Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Title : Sweet Lisa

   Author : MeatBot

   Keywords : Pedo, Lesb, Fg, Fb

   Date : 20151112

   Mail : meatbot777 at gmail dot com

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   Synopsis : A woman falls in love with and seduces a young girl in her
care.

   Disclaimer : Copyright by the author.  Permission is granted to archive,
repost, or publish in no-cost or low-cost archives, periodicals,
anthologies of this type of material if unaltered and attributed to the
author.  This is a work of fiction.  The author does not condone any sexual
activity among persons under 16 in real life.

   These are just words, people.  Just words.  If you have a problem with
words see a competent shrink or an English teacher.



   --==+==-

   In a dream, she came to me.  In it she was so real, so profoundly alive,
that years later, when she finally actually did come to me it was almost
like de-ja vu.  I told her that once, laughingly, as she lay in my arms, I
told her that I knew she would come back, because of a dream.  She just
smiled, and touched her lips to mine.  At first, I never dared to dream,
all those years ago, that someday again she would be mine.  That I would
hold her in my arms yet again.  I never dared dream, until the dream.  They
are wrong, the people who think up witty quotes.  Hope does not spring
eternal in the human breast.  My hope died when they wrenched her from my
arms.  But after the dream...  I had something to keep me going.  And... 
in the end...  the dream came true.  How often does that happen, in a
person's lifetime?  Not nearly enough, in my experience.

   She is staggeringly beautiful, now.  Well, she was beautiful then... 
but she takes my breath away, now.  She was small as a girl, bony and
skinny...  she is now tall and slim...  a textbook ectomorph...  and
perfectly proportioned.  She has wonderful, fabulous breasts now, where she
was flat, before.  Her hair is waist-length, dark, rich and thick.  Her
bangs are cut an inch above her eyebrows.  And those eyes...  A thousand
times, back then, I lost myself in her eyes, and it's no different now. 
Dusky...  thick-lidded and sleepy...  wonderfully brown...  her eyes are my
window into her soul.  I am growing old...  I will soon be forty...  and in
another twenty or thirty years, when death comes for me...  I hope the last
thing I see will be her wonderful eyes.  At times expressive...  at times
impassive...  I love her eyes.

   And my eyes...  I cannot keep my eyes off her.  I'm not the only one. 
When we are out, I watch the men...  older men and also boys her own age,
who cannot look away from her.  She is an eye magnet.  Her beauty, poise
and grace are captivating, imprisoning...  she doesn't seem to notice them,
but I do.  With amusement I watch their longing gazes turn sour, their lips
sneer when they realize we are a couple.  I know what they are thinking...
why is she holding hands with that old lady?  What is the attraction?  Our
love so deeply surpasses the merely physical...  I'd like to think the
spiritual and cerebral sides of it are visible, but I know it doesn't show.
My friend Rachel called us "The Odd Couple" once, to my amusement.  I'm
sure we look funny together, but my darling doesn't care...  and because of
that, I don't care either.

   We often go see a movie on Friday nights.  There, in the darkness, she
lays her head on my shoulder.  I can smell her scent and feel her warmth,
she is so close.  We have not dared to kiss, even in the darkness of the
theater, but it's almost enough to feel her next to me, touching me. 
Sometimes we put our hands down each other's pants or under our skirts when
there are no other people on our row.  It feels naughty and exciting, and I
cum like mad as she rubs me.  Afterwards, in the car on the way home, I
sniff my fingers, breathing in her scent.  She drives me beyond crazy.

   Still...  losing the child hurt, and still hurts.  Gaining her back, as
an almost-adult...  a nearly full-grown woman...  without getting to see
the progression of her age during those years we were separated...  I am
angry at god, or fate, at times.  I feel like I missed out on so much.  It
is hard not to resent her mother, though I know the woman did what she felt
was right.  And maybe it was right...  our love burned hot, probably too
hot for a child.  The things I did to her were not right, and I accept
that, though to my relief I didn't have to pay the price for what I
actually did.  The child was an incredible secret keeper...  I can only
imagine the gauntlet of questions she must have run during that time.  She
must have revealed none of the secrets of our time together or I'm sure her
mother would have prosecuted me with pleasure.  I do feel bad for her, I
feel like I made her choose...  though she swears up and down that she and
her mother became estranged over other issues.  I do feel bad for her... 
like I said, I still feel responsible.

   When we get home from the movie we curl up on the couch and I hold her.
To feel her in my arms is heaven enough.  I whisper to her and she giggles
and mumbles back silly things.  I touch her face with my lips, and soon we
are kissing.  Kissing quickly leads to other things and soon she is moaning
and trembling, her arms and legs rigid, her eyes closed and back arched as
I drive into her with my tongue or fingers.  She cries out when she cums
and sometimes she even cries, she cums so hard.  I hold her as she calms
down and we are back to kissing.  Sometimes I cry, too.



   --==+==-

   I remember well to this day the first moment I saw the girl.  I was
staying at home, trying to make a living by sewing piecework and watching
children.  I was actually in recovery from some kind of mental thing I'd
had, maybe a nervous breakdown, or one doctor had even suggested maybe I'd
had a stroke.  Mental things are hard to diagnose...  and with my
history... who knows.  Who the fuck knows.  I'd had breakdowns in the past,
one really memorable one that dropped me out of college...  my guess is
that's what this one had been.  I don't deal with stress well...  and I'm
just a little whacked.  Blame my upbringing.  I was the product of a harsh,
cultish religious upbringing and I still to this day haven't come to terms
with some of the things that were done to me.  I am still estranged from my
family over these issues and others and I have no desire to ever see any of
them again.  Enough said.  Anyway, like I said, I was in recovery, and just
trying to survive.

