Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 ________________________________ This is a story about a sexual FANTASY
written for consenting adults.  If you're not both of those, don't read it.
Characters in a FANTASY don't get sick or die unless I want them to.  In
real life, people who don't use condoms and other safe-sex techniques do
get sick and die.  You don't live in a FANTASY so be safe.  The fictional
characters in my stories are trained and experienced in acts of FANTASY -
don't try to do what they do - someone could get hurt.

   If you think you know somebody who resembles any of the characters here,
congratulations, but you're wrong - any similarity between the characters
in this story and any real person is purely coincidental, since all of
these characters are figments of my dirty little imagination.

   This is my story, not yours.  Don't sell it or put it on a pay site. 
You can keep it and/or give it away with all of this information intact,
but if you make money off of it, you're breaking the law and pissing me
off. _________________________________ Wheels of Fortune - Getting a Push
(Mf, lolita, oral, cons) (C)Copyright 2004 - Shakes Peer2B
shakes_peer2b@NONOsbcglobal.net (remove 'NONO' from the above address to
contact me)
/files/Authors/Shakes_Peer2B/
http://storiesonline.net/ (go to the Author's page under 'S')

   ________

   She was probably a ninth grader - pretty enough, but lacking confidence,
if her posture was any indication.

   I usually try to schedule my rides earlier in the day, so I don't have
to ride past the local High School while classes are letting out.  I just
don't trust teen-age drivers to see me when I'm on my bike.  Today, though,
I was running late.  Thankfully, late enough that most of the traffic had
died down.

   I was huffing up the hill past the school and I noticed the slender
brunette walking alone, head down.

   "How 'bout a push?!" I asked as I pedaled even with her.

   She looked startled for a moment, gave a nervous laugh, and then, bless
her heart, said "OH!  Do you really need...?"

   I grinned, and between breaths said, "Not really!  Getting up these
hills is just a matter of putting my mind to it, but sometimes the mind
needs a little comic relief!"

   She laughed that tinkling laugh that younger girls seem to lose as they
get older.

   I paced her for a few minutes, since she didn't seem inclined to shy
away, and I was enjoying the interchange.  I find young people, up to a
certain level of their development, refreshing to be around, and this girl
seemed still to have some of her youthful innocence.

   "Let me guess," I panted, still trying to get my lungs caught up with my
legs, "Boy trouble?"

   Her head whipped around like I'd hit her, and she said, "How'd you
know?!"

   I smiled and said, "I still remember what it was like to be young.  If
you had problems, it had to be one of three things: School, parents, or the
opposite sex!  If it was parents, it was probably about school, and you
don't look like the kind of person who'd have trouble at school.  So, does
he even know you like him?"

   We had finally topped out on the hill and my breath was coming back.

   She looked at me with sad eyes and shook her head.

   "Let me guess," I said again, "He's 'A' list and doesn't even know you
exist, but you've had this big aching crush on him, like, forever!"

   Giving me a sidelong look, she asked, "What are you, like, a mind reader
or something?"

   I laughed and replied, "Nah, besides having been through it myself, I
raised a daughter and watched her heart get broken all through junior high
and high school.  Ya know what, though?"

   She shook her head.

   "She survived just fine." I said, "Just got married to a great guy. 
That's why I ride this thing everywhere.  I had to hock my car to pay for
her wedding!"

   She started to laugh again, then that soft spot showed up and she asked,
"Really?"

   I grinned, having gotten her a second time.  "No, not really.  It only
FEELS like I'll have to hock the car when I'm paying the bills!  I do this
for exercise, and to meet pretty girls!"

   She blushed and said, "I'm not pretty!"

   "I beg to differ, young lady!" I said, "You're plenty pretty, but you've
got two things working against you."

   "Like what?" she asked.

   "You lack self-confidence.  It shows in the way you stand, the way you
dress, and the way you hold your head when you walk.  The second thing is
that boys your age think that 'pretty' is what they see in Playboy and
Penthouse.  They haven't matured enough to look past a woman's boobs and
see what she really looks like."

   She actually blushed when I said 'boobs'.  How sweet!

   "Ok," I said, "I'd better get on or it'll be dark by the time I get done
with my ride!  Nice talking to you...?"

   "Um, Angie!" she said.  Then, "Thanks, uh...?"

   "Ted!" I said over my shoulder as I accelerated downhill.

   I thought nothing more of it, but finished the ride with a pleasant glow
where the memory of that conversation rested.

