What a
fucking thing to be able to spy on young girls plotting to have sex with me. I
was in the drivers seat now. Even so, I still doubted I would do anything. When
they finished talking, I went back out to the kitchen to lock the back door and
turn some lights out. I knocked around loudly so the girls would hear me. I got
Trish’s attention because she emerged from below and leaned against me by the
sink. Kind of like - I wish I didn’t have to stay down there with my friends.
Well, she is the birthday girl. Which can be taken two ways: 1) the birthday
girl should honor her friends with her presence, or 2) the birthday girl can do
what she wants because it’s her birthday.
I opt for the latter.
“What is it sweetie?”
She growled a little, scratched
her itchy nose on my shirt, then leaned harder against
me. Translated: “I’m tired, I don’t want to sleep downstairs, please put me to
bed.” But I knew it was an act, knowing how energized she was just a minute ago
talking to Lindy.
“Don’t you want to sleep downstairs with your
friends?”
Her face still pressed
against my side, she shook her head no, which rocked her body in the opposite
direction. “Where then?”
She shrugged and then
mumbled something.
“What did you say?” I
asked.
“Would you tuck me in like
you did last night?” She looked up at me pleading - “Pleeeeeeease?”
“Well angel, you are
already in your nighty. Only thing left is a kiss and
whiskers.”
She pooched
out her bottom lip and continued looking up at me, thinking. She was reading me. Burying her face in my
shirt again, she mumbled something.
I recognized the rise and
fall of the tone of whatever she said. It was something she was embarrassed to
say, which made me really want to know what it was. “What was that?” I asked softly.
She didn’t say anything.
“Trisha, sweetheart, you
can trust me. It’s your birthday - tell me what you want.”
After a thoughtful pause
she spoke. “Can we play another game?”
Yikes… what next….
“Uhmm….”
I stumbled on… “Well, it’s kind
of late. Like what?”
She looked up at me with
her chin on my chest, “like pretend sleep, but different.”
Feigning that it must be
an innocent game, I replied “Well, whatever it is I’ll play as long as we can
do it on my bed. Okay?”
Trisha nodded and raised
her arms up. “Carry me.” I hefted her
into my arms and marched off to my room.
ª
This is dangerous
territory. Damn. I don’t know. I guess I’ll play along until I can’t play
anymore.
We entered my room and she
leapt from my arms onto the bed, bouncing on all fours across the tall king
sized bed. How quickly she went from sleepy to fully alive again. Her face was
animated and she said (as if directing her dolls at a tea party) “You sit right heeeeere,
and I’ll sit right heeeeeere…., now, here are the rules.”
Before
I got on the bed, I turned off the TV and the overhead light, and turned on the
lamps on either side of the bed. “You
made up a game already?”
“No, Lindy told it to me
tonight, but you can’t play it without a boy.”
“What’s it called?” I
asked.
“Simon Says.”
“Oh, well I know that
one.”
“This is different..”
“Oh, so, what are the
rules?”
She paused, then with a
determined look she went on… “Well it’s really
called ‘Simon Says Kiss Me’. So when it’s your turn, You say ‘simon says kiss me here.’ and you point to the place you
want to be kissed. If you don’t say ‘simon
says’ and I kiss anyway, then you get three more. Okay?” I started to answer
but, “Oh yeah, you can’t point to your clothes only skin.” She watched me closely, wondering what I was
going to do or say about this game.
“Sounds like I could get
in a lot of trouble for…, ”
“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone.” She broke in quickly, as if anticipating my
answer.
“This game is not for
kissing arms and hands and elbows, is it?”
I didn‘t let her answer. “It starts out innocent enough, but it ends up
with me going to jail. Do you know what
would happen to me if anyone found out? I don’t think you do. I really would love to play but I just can’t
risk going to prison.”
She tried the bottom lip,
then dramatically mouthed the word “Paleeeese…”
, After a long pause thinking, she
finally spoke again, “I don’t get it. If I played this with a boy my age,
nothing would happen, but they would send you to prison. It’s not fair.” She
said, looking defeated.
“It’s the law Trish. You know, I think a long, long time ago,
this would have been fun and no one would have cared. But now that we have
laws, and since the law says we can’t…, It’s really a shitty law. That law hurts the ones it’s supposed to be
protecting. But I can’t risk going to
prison. Do you know what would happen to you if anyone found out? I mean, you
can imagine that if we never got caught, that life would stay nice and we would
remember and enjoy our memories, and that would be good. Right?”
She nodded, listening
carefully.
“I mean, really no harm
done. You agree with that right?”