   I'd put a note on the board at the local Walley-World that I was
available to watch children in my home and several people had expressed
interest.  I already had a boy I was watching, to my occasional
frustration...  he was a little monster and apparently had burned through
most of the local child-cares and sitters in a twenty mile radius.  My
upbringing did help me with him, I must admit...  I put the fear in him
real quick, and his mother thanked me several times for the positive
effects she saw from my influence on the boy.  I don't deal well with
stress, but I do seem to have a talent for dealing with assholes, even
eight year old ones.

   Anyway, one day I received a call from a woman looking for someone to
watch her daughter.  I gave her my address, and she promised to stop by.  A
few days later, I answered the door and she introduced herself.

   "I am Buffy Charmain," she said, as I willed myself to keep a straight
face upon hearing her first name.  I mean, who names their kid that?  She
continued.  "This is my daughter, Analisa..."

   What opinions we form, in that first split second when we meet someone.
I didn't realize it until that evening, but I fell in love with the girl
within a millionth of a second of seeing her.  She stood before me, huge
brown eyes, an almost puzzled look on her face...  she told me years later
she'd expected an old lady, because of my name.  I have an "old lady" name?
I did not know that.

   I stared at the girl, entranced, for reasons unknown to me at the time.
Like I said, it was hours later when I realized, almost to my horror, that
I was in love with a child.  She was small, thin and bony, like I've
already said.  Her face...  her face was incredible.  She took my breath
away then, as she does now.  Thin, long and tanned from a summer outside...
just an ordinary child...  probably ordinary and average looking...  but
for some reason she touched something deep within me.  I never believed in
love at first sight...  I never thought of it that much, truthfully, and
before that moment I would have laughed at the concept, but it hit me like
a ton of bricks.  At that moment, the second I saw her, I just wanted to
wrap my arms around her...  that's how I felt, at first.

   The girl presented her hand, like a grown-up, and we shook hands.  Then
she giggled and I giggled back.  Something...  the first of many... 
something invisible and intimate passed between us, in that instant...  I
almost felt an electric shock...  the process had begun.

   I invited them in and we sat for a few minutes and talked.  I didn't
tell her mother about my mental collapse, of course, I just said I was no
longer working for "health reasons" and left it at that.  She didn't pry.
The child sat, and finally, squirming impatiently, got up and wandered
around the room, looking at my nick-knacks and curios that I've collected
on my various trips around the world.

   The back door slammed and a loud high-pitched but definitely male voice
grated on our collective nerves.

   "David," I said, "please go back outside and enter the house like a
gentleman."

   He grumbled but he did it, and weirdly, after that, and after fetching a
bottle of water from the kitchen, he sat in the living room with us, being
quiet, polite, and civil to the girl who sat next to him and talked in a
low voice.  He even offered her a water, and jumped up to fetch it for her.
I was proud of him but a bit mystified.  Maybe my hard work with him was
paying off at last.

   Mrs.  Charmain and her daughter left a few minutes later, after making
arrangements to drop the girl off next Monday morning.  I would watch her
all day for three weeks, until school started, then I would pick her up
from school and watch her for a few hours each evening, until her mother or
father picked her up.  I didn't even know her actual age, yet...  I didn't
know much about her...  but I surprised myself later that evening when I
realized that she was all I'd thought about the last few hours.  I was
anxious to get her back to my house, and talk to her.  I wanted to know all
about her, what she liked and disliked, how old she was, what grade she was
in...  I was almost puzzled at how strongly I looked forward to next
Monday. I finally shook my head at myself and settled down for an evening
of television.



   --==+==-

   Monday went wonderfully.  Lisa and David seemed to hit it off right away
and they spent the morning in the back yard playing house with some old
furniture I'd brought home from the thrift store for that reason.  David
was uncharacteristically gentle and even thoughtful with the girl and I was
pleased.  I hoped this was a new and positive stage in his development that
we were seeing.

   I made them sandwiches for lunch and we all had a picnic on the deck.  I
finally got to talk to the girl and found out a little about her.  She
would be in fourth grade at Deaconess when school started again.  No, she
didn't particularly like school.  Yes, she did like the friends she made
there, though.  No, she didn't have any brothers or sisters.  That always
gives me thought, when I chance upon a fellow only child...  I remember how
my own mother had only me to focus on.  That was not always a good thing. I
spent my childhood yearning for a sister, at least one...  I was jealous of
my cousins and the kids at school that were from large families.  I always
felt like a sister would have been a great ally in my endless low-key
struggles with my mother over things as small and simple as the color of my
hair bows.

   Anyway, the girl was delightful.  I stared at her, into her huge brown
eyes, and confronted the thing I had realized that first night.  I loved
her, I loved her like she was my own daughter.  The daughter I'd never had
and would probably never have.  I just stared at her and resisted the
impulse to wrap my arms around her.  I hadn't even touched her yet, other
than to shake her hand.  I yearned, though...  I yearned to touch her hot,
tender flesh...  I knew she'd be hot, children run hot, like little
furnaces.  I wanted to touch her and feel the heat from her body on my
skin.

   That night, when I'd had that thought that I loved her like a
daughter... the thing...  the thing that lives in my mind, the thing I call
the Niggler...  had woken up, and whispered to me.  I listened and laughed,
as I always do now, when the Niggler speaks.  For the first twenty years of
my life when the Niggler spoke ice water ran in my veins and my heart
pounded like a racehorse.  The Niggler made me think that I was crazy,
crazy or possessed.  I cannot explain his presence.  He says things that I
don't know, making me believe that he's more than just simply my
subconscious toying with me.  He is is much smarter than I am, smarter,
more devious, and way more evil.  He's talked me into doing things in the
past that I'm not proud of...  horrible things, fearsome things.  I had
finally, in my late teens, learned to come to grips with him somewhat.  The
only way I can hurt or enrage him is by laughing at him and I use that to
control him as best I can.