   A couple of days later, I found myself, once again running late, huffing
and puffing my way up the hill by the school.  There was more traffic this
time, and I was trying to watch the cars, in hopes of being able to take
evasive action if one of them accidentally took aim at me, so I was a
little surprised to hear a familiar, feminine voice, say, "Need a push!"

   "Hi, Angie!" I panted.  It's strenuous enough getting up that hill, but
when I had to accelerate and decelerate to avoid cars and pedestrians, it
took quite a bit out of me.  I never do hills fast, but I do 'em better if
I can maintain a steady pace.

   "You look like you could use that push, Ted!" she said, falling in
beside me.  Something was different.  Her head was up, her hair was done
differently, she wore brighter colors.  She looked positively radiant!

   "Hey!  You look great!" I complimented her.  She did too!

   "Thanks!" she said, blushing, "I thought about what you said the other
day."

   "Yeah?" I answered, "Imagine that!  A teenager thinking about what I
have to say!  Wow!"

   She giggled a little and said, "No, seriously!  I decided there wasn't
anything I could do about the way boys see girls, but maybe there was
something I could do about my self-confidence!"

   "And?" I prompted.

   "And I got my hair done," she answered, "changed my clothes, and put on
a little makeup.  When I looked in the mirror, I realized, 'Hey!  that girl
in there doesn't look half bad!' So I came to school like this the last
couple of days, and guess what?"

   "The boys have been buzzing around you like flies?" I guessed.

   "Yeah!" she laughed, "I couldn't believe it!  But you know, it's totally
weird..."

   "What is?" I asked.

   "When I saw how easy it was to attract them just by changing my
appearance, I realized just how shallow they were, and suddenly, the boys
I'd been drooling over looked more like immature kids!" she gushed.

   Now, I know what you're thinking.  This is the point where either the
dirty old man starts wondering if he's got a chance, or the responsible
adult thinks, 'Uh oh!  Crush coming!  Think of something, quick!'

   Frankly though, I was just enjoying our conversation, and marveling at
the change she'd made in herself.

   "You know, Angie." I said as we crested the hill, "It takes a pretty
special person, at your age, to be able to make such a dramatic turnaround.
You should really be proud of yourself!"

   She blushed again, but instead of putting her head down, just smiled and
said, "Thanks, Ted!  You don't know how much that means to me."

   "Well, I made it up one more time without that push!" I said, "Guess
I'll survive this ride after all!"

   "How far do you ride?" she asked.

   "Oh it's only about twenty-six miles, but most of it's uphill."

   She thought for a minute, then said, "Wait a minute.  Do you start and
end at the same place?"

   "Yeah."

   "Then it should be half uphill and half downhill, right?"

   Smart cookie!  She'd been paying attention in class.

   I laughed and said, "Distance-wise, yeah.  But since it takes only a few
seconds to go down hills that it takes me several minutes to climb, when
you measure the time, it's about ninety percent uphill!  So in terms of the
workout, most of my time is spent climbing hills."

   "OH!  I never thought about it like that!"

   "No reason you should!  Hey, I gotta get movin'!  Nice to see you
again!" I said as I took off.  I love the downhill part, even though I can
coast for those few seconds, I usually wind up pedaling at least the first
part, sometimes reaching speeds as high as fifty miles per hour.  As much
as I enjoy the downhill, though, I treasure the uphill because it's kind of
an affirmation of how much good I'm doing for my body.

   It was a couple of weeks later before I found myself near the school
after the closing bell.  This time, Angie was kind of hanging around.  She
smiled with relief when I came alongside and she fell in alongside.

   "Have you been waiting for me Angie?" I asked, out of breath.

   "Yeah, kinda." She said.

   "I'm sorry!" I said, "I should have told you: I usually ride earlier
unless something delays me.  These kids behind the wheel scare me!"

   "Oh." she said, "I was afraid you didn't want to talk to me anymore."

   Ok, NOW the alarm bells were going off, but I wasn't sure what to do
about them.  Maybe she just liked our conversations as much as I did.

   "Oh, no!" I said, afraid of damaging that fragile confidence she'd built
for herself, "I just didn't realize our little uphill talks meant so much
to you!  Jeez, when MY kids were teenagers, they couldn't WAIT for me to
stop talking!  It never occurred to me that you'd actually WANT to have
these conversations!"

   I stopped my bike and propped myself up with one foot on the curb at the
top of the hill.

   "Look, Angie!" I said, pointing to a kid doing donuts in the
intersection ahead, narrowly missing a couple of kids on the crosswalk. 
"It really IS dangerous for me out here this time of day.  Drivers,
especially young ones, don't watch for bicycles, and I really have to stay
alert to avoid them.  If you really like having these talks, maybe we
should find another way."

