THE GAME MISSY PLAYS

Part 1 - The Game Begins

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It is a warm morning and I have my shirt off, as I have been vacuuming the pool and working up a sweat, so I had stepped into my bedroom and put on my suit and had a quick, quiet swim to cool down.  After drying off, I go in and get my jeans back on.  I think I will forget the shirt for now.  I decide I need to load another box of shells for my foray to the rifle range on Saturday morning.  I need some .222 rounds for the boys� small rifle too. They are getting used to the slight recoil and louder crack of the "real rifle" as Barry, my youngest son calls it.  He has just graduated into it from the little .22 rifle he learned to shoot on.  I am a hunter and am bringing my boys up to know how to handle, and have proper respect for guns.

The boys are off to a friend�s house for the morning.  It is quiet and I can concentrate on what I am doing, which is a good idea when you are hand loading your own ammunition; especially for target shooting, where an extra grain or so of powder can throw a bullet off an inch or more at one hundred yards.  Not acceptable for a sharp shooter.  I get out the powder can, the primers and cases and eighty grain solid tips.  The scale and the press are on the bench, with the box of dies nearby.  I am ready to begin.

I hear a couple of pairs of feet scuffling up my driveway.

"Hi, Jim!" comes a duet of clear, high voices.  It is Bobby and Missy.  They live around the corner on the next street, big brother and little sister, Bobby being babysitter by necessity. His Mom works the day shift at a small diner she co-owns with another single mom.  No money for day care or anything else but bare necessities.

"Hi, Bobby, Hi, Missy.  What you guys doing?"

"Looking for Tommy,  Is he home?"  Bobby asks.  Missy steps up to my work bench and eyes the box of bright brass cases.

"He is over at Donald�s house.  Playing Space Invaders or something."

"Space Rangers," Bobby corrects me.  "I'll check over there for him.  Come on, Missy."

"I wanna stay with Jim."

"Jim is busy.  Come on."

"Jim?"  Missy pleads.  She is really a fifth wheel when four or five boys get together.

"You can leave her here with me, Bobby.  Tell Tommy and Barry I want them home at twelve thirty for lunch, and you come on and eat with us, you and Missy."

"Thanks, Jim!"  Bobby takes off at top speed before I can change my mind.  He is as glad to be rid of Missy as she is to be rid of him.

"He is so bossy."  Missy frowns at the spot Bobby just vacated.

"Maybe he just cares about you."

"Nope.  He just likes to boss me around."  Her lower lip is out in a pout, so I drop it.

"Wanna help me load some bullets?"

"Yes!  Can I?"  The pout turns into a grin that brightens up her face.

What a beautiful child, I think, as I do every time I see her.

She has such a calm, serene little face.  "Do you ever get angry, Missy?"

"Angry?"  She looks up at me under her sun bleached eyebrows. "Why?"

"Well, does Bobby tease you?  Don't you get mad when he bosses you?"

She has to think a moment.  "Yes...  Sometimes."

"What do you do?  I've never seen you get mad.  I don't even think I've ever heard you yell in the pool.  Everyone else shows off, and they always yell and scream, �Look at me Jim!  Look at meee!�" 

On impulse, I reach out and tickle the bare skin on her side where a too small T shirt does not cover her fine, tanned skin.  She quietly ducks away and moves out of reach; a small giggle, but not a word. 

"See! Other girls would scream if I did that."

"It tickled."  She concedes, in a quiet voice.

"I'd like to get you down and really tickle you to see if you would scream."

Missy looks alarmed for a moment, then seeing my grin and realizing I am joking she grins back at me.  "Okay.  Next time I will scream."

"Good.  Now come back here and help me load these shells.  How good are you at measuring?"

"Measuring?  I don't know."

"Measuring and weighing.  I'll show you how."  I look up the load I want in my note book, and then adjust the weight on my scale to the correct amount for the load.  Missy watches with interest. 

"Now the powder," I say.  I pour a generous amount of 4064 powder into a bowl and show Missy how to dip little spoonfuls into the pan until the scale just balances with the needle on zero.  Then the little pan is emptied into a primed casing with a little funnel, and set over for me to put it in the press and seat the bullet.  After showing her a couple of times, Missy turns out to be fast and accurate.  Soon the ammunition boxes start to fill up. 

"You're doing real good, kid."

"This is kind of fun.  I never got to help make bullets before and I kinda like to do this."

