Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 I grew up living in an apartment.  My folks never had the money to buy a
house, which is why I struggled and saved to buy one for myself as soon as
I had the chance.  A house in the suburbs with a lawn and flowers and a
king-sized bed.  I also bought a dog.  Actually, two dogs, because I found
I was lonely, knocking around a two-bedroom house instead of a studio
apartment.  I has intended to buy just one dog but, when I visited the
local Humane Society pound, I couldn't decide between two I saw there, so I
bought them both -- a male and a female.  Then I had to buy leashes,
collars, bowls and beds and pay some guy to install a "doggy door" from the
house into the back yard so they could -- well, you know.

   It also meant I had to walk them once or twice a day, even though they
soon became fast friends with one another (and me) and chased each other
around the yard frequently.  Nonetheless, I figured a walk was the least I
could do to brighten their days.  It also gave me a chance to scope out my
new neighbors and the neighborhood.

   The first people I met were the other dog owners.  I discovered that
other people walked their dogs early in the morning before going to work,
or early evening, after work.  I worked from home, so the timing for me was
much easier.  Nonetheless, I enjoyed meeting and chatting with other dog
owners in the morning and got to know several soon after I moved in.

   I like to watch the evening news, so my evening walks were earlier,
about three or four in the afternoon and I was pretty much the only dog
walker at that time of day, except for an old guy, retired, I guess , who
walked a fluffly white little miniature something or other.  Obviously his
wife's choice.

   Some days I passed a house where a girl of 11 or 12 would be sitting on
the front porch doing pretty much nothing but watching the world go by.  I
waved to her one day and said, "Hi." She waved back and smiled.  The next
day she walked out to the sidewalk when she saw us coming.  She said "Hi"
first.  The she asked, "What kind of dogs are those?"

   "Well, the big one is a labrador, the small one is a beagle."

   "Are they friendly?"

   "Very."

   "Can I pet them?"

   "Sure, go ahead."

   She stroked the head and back of the labrador, who was enjoying it
thoroughly, but the beagle kept nudging the girl's hand, trying to get in
on the action.  "What are their names?"

   "The lab is Shadow and the beagle is Lucy."

   "I wish I had a dog."

   "I did, too, when I was your age but we lived in an apartment and it
didn't allow dogs."

   "Yeah.  We have a house but my mom works and says it'd be too much
trouble to have a dog."

   She was a cute thing, this girl -- and friendly.  She was very thin,
blonde and came up to about shoulder height on me.  I'm six feet, so she
must have been about five-three or four.  Cute face, mussed up hair that
kind of reminded me of Amelia Earhart, not much in the hips and boobs
department but the shorts she was wearing displayed a nice pair of legs. 
She was not done sprouting, I think, and would probably grow to be quite
tall and would likely develop a nice figure.  The legs were a nice start.

   I began to get ideas.  "You can always help me walk these bozos."

   "I can?"

   "Sure.  Why not?"

   "That'd be great!" she gushed.  "Then I could have a 'part-time' dog."

   "Yeah, and you wouldn't have to feed them or bathe them and you wouldn't
have to walk them every day, either.  We can walk them together so, if you
have something after school -- you know, sports or something -- you could
just skip that day."

   "I don't have anything after school."

   "Why not?"

   "I suck at sports and the other stuff is pretty lame."

   "What do you like to do?"

   "I like to learn about things." .  "What kinds of things?"

   "Everything."

   "So, do you read a lot?"

   "Yeah.  LOTS!"

   "What do you like to read?"

   "Science, history, books by Mark Twin, science fiction..."

   "Novels?"

   "Geez, no.  What a waste of time.  Well, except for the Mark Twain
stuff"

   "So, other than the sci-fi stuff, you read non-fiction?"

   "Yeah.  I guess I'm just curious about stuff."

   I looked at her more critically now.  Not a beauty, she was, however,
not unattractive -- for whatever she was, 11 or 12.  She was at that
awkward age where she was outgrowing her clothes every few months, not far
from needing a bra, through with dolls (if she ever played with dolls),
starting to be interested in boys but finding boys her age to be still
children, dressing in baggy, shapeless clothes one moment and worried about
her appearance the next.

   I liked her face and the genuine interest it showed showed as we spoke.
I really liked her long legs and how you could see daylight between her
thighs.  It occured to me that I was looking at her crotch perhaps a little
too much.  But, as far as I could tell, she hadn't noticed my attention to
that part of her anatomy.

   "Curiosity is good."

   "That's what my mom says.  So," she continued, back on track, "you
wouldn't mind if I walked the dogs with you sometimes?"