   The Niggler had spoken to me that night and pointed out that I didn't
exactly love her like a daughter...  I loved her like a lover.  I laughed
at that, thinking of her slim childish body.  Like a lover?  She was just a
child.  To love a child was not exactly an alien concept to me, though...
I'd loved children before, always from afar, except once back when I still
lived at home.  A sweet young neighbor boy had somehow gotten inside my
defenses and we had carried on a secret little affair for several months
over the back fence, but my mother had caught us once behind the garage
with my panties around my ankles.  There was hell to pay and I'd even
missed some school until the marks on my back healed.  The boy had only
been seven or so, and I was seventeen...  and to this day I have no idea
what I'd planned with him or expected of him...  I'd just been giving him a
peek at my secret places.  That was the last time that my mother struck me,
at least.  The morning of the day I turned eighteen I packed a bag and left
the house before my parents woke up.  The night before was literally the
last time in all these years I have seen them.

   Pardon my many digressions.  It's hard for me to stay on subject, even a
subject so dear to my heart as Lisa.  That first day...  David went back
outside, and Lisa and I went into the living room.  On impulse I picked up
my hair brush.

   "Let me do your hair, darling," I said, with a secret thrill at getting
to call her "darling." She was willing to sit while I brushed her hair.  I
brushed with one hand, and held her long, beautiful hair in the other.  My
knuckles rubbed the back of her neck.  I was right, she was hot, I felt her
body dumping heat like a radiator.  I leaned down and drew a breath through
my nostrils, trying to capture her scent.  She smelled wonderful, she
smelled of grass, and some outdoorsy scents...  a little hint of flowers,
maybe, and a slight tangy sweaty smell...  a million different things that
congealed inside my nostrils and my head.  It was almost too much, it took
me back, for some reason, down the corridors of my own memories...  I
almost cried, at that moment, I loved her so much.  Love is almost a curse
at times, an enslavement...  I was a willing slave, but I knew that I was
doomed to love her, for better or worse.  I knew at that moment that I
would move heaven and earth just to be near her...  and I would move the
universe to hold her in my arms.

   I brushed her hair until I think her head hurt, but she was polite, as
always.  I finally let her go and after she went outside I brought the
hairbrush to my nose and drew her scent in, once again.  God, she smelled
like heaven to me, if heaven has an odor...  if heaven even exists.  She
smelled wonderful.

   The next few days passed in a dreamlike state.  I had confronted the
truth but I didn't know what to do with it.  I restrained myself around the
girl, I respected the boundaries of our relationship...  for the moment, at
least.  I got to hug her at last, one evening when her father came after
her, she came to me and wrapped her arms around me and I leaned down and
hugged her to my body.  "Thank you," she whispered, I have no idea what she
thanked me for, but I whispered back into her ear, "you are welcome,
darling..." It was a magical moment, and once again I smelled her
delightful scent.  I stood and watched them drive away, anxious for the
next day.



   --==+==-

   The next morning when she arrived her mother brought her inside, and
then asked me if I minded if she brought a toy that attached to the garden
hose and sprayed water.  I didn't mind, and her mother handed me her
swimsuit and left.  After the day had warmed up I let the children play in
the water, and they had a delightful time.  David didn't have a swimsuit,
but he had an extra pair of shorts that he'd brought the week before so I
let him wear those and play in the water also.  Lisa looked so cute in her
little bikini that it almost hurt...  she didn't really look out-and-out
"sexy," but she looked drop-dead cute.  I stood at the window and watched
them shriek and splash, feeling like an old lady.

   David, the little beast, suddenly went to the edge of my field of view
and pulled his shorts down.  I could see his pale little buttocks and then
I saw a thin yellow stream as he urinated.  I felt a moment's regret that
he was turned away from me and I couldn't see his little cock, but that's
the way it happened.  I wondered if he did this often, in the yard.  I
looked at Lisa, and she was watching him intently, and I realized from
where she stood she could see his cock plainly.  I wondered what she
thought of it.  When he finished they spoke briefly, and then I saw her
squat, giggling.  The little hussy, I thought, giggling to myself, she's
gonna pee, too.  She pulled her swimsuit aside, and I saw a stream shoot
from her body.  I had a perfect view right up her legs of her precious
little pussy, but I was too far away to make out any detail.  I realized
with a start that my hand was inside my pants and I sighed and slowly
rubbed myself.

   The kids were back in the water.  I had picked up my sewing since the
show was over, but I had a thought and set it back down.  I went into the
spare bedroom where Lisa had changed into her swimsuit.  I dug through the
little pile of her clothes and with trembling hands I pressed her panties
into my face.

   Oh, god.  Words fail.  I almost felt like I was going to pass out
because I breathed in through my nose so strongly.  The smell was
incredible.  I wondered if she'd worn the panties yesterday...  the smell
was so intense and overpowering.  Surely this was more than just a few
hours.  Had she just put them on this morning?  Surely not.  It was the
most incredible pussy smell I'd ever smelled.  Way better than when I smell
myself, of my fingers.  It was incredible.  I wanted to die, then and
there, with her smell in my nose.  My finger dived inbetween my legs again,
and plunged into my wetness.  With her scent, the fabulous scent of her
wonderful pussy in my nose, I had a fast hard orgasm, pounding my clit as I
rammed two fingers into my cunt.  My knees buckled and I sat heavily on the
bed, still breathing her smell in, wanting to remember it forever.