Again she nodded
confidently.
“Well, if we did get
caught, they would pick me up and put me in jail, and you would be forced into
a terrible situation. Do you know what I mean?”
She kind of shrugged -
unsure for sure.
“The police - probably the
FBI - would take you to their offices. All the men there would watch you walk
through, knowing what happened. They would sit you down with a tape recorder
and video camera recording everything, and they would make you to tell them
every single detail of everything we did. Then, When you get home, you turn on
the TV and see my picture and hear the news person saying “Mr. Jones, molested
Trisha Jackson in her own home while babysitting. Everyone in your school would
know. Everyone would treat you differently. Your whole world would change. You
would probably have to leave town just to get away from the reporters and your
school.”
I could see the fear and
trauma forming in her eyes.
I said, “Do you think I’m
making that up or do you think that is what would happen?”
She studied me. “I know it would, because I’ve seen it on the
news before. But you’re not like that.
Those guys are like total weirdo creepazoids.”
“How do you know they
aren’t like me? That it didn’t happen like this?”
She shrugged. Her bottom
lip was back out again. I was regretting
bursting her bubble like that because really I was hoping she had a less
obvious game to play.
I continued, “The other
thing is, when I was in school, about your age, boys and girls who were my
friends would promise me that if I did something, or told them something, that
it would be a secret and nobody would ever know. They promised. It always
amazed me how fast the entire school would know the secret.
It’s also amazing how many
times someone has told me a secret that they promised never to tell, “God,
he’ll kill me if he finds out I told you. He made me promise not to tell.” I like you a lot Trish, and I think you are
very beautiful, but I learned that I can’t trust anyone to keep a secret like
that- especially one that would ruin my life, and yours if it ever got
out.”
She pleaded once more. “I
know you won’t believe me but I can keep a secret. And we wouldn’t get caught.
It’s like you said. As long as we don’t get caught it will be fine.”
I countered saying, “How do I know you can keep a secret? What big secret did you ever keep?” I couldn’t very well use the “pretend
sleeping” as an example.
She thought a minute. “My
uncle Ray put a dent in my dad’s car and I saw it. He made me promise not to
tell my dad.” She folded her arms like -
Hah, top that!
“So you promised not to
tell, and here you just told me. Do you see how easily it is to tell
secrets?”
She didn’t even blink.
“No, I promised him that my dad would not find out and I know you won’t tell
him.”
Obviously I was in over my
head with this girl. The arms were still
folded. I’m losing an argument with an 11 year old, oops, she’s 12 today.
“Okay, okay, so I trust you to keep it secret, but what about getting caught,
anything could happen.” I was trying
not to stare too long at her breasts through the nighty.
The lamps where really penetrating the fabric. I’m weak, so weak.
“Like what?” She asked.
“Like one of your friends
could come in looking for you.”
“Lock the door.”
I took a breath getting ready
to list all the other ways to get caught…, but all that came out was, “What if
there’s a hidden camera in here?”
She flopped face down on
the bed and said “Oh please, give me a break.”
I had to laugh at that. I
reached out and stroked her hair. She reacted to the touch immediately and
spooned herself against me, smiling up at me. I pointed to my neck “Kiss me
here.”
Reaching out she kissed my
neck with an open mouth.
“Mmmm…..
very nice, but now I get three more turns.”
“Oops, you’re right.” She
said still smiling.
“Tell me something, about
you wanting to play this game…, If you only got to choose one or the other,
would you rather be kissing me, or have me kissing you?”
“You kissing me.” She said, not having to think about it.
“I thought so. Like how you like me dressing you for bed -
you like the attention.” Okay, I’ll tell you what, since it’s your birthday,
I’ll give you unlimited kisses. To hell with the game, just point.
She jumped up and sat on
my thighs, pointing to her lips. I leaned forward and kissed her as if she were
a woman. Very nice. I drew back and
expected some shyness or blushing, but her sparkling eyes were locked on mine.
She pointed to her neck. Again, 5 seconds, which is longer than it sounds. Before
I had even drawn back, she fell back, lifted her nighty
above her stomach and pointed to her belly button. I know she didn’t mean to,
but my back wouldn’t bend like that.
“I can’t reach there.”
She stood up from my lap,
straddling me, which put her panties at eye level. Still too awkward. So I
grabbed her playfully, threw her onto the bed, lifted her nighty,
and began kissing and licking her belly button. She giggled wildly and thrashed
about.