   "No.  Of course not.  I'd welcome your company.  I'm the curious type,
too."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah."

   "What are you curious about?"

   "Like you, everything.  Shall we talk as we walk?"

   "Ok.  So really, what are you curious about?" We started walking the
same direction as I had been going before.

   "Photography, for one thing."

   "Looking at pictures or taking them?"

   "Both.  I'm a photographer -- a portrait photographer."

   "Oh.  Do you have a studio?"

   "Yes.  In my home."

   "Cool.  Can I see it sometime?"

   "Well...  umm...  I mostly take pictures of naked ladies, so when
there's nobody there, it's not..."

   She interrupted.  "REALLY?  Naked ladies?"

   "Yeah."

   "Why?"

   "Well, mostly for their husbands or boyfriends."

   "Why would they want to do that?"

   "Mostly as gifts on bithdays or anniversaries -- or at Christmas."

   "How come?"

   "Hmmm.  I think most women know that men like sexy women, so they want
something to show how sexy they are."

   "Oh."

   "And I think most women, when they're older, would like to have a
picture of how they looked when they were twenty or thirty or forty."

   "How about younger women -- maybe 15 or so?"

   "That's a bit of a problem."

   "Why?"

   "Well, there are laws about photographing women under 18."

   "I've seen lots of pictures of girls under 18."

   "Not with no clothes."

   "Yeah, I have.  They're all over the internet.  Lots of girls, even
girls my age."

   "How old are you?"

   "You guess.  How old am I?  Hey.  Can I hold the leash on the little
one?"

   "Sure.  Just don't let her pull you.  If she tries, just give the leash
a little yank."

   "OK.  So, how old do you think I am?"

   Now I have learned a thing or two about women in my 30 years and one of
those things is to guess older for any woman under 21 and younger for any
woman over 30.  "14," I said.

   Her face lit up.  "Really?  You think I look 14?"

   "Sure do," I lied.

   "Wow!"

   "You mean you're not 14?"

   "No way!  I'm 11...  but I'll be 12 in December."

   I had to chuckle quietly to myself.  She would be 12 in seven months. 
We were just into May.  That's quite a bit of rounding.  "No kidding?"

   "Really." Then, seriously, "You think I look 14?"

   "Yes.  You look 14, well, maybe 13, maybe 15, but a teenager."

   "Wow!  That's sooo cool." Still serious, "Most girls 14 have big boobs
and nice legs.  Not me."

   "You have great legs.  Wait.  Let me look again." We stopped in the
middle of the block.  I stepped back and looked her up and down very
carefully, as if I was studying a piece of furniture.  "Yeah, I said. 
"Great legs."

   "I don't think so.  They're too long and too skinny."

   "They don't look that way to me.  First, there's no such thing as legs
that are too long.  Guys -- me in particular -- like long legs.  I like
legs that look like they're going right up to your chin -- and yours do
just that."

   She found that funny.  "You're silly!"

   "Don't forget, you're still growing.  Everything will fill out in the
next year or two.  Your hips will add some shape, your leg muscles will
develop and your boobs will grow."

   "Geez.  I sure hope so." She paused for a few seconds, thinking.  "So,
do you want to take pictures of me?"

   "Clothes on or clothes off?"

   "Oh.  Clothes on, I guess.  I don't have a boyfriend to give a picture
to."

   "You don't need a boyfriend.  I'll show you pictures I've done recently
and you decide.  But I'm very good at making women feel good about
themselves and their bodies.  So, the pictures I do of you will be just for
you -- and me."

   "What time is it?" she asked.

   "Just after five."

   "Oh.  I gotta go.  My mom will be home at 6 and I need to start dinner."

   "Your mom works?"

   "Yeah."

   "How 'bout your dad?"

   "He travels a lot."

   "Oh."

   "Yeah.  He drives a truck all over the country.  So, most of the time
it's just mom and me."

   "So you do the cooking?"

   "Some of it.  Mom is teaching me."

   "That's a bummer."

   "Not really.  I get home from school about 3 and do my homework, so
getting dinner started is all I have to do in the afternoon."

   "That can get pretty boring."

   "Yeah.  I don't like what's on TV during the afternoon -- all those
silly soap operas and kids' shows -- so I read and sometimes just sit on
the porch and watch things.  That's how I met you."

   "I remember.  Mainly because it was just an hour ago.

   "You just moved in, didn't you?"

   "Yeah, about a month ago."

   "Yeah, I see you almost every day."

   "So why did it take you so long to say hello/"

   "'Cause I'm just a kid."

   "Not any more.  Those long legs and boobs you're growing say you're
becoming a woman."