   At last I rose and returned her panties to the pile of clothes.  Now I
know, I thought, now I know what her pussy smells like.  Actually, it
didn't smell too much different than my own...  and, I admit, I had
occasionally sniffed the panties of my college room-mate just to see if she
smelled differently than myself.  I'm certainly not a stranger to my own
smells.  But this was incredible, for some reason...  so fresh and pure and
clean...  it almost burned my nose.

   Lisa's father showed up at two o'clock because he had taken off work
early.  With regret I hugged her.  Monday seemed an eternity away to me.  I
wandered back into the house and out to the back yard where David was.

   "David," I said, "you were a naughty boy today.  I saw you pee in front
of Lisa, out here in the yard."

   He giggled slightly but I think he could tell from my tone of voice I
was just screwing around with him.

   "So?" he finally said, back to his familiar old smart-ass self.

   "So nothing," I said.  "David.  Stand up here on the deck with me.  See
if you can pee again.  Show me how you do it."

   It took some coaxing, but he finally pulled his pants and underwear down
and I got my first glimpse of his cute little cock.  He urinated, sending a
stream spraying out into the yard.  I laughed and he laughed with me.  The
Niggler was shouting in my head, loud and insistent.  I couldn't seem to
shut him up.

   "David," I said, dropping to my knees before him.  "Can you keep a
secret?"



   --==+==-

   I have, I admit...  problems.  My head is a little screwed up.  I'm not
proud of everything I do, especially when that voice in my head won't take
no for an answer.  I'm not proud of that afternoon, although...  I have to
admit...  over the next few months, David came to be even more attentive
and mindful of me.  We developed a pretty good rapport, I think.  And he
seemed to really like the...  the things I did to him.

   I have been single my whole life.  I will probably die, single.  Well, I
realize now that is not the case, now that Lisa lives with me.  I guess I
mean "man-less" instead of single.  This, probably, is one of my major
character flaws.  I don't really like men.  Well, I don't like women too
much, to be honest, but I really don't like men.  I'm not gay...  until
Lisa, I'd never touched or tasted another female...  and I don't think I'm
gay, now...  our love transcends simple definitions like "gay" or
"straight." Anyway, I'm saying...  I don't like men.  Weirdly...  I like
cocks, but I don't like men.

   Me and cocks go back...  a long way.  My father...  god damn my
father... for all his holy talk and godly demeanor...  for all his "holier
than thou" attitude...  every few nights, in the wee hours of the morning,
long after my mother had gone to sleep...  I would hear him coming for me.

   I still remember laying in bed, not moving a muscle, hardly daring to
breathe...  I would hear the floor creak, and all those noises an old house
makes as someone moves through it...  then he would appear out of the
darkness.  He always smiled at me...  I'm not sure if he was simply happy
about what he would soon receive or he thought it would help cheer me up,
in spite of what I was about to do.  I still haven't figured that one out.

   He would pull his cock out of his pajamas and gently rub it on my face.
On my lips, my chin, my eyes, even my forehead...  it was part of the
game...  I would feel cool dampness as trails of his pre-cum streaked
across my face and evaporated.  At last he would press it against my
lips... and I would slowly open my mouth.  These are some of my earliest
memories...  I must have just been a baby when he started this...  and he
trained me well, I was an expert cocksucker by age six.  By the time I was
in my teens it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to me.

   I was shocked once, talking to some girls at school, to realize that
other girls didn't suck their father's cocks.  Though he never told me not
to I somehow knew instinctively never to tell my mother...  I knew that she
would blame me, first and foremost, if she ever found out.  And, I admit,
there was some warmth in the act, for me...  I knew I was making him happy,
I knew I was doing something for him that my mother would not do.  I have
no idea to this day why she wouldn't.  He, in one of the rare times he felt
it necessary to talk to me about what we did, pointed out to me that there
was nothing in the bible forbidding blow jobs...  or "oral sex," as I think
he called it.  I suppose that was his justification of it to himself.

   One night, though, when I was around sixteen, he crept into my room and
I handed him a paper with information about counseling that was now
available to me at school.  I said, "Daddy, enjoy this one...  it's the
last...  it's the last, or the whole world finds out." He nodded slowly,
his face crestfallen.  He knew I was serious.  As I blew him he softly
cried, tears streaming down his cheeks.  I have no idea why he cried, maybe
just because it was ending, or maybe because he acknowledged the wrongness
of what he'd done all these years...  or maybe he was just sad his little
girl was growing up.  I have no idea.

   Anyway, I was a terror after that, everywhere except home.  I blew half
the graduating class of Halverstaad High.  I blew the men at every job I
ever held, the men I worked with, and the men that were my bosses. 
College...  I don't even want to remember most of college...  I went to
college late, since I didn't have anyone to pay for it for me...  I worked
several years and saved, and got grants and stuff.  I was older than most
of the other kids, and that seemed to give me some authority, authority
which I abused to the fullest extent.  I took men from all walks of life in
my mouth...  professors, football players, students, janitors...  I turned
no one down.  I was looked down on because of it, often by the same men
that benefited from my easiness, but I didn't care.  I had no sense of
pride at that time, no sense of self-worth or self-esteem.  I didn't like
guys, I didn't like girls, and I didn't even particularly like myself... 
but I loved cocks.  I still do, I still feel the attraction, at times... 
but I'm a little more careful, nowdays.  David has been my only weakness in
recent years.  But my relationship with him pales in comparison with what
my relationship with Lisa turned into.