   "Um, like, what?" she said, just knowing I was giving her a brush off.

   I thought about that for a minute.  Then said, "Hey!  You know where
Starbucks is?"

   She nodded.  "Yeah."

   "I indulge myself by sitting there in the morning on weekends and
enjoying an expensive cup of coffee.  If you can get down there, maybe we
can talk then?" I asked.  I didn't really want to let her down, but I did
want to keep our meetings in a public place.

   Her face brightened and she smiled, "Yeah, I can ride my bike down
there! It's not as fancy as yours, but then I don't use it to pick up
guys!"

   I grinned at her little joke, and said, "Great!  I'm usually there by
about eight thirty.  Is that too early for you?"

   "No." she smiled, and said, "See you Saturday?"

   "Sure!" I said, snapping my shoe back into the pedal, and waving as I
took off.

   Saturday dawned bright and sunny.  I told the cute little 'barista' to
put my coffee in a ceramic mug and took it out to one of the umbrella
covered tables outside.  This was one of the reasons I came here.  I had
gotten on a first-name basis with most of the young ladies who worked here,
and we always exchanged pleasantries when I came for my coffee.  Most of
the time I didn't even have to order - they'd start getting it ready for me
as soon as they saw me getting off my bike.

   I enjoyed the warmth of the sun on my Lycra-clad legs as I sipped my
coffee.  I was on about the third sip, when Angie rode up on a Trek comfort
bike - sort of a cross between a mountain bike and the old single gear
sit-straight-in-the-saddle bikes.

   I waved and gave her a smile as she parked her bike next to mine.  She
came over and gave me a hug, like we were old family friends.

   "Can I get you anything?" I asked.

   "Oh no!  I'll just get a cup of hot chocolate and be right back!"

   We chatted about school, boys, music, and pretty much anything that came
to mind.  Unlike my own kids, Angie seemed to actually enjoy listening to
what I had to say.

   You cyclists out there know that unless you're wearing a pack of some
sort, the best place to keep a wallet when you're dressed for riding, is in
one of the pockets at the back of your jersey.  When you're sitting in a
chair with a back on it, though, that wallet makes an unpleasant lump at
the small of your back.  Somewhere during our conversation, I took mine out
and placed it on the table under my helmet.  I've done this every Saturday
and Sunday morning, and it's never been a problem.

   This particular Saturday, I had an appointment, and needed to get home.
I bade Angie good-bye and donned my helmet, never realizing until I got
home, that I'd forgotten my wallet.

   Frantic, I called Starbucks.  The young lady who answered looked in
their 'lost and found' drawer then went out and looked all around the
outside, but found no sign of my wallet.  Great!  I was just resigning
myself to having to call all my credit card companies, the DMV, etc., etc.,
when the doorbell rang.

   When I opened the door, there stood Angie, my wallet in her hand.

   "I hope you don't mind.  When I saw it you had already left, so I
checked inside the wallet for your address, and brought it over." she said,
looking a little bedraggled in the heat.

   "Oh thank God!" I replied, "Come on in!  Let me get you something to
drink!"

   "Um I'd like that drink," she said, "but, um, my bike..."

   "Oh, just wheel it in here and lean it against the stair rail, there!" I
said, "I guess you're not used to riding that far, huh?"

   "Not really!" She laughed, "Now I see why you're in such good shape!"

   "Oh, that's only about ten miles, round trip!" I laughed, "I ride to
Starbucks for the coffee and the fresh air, not for exercise!  Oh, and the
pretty girls!"

   She laughed and asked, "Aren't you married?"

   "Was." I answered, handing her a cold bottle of water.  I'd have offered
her soda or something, but water's all I drink since the kids left home. 
Oh, and milk.

   "My wife died while the kids were still in school.  It was pretty rough
on them, but it made them stronger in the long run."

   "Oh, I'm sorry!" Angie said, "I didn't mean...!"

   "Nothing to be sorry about!" I said, "It was a long time ago, and even
wounds that deep heal eventually."

   "So," she asked, "do you ever date those pretty girls you're always
trying to pick up?"

   "Nah," I laughed, "I'm just an old perv who likes ogle the sweet young
things.  They aren't interested in me!"

   She giggled and blushed at the 'old perv' remark, probably unaccustomed
to having adults talk to her like that.

   "I don't know." she said, "You're in pretty good shape, and don't look
half bad for an 'old perv'!"

