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Katya
Plumbing Repair
by Vivian Darkbloom
Oh no I thought, when their mother called me up to babysit the
girls. Remembering the last time, while we were watching
television, "American Beauty" or something like that, and little
Nicole decided to sit on my lap. I mean, she may only be seven or
eight, but she knew exactly where to sit so that the velvety
crack between her buns would exactly grasp the head of the shaft
beneath her. And would give a little giggle as she felt it
stiffening, in spite of my protests. And as if that weren't bad
enough, then Katya gave a devilish grin and got on in front of
her little sister, totally obscuring my view of the movie with
her curly, dark blonde hair, bouncing gently, rhythmically, on
the base, with sly smiles backwards as I involuntarily gasped.
"Please," said their mom. "I have an important presentation that
I simply must give this evening, and I can't find anyone else."
So fine. I think the mom has a crush on me anyways. So I was the
found babysitter, and thus found myself lounging on the
livingroom sofa, watching some old film in black and white, from
back when they really knew how to make movies. Katya slouched
sullenly in the adjacent chair, dark grey eyeliner lending a
sultry touch to her beautiful eleven-year old face.
Her younger sister Nicole had retreated to the solace of a hot
bath, upstairs, and we could hear the occasional sloshing about
of water as she bathed.
In the summery weather, Katya wore loose pink shorts that seemed
tailored with a totally inadequate yardage (or square inches) of
fabric, so that she was constantly pulling them either up or down
to keep them centered in their role of concealing the secret
treasure between her legs; and the shirt they wouldn't let her
wear to school (she explained) because it revealed her belly
button. ("I mean, gimme a break," she said). Not that a
respectable man would find any allure in her flat chest and
gangling form, but nonetheless she decorated her short
fingernails nails with deep scarlet polish, fingers unconsciously
stroking her inner thigh as she frowned in pursed-lipped
concentration on the drama.
Nature called, and I headed towards the nearby head, when Katya
called out: "It's broken. You'll have to go upstairs."
Raising my eyebrows, I decided in spite of younger Nicole's
present monopoly on the only alternative for relief, that it was
not worth an investigation of the plumbing. So I found myself
climbing stairs, thinking that perhaps the curtains around the
tub would afford some privacy for Nicole, as I simply had waited
too long for further procrastination.
Gently I knocked on the bathroom door -- several hours she had
been in there at least, so maybe she could be persuaded to
surrender the chamber for other uses.
"Come in," she said. "It's unlocked."
So I did, expecting her to be towelled off and dressed in her
pajamas, perhaps flossing her teeth. But no, she was still in the
tub, her legs spread wide open, with the soft folds of her
delightful red valley facing me.
"It's ok," she said.
"I have to pee," I said helplessly.
"Just shut the door," she said, her wet hair pasted to her
forehead, her pale thin form hunched down in the water as two
fingers of her left hand absently traced the edges of her tiny,
smooth, hairless vulva, between her slowly gyrating little legs.
"Nobody will know."
"Uh, you're sure this is ok?" I asked weakly.
"What, you've never seen a girl naked before? Just pull down your
pants and go potty."
It sounded sensible, especially given Niagara's floodgates about
to burst from out my thighs; though when standing there I
commenced to do so, I noticed the widening of eyes in her
fascination as she stared at my exposed equipment. "You've never
seen a man naked before?" I asked, accompanied by the hissing
splash as the torrent met the surface inside the bowl.
"Only in pictures," she whispered. She turned over and rested her
chin on her hand on the edge of the tub to watch up close.
When I finished, and was about to put everything away, she
reached out towards me. "Can I touch it?" she asked, then gently
grasped the shaft in her warm, wet tiny hand. "Ooh," she
shuddered in delight, smiling, pulling on the still-limp form of
it.
"What does it look like when it's erect?" she asked.
"Um, well." She was on her way to finding out, as the blood
automatically engorged in response to her gentle sensuous touch.
Her insistant tugging on the delicate tissue forced me to turn
towards her, so that her object of interest now hung over the
bathwater.
"I think he needs a bath, she said, reaching up a sudsy rag to
give a gentle scrubbing to the head, then ladled warm water to
rinse it off. All the while she was exploring her own crotch with
a finger or two, yet somehow magically maintaining her
equilibrium.