   "I haven't had a period yet."

   "You will, and probably very soon."

   "...  and my boobs are still just little bumps."

   "I'll bet they're beautiful."

   "If ya like little bumps." She grinned.

   "I LOVE little bumps."

   "Well, we'll see.  Maybe I'll let you take some pictures of me without
my clothes." She gave me a sexy little smile.  "Gotta go." With that, she
handed me back Lucy's leash and took off running back the way we came.

   This was starting to get to me.  I'm not a little girl lover.  At least,
I didn't think I was.  But I had no doubt she was coming on to me with
those last remarks -- at 11!

   ------------------

   She was on the porch the next afternoon.  She had said she got home at
3, so I started the dogs' walk at 3:30.

   "Hi again," she said, running up to me, wearing shorts and tennies again
but today in a very tight T-shirt that showed every contour of her 'little
bumps.' It must have been two or three years old -- about the size for an
eight-year-old girl (or boy).  The T was so short it didn't reach all the
way to the top of her shorts.  I had a nice view of her flat tummy and cute
little navel.  "Can I walk the dogs with you today?"

   "Sure.  Whenever you want."

   "Super," she said.  "Can I walk Lucy?"

   "Of course." I handed her Lucy's leash and we headed off down the
street. "You know, if we're going to be friends and dogwalkers, I should at
least know your name."

   "Patty," she said.  "What's yours?"

   "Lou."

   "Hi, Lou."

   "Hi, Patty."

   "My name is really Patricia, but I like Patty."

   "I like Patty, too.  Pretty name for a pretty girl."

   "You said 'woman' yesterday."

   "I said 'becoming a woman.' You're in the middle of a metamorphosis."

   "You mean like a butterfly."

   "Exactly."

   "So the plain little bug is becoming a beautiful butterfly."

   "That's how I see it."

   "I still feel like a little bug."

   "You shouldn't.  If you'll let me take some pictures of you, I'll be
able to show you how pretty you are -- or can be, with the right clothes
and a little makeup."

   "Mom won't let me wear makeup yet.  She says I need to wait a couple
years.  She wants to keep me a little girl."

   "Probably.  Most mothers do.  So what we can do is just take the
pictures for you and me, no one else."

   "With clothes on, right?"

   "If you insist.  And....I'll bring in a makeup artist to do your eyes
and lips."

   "You'd do that?"

   "Yeah."

   "Why?"

   "Because I think you're beautiful."

   "What happened to 'pretty/'"

   "You're pretty, too.  WHat I meant is that you're pretty day in and day
out, no makeup, sloppy clothes..."

   "They're NOT sloppy!"

   "I think a better word might have been 'casual.'"

   "Thank you."

   "So, casual clothes.  But if you had some makeup on and some nice
clothes -- or NO clothes -- you'd be beautiful.  Stunning."

   "You think so?"

   "Yeah."

   "But I'd be embarassed to take off my clothes."

   "You might think so, but when you've seen the work I do, the beauty of
the women and the pictures, you'd probably change your mind."

   "Can I see the pictures some time?"

   "Sure.  When?"

   "Like right now.  Where do you live?"

   "I'm one street over, on Brookside."

   "Mom won't be home 'til six.  We have time, don't we?"

   "Let's go." We changed directions and headed to my house.  I was already
visualizing some shots I'd like to do as we walked.  "Most of the pictures
I do are what people call "boudoir shots," so my studio is set up like a
bedroom.  I don't sleep there.  The whole room is full of lights and
reflectors and camera equipment.  The bed has satin sheets and a frilly
cover.  Very feminine and romantic because that's the image my clients want
to create for their boyfriends and husbands -- or just for themselves. 
Very sexy."

   "I'm not sexy."

   "Not at the moment because you're not thinking sexy."

   "I wouldn't know how."

   "Nobody does -- at first.  It's something you learn."

   "I'm not sure I'd be good at it -- being sexy, I mean."

   "You haven't tried."

   "Yeah." She thought about that for a while.

   When we got to the house, I put the dogs in the back yard andd showed
Patty to the studio.  "Wow!" she said when she saw all the lighting and
camera equipment around the bed.  "All this just to take a picture?"

   "Yeah.  All this to take a beautiful picture."

   "Can I see them?"

   "Sure.  Let's go into the living room.  I'll bring out the portfolio. 
How about a soda or something?"

   "Yeah, sure.  Anything is ok."