   Suddenly, she went quiet and studied the water bottle in her hands. 
Then, as if steeling herself to do something difficult, said, "Ted,
would... I mean, well, um...  see these young guys are so...  and well, I
guess, um, what I'm trying to say is, um, would you, uh, would you, like,
uh have sex with me!"

   That last part was rushed and barely audible, but I understood it well
enough.  Now all I had to do was figure out how to answer her.

   I took her pale, slender hand in both of mine, and said, "That is
probably, no that is definitely the greatest honor anyone has ever bestowed
on me...!"

   When I paused, Angie jumped in, "I know, here comes the 'but I'd get
arrested and put in jail for the rest of my life!' I know that Ted.  That's
why I would never breathe a word to anyone!  I swear on my grandmother's
grave, or a stack of bibles, or whatever you want me to swear on!"

   "What will you say when your parents discover you're no longer a
virgin?" I asked, "As soon as you go in for an exam, they'll find out."

   "I took care of that little problem with my hairbrush several months
ago." she said, "Mom already knows."

   "Girls really masturbate with hairbrushes?" I asked, "I thought that was
kind of an urban legend!"

   "The handle, Ted," she said, "and I only got started.  I tried it
because it was the nearest thing to, you know, like, a phallic object, but
it was too hard and hurt too much!  Did you know that there are little bits
of plastic sticking out of the surface of a smooth plastic hairbrush
handle? Ow!"

   Getting back to the subject, I asked, "Why me, Angie?  Surely some of
those guys who've started noticing you are willing to volunteer?"

   She shrugged dismissively.  "I thought about it a lot when they started
noticing me, and I'll probably start going out with one of them, but I want
my first to be really special.  As much as I'd like to believe that Dan
would be a gentle, caring lover, he's really just a horny teenager looking
for something to stick his dick into.  I can live with that, but it's not
how I want my sex life to start."

   "You get really good grades in school, don't you Angie?" I asked.

   She was a little puzzled by the change of subject, "Yeah, why?"

   "Because you're very smart and very observant, and you think about what
you observe." I said appreciatively.

   She blushed again, but wasn't to be side-tracked.  "So, is that a
'yes'?"

   I studied her for a moment before answering,and before I could say
anything, she jumped back in.  "This isn't a schoolgirl crush or anything,
Ted.  I like you, but I'm not 'in love' with you.  I just happen to think
that you're a thoughtful, kind, man, who if you'll consent to do it, could
make my first time very special."

   "Don't talk for a minute, Ok, Angie?" I said, "I need to think."

   I thought, and I thought, and I couldn't escape one conclusion: The
little girl made sense.  Yeah, I know my gonads were helping me think, and
yeah I would have jumped at the chance to go to bed with a pretty young
girl.  I know that about myself, and I'm okay with it.  I also, believe,
however, that I'd never have consented, if it hadn't seemed to be the best
thing for her at the time.

   "Angie," I said, "this is one secret you can NEVER share with ANYBODY!
I'm way too old to be somebody's girlfriend in prison, not to mention what
it would do to my kids!"

   "I swear, Ted!" she said earnestly, "Not even my best friend!  Not a
whisper."

   "So, when do you want to do this?" I asked, first clearing my suddenly
dry throat.

   "My parents are gone for the weekend." she said, "If you like, we can do
it now."

   "Why don't we shower first?" I said, "After pedaling our asses all over
town, I imagine we could use it, and we'll shower together.  That ought to
present some opportunities for foreplay, okay?!"

   "Foreplay?" she asked.

   "Yeah," I said trying to think of a good metaphor, "it's kinda like the
intro to a good song.  It sets the tempo and gets you in the mood for
what's to come."

   We were walking up to my bedroom as we spoke, side-by-side on the
stairs. I still sleep in the king-sized bed my wife and I shared, just
because I like having the space, but the sheets and bedding are damn
expensive.

   The room, of course, was a mess, as was most of the rest of the house.
Before I met my wife, my studio apartment was always a mess, now I've got
more than twenty-five hundred square feet of space, and no one to tell me
to clean up after myself.  What can I say?  Like most bachelors, I'm a
slob. My daughter comes over about one weekend a month and goes through the
place like a tornado.  I spend the next three weeks looking for the stuff
she put away.

   Angie, though, took it all in stride.  She started, self-consciously, to
pull her tank top over her head, but I stopped her and took over the job.

   "Unless you're doing a strip-tease for a guy," I lectured, "always let
him take your clothes off for you.  Trust me; you'll both like it better!"

