Author: Oliver Newton Title: Sophie and Amy's Sleepover - Ending Summary: The author takes Amy home and has misgivings about his interest in young girls. Keywords: M F g nosex lots of angst ======================== Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It is a product of a fertile imagination. Under no circumstances does the author recommend or even suggest that a reader should attempt any similar behaviour or actions. Do not try this at home! ======================== Amy directed me to a depressingly grey cuboid block of flats that looked as if it had been imported from Eastern Europe, which in a way it had as it had been designed by an emigré architect who had trained as a Functionalist in Brno working for West Sussex County Council's Housing Department. To judge by the state of the grounds and the worn and battered public areas it was not well cared for but at least there was no graffiti of smell of urine in common areas. When Cathy opened the door with wet hair and a beltless dressing gown held together by one hand I was quick to thank her for the offered coffee and would have refused but for a sharp pleading look from Amy. I wondered whether Amy had ever been invited round to to Sophie's or whether my ex-wife would ever have allowed Sophie to come here for a sleep-over: the only reason she allowed Sophie to come to me was the Court Order. I accepted the invitation and followed Amy into the flat. "Did you have a good time, darling?" Cathy asked, scooping Amy up and hugging her as if she had been away for an eternity. I'm sure it wasn't deliberate but as she lifted Amy into her arms Cathy's dressing gown gaped and revealed a curve of a breast and a long thigh and glimpse of belly. I felt suddenly as if I had wandered out onto some very thin ice. "It was wicked!" enthused Amy. "We all got naked and danced and danced! Then today we went for a walk up round Holmbury and had lunch in an old pub with a huge fire." Cathy looked at me over her daughter's head and gave me a long, slow, searching look. I felt suddenly far more naked and vulnerable than ever I had the night before. "I think I'd better go," I said regretfully, "I'm sure you and Amy have a lot to catch up on." "Oh! I was just going to make supper but spent too long in the bath!" Cathy exclaimed apologetically, adding almost shyly, "please stay and have supper with us?" I was close to making an excuse when Amy twisted round in her mother's arms and looked at me accusingly. I thought of the fifteen mile drive back to an empty house and my reluctance crumbled immediately. "If it's not too much trouble?" I replied, feeling oddly shy. "No trouble at all," she answered, "but I'll just go and put something on first." The 'something' turned out to be a sort of plain jersey shift with three-quarter sleeves or might have been an over-size plain tee: either way it hung beautifully and made me think the perhaps she had nothing on under it. Amy pushed me towards the table and when I sat down slithered onto my lap as if that were the most natural thing in the world. "Tell me about this party!" instructed Cathy as she began to assemble ingredients for cupboards and the fridge. "It was wicked!" repeated Amy. "There were lots of people -" "What were the costumes like?" "Witches and skeletons mainly," Amy replied. "Sophie and I were witches too. Oliver was a devil with horns and his willy in a gold bag." "I beg your pardon!" Cathy exclaimed theatrically but glancing a smile at me. "Do you mean a g-string?" "She does," I confirmed, "it was probably gross." Cathy laughed. "I wish I'd been there." "You'd have loved it mum!" Amy enthused, "you'd have been the prettiest." "Yes, she would," I agreed, "though you and Sophie are very pretty too." "I know!" exclaimed Amy dismissively, "but we're only kids. But you should come mum - all the men had stiff willies." Cathy giggled but didn't turn around. "Did Oliver have a stiff willy too?" I shivered! Where was this bizarre conversation going? "Oh yes!" giggled Amy, squirming slightly in my lap as if to check whether I might be in a similar state again. "It's lovely and Alice masturbated it. And I think he had his fingers in her too 'cause I saw him lick them." I slipped into shock! All of this was perfectly true but discussed so openly over the kitchen table made it sound the height of perversion. But as the sudden chill receded I found myself observing that Amy was far less reserved with her mother than Sophie was with me or even Lucy and the other Alice were with Gemma "Oh! And who's Alice?" Cathy asked. "A really nice girl! We saw her do it with a very shy boy." "So it wasn't all costumes and naked dancing then?" Cathy asked with another searching glance at Amy and me. "Oh no! Oliver did it with Alice's mum and Alice's dad did it with another girl while Alice and Simon were doing it." "And you watched all that?" "Not all!" Amy giggled and squirmed on my developing erection; "Sophie and I just peeked in a bit." "Hmmm! Sounds like a fun party," murmured Cathy as she stirred a pot, adding something from the frying pan. "And I thought you were just going to a Halloween party!" I couldn't tell from her tone or her back what she was thinking but sensed that she was less than happy about the details that had just been revealed. It would be pointless to say that I hadn't realised it would be quite such an unrestrained party, which I hadn't as, until then my thoughts had been that English Naturism was just an esoteric activity, like Morris dancing, carried out in the absence of clothes. "I didn't realise that the family that invited us were quite so liberal," I explained cautiously. "Hmmm, yes," Cathy mused as she began to serve the supper onto plates, "do you think that is a good thing or a bad thing?" Amy wriggled off my lap and lifted her fork even before her mother had set down her plate: 'you can tell where her priorities are!' I thought to myself and then, sensing the aroma of the pasta dish put in front of me, realised that food (and shelter) are more important psychological needs than sex. Cathy poured some wine, diluting Amy's, and suggesting to me that 'one glass would do no harm'. The meal was delicious and I hadn't realised just how hungry I was. "So what got you into nudism?" Cathy asked after quite an interval "A girl called Chrissie," I explained, "She offered to show me what she had in her knickers if I would do the same." Amy chuckled and Cathy asked, "I suppose you did?" "Yes. She had asked. I really didn't see why it was interesting because some weeks before I'd seen a roomful of naked girls changing for swimming." "Maybe she wanted to see your willy!" giggled Amy knowingly. "Yes, she