My weight was heavy on one
of her legs, so she worked it out from under me. Now her legs were spread apart
and I was lying between them kissing her belly. Her mound was pressing just
below my neck. I had a close up view of her breasts, and I was losing my shyness about staring at
them. My dick ached to be straight. I stopped kissing and looked at her for the
next spot.
“You pick this time.” She
said.
Wow, a blank check. I got
up on my knees between her legs, sitting on my feet. I grabbed her hips and
lifted them high into my lap so that she was lying downhill. I lifted her nighty over her head. She could still see me through the
fabric. As I bent over to kiss her, my folded erection pressed into her crotch.
I leaned forward and began slowly caressing her nipples with my lips and
tongue, while grinding my hard bent dick against her crotch. She was in
complete surrender - meaning all shyness was completely gone. She trusted me
completely, knowing that I worshipped her.
My paranoia was also gone.
Her breasts were wonderful, but I longed
since the night before to be able to fondle them at length while my eyes
recorded everything. So I sat back up and did just that. I massaged her breasts
for a long time, rolling her small nipples between my fingers. The crotch of
her panties were still staring up at me from her wide open legs. I slid my
right hand down to her crotch and massaged her clit through her panties with my
thumb. I could feel her wetness. “Can I
kiss you here next?”
She nodded.
I leaned forward and
kissed her mouth soft and deep. “you’re sure?”
She nodded again and said,
“Then I get one turn to kiss you somewhere.”
Wow, I got off the bed and
adjusted my dick. She sat up. I lifted her from the bed and stood her in front
of me. She raised her arms as I lifted her nighty
off, then I slid her panties down. She
stepped out of them.
“My God, Trish, you are so
pretty.” I just stared at her standing
there, naked. “I could look at you for hours.”
Trish began a cheerleading
routine and I laughed.
“You are so sexy, I can’t
stand it!”
She just soaked in the
compliments while she mechanically went through the routine. Her playfulness
was growing and she was feeling less inhibited. She seemed to know she had
nothing to be shy about with me. She was calling the shots and I was a willing
slave.
Slowly
spinning on the floor like a ballerina, she asked, “Is there anything you want
me to do? I mean…, I don’t know why,
but I like to watch you looking at me.”
“Trish, honey, there are
all kinds of things I want you to do, but I feel strange even asking. I just
can’t…, I’m a man and…, you don’t know
what…,”
She moved in close and
stood between my legs as I sat on the bed. “C’mon, I really want to do things
for you, so I can watch your eyes. When
I was lying back on the bed you thought I had my eyes closed, but they were
open just a little and I could see you looking at me. I can see how much… like,
how you’re hungry for it. You know? I really like that a lot. Please…”
“Do you realize you are
making all my dreams come true? No, this
is better than anything I’ve ever dreamed about.” I paused and we looked each other in the eyes
for a moment. “Do you know what men like to see?”
She gave a one shoulder
shrug, “Maybe some, but teach me. It’ll be so cool.”
I sat her back on the bed
and she laid back, ready and willing. I
laid down next to her to talk some more before we got started.
“Trish, part of the fun of
getting to look at you is to pretend we are about to have real sex. Have you
ever seen a man naked? Do you know what a penis looks like when it is
hard?”
“I think I do. I can’t
remember where I…, maybe. Are you going to show me?”
“I have to.”
“What do you mean?” She
asked.
“Well, it’s fun for you to
watch my eyes because you can see how much you excite me. The fun for me is to pretend I am having sex
with you. So I need to rub myself while I watch you… you know, masturbate.”
“Oh…, yeah, …, you mean I get to watch?” She said excitedly.
“Yea, we watch each other,
and we can touch each other whenever we want to. Okay?”
“Okay, what should I do?”
She was eager to get started.
“Well, first you need to
get acquainted with my friend here.”
I stood up and turned to
face her. She propped herself up on her elbows, her legs dangling off the foot
of the bed. Slowly I extracted my dick and removed the rest of my clothes. I
stroked it for her a few times and stuck it straight out to its full
length. Her eyes bulged a little and she
sat forward, examining me closely (exactly as she had my son the day
before).
Slowly she reached her
hand out and began feeling me, rubbing it softly with her fingertips. The look
of amazement and wondrous delight on her face made it stiffen.
“Okay, lie back on the bed
and open up your legs for me.”
She moved back a little
and complied, lifting her knees first then letting them fall open, her feet
still close to her butt.
“Wow, very nice, but put
your legs flat on the bed and then spread them open as far as you can.”
Again, she understood and
did as I asked.
How incredible. This was
exactly how I had fantasized about her. Her mound puffing out above her hips,
her clit puffing out from the top of her slit, and the small lips of her
opening, wet, and closed, but clearly visible.