   The Niggler loves to remind me of my "golden years," as he calls them.
He calls me a slut, a whore and a dozen other names, none of them good.  I
just laugh at him and he gets mad and leaves me alone.  I'm ready for him
to be gone, to find somebody else's head to live in.



   --==+==-

   The weeks went by, and turned into months.  It had sucked, when school
started...  I only saw the girl a few hours a day.  Winter slowly passed,
and I felt a warm satisfaction at the way we seemed to get closer and
closer.  On cold winter afternoons we cuddled beneath a blanket as we
watched TV, and I gloried in the feeling of her arms and legs touching
mine...  I drank in the warmth from her body.  I loved being close to her.
She didn't seem to notice when I touched her, and at times my hands were
all over here.

   I had spent much time in thought about where to go with her.  I wanted
more from her, I wanted to touch her and taste her...  the Niggler
suggested that very thing, often enough...  but I knew how dangerous that
path was.  Like I said, I often placed my hands on her body, but I was
careful not to be too obvious about it.  And I stayed away from unsafe
areas.  I had that much self-control, at first.

   And...  once again, oddly...  she was the one that started it.  She had
been sick, and missed a few days of school.  I watched her so her parents
could continue to work.  We cuddled up beneath a blanket and watched TV and
giggled.  She whispered in my ear and we giggled some more.

   "Lisa, honey..." I said, remembering something from last summer.  "Do
you remember...  do you remember playing in the water, when David peed in
the yard?"

   She giggled, and nodded.  "Yeah..." she finally said.

   "Do you remember seeing his...  his weenie?" I asked, and she nodded
again.

   "What did you think of it?" I asked, and she I felt her shrug, under the
blanket.

   "I dunno," she laughed.  "Kinda...  kinda funny lookin'." She giggled
some more.  I felt a warm fuzzy feeling, talking about cocks with her.  I
didn't intend on going further with it, though.  Baby steps, I thought. 
Baby steps.

   But she was ready to go further.  "Miss Q," she said, and I raised an
eyebrow at her.  Her voice was low and conspiratorial.  "Miss Q, I seen...
I seen lots of them.  Lots of weenies, on my dad's computer.  He got lots
of pictures of girls and men...  men doin' stuff to girls."

   Oh, that was interesting.  Her father was a porn addict?  He'd seemed so
straight-laced to me.  Almost too perfect.  I got a thrill out of hearing
it.

   "Darlin'," I said, "it's just a fact of life.  You're a big girl for not
freaking out, when you see things like that."

   "Yeah," she said, "that's what Darlene says.  She's seen her mom and
dad...  doin' stuff."

   I assumed Darlene was a friend.  I nodded.

   "Darlene..." she said, breathlessly.  I nodded again.  "Darlene and
me... we do stuff, sometimes when she spends the night.  We...  we kiss,
an' stuff."

   Oh, this was cool...  I desperately wanted to know what "stuff" they
did. I giggled with her.

   "Baby," I said, "what kind of stuff?"

   "Oh," she said, "I'm not 'sposed to tell."

   "I understand," I said.  "I'm not trying to make you tell.  But she
probably meant most of all you shouldn't tell your parents."

   "Yeah," she said, and looked thoughtful for a moment.  "I guess...  I
guess I can tell you.  You won't tell, will you?"

   I hugged her to me, as well as I was able to on the couch.  "Oh,
darlin'," I said, "I'll never tell anybody anything.  I'll keep all your
secrets, I promise,"

   She smiled.  She looked around the room, like she was unsure that we
were alone.

   "Here," I said, drawing the blanket over our heads, "Now we're safe."

   She giggled softly.  I felt her mouth at my ear and leaned down a little
further.

   "Miss Q," she breathed her hot breath in my ear.  I felt my pussy
getting wet.  "Miss Q, me an' Darlene...  we...  we rub our...  our mouses
together.  It feels great.  It makes me feel so good I can't...  I can't
understand it, sometimes..."

   Goddam, I thought, it sounds like she's talking about an orgasm.  Can an
eight year old have an orgasm, just from rubbing pussies with her friend?
It sure sounded like it.

   "Darling," I whispered back, "I'm very glad you've discovered that.  It
does feel great, I've done it before.  It's lots of fun, I know."

   I hadn't, actually...  I'd never rubbed pussies with another girl.  All
I'd ever done was be with a few men and had some rather unsatisfying
missionary position sex.  But I did know how to have a quality orgasm, at
least.  My sex life, past and present, involved my finger...  my finger and
sucking cocks.

   We both giggled, and I wondered if the revelations were at an end. 
Apparently not.

   "Miss Q..." she whispered.  "Darlene even...  sometimes Darlene puts my
mouse in her mouth.  She licks me, down there...  and I lick her."

   "Oh darling," I breathed, turned on beyond reason.  All I could think of
was this sweet young thing, both eating pussy and being eaten.  I wanted
her to do that very thing to me but most of all I wanted to do it to her.
It was all I could do to hold back.

   "Baby, that is so cool," I whispered.  "Darling...  I love you that much
too...  I want to do that to you...  I want to put your mouse in my
mouth..."

   She giggled softly.  But at least she didn't say no.

   "Baby," I said, "Sweetheart.  You think about that, about what I just
said.  If you want me to do it we can try tomorrow.  Just think about it,
please.  And please don't tell anyone."

   "Oh, I don't tell nobody nothin'," she assured me.  "We'd get in
trouble, if my Mom knew.  We don't tell her nothin'."

   I kissed her softly right on her mouth.  Oh, I thought, my first kiss.
My first kiss, with the girl I love.  I leaned into her again and this time
she was ready and she seemed to kiss back.  We both giggled softly.