"You are really good help, after we fill this box, we are gonna take a cookie and milk break, what do you say, sweetie?"

�Mmmmm, sounds good."

As she works away I watch the small frown of concentration, the tongue between tight lips as she adjusts the powder load to make the scale read exactly zero and the satisfied grin as each case goes into the rack.  I give her lots of praise and compliments on how well she handles a rather tedious job.  But I have found the neighborhood kids, mostly the girls love to do this job that I and my boys feel is so demanding.  I usually have a willing helper volunteer anytime they see me out working at my bench.  I shamelessly take advantage of their offers; sometimes in more ways than one.

"What do we do with this?"  Missy asks as she holds up the partial bowl of powder.

"All finished?  We dump it back in the can."  I hand her the funnel.  "Boy, you are a good worker.  You can help me anytime."

I hug her little body up tight to me, somehow my hand just happening to land on her smooth little tummy.  I hold her tight a few moments longer than necessary, as the docile child waits.  I enjoy the small warmness of her side and bare arm against my bare chest.  As I release her I nuzzle her hair.  "Mmmmm, you smell good.  Now let's go get some cookies and,...  Hey, do you like chocolate milk?"

"Oh, Yes!  I love it."

"Come on then."  I take her hand and lead her into the kitchen door.

Missy sits at the bar as I pour the chocolate milk, and set two plates with three cookies each on them for us.  I take regular milk and we sit and chat as we eat our cookies.  For a small girl she has a big appetite.

After our cookies, we go out the back door and check the pool. Missy leans over and checks the thermometer.  She peers at it.   "What does this say, Jim?"

"Let me see.  See the red line?  Right in the middle?" I turn it so she can see.  "Now see the numbers?  And the little short marks?  Take the number closest to the top of the red line and count one for each mark."

"Eighty!"

"And the little marks?"

"One, two, three, four."

"So it is,.. eighty�?"

"Four!...  Eighty four!  Is that warm?"

"Not real warm.  But when it is hot, I like to have the pool cooler. It is more refreshing to swim and then sit in the sun."

"I like your pool, Jim."

I look at my watch.  Ten fifteen.  We have time.  "Then let's go jump in."

"She gives me a quick look to see if I am serious.  "I don't have my bathing suit on," she replies 

I try to look serious.  "You could wear an old one of Barry's. I found one the other day that should fit you."

"I can't.  They don't gots no top."  She looks at me like I'm nuts, and looks disappointed at the same time.

"Hmmm, come in here."  I lead her into my bedroom and over to my mirror.  "Pull your shirt up"

"What?"  She turns around and gives me that look again.

"Pull your shirt way up and look at your chest.  I'm behind you so I can't see your, ah,.. anything."  I take her shoulders and turn her around to face the mirror.

She slowly pulls up the shirt to her neck, and looks at herself in the mirror.  I do too.  Very nice little pips of nipples in pale pink areola on her baby fat pectorals.  All outlined by a white bra shaped area against tanned skin.  She looks and then slowly her eyes rise to meet mine in the mirror.  Sudden realization that she has been had flashes in her eyes.  She jerks the shirt down as she bends forward.  "JIM!  You eeked at my boobies!  You lied!"

"No, I didn't.  I said I wouldn't look at you.  I didn't say I wouldn't look in the mirror."

"Yeah, but..."  Suddenly she gets it, and in spite of trying hard to keep her mad face on, she starts to giggle.

"All right, What did you see in the mirror?  I mean, except for no hair, and being smaller, was it that much different from my front?"  I gesture at my chest and rub my hand across my nipples to catch her attention. �Well, is it?"

She eyes my chest, and then turns to the mirror and eyes my reflection as if it might be different, before saying...  "No, I guess not."

"Besides, I've already seen your chest now anyway, so I'll go get the suit, and we'll go swimming.  You can change in the boy's bathroom."  I steer her into it and shut the door.  Then I get the suit from the good will box, and knock once on the bath door and then crack it open to toss the suit in.  In the mirror I can see her sitting on the toilet, pants and panties down around her feet, obviously peeing.  "Hurry up.  Meet you out by the pool." I hurry off to get my suit on.