   As the tank came off the ends of her upraised hands, she dropped her
arms and they sort of automatically crossed over the cups of her padded
bra. I kissed the delicate curve of her neck, where it met her shoulders,
and she shivered like a chill had passed through her.

   I unhooked her bra, and gently pried her arms down to her sides.  I slid
my hands under her arms and the band of her bra from the rear, and came to
rest with her small mounds cupped softly in my palms.

   "I'm so small!" she whispered, embarrassed.

   "How old are you Angie?" I asked, "About fourteen?"

   She nodded and I said, "You've got plenty of time to grow, but don't do
it today, please.  I really like women with small breasts!  Yours are
perfect!"

   "But you haven't even seen them yet!" she whispered, more vehemently.

   "Don't have to!" I replied gently, "I can feel them.  They fill my palms
nicely, and I can't wait to get my mouth on them."

   I thought her knees were going to buckle when I pinched her nipples
lightly, as I spoke of getting her breasts in my mouth.  She let out a gasp
and sort of melted against me.

   Pushing my hands forward, I tugged the brassiere down her arms and let
it fall to the floor.

   I reached over and closed the mirrored door on the closet so she could
watch as I kissed the side of her neck and gently held her breasts, lightly
pinching and releasing her nipples.  I could see a wet spot forming in the
crotch of her low-slung jeans.

   "I'm going to get a look at your ass now, Angie." I whipered, making
sure that my breath tickled the fine, downy hairs inside her ear.  She
shuddered again.

   I ran my hands, palms flat, down her soft belly, avoiding her ringed
navel for now.  The button on her jeans yielded to a quick twist of thumb
and forefinger, and the zipper slid smoothly down its track.

   Angie held her breath and stared at me in the mirror as I knelt and
pulled the jeans off first one foot and then the other.  She held my
shoulder for stability as she stood first on her left foot, then on her
right.

   She wore a plain white satin bikini panty with a tiny satin bow in the
middle of the front of the waistband.  I kissed the bottom edge of her
buttock, just under the panty as she stared at us in the mirror.

   Standing behind her, one hand covering a soft breast, the other lightly
rubbing the satin material just at the top of her little cleft.

   "Look!" I whispered, "Look at that sexy young lady in the mirror!  Isn't
she beautiful?"

   Angie's breathing was becoming heavy, and her hips were rocking in
rhythm with my rubbing.  As her movement got more pronounced, I slid my
hands to her waistband, and slipped her panties off.  They slid unaided
down her legs to puddle around her feet.

   The few little hairs that sprouted from her mound glistened with the
moisture from her arousal.  In a single movement, I swept her feet from
under her, supporting her shoulders with the other hand, and carried her
into the bathroom.  I left her standing for a few moments while I turned
the shower on.

   While we waited for the water to heat, I took the opportunity to suckle
at one of her sweet little breasts.  I placed my lips over the tip and
nibbled gently at the hard little nipple hiding in the middle of her puffy
aureola.  The little angel gasped and pulled my head closer.  I switched
back and forth between those succulent morsels, enjoying every sigh and
moan I was able to wring from her.  I kept my hands on her waist, fearing
that she would cum too easily if I touched her pussy.  I had other plans
for her first orgasm.

   Steam started drifting about the bathroom, and I reluctantly
relinquished my claim to her breasts.  When I looked at her face, Angie was
flushed and breathing very hard!

   "That," I said, "is a small example of foreplay!"

   "Well, Ted," Angie gasped, "I'm not sure what a 'fore' is, but you can
play with mine anytime!"

   I laughed, not so much at the joke, as the fact that it was the sort of
lame pun my kids always groaned about when I delivered them.  (Just so you
other parents out there know - I've caught my kids on numerous occasions
handing out those same 'hated' puns to their friends, so don't pay too much
attention to what they think of your sense of humor.  I think it's illegal
for them to laugh at something an adult says!)

   I loaned Angie a shower cap that my daughter had left behind, to keep
her hair dry.  Once we were in the shower together, I insisted on washing
her.  Soaping the wash cloth and gently laving every square inch of her
flesh.  I paid particular attention to her tender breasts and her
vulnerable little cleft, exercising extreme care not to rub too hard.  By
the time I finished, Angie was panting as if she'd just run a race.

   I soaped the washcloth again and handed it to her, saying, "My turn!"

   She was tentative and her hands were soft and gentle on my flesh.  When
she rinsed my chest, Angie bent forward to bite gently at one of my
nipples. Oh yeah, that was good!