   She sat on the sofa looking around the room while I retrieved the sodas
and the portfolio.  The house was a tract house but had cathedral ceilings
in the living room and the master bedroom, which was now the "studio." The
high ceiling gave me room to set lights high above the bed.  It was ideal.
I had hired a decorator to furnish the room to appeal to women, with
pastels and little print wallpaper, a white wrought iron bed and white
wicker furniture.  Nice artificial flowers in pretty vases were everywhere.
Candles of every size here and there.  One of my favorite shots was done
mostly by candlelight.

   Back in the living room, sodas and portfolio in hand, we sat side by
side.  I started with pictures where the "girlie parts" were covered with a
robe, a nightie, a sheet, a pillow.  Some women didn't want to show show
much.  Others wanted to shove it right in your face.  I'd show her those
later.

   "These are beautiful," she exclaimed as we went through the first
several shots -- women in their thirties and forties with robes open to
show cleavage but no nipples or sitting in bed with the sheet pulled up,
teasing.  Then I showed her younger women, mostly in their twenties, some
with large breasts, some with very small ones, and I explained how I
depicted both with flattering poses and props.  I could see Patty in any
one of those shots and I explained my techniques to her hoping she could
see herself there, too.

   "My own preference," I told her, "is for the smaller breasts."

   "Really?" she asked, incredulously.

   "Yeah.  Big boobs need support.  They look really good in a sweater or a
bathing suit where there's a bra with elastic and wires and stuff to
support them.  But small boobs look better out in the open.  Look at all
the classical art or naked women.  They all have small boobs.  It's been
the trend for the last 3,000 years."

   "I don't look at paintings much."

   "You should start.  You said you were curious about stuff.  There's a
lot to be learned from art.  And, for myself, I just like looking at pretty
naked ladies."

   "And girls?"

   "Yes.  And girls."

   "You're not some kind of pervert are you?"

   "Not at all.  Most people like looking at art -- paintings, statues,
photographs.  And for more than 3,000 years, people, men and women, have
appreciated the human figure.  There's something very satisfying to see
smooth unblemished skin curving over hips and legs and breasts.  Even the
genitals.  Most artists are very comfortable showing a woman's...  can I
say it?  -- pussy and a guy's ...  umm...  cock." She blushed.

   "Nobody's ever said those words to me."

   "Well, you're growing up.  Adults use those words but adults don't like
to hear kids using them."

   "Yeah.  Mom'd kill me if I said one of those."

   "For the next few years, maybe.  I'm ok with them, though, when someone
gets to be your age."

   "I like how you don't treat me like a kid."

   "You deserve to be treated more like you'll be treated for the rest of
your life, as someone who can think for herself, make decisions on her own,
decide what to do or not do."

   "Yeah." We looked through the entire portfolio, discussing each one and
the reasons for this or that pose or costume or lighting.  Patty soaked it
up, considering every point.  When I closed the portfolio, she said, "I'd
like you to take my picture."

   "Clothes on or clothes off."

   "Clothes on.  I'd be too embarassed to take my clothes off.  Can you
make me look as pretty as those women?"

   "I think so."

   "How about sexy?  Can you make me look sexy?"

   "That's a little more difficult with your clothes on.  I can make you
even prettier than you are right now but to look sexy you have to feel
sexy."

   "Like I said, I don't know how to feel sexy."

   "The best way is to think about an experience you've had that made you
feel sexy -- maybe a dress you wore once or a time you kissed a boy at a
party..."

   "I never kissed a boy."

   "Not even once?"

   "Nope."

   "Well, it's time you started."

   "Who with?  I don't know any boys I'd want to kiss."

   "Nobody at school?"

   "Ohmigod, no.  They're such dufusses."

   "Ok.  So how about I kiss you?"

   She looked up at me, thinking.  Her eyes were shifting back and forth as
she pondered my question.  "You want to kiss me?"

   "I want to teach you how to feel sexy."

   "Now?"

   "Yes."

   "Ok."

   Still sitting side-by-side on the sofa.  "I'm going to put my arm around
you.  Just relax and watch my eyes.  If I do anything you don't like, tell
me.  If I do something you like, tell me that, too."

   "Ok."

   I turned to face her, my arm over her shoulders, and moved my head
toward hers.  Her eyes were locked on mine.  I tilted my head to avoid the
dreaded nose-bump and touched my lips to hers ever so slightly, holding
that position for perhaps ten seconds, which is a long, long time for a
first kiss.  She stayed with it as long as she could.  But she was holding
her breath and suddenly pulled back and gasped for air.

   "Sorry," she said.

   "Don't be sorry.  was it ok?"

   "Yeah.  It was nice but I couldn't hold my breath any longer."

   "You don't need to hold your breath.  Just breathe through your nose. 
It's fine.  Let's do it again and keep breathing this time.  Your lips feel
nice on mine."