did. And she wanted to touch too. That was really nice!" "Did you touch her?" Cathy asked with a sly grin. "I wouldn't have done but she put my hand on her pudenda and it was so smooth and the secret little groove was so soft and inviting I just never wanted to stop! So we both got naked and ran around her garden." "And that made you a nudist?" Cathy asked as she gathered up our plates. "It was a start. We got naked anytime we could after that. Her parents didn't seem to mind even when we went to her room or spent the day on the beach. I don't think they would have been so laid back if they'd known that Chrissie was trying to get me to have sex with her." "Did you?" "Not really - we were only eight or nine -" "So? What did you do?" "Oh, we tried. Chrissie's parents weren't quite as prudish as mine and she had seen them having sex at some time and that along with the usual kid's knowledge led to some interesting experiments in her bedroom." Both Cathy and Amy laughed at my admission. "And..." Cathy prompted as she took the plates to the sink and brought yoghurts from the fridge. "Well, we sort of worked out how to do it though we were both a bit too immature to get the full benefits -" Amy burst out laughing. "Did she cum?" 'Well, yes; in the sense that she enjoyed it. To be honest I don't know if she had an orgasm, but then I almost never do." "I guess you get better with age," Amy smirked, "you made me cum." "He probably knows what he's doing now darling!" commented Cathy, exchanging wide-eyed and knowing glances with her daughter who giggled knowingly. "Come on, I'll wash-up and you two go and watch the next episode of 'Just Add Magic' - I'll bring coffee in a few minutes." I chose to do the gentlemanly thing and said I would wash up. Cathy allowed me to and set about making coffee, which necessitated no more than boiling a kettle. "Would you class yourself as a paedophile?" she asked as she waited for the kettle to boil. I dropped the saucepan into the sink. How to respond? I could hardly deny my activities. "Yes," I admitted, wondering what would come next, "I like prepubescent girls." "But does that make you a paedophile?" she asked after a deathly pause. "In the eyes of most people that is sufficient," I replied feeling cold and bewildered. It was as if she had suddenly held up a mirror and I saw myself as some sort of degenerate monster. And yet that is not how I felt either about myself or about... But how do you explain the fascination and excitement generated by pre-pubescent girls. Not all of them, to be truthful, but a certain type of self possessed girl who seemed almost as if they were an adult in the chrysalis of childhood but yet emanating the excitement of pupation as if it were a pheromone or subliminal electrical impulse. However you look at it, the fascination of an adult with a child is understandable only if one thinks of them as helpless, defenceless things needing to be protected until big or strong or wise enough to fend for themselves. But my limited experience was challenging that paternalistic view and making me reflect on my own experience of childhood. Cathy was quiet while she made the coffee and I finished the washing up and the atmosphere seemed suddenly charged with tension. "I'm sorry if my... my interest is a worry..." I began, unsure how exactly to continue. "But I don't think I have ever done anything to... to upset... anyone." "Then why admit to being paedophile?" she asked quietly, indicating we should sit at the kitchen table rather than join Amy. "Because," I said resignedly as I sat down, "if I say I'm not you will say 'but you act like one' and -" "No I wouldn't!" Cathy exclaimed vehemently. "Sophie had already told Amy how close you two are and she told me what she knew and I inferred the rest because I recognised your situation." "What did Sophie say?" I did not want to ask, but felt I just had to know. "I don't think Sophie betrayed any confidences. But when Amy talked about Sophie I recognised something of my own experience. My dad was my first when I was ten and it was because I wanted him to be. I got pregnant at fourteen by a lovely man who I'd been having sex with since I was eleven. I didn't do any of that because some man made me - I wanted to do it: getting pregnant was a genuine accident but I've never regretted it. From what I can see you are a caring dad and I don't have a moment's worry about Amy being with you." Cathy was almost tearfully angry as if she had said far more than she had wanted to and yet knew at the same time that she owed me some sort of explanation: I was, however, rather surprised by her revelations and none too sure how to deal with them. "Aren't you coming?" Amy stood in the doorway glaring accusingly. "I really ought to be going" I said quickly, seizing the moment. "Please don't!" the two of them said almost simultaneously, which was a surprise and undermined my resolve and made me feel oddly ambivalent not simply about my own motivations but also theirs: a sudden spectre of entrapment sent a shiver down my spine. Amy stood in the doorway biting her lip, her eyes flicking between her mother and me. Cathy reached out and put a hand on my arm. Her expression was fathomless. "We want you to stay," she said softly. The cold hand on my guts turned icy. It was even more extreme than I had felt with Gemma and her girls, though in that case it had just been a fun outing to a waterpark with the added frisson of nudity. I hadn't crossed any likes there but in Amy's case I had, and was in danger of wanting to go much, much further beyond mere temptation. "I want to stay but I'm having a problem dealing with honesty," I said slowly, adding for emphasis: "My honesty." Amy and Cathy regarded me quietly, which goaded me to continue. "As I'm sure you can tell I have wandered a long way from the straight and narrow and I need to take some time to decide whether this was an error or whether it is the path I want to take." As I drove home I kicked myself and congratulated myself about equally. Cathy was not unlike Gemma in that she seemed to trust her daughter in a way that, for example, my ex-wife could not trust Sophie. It was not that my ex-wife was a bad person but rather that she allowed her thoughts and attitudes to be conditioned by the perceived norms of the society in which she moved. For them, one's children were no more autonomous individuals that their dogs or horses or employees, all of which existed primarily as adornments or possessions and the trappings of power. ========================= I hope you liked this little story. My email is optiskeptic[at]outlook[dot]com Any feedback will be welcomed.