   She worked her way down to my erection, washing it carefully, then using
her hand to help the cascade of water remove the soap.  Damn!  I always
liked when my wife handled my manhood, but something about Angie's soft
little hand made me harder than I'd been in years!  The little angel knelt
and stared at my throbbing rod, then looked up at me with wonder in her
eyes.

   "It's so big!" she said.

   Misunderstanding, I said, "It will probably hurt when I enter you,
Angie. If you don't want to go through with this, it's quite all right.  I
don't want you to do anything you don't want to do!"

   As if she hadn't heard me, Angie kissed the tip of my glans, and I felt
her tongue flick lightly across the opening of my urethra.  She opened her
lips, and tentatively took about a half inch of me inside, swirling her
tongue around the sensitive end of my plum.  I could feel pre-cum oozing
out the end as my rod flexed involuntarily.  Angie took the slimy liquid in
her mouth and rolled it around her tongue as if exploring the taste. 
Apparently undeterred by the discharge, she enveloped the end of my cock
once again, this time getting the whole head in her mouth.

   "Ah!" I cried, "Angie!  Watch your teeth honey!  I don't mind a little
biting, but no scraping, okay?"

   With a quick glance upward, she nodded, and blessed relief came to my
sensitive glans.  She tried for several minutes to get the entire thing
into her mouth, but her gag reflex was too strong, and with tears in her
eyes (from the gagging), she resigned herself to servicing what would fit
in her mouth.

   That was just fine with me, because that few inches of my dick reveled
in the ministrations of her hot little mouth!  The water started cooling
after a while, and I turned it off and helped Angie stand.  I retrieved a
couple of clean towels from the linen closet and toweled my young lover
dry, then let her do the same to me.

   I picked her up again, marveling at how small and light she was, and
laid her on the bed, kissing her passionately as I carried her across the
bedroom.  As I deposited my precious cargo, I thanked my lucky stars that I
had just changed the bedsheets the night before.

   I maneuvered Angie's body until her legs hung off the bed.  Kneeling
between them, I draped them over my shoulders.  There, looking fresh,
tender, and vulnerable, lay the sweetest little pussy I had laid eyes on
since I used to give my daughter her baths in the sink!

   I wanted to dive right in, but held myself in check and started planting
a trail of warm kisses up the inside of one pale thigh.  Angie's breath
quickened as I approached the lightly furred vee, but I stopped my progress
and started laying a mirror image of those kisses up the other thigh.  This
time, when I reached the top of her thigh, I licked lightly up the
super-sensitive crease between thigh and torso, causing Angie to gasp and
shiver.

   Returning to the other side, I allowed my warm breath to bathe her
little pussy as it waited in anticipation, eliciting a frustrated little
cry as her hips bucked upward.  Another lick of the thigh crease, and this
time she cried aloud, running her fingers through my hair.

   Taking pity on her, I let my tongue run lightly up the moist crease
between her labia.

   "Oh my God!" she cried, as if she couldn't believe I'd actually lick her
pussy.

   Balancing firmness, to keep from tickling, and softness, to be gentle, I
slowly worked my tongue between Angie's labia, seeking out the tiny
entrance to her love tunnel.  From the moment my tongue wormed its way
between those sweet lips, Angie emitted a continuous stream of short, sharp
cries, and her hips jerked spasmodically at each touch.  By the time I
reached my goal, her little pussy was streaming moisture.  The little teen
edged closer and closer to the precipice and I had to be very careful to
keep from pushing her over before I was ready.

   Her cries were running together in a continuous whine until my tongue
flicked upward and swiped at her tender young clit.  Her shriek almost
deafened me!  She was so sensitive that I knew she wouldn't last much
longer, so I clamped my lips over her little bud, and flicked my tongue
rapidly back and forth over it.

   Angie went ballistic!  Her legs wrapped around my head and her body went
rigid, then broke into rapid oscillations that slammed her hips against my
face so hard I thought I was going to need dental work!

   When she finally came down, her body collapsed onto the bed.

   "Oh...(pant, pant)...my...(pant, pant)...God!" she gasped,
"What...(pant)...was...(pant)...that!"

   "I guess you DIDN'T get very far with that hairbrush, huh?" I laughed,
"Was that your first orgasm?"

   "Oh, I've had...(pant)...orgasms before," she answered, "when
I...(pant)...masturbated.  But THAT was something ELSE!"

   "So I take it you're enjoying your journey so far?"

   "Oh, YES!"

   "Well, that was the warmup!" I said, "When you've caught your breath a
little more, we'll move on the the next stage, okay?"

   "You mean there's more?" she asked, still a little breathless.