   We spent most of the rest of the afternoon doing just that, reclining on
the couch underneath the blanket and kissing.  I was in heaven.  How long,
how many years had I waited for something like this to happen?  My whole
life, really.  I was never so turned on, never so pumped up.  My life
seemed to be opening before me like a flower, a big beautiful flower.  All
from the kisses of a sweet young girl.  My heart ached with the thought of
how impermanent it was.  Even if I got this again, tomorrow...  this, and
maybe more, how long could it go on?  I cannot imagine being in love with
someone and knowing you'd be beside them for the next forty or fifty years.
I'd be lucky to get forty or fifty days, if I even had that.  How unfair, I
thought...  I have finally found love, the love I've looked for my whole
life...  and I have the most tenuous of grips on it.  If I wasn't kissing a
sweet young girl I would have cried.

   At last, long before her mother showed up, I forced myself to stop.  We
crawled out from underneath the blanket, giggling and sweating.  I gave her
one last kiss, squeezing her lips with mine, and we sat demurely and waited
on the arrival of her mother.  I had high hopes for the morrow.



   --==+==-

   I have no real adjectives to describe the next day.  It was a Thursday.
Everything else about it is beyond description.  She was still "sick" and
didn't go to school that day, although she recovered pretty damn quick
after her mom left.  We retired to the couch and she crawled up into my lap
without hesitation.  I pulled her to me and breathed in her scent.

   "Baby," I said, "did you do what I asked?  Did you think about it?"

   She nodded, grinning.  My gods, the child was beautiful.  To see a wide
smile on her face, to know she was this happy about something...  and to
know what it was she was happy about...  I thought I would burst.

   "Yes, Miss Q," she said.  "I thought about it.  I guess you can, if you
want."

   "Oh, darlin'," I said, "I want.  Yes, I want."

   Our lips met again, and again.  Her little tongue was hot in my mouth. I
knew she had pancakes for breakfast; I could taste syrup.  My cunt was
flowing copiously.  I squeezed her so tightly she squawked, and we giggled.

   "Darling," I said.  "Come here...  come to my bedroom."

   I locked the deadbolt on the front door and led her to my bedroom.  I
slowly undressed her, savoring the moment.  I laid her clothes out on a
chair and my desk so I could dress her in a hurry if I had to.  All I had
on was a robe, I was naked beneath it, in anticipation.

   She looked at my breasts, and giggled.  Then she looked down, and
giggled some more.

   "Miss Q," she said.  "My mom got hair down there.  You look like me!"

   I giggled softly.  I have shaved my whole life, which probably seems
strange, since no one but me ever goes there.  I love the smooth softness
of my pussy, though.  I was anticipating the smooth softness of hers.

   I picked her up and gently lay her down on my bed.

   "Darling," I breathed into her face.  "My dearest sweetheart...  nothing
we do is wrong, today.  Nothing we do for love is ever wrong.  I love you,
precious...  I love you more than life.  I want you to understand that..."

   I wasn't sure if she did, but I hoped.

   "Baby," I went on, "I don't have to tell you...  what we do here is
nobody's business but our own.  I would be in big trouble if you ever told
anyone.  Please, please...  please keep this a secret...  our secret."

   She nodded her head on that one.  All I could do is hope.  I knew, at
this stage, there was no way I could turn back.  The only way I could stop
now is if she changed her mind.  And that would be the hardest thing in the
world to do, even then.  But I would...  in my defense, I have to say I
would.  I would respect her wishes.

   It didn't seem to be a problem.  I leaned into her, and she met me.  We
kissed, yet again.  The child seemed to love to kiss.  Her tongue darted
into my mouth and licked my lips.  If it was just this, I thought, if it
was just this, it would be enough.  But getting to go further?  I didn't
know if I could stand it.

   At last I licked down her chin, and kissed and licked her neck.  I
kissed the hollow spot at the base of her throat.  I finally kissed my way
down to her flat little nipples.  Someday, I thought, and how right I was,
someday, these are going to be the most beautiful things in the world.  I
spent some time there, and finally slurped my way down to her belly button.
Her navel was fabulous and sexy, with a little bud of flesh at the bottom.
I stayed there a while...  even though...  I was so close.  I was so close
I could smell her.  I could tell already, from six inches away, that she
hadn't taken a bath this morning.  And probably not even last night.  Her
pussy smelled intense and aromatic.  I felt my jaws lock, in that painful
taste thing that happens sometimes when you prepare to eat something really
good or tasty.  I knew she would taste fantastic.  I knew that this was a
pivotal moment in my life.  Never forget this, I told myself.  I knew I
wouldn't.

   At last.  I kissed her reverently at the top of her slit, and just
stopped a few moments to look.  I carefully spread her lips apart, and
breathed her scent in from just inches away.

   I cannot describe the beauty that is her pussy.  Is, was...  it was and
still is.  You've seen pussies before, I don't need to describe it... 
although, every one is a little bit different.  The most outstanding thing
about this one, I think, is her clit.  Even when her lips are closed, her
little clit peeks out.  It's a fat little blob of flesh, maybe as big as
the tip of my little finger.  There is almost no hood over it, it stands
alone and proud, and begs to be licked.  At last I leaned down, and touched
it with my tongue.

   Her taste was everything I'd hoped for.  Strong and unmistakable... 
pure pussy.  Sweeter than honey, intense and yet gentle...  she tasted
wonderful.  The next thirty minutes were the happiest moments of my life,
until recently.  And...  my question was answered...  she came as I licked
her clit, she clenched her hands and stuck her legs straight out and arched
her back...  and came.  I pressed her clit against her body with my tongue
and tried to stay on top of her as she writhed beneath me.

   "Darling," I said, when she had calmed down, "that was beautiful.  Did
you like it?"