“Now put your arms out to
the side, with your hands above your head.”
I began to stare hard at
her body, stroking my dick slowly. I moaned a little, involuntarily.
I noticed her face change
as I began to imagine myself sliding in and out of her. It excited her greatly
to see me so excited at the sight of her.
Her hips rocked. She instinctively knew the moves. She was staring at my
dick and actually imagining it going inside of her. I reached out and rubbed my thumb on her clit.
She raised her hips in the
air, not knowing why. After a few moments of rubbing her, I stood back up and
stroked myself for her some more, teasing her. I watched as her pleading pussy
and face begged me to stimulate her some more.
Again I leaned over the
bed. She lifted her hips at my face, begging for it. Gently I rubbed my thumb
from side to side across her puffed up button, pressing just hard enough so
that it popped under, from side to side. Rubbing up and down I pressed my thumb
inside of her opening and moved it in and out several times. Trish moaned.
I stood back up and stroked
myself some more - I was teasing her, and it was driving her crazy.
“Please don’t stop, do
that some more..”
I smiled down at her, her
face totally serious and desperate. “It’s okay sweetheart, I will. But you have
to learn to make these good feelings last a long time, because once you have
your orgasm, It’s over for a while and the second one is never as good as the
first.”
At this she relaxed a
little and started zoning in on my erection again. She watched my face just as
much as my dick, and I could see her face and posture change as I began to
enjoy myself more. She fed off of me - loving the affect she had.
“Trish?… “
“yes?”
“Can you imagine me
putting this inside you? I mean with you
lying there like that?”
“That’s what I’ve been doing.
I can almost feel it.”
“There is another position
that works, if you turn over and put
your butt up in the air, and your knees apart -
Do you know what I mean?”
She had to process that
for a second or two. She rolled herself
over, and from her hands and knees, looked around at me for approval.
Her ass was exquisite. I
could see her small breasts hanging down from her chest. “Mmmmm….”
I moaned as I reached out and ran my hands all around her back, ass, and
thighs. “Try putting your cheek down on the bed.”
She did but her back was
still arched up. I gently pushed her back down to invert the arch, rolling her
hips forward and pointing her anus toward the ceiling. That was it.
“Now, that is nice. People
have sex like this a lot.”
After staring at her and
stoking my member a little, again the urge hit me and I reached out and slipped my thumb in and out
of her vagina several times, rubbing her clit with her juices. Leaning in, I examined her vagina and anus
closely as I masturbated her gently, and myself not so gently.
Trisha spoke, “I never
knew it would be like this. I thought it would be like… you know embarrassing, and hating it. This is
so much fun I can’t believe it. I
thought Lindy was so weird, ‘cause she
acts so…, I dunno, like that’s all she thinks about.”
“I think Lindy has
probably done some of this before.”
“I think it’s her older
brother. He’s always touching her butt
and stuff when I’m over there, and she looks at him funny - like never mad at
all. I’m gonna find out…”
“Hey, you be careful
talking about this stuff with your friends. Remember what we talked about. If
she tells you about her brother, then you will want to tell her about me real
bad. You can’t do that, right?”
“Right. I won’t, I promise.”
I was sitting on the edge
of the bed still softly masturbating her as we talked. “Are you ready for an orgasm?”
“I think so. You gonna try
putting it inside me?” She sounded
slightly hopeful and worried at the same time.
“No, I don’t need to. I
can give you a wonderful orgasm without doing that. Turn back over the way you were before.”
Not needing to worry any
more, Trish eagerly complied. I helped
her get her legs open a little wider.
Standing up, I showed her my dick again and said. “Now, imagine that I
am sliding this inside you…” I moved
closer and pointed it at her pussy, “Look how hard you made me. Just by looking
at you I am hard as a rock.” Her hips
gyrated slowly, spontaneously.
I purposely was not
touching her any more. She was building inside, staring at my dick and getting
very wet. I leaned over her, my arms straddling her, and rubbed my dick on her
leg, in a mock humping motion. The contact made her gasp. I rubbed it on the other leg. I climbed over
top of her, with it hovering above her mound, and kissed her mouth long and
soft, and wet, touching nothing but her mouth. I nibbled her ear, then her
neck. I stood back up and repeated the whole thing again, rubbing the head of
my dick on her legs, etc.
By now, she was in a very
agitated state. Every nerve was on high alert. Now was the time. Climbing over
her once more, I kissed her mouth. Then I locked on to her eyes, stuck out my
tongue, and she watched as I slowly went down between her legs.