   I smiled and kissed her.  Her lips softened and her arms came around my
head.  One leg hooked itself behind my back and pulled me toward her.

   "Do you know what 'sixty-nine' is?" I asked, softly breaking the kiss.

   She nodded and I said, "Why don't you get on top, so you can be in
control, then when we're both ready, you just swap ends, and take your
time."

   I reclined with my head at the foot of the bed and welcomed Angie's legs
as they settled on either side of my head, her sweetly perfumed womanhood
poised inches from my hungry mouth.  I felt gentle warmth envelope my
semi-erect phallus, and stretched upward to pay another visit to my new
favorite place.

   Angie moaned and rolled her head around the few inches of my shaft that
fit in her mouth as I tongued her newly initiated clitoris.  I'm no expert
on blowjobs, but I'd guess that Angie would classify as an eager amateur.
What she lacked in technique, she more than made up for with enthusiasm! 
In no time at all, I was ready to go, and Angie was quick to take advantage
of my turgid state.

   Turning to face me she raised her fragile pelvis and nestled my plum
between the folds of her little pussy.

   "Gently...!" I cautioned, as she started applying pressure downward.

   "Oh!" she cried as the rim of my glans slipped past the outer portal.  I
felt as though someone had tried to fit the mouth of a soda bottle over my
dick,it was so tight!

   Fraction by fraction, Angie braved the stretching, and I gritted my
teeth to keep from cumming!  I butted up against her cervix with a couple
of inches still breathing air.  With a strained expresssion, Angie raised
up until my glans caught just inside, then slid back down, very slowly, but
much faster than the first time.

   Slowly increasing her pace, Angie began sliding up and down my
overstimulated rod.  Each time she hit bottom she gave a little surprised
cry.

   The longer she plunged down on my pole, the deeper it went, until, with
a cry of victory, Angie ground her clit against my pubic bone!  Rotating
her hips to finish the stretching she had undergone, Angie groaned with
passion.

   In wonder, I fingered the bulge in her belly that marked the outline of
my cock.  When Angie looked down to see what I was doing, she gasped as she
realized what she was looking at!

   Continuing to rotate, she rose up and down, faster now, with greater
confidence.

   "Oh, my...!" she cried, now fucking me in earnest.

   When she bent forward to kiss me, I took the opportunity to roll us
over. Angie gazed up at me in wonder as I took over the fucking.

   "Are you ready?" I asked, "You've been driving me crazy with your tight
little pussy, and now I'm going to fuck you!"

   She wrapped those long pale thighs around my back and pulled my buttocks
in with her heels.

   "Yes!  Please!" she husked, "Fuck me Ted!"

   I did!  My body had a mind of its own, and it drove my cock deep and
hard into the fragile teen-aged body.  Despite her frail appearance,
though, Angie's pelvis rose to meet every thrust of my battering ram!

   "Ah..Ah..Ah!" her high-pitched cries echoed through the room as I drove
her into the mattress!

   Bending her legs until her knees touched her chest, I gave her a few
really deep thrusts before turning her onto hands and knees to pound her
from behind!

   "So deep!" Angie cried, "So good!  Fuck me!  Fuck me!"

   Her head dropped to the mattress as my belly rhythmically slapped
against her buttocks.  This was it!  The combination of her hot, tight,
eager little pussy, and the sight of her tiny waist flared into the ripe
offering of her buttocks just drove me wild!

   With little warning, my body slammed deep into Angie's sweet tunnel,
swelled up, and spat my discharge deep into her innocent body!  Angie,
feeling the heat and pulsing of my ejaculation cried out and vibrated on my
rod, cumming in sympathy as my cock dribbled its last few drops into her!

   We collapsed sideways, and after sharing a sweet little kiss, drifted
off to sleep with my cock still deeply embedded in Angie's body.

   I was jerked awake by another female voice screaming "OH MY GOD! 
FATHER?!"

   Oh, SHIT!  I had forgotten that this was the weekend my daughter Tara
came to clean up after me!

   Angie awoke with a shriek, and tried to cover up with the bedclothes.

   Strangely, I found myself in a state of surreal calm, as if watching the
whole scene as a spectator.  My first thought was for Angie.

   "It's okay, Angie." I said, hugging her as she tried to sink into the
mattress, "This is my daughter, Tara."

   Turning to Tara, I said, "I'm sorry dear, I forgot this was your
weekend. I suppose an explanation is in order."

   I still couldn't believe how calm I was.  I should have been in a panic,
but somehow my concern for both of my girls outweighed my panic at having
been caught.