   "Yeah..." she said, her eyes shining.  "That was fun.  I wanna do that
again."

   "Oh, honey," I whispered, tears in my eyes, "we'll do that as long as
you want to.  We've got until three o'clock."

   She giggled, and I laid my head against her stomach, basking in the love
I felt from her.  Maybe not love for me specifically, maybe love for what
I'd done for her...  I'd accept that.  I could live with that.

   "I love you, darling," I said.  "I honestly, truly love you, and I'll
love you until the end of time, until the heat death of the universe.  And
even maybe after that.  Please, please remember that, if you remember
anything about me in the years to come.  I love you."

   I felt her hands on my head, in my hair.

   "Miss Q," she said, her voice hesitant.  "I think...  I think I love
you, too."

   "Oh, honey," I said, raising up to put my face in hers, "thank you.  You
are so sweet.  I don't deserve you, darlin'."

   "Don't say that," she said, wise beyond her years, "Everbody deserves
somebody.  You just happened to get me."

   More tears.  I pressed my lips against hers.  How, I thought, how can I
hold onto this?  I could see no way.  A few more months, if that...  maybe
I'd have her next summer, even.  Ultimately, though, how could this end,
other than badly?  Maybe not specifically badly, but with me losing her. 
Any way it happened, I knew I would lose her.

   "Miss Q..." she said, hesitant again.  I kissed her and said, "what?"

   "Miss Q...  can I lick your boobies?"

   Yes, heaven is a young girl's tongue.



   --==+==-

   The rest of that day was a blur.  A long, sexy blur with lots of licking
and saliva and heavy breathing.  I have no idea how many times I was able
to make the girl cum; I was jealous of her ability to just do it over and
over.  I hoped I was forever cemented in her mind, when she came.  I hoped
for the rest of her life she remembered these moments and saw my face when
she had an orgasm.

   She was sitting, wrapped in a blanket and drinking hot chocolate when
her mom showed up.  What a little actor she was.  I was proud of her.  The
next day was kind of a drag, I only saw her that afternoon, and David was
there.  We stole a few kisses, but that was it.  The rest of the winter
went like that, though I did have her all to myself the Friday after
Thanksgiving.  We made up for lost time, we kissed and licked and rubbed
the day away, even doing that thing where we scrubbed our pussies together.
After some thought and initial hesitation, she crawled down my body and
proceeded to lick my aching cunt, bringing me to a satisfying and intense
orgasm.  Just the thought of what we were doing was enough to get me off,
but then to actually feel her little tongue on my clit...  it was just too
much.



   --==+==-

   Christmas was sweet, I got her a few little items, and she made a
picture for me.  It was beautiful to me.  I didn't see her for almost two
weeks, and that hurt, but I understood.  Ours was not a conventional love.
I realized, of course, how one-sided our love was.  Not to denigrate her
feelings for me...  I'm sure, in her childish fashion, she did truly love
me, probably as well as a child is able to love a person not their parent.

   We wound down the winter with stolen moments here and there.  There was
one memorable afternoon David went to sleep on the couch and I attacked her
pussy, licking her vigorously until she came like crazy.  David and I were
still...  somewhat involved, though, like Lisa, the time I was able to
spend with him was pretty limited.  And...  there was no love, with
David... I liked the kid, I truly did...  but there was nowhere near the
depth of feeling that I felt with Lisa.  It was the difference between one
drop of water and an ocean.

   Spring break was incredible.  A whole week, with her to myself.  David's
family had taken a vacation but Lisa's had not.  I had the girl for a week,
over eight hours a day.  We made love until we were exhausted and then
cuddled and giggled and then made love again.  That is the week I want to
re-live for eternity if I get the choice.  The smells and tastes of her
body were incredible for some reason, and even I was surprised at how much
she turned me on.  There seemed to be no limits to the love I felt for her.


   Our affair was maybe six months long...  I'm not sure.  It was hotter
and more intense than anything in my life has ever been.  The child
honestly seemed to love me or at least desire me as fiercely as I did her.
The instant we were alone she would fly to me and smash her mouth to mine.
Our hands would be on each other like teenagers.  Our love for each other
burned not simply like a flame but like a blowtorch.  What I felt for her
she gave back just as strongly.  I'm not sure, at her tender age, if she
even understood what it looked like to me...  but it certainly looked like
she loved me.



   --==+==-

   The end was heartbreakingly quick and brutal.  I realized later I'd had
some warnings, I just didn't perceive them as such.  Her mother had talked
to me on occasion, expressing concern about certain facets of Lisa's
behavior that she felt needed changing...  I always agreed with her, and I
really did agree, I didn't just say it.  But Lisa was such a sweet,
reasonable child...  I thought at the time that her mother worried just a
little too much.

   One day her mother told me something that Lisa had said to her... 
something about me.  We both laughed, but I felt like she was watching me,
gauging my response...  I even wondered later what it had really been
about.

   Then, one Monday afternoon, her mother called me.  We have decided to
put Lisa in a day care, she said, Roger's job will help pay for it.  We
appreciate all you've done, thank you very much, and goodbye.  I was
speechless; stunned and horrified.  I burst into tears when she hung up,
and if somebody had been around to console me I would have been
inconsolable.  That night was an agony.  I wanted to call her badly, but I
knew how unwise that would have been.  I hoped and prayed she would call me
at some point if she could get a few moments of private time and if she
could find my number in her mom's phone.  I didn't really expect it to
happen, and it didn't.

   A few days later I got another call from Mrs.  Charmain.

   "Could we stop by for a few minutes?" she said, "Lisa has something to
give you, and she wants to tell you goodbye."