I felt ridiculous, pants halfway down, with this beautiful
innocent child primping up the now reddening and irreversibly
solid shaft. She licked the freshly cleaned tip, tasting the tiny
love-drop, and surrounded the rubescent soft mushroom with her
mouth, biting gently with the tiny white pearls of her teeth. I
placed my hands on either side of her head, feeling her dark
silky thin hair, as she lovingly explored the contours and
recesses with her smooth tiny lips and tongue, long lashes
fluttering as she focused on the task, placing one hand behind my
pendular geodes, as still she explored the cavity between her own
legs.
Silently I endured this examination with her tongue, waiting for
her to tire of it, but the intensity of her interest and probing
exploration was seemingly endless.
Downstairs, we heard Katya stirring, getting up for a glass of
water, then returning to the T.V.
"We have to stop," I said. "What will your sister think?"
Nicole giggled, smacking her lips from her saliva dripping from
my penis. "Are you kidding? I do this to her every night. She
can't get to sleep unless I do, gets all cranky and fidgety.
Only, I've always wondered what it would be like to suck on a
guy. So after awhile, this stuff spurts out, right? The stuff
that makes babies?"
"Uh, that's the basic idea," I replied.
Nicole reached out both hands, still dripping from the bath (as
she was still kneeling in the tub) and pulled down my pants to my
feet. "Take them off," she ordered. As I did, she put down the
plushly rugged toilet seat cover, and climbed out of the bath
onto it, spreading out her legs.
We resumed, in this position, as I placed my hands on her head to
once again feel her little mouth bobbing up and down on me, one
of her little hands caressing the back of my testicles, the other
probing her own sexual organ.
She took a break, once more smacking her lips, the little
spiderweb of slime connecting her mouth to the tip of my penis.
"Let me see your finger," she ordered, grabbing my hand and
pulling it to her crotch. Reluctantly, I leaned over to comply.
"Play with me?" she pleaded. I felt the soft moistness of her on
the tip of my finger. I pushed gently. She inhaled. I pushed
harder, and the soft tissue gave way, as her eyes closed and she
fell into a trance, riding the waves of the pulsation of my
finger inside of her, as she absently grasped my still hardened
shaft, occasionally licking the base of it.
Several times, thinking she might be tiring of this, I attempted
to retreat, but she would emit a sound of quiet protest, and I
would be forced to resume. Her flat-chested breast emitted the
glow of sexuality, her lips bright red in relief to the pale skin
of her tight young body, eyes half-closed and fluttering in rapt
concentration and focus on the pleasure trickling through her
consciousness.
But still maintaining sufficient external awareness to stroke my
organ, lest it might subside.
Then abruptly she let go my hand, pulling it out of her. "That
was fun," she said, with a wide-eyed enthusiastic smile. Then she
pulled down my vulnerable lever, forcing me to my knees as she
spread her legs and thrust herself towards me, capturing the tip
of me inside her tiny vagina, encircling my neck with her tiny
arms and kissing me on the lips thrusting her little tongue
between my teeth.
"Push. Inside," she said simply, wiggling her tiny pelvis
irresistibly. I pushed, and again she gasped as I felt myself
submerged within the heat of moist pleasure within her tiny hole.
Relentlessly, she thrust and gyrated until I was full bore inside
of her, and meanwhile gently kissing me and biting my lips
gently, pulling at me with her teeth.
"I want you to spurt inside of me," she said innocently
wide-eyed, kissing me again. "So I can feel what it's like."
Glancing down at her smooth, flat-chested body and smooth
hairless crotch skin bunched slightly from my thick round rod
thrust inside of it. My heart pounded, as the forbidden pleasure
of being inside her drew on our mutual, slow and erotic gyration.
It went on seemingly forever. "Squirt," she would say, then kiss
me again, then repeat "Squirt inside me," and thrust her tongue
into my mouth to echo my thrusting inside of her.
I kept wondering how her kisses were so bizarre, until I realized
that she must be using the same technique as she used in the
nightly probing of her sister's innocent sweet vagina, and I
found myself filled with yearning to witness such a thing --
surely it was unthinkable; Katya would never consent -- although
once I imagined the door behind us open just a crack, a curious
young female eye peering in, but by the time I turned my head, it
was closed, with the soft padding of bare feet down the stairs.
Finally, the peak crescendoed to a finale, the tension joyfully
burst as and my huge full wet droplets gushed forth, filling up
her tiny aperature and dripping out onto the floor as I gave the
final ecstatic plunge, her arched around me in elation.
Silently, she gave a devilish grin.
Chapter 2
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