   "Father!" Tara was not going to be calmed that easily, but then I knew
that, "How COULD you!  She's just a CHILD!"

   "She is young, Tara," I said, "but until you've met and talked to her
it's not really fair to her to call her a child, is it?"

   God!  Here I was giving my daughter a fatherly lecture after she caught
me in bed with a fourteen year old!

   "Tara," I said, "we obviously need to talk about this.  Will you please
wait for me downstairs?"

   Tara didn't answer, but turned huffily on her heel and stalked out.

   I turned to Angie and held her, saying, "I'm so sorry, Angie!  I forgot
that my daughter was coming today.  That was the appointment I needed to
get to when I left you at Starbucks.  Look, you're not the one in trouble
here, she's just mad at me.  I wanted this to be special for you and I've
totally blown it!"

   "No, Ted!" she replied, "I loved it!  I guess the timing was just bad."

   "Look," I said, "Why don't you get dressed while I go talk to my
daughter.  I don't think she's going to have me thrown in jail, and she
can't do anything to you.  If you'll hang around up here for a while, after
I've calmed my daughter a bit, I'll put your bike on the car and drive you
home, okay?"

   She nodded and started looking for her clothes.

   I threw on a robe and went to find my daughter.

   She had found a beer in the fridge and was sitting at the kitchen table
sipping it.

   "Can I explain, dear?" I asked, "Or are you too mad to hear it?"

   "I'm still pretty mad, Dad." she replied, more calmly than I'd hoped,
"But I'll listen.  I've never known you to do anything without good reason,
and I don't think you're old enough to have gone senile, so I'll listen."

   I told her the history of how I met Angie, the sequence of events, and
how I reacted when Angie made her proposal.  Then I went through my thought
processes and why I finally decided to do what I did.

   By the time I finished, Tara was looking sad, rather than angry.  "Oh
Dad!  If you only knew!"

   "Knew what, Honey?"

   Tara just shook her head, sending her auburn tresses flying.  I always
loved the color of my daughter's hair.  Thank God she hadn't started
coloring it!

   "Tara, I think you and I need to have a much longer talk." I said, "Let
me take Angie home and we'll have that talk.  Are you upset at her, by the
way?"

   "No, Dad." she said glumly, "I guess I'm just mad at me!  Go on.  Take
her home.  I'll wait for you."

   I dressed in sweats and got my car keys.  To my surprise, Tara waited by
the front door.

   "I decided that any girl who could seduce my Dad was worth getting to
know better.  Hi!" she extended her hand, "I'm Tara!"

   Angie hesitantly shook her hand and said, "Um, Angie."

   "Hi, Angie.  Look, don't mind me!  I remember what it was like to be
your age, and I wish I'd had someone like Dad to show me what it was all
about."

   Tara decided to ride with us, and chatted with Angie the whole way.  She
pried, but Angie, bless her heart, only blushed when Tara asked her about
the sex.

   On the way home, Tara turned to me and said, "I like her, Dad.  She's a
lot like I was at her age."

   "Yeah, she does remind me a lot of you when you first entered junior
high." I agreed, "Up to a point, hanging out with her kinda brought back
those old memories.  Almost every week you'd come home with a broken heart,
and that would break my heart."

   "I was so lucky to have you to come home to, Dad." Tara said, staring
out the window "You didn't just make me feel better, you always knew just
what to say to put things in perspective."

   "Really?" I asked, shocked, "I never even knew you were listening to me,
you were always so preoccupied when I'd talk to you."

   "Oh, Dad!  Didn't you even know what I was preoccupied about?" Tara
seemed on the verge of tears again.

   "I just kind of assumed it was your boy problems, honey."

   "No..." she said to the houses passing the window, then turned sharply
to face me, "You were my rock father!  You kept me safe and healed my
wounds, and after a while I realized why I had so much trouble with boys. I
kept expecting them to be you, and none of them measured up!  None of them
could take the place of my Dad."

   "What are you saying, sweetie?" I asked, "Are you blaming me for your
problems with boys?"

   "No!" she cried, "Don't you see!  The reason I was so mad when I saw you
with Angie - the thought that kept hammering at my heart was 'That should
be me!' Dad I've had this humongous crush on you since I was in junior
high, and there was little Angie - right where I dreamed of being!"

   I was so shocked, I pulled the car over.  "Are you saying you wanted to
sleep with me?"

   She shook her head, and gave me an anguished look, then said, with tears
in her eyes, "Not 'wanted', dad.  'Want', present tense..."