Missy comes out holding her hands to her shoulders in the tit concealing crossed arm gesture that goes back to Eve.  I pretend not to notice her sudden shyness.  She looks much cuter in Barry's old trunks than Barry ever did.  A slightly bigger little girl butt filling out the suit meant for small boy butt, and ever so slight hip flare catch my eye right away.  Not much at eight years old, but more than Barry at eight, though he is taller and has a bigger build.

"Let's jump in together."  I hold out my hand for hers.

Missy forgets her modesty, gives me her hand, and in we go.

"Race you to the other side."  I challenge and give her a head start.

"I won!"  Happy at touching the side of the pool first, Missy has forgotten all her modesty now.

"That you did.  You are getting so good!"  Missy is one of my recent swimming students and I am proud of her.  Her wet white skin glows in sunlight as my unrestricted gaze falls on her bare chest.  I feel an almost uncontrollable urge to kiss the pale pink areolae and tiny darker nipples, but hold myself in.  Not yet.  I settle for an arm wrapped around her lower chest and tummy from the back, as I pull her in to my bare chest, her soft little belly pushing against my inner elbow skin, my soft flesh there against her softer flesh.  Her bubble butt rests against my soft cock, and even in the cool water, it stirs against her crack slightly.

"Want to do a double jump off the board?"  That is always a treat, especially to all the girls, who want to go over and over until I am so exhausted I can hardly make it up on the board.

"Oh, yes!"  Missy seems to pop out of my arms grip and out of the pool like a slippery watermelon seed.  I swim back to the ladder to climb out and meet her at the board.  She is already standing on it, waiting.  I sit, partially turning my back to her.  She slips one slim leg over my shoulder and then the other as I reach up to steady her.  Soon she is sitting astride my shoulders, crotch in the little boy suit jammed tight against the nape of my neck as I pull her legs forward and down.

"Ready?"  I ask as I pretend to stagger a step or two under her weight.

"Go!  Go!"  She bucks herself against my neck to urge me on. 

I carefully mount the board and walk to the end.  As I bounce slightly I look from side to side, checking that all is clear; by force of habit?  No, I do this so I can drag my lips up tender inner thigh flesh only inches below her pussy.  That is part of the reason for this game.  A discerning eye would note that I only seem to check this way when I have a girl astride my shoulders.  Boys may get a little wilder leap, but only girls� thighs get my lip treatment.  A couple of the more knowledgeable girls even get discrete tongue laps on that tender flesh, usually answered by slight hip thrusts of acknowledgement.

"Geronimo!"  I yell, and with a couple of bounces we jump into the pool.  As we go down, I release her legs, and she kicks free of me to swim back to the surface.  I follow, admiring her little body in the water above me as she frog kicks for the surface.

"Again!  Can we do it again?"

"Sure can!"  I let her go up the ladder first and follow with my nose practically in her butt crack.  Ten times we do this, and she becomes used to our bodies touching, me pulling her crotch tight against my neck, my lips brushing her inner thigh.  It is exciting and sensual for me, exciting and maybe a little titillating for her.  Are her thighs a little farther apart as the count mounts, so I can snuggle her mound against my nape?  I can almost swear I feel the crease a time or two.

"I got to go potty!"  She says as we climb out from jump number ten.  She heads around the pool edge, one hand cupped over her mound, the other pulling the suit out of her butt crack as little girls often do.  "I'll be right back."

"I have to rest," I holler at her back.  I make my way to a double lounge, as she disappears into the dressing room.

After a few minutes she comes back out and comes over and sits next to me.  I hand her a towel I brought out for her. 

"That was fun," she declares. Having forgotten all about needing to hide her tiny boobs, she spreads the towel out and sits on it without covering herself.

"We will do ten more if you want, after a half hour of sun, okay?"

"Okay, Jim."

I roll on my side facing her and reach out and idly run a finger over the pale area between her nipples.  "Do you think you need sun block on this pale part here?  I have some right here."

"Maybe," Missy says dubiously as she cranes her head down to see her chest.

I am already unscrewing the cap.  I squeeze some of the greasy stuff onto my fingers and start rubbing it in to the pale flesh, as if it were an everyday thing for me to do.  At first I avoid the nipples, but as she relaxes and lays her head back, I rub across them and then around each one with a finger tip.  Then up over the shoulders on the strap lines, and down each side toward her back.  Then back up to the nipples again.  I go around and around, and up and over in a way that has aroused older girls nipples to erection. 