She propped on her elbows
to see better, my tongue hovering very close between her legs, I paused for a
moment, both of us holding our breath, then in one motion, I licked upward,
ever so slowly, but pressing firmly. The flat of my tongue wiped upward, taste
buds sliding slowly over the full length of her slit and button.
Her whole body convulsed.
“Ahhhhh ooowwww eeeee” she howled.
I raised my head “Are you
okay? Do you want me to stop?
“Oh my God!” She said,
gasping and shaking her head vigorousely.
Smiling, I began thumb
fucking her in earnest while sucking and licking and rubbing her clitoris.
It took less than a minute
and she was in full orgasmic delight, pressing her pussy into my face with her
back arched.
Finally she collapsed onto
the bed. I continued softly licking her mound and suckling her clit until the
post-orgasm-ultra-sensitivity set in and forced her to push my face away.
I was in pain. My dick was
throbbing wildly. I pulled her toward
the foot of the very tall pedestal bed. I stroked myself and rubbed the head of
my dick on her smooth mound. I fondled
her breasts with one hand, stroking with the other. I took her hand and had her
stroke me some while I stared and felt her pussy and small perfect breasts.
I came in long spurts that
hit her chin and chest several times. I rubbed the rest of the sperm across her
pussy with the head of my dick until I was spent.
Stepping back from the
bed, I catalogued the image of her spread open to me and covered in my sperm. I washed her with a warm washcloth, pulled the
blankets down, laid down, pulled her on top of me, and pulled the covers up
over us.
After all of that, this
was the first time we actually had our naked bodies pressed together. It was
wonderful, and we fell asleep, reveling in the feeling.
ª
In the wee hours of the
morning I awoke sweating from Trish’s warm body on top of me. I caressed her
backside, hoping to arouse her from her sleep, sliding my hands wherever they
could reach - but to no avail. I suppose she could have been faking again. I got
up and carried her to her bed, both of us still naked, tucked her in (no whiskers), and went back to
bed.
The next morning I awoke
alone with the sun shining in the through the window. From the angle, it looked
like it was about 9:30. I put on some boxers, checked on the girls downstairs
(still asleep), checked on Trish (still asleep), went back to my room and
started picking up clothes and straightening up a little.
As I stood in the bathroom
with the shower warming up, I heard the bedroom door close. It was Trish. With
sleepy eyes and wild hair, she leaned against me, still naked.
“Good morning, sweet
stuff.”
“Hmmm…, ‘morning”
I pushed her into the
shower ahead of me and proceeded to soap-up and wash every square inch of her
with my bare hands. (a few of the square inches got washed longer than others,
and more than once).
The slippery sensations
quickly revived her.
I asked her to wash my
back. Taking my example, she washed my entire backside just like I had her, and
then she turned me around. Washing her gave me a full erection, but now it was
drooping. Standing on her tiptoes, she soaped my shoulders and chest. She
avoided my penis and washed my legs and feet. I rinsed off.
Being quite a bit shorter
than I, the mist from the shower hitting me kept fouling her eyes, so I picked
up all eighty pounds of her and held her like a child, straddling my hip.
I felt the need for us to
talk, to put things into perspective, considering we would not ever be doing
this again.
“Trisha?”
“Hmm?”
“We need to talk about
some things.”
“I know, don’t tell
anyone…” she said rather mockingly.
“Yes, but we already
promised each other about that.”
“What then?”
“I am going to be really
sad for a long time not being able to be with you any more.”
“me too.”
“I just want you to know
that if I don’t talk to you very much at the games, and if it makes you feel
like I don’t like you, just remember this: I will always love you and even
though we can’t act like it anymore, I will always be thinking about you.”
Trisha sniffed… Sniffed
again…, then, resting her head on my shoulder, slowly began crying. Her emotions infected me and tears streamed
down my face. Between increasing sobs she managed to say: “I don’t want to. We can still see each other sometimes. Right?
We can...”
“No way. This is our only
chance. If we keep seeing each other we will get caught. I have no doubt.”
Her crying softened as she
processed what I was trying to tell her, coughing, snot hanging from her nose.
I took the time to explain
to her that she will probably go through a period of being mad at me, or even
hating me, and that that it is a normal human reaction when you feel like
you’ve been abandoned by someone you care about. She said she would never feel
that way, but I knew different. I pulled
her snot and made a rope from her nose about 2 feet long. We laughed until it
hurt - completely forgetting about the basement full of girls right under
us. Yes, we would definitely get caught
if we didn’t stop.
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