   It was all I could do to keep from crying.  How will I ever make it
through this?  I wondered.  But of course I agreed.  Thirty minutes later
her Mom's SUV pulled up.  I took a deep breath, and opened the door.

   My darling looked as sad as I felt.  I leaned down and hugged her.  We
sat in the living room.  She gave me a large school picture of herself in a
frame.  My heart was in my throat the whole time she was there.  I could
tell her mother was uncomfortable and finally she rose and excused herself
to make a phone call, stepping outside.

   I seized Lisa and hugged her to my body.  I didn't trust my voice, so I
whispered.

   "Darling, darling...  don't ever forget.  I love you, I love you, I love
you...  I will always love you." I whispered fiercely in her ear.  She
pulled back and looked at me with a look of bleak hopelessness on her face.
I have no idea how I kept from crying, seeing that look on her face.

   I desperately wished there was more that I could say than simply "I love
you." There needs to be a magical, powerful phrase greater than just "I
love you." A way to say "I love you" to the thousandth or millionth power.
Sadly, there is not.  How simple, short and unsatisfying "I love you" is.
Words seem to be more powerful the less they are used, and "I love you" is
the most over-used, mis-used phrase in our language.  There should be a
word for "love" that is as powerful and shocking as "fuck" or "cunt,"
although those words are becoming commonplace nowdays also.

   "I love you too," she whispered back, staring at me as intensely as I
was her.  I looked towards the door and pressed my lips against hers one
last time.

   "Don't forget, just don't forget.  When you turn sixteen and get a car,
come see me.  I'll still be here, I won't move away, for that reason, I
promise.  Just don't forget, please don't forget."

   She nodded, and I could see tears forming in the corners of her eyes. 
My eyes had felt wet the whole time she'd been here.

   "I love you, darling, I love you!" I didn't know what else to say.  I
let her go, and seconds later heard the front door rattle as her mother
re-entered the room.  I wanted to comfort her, I wanted to hold her, shit,
that's all I wanted.  I just wanted to hold her for the rest of my life.

   "Are you ready, honey?" her mother asked, and she slowly stood.  I
hugged her one last time, daring to whisper "I love you," in her ear.  She
followed her mother outside.  I stood on the porch and watched.

   "Goodbye," she said in a small voice, and I replied, my voice trembling.
Our fingers touched for a last brief instant.  Her mom motioned for her to
get in the car and then turned to me.  I hoped my tears weren't obvious to
her.

   "Look," she said, "I'm sorry this was so abrupt.  We were...  we were
nothing but satisfied with you...  but Lisa said some things...  some
things that made us think she was getting a little too fixated on you. 
Please understand...  we think this is for the best for her.  And thank
you, thank you for understanding."

   I nodded, unable to speak.  Mrs.  Charmain turned away, got in the SUV,
and I watched her drive away with the girl I loved.



   --==+==-

   The next ten years were dull and weary with few bright spots.  I passed
from my twenties into my thirties, feeling old and tired.  I yearned to
just see Lisa, even from a distance...  I thought of crazy things, like
going to her school and trying to see her at recess.  I admit, I'm a little
crazy, but I'm not that crazy.  My heart ached for her, sometimes with a
pain that felt so physical I wondered if I was having long slow heart
attacks.

   The Niggler had little or no advice about lost loves.  He seemed to
speak to me less and less as time went by.  I didn't really miss him... 
although he'd been a presence in my mind so long I was comfortable with him
at last.  He seemed to fade away as I made peace with him.  The last thing
I remember him saying to me was some advice about something nasty to try
with David.

   David.  I was left with David.  He was the only spark of happiness in my
bleak life.  We were not exactly intimate...  the things I did to him might
have looked intimate, to outsiders...  but emotionally, we were not
intimate.  As he grew older, though, I finally achieved a closeness that
assuaged some of my hunger for intimacy.  He grew up well, both mentally
and physically.  I stopped keeping him when he turned eleven, but his mom
often brought him by for a few hours now and then, just to see me.  When he
got a few years older he sometimes walked the mile from his house to mine,
to spend a few hours with me.  Well...  I don't think I was the real focus,
I suppose it was for what I would still do for him.  He was hooked on me, I
think, and that was understandable.  I made him feel good.

   Our relationship changed slightly when he turned twelve and became able
to ejaculate.  He had dry ejaculations for a while and then one day he
suddenly filled my mouth, to both our surprise.  Things got a little more
intense after that.  When he was barely thirteen I popped his cherry and
made a man out of him.  He often spent the night with me after that,
telling his mom he was at a friend's house.  He was a good little
fuckbuddy, the best I've ever had, although, as I've admitted before my
experience with men is limited.  He had an inborn talent and he could make
me cum like crazy when he fucked me.  I can't say that I actually loved
him, but I loved what he did for me.  I loved it a lot and him a little bit
but I still yearned to hold the girl that I loved the most in my arms.

   By the time David turned sixteen the confidence I had given him made
quite a lady's man out of him.  He soon had his pick of girlfriends and I
saw him less and less.  I accepted that, and at least he still came around
on rare occasions.  He was like an old friend by then.  The last time I saw
him he announced he had asked his favorite girlfriend to marry him and she
had said yes.  I was happy for him and hoped for the best for the two of
them.  I had told David long ago that I was in love with Lisa and I think
he understood, probably more than what the average person would have.

   Lisa.  I thought of her every day.  Just a word, I used to think, if I
could hear just a word from her.  Almost every day I looked at that picture
she gave me and whispered her name with tears in my eyes.  I wondered where
she was and what she was turning in to.  And I loved her so much it hurt.

   Then, one night, I had a dream.



   --==+==-

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