Missy is quiet and docile under my light touch.  I watch her closed eyes, and her serene face for any sign of rejection.  I bring each nipple to full hardness and erection, playing with them with fingertips and rolling them gently between finger and thumb tips.   A contented sigh escapes, no other sign that she likes or dislikes my attention.  I begin to rub over more of her body, from her jaw line, down one side of her chest to her stomach, which flutters a little under my touch, down to the suit top, across her belly, up the other side and over each little titty pip again to arouse them, and back down to rest on her belly button. 

"You like that?" I murmur softly near her ear.

"Mmmmm hmmm," she murmured almost inaudibly, but accompanied by a slight nod.

"My sister did too.  We used to play a game called �Up or Down?� I would start here, and she would tell me to move my hand up, or down."  As I said "start here," I patted her belly.  I waited about thirty seconds while I kept my hand moving in little circles.  "Up or down?"  I whisper.

"Up," her whisper comes back.

I feel a surge of joy and affection for her that is reflected in the additional stiffening of my cock.  My hand moves up to her left nipple again and when it is back to standing at attention, over to the right one.  I keep it up for another ten minutes, teasing, tweaking, about everything you could do to small breasts except suck them.  I don't want to rush things.

Then I say, "Okay, time to jump into the pool again.�

Missy rouses herself slowly and possibly a little reluctantly. She has been totally relaxed and trusting, and enjoying the small sensation she got from my fingers.  A sensation that is new to her, I am sure.

We return to the board for our ten more jumps.  Then we swim around for a while.  Then, when I am in water to my nipples, Missy swims up to me and grabs my arms and pulls them around her.  I know what she wants.  I wrap my arms around her as she straddles one hip and snuggles her crotch up against where my bare skin meets my suit.  I hold her in the crook of my left arm.  Our faces are inches apart, eyes at the same level.  Her left calf is pressed into my crotch area, and I can feel it against my penis.  I like the feeling.

"Ready to bounce?"

Missy nods.  "Uh huh."

I start to bounce into slightly deeper water.  Every fifth or sixth bounce, I lift my feet up, and we go under.  We look at each other under water, and grin at each other.  When I feel her tense to start her struggle to get air, I put my feet down and raise us out of the water.  I don't know what there is about this game, but sometimes I am surrounded by children of all sizes, hanging onto me and each other and we all bounce.

Today with Missy, I quit the ducking after a couple of times, and just bounce, holding her extra close.  Then I whisper in her ear again.  "We can play up and down in the water and no one will know where my hand is."  I put my right hand on her belly again. "Up or down?"

"Up!"

Not wasting time now, I go directly to her nipples and I caress them as I look into her brown eyed gaze.  Nothing in her expression indicates any adverse reaction to my petting and fondling.  I have to ask.  "Do you like the way it feels when I do this?"

"Yes.  It feels good, it kind of tickles when you touch them." She thinks a moment.  "Down here too."  She indicates her waist right below her belly.  "Kinda tingly."

I get a thrill at the base of my stomach at that admission too. "This will be our secret game, Okay?  We won't tell anyone."

"I guess not!  I didn't wear no top!  I don't want no spanking!"

"Okay," I laugh and give her nip a gentle pinch that elicits a giggle, "I'll never tell.��  I give her other nipple one last playful pinch, and as she squirms, I give her a smacking kiss on the ear which causes her to yelp.��

�Now, time to fix lunch,� I declare signaling the end of our game.� �We�ve got to get dressed now."  I pull her in to me in a tight hug, and I plant a big wet smacker on her cheek.  "Thank you for swimming with me.  I had lots of fun, did you?"

"Uh, huh."  Missy leans in and kisses my cheek in return as I carry her up the steps and put her down on the deck.   We get our towels, dry off and go our separate ways to change. When she comes out of the bathroom, I give her the hair dryer and take Barry's old suit and hang it in my bathroom to dry.  No one needs to know about our little tryst.

A while later, shouts and the slap of running feet announce the arrival of the three boys.  I have the toasted cheese sandwiches and soup ready, and Missy has the table set.

As they sit down to eat, the boys talk about their good times they had and the games they each won.  Missy and I just look at each other and smile.  I think our game was much more fun than any they played, and I think Missy does too.

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The usual disclaimers apply. My stories are pure fantasy.  Enjoy them. Do not try to emulate any characters.  They are all figments of my overactive imagination, and do not exist in real.��������������������������������������������������������������������������� �����������