   "Yours, too.  Ok.  I'm ready."

   "We touched again, still softly.  But this time I ran the tip of my
tongue back aand forth softly between her lips." She broke away.

   "What are you doing?"

   "Moving to step two of kissing."

   "With your tongue?" she asked, her eeyebrows wrinkled in disbelief.

   "It's called 'french kissing.'"

   "I heard about that.  Is that how you do it?"

   "That's a start.  Let your mouth open a little bit and let my tongue
touch yours.  Trust me.  You'll like it."

   "Sounds wierd but I heard some girls at school talking about it and they
said it was nice.  They did it at parties with boys."

   "You ready to try it?"

   "I guess so."

   "Ok.  Just like before.  Breathe through your nose and let my tongue
touch yours." I kissed her again, a little more forcefully this time, and
ran my tongue back and forth.  Her mouth opened immediately -- waaay open.
I almost fell in!  But my tongue found hers and we swished back and forth,
each tasting the other.  Patty was a quick study.  She put one arm around
my waist, the other across my stomach and clasped hands.  Her breathing
changed to heavy panting as we tongue-wrestled for the next couple of
minutes.

   When we finally broke the kiss, she gushed, "Wow!  That was sooooo cool.
I really liked that."

   "I could tell you liked it.  Your breathing started to get all heavy and
like that."

   "Yeah."

   "And I'll bet you started to feel a little 'squirmy' down between your
legs, too."

   "How did you know?"

   "I'm older than you."

   "Do you get all squirmy, too?"

   "Guys are a little different that girls.  Guys get hard, girls get wet."

   "You mean your 'thing' gets hard?"

   "Yeah.  All guys do."

   "Just from kissing me?"

   "Yep."

   "Wow.  That's soooo cool.  I like being grown up." She smiled at me and
leaned back against the sofa.

   "I told you you would." She looked at me kind of dreamy-eyed.  Her
cheeks were flushed.  "Are you feeling sexy yet?"

   "You mean the squishy feeling?"

   "Yes."

   "A little."

   "Well, the girls in those pictures were feeling very, very sexy because
they were thinking about a time when the had sex with a man -- or with a
boy, when they were younger.  I asked each of them to think about the first
time they got naked with a boy and, you know, did stuff."

   "Have sex?"

   "Yes."

   "I never had sex."

   "I know.  and you never kissed a guy until five minutes ago."

   "Yeah.  I guess."

   "But you started to get the sexy feelings, didn't you?"

   "Yeah."

   "And you liked those feelings, right?"

   "Yeah."

   "Well, what you felt was just the beginning; just a little taste that I
wanted you to have so you'd know what I was talking about."

   "Hmmm," she said.  "Do you want me to have more sexy feelings?"

   "Only if you'd like to."

   I think I would."

   "Ok.  Let's just take a little baby step.  We'll just do touching, ok?"

   "What kind of touching?"

   "Touching in private places -- boobs and down there between your legs."

   "What if I don't like it?  Will you stop if I say so?"

   "Of course.  We won't do anything if you don't like it but you should
try it first."

   "All right.  What do we do?"

   "You just sit there like you are right now and let me make you feel
good."

   She nodded her head but didn't say anything.  I could tell that she was
fighting the taboos she had been taught since she was a little girl. 
Taboos about 'bad touching.'

   "First, we'll kiss," I said as I moved toward her.  The kiss was more of
the same -- lips and tongues and the beginning of the heavy breathing. 
When I was sure she was concentrating on the kiss, I laid my hand on her
right titty and slowly felt its contours.  Her little nipple was hard
already and I flicked it a few times before I started to gently knead the
little pad of flesh surrounding it.  I lightly pinched the nipple between
thumb and forefinger and Patty gasped but didn't break the kiss.

   Finding no resistance.  I moved my hand down to the bottom of her shirt
and reach up underneath it until I felt her titty again, this time flesh on
flesh.  What a delightful feeling nto have this little mound of spongy
flesh in the palm of my hand.  I was already hard as a rock.  Patty was
snorting and wheezing as I massaged her boob and fished around in her mouth
with my tongue.  She was flying high.

   Continuing the kiss, by now a five-minute kiss, I moved my hand from her
boob down to between her legs.  I gently pushed against her thigh and she
spread her legs slightly to admit my hand.  I covered her pussy, still
covered by those shorts, and rubbed fairly hard where I guessed her slit
was.  She jumped again, inhaling with a whoosh.

   Her hand came down on mine as if to pull it away...  but she didn't. 
Her hand just stayed there on the back of mine as I rubbed her.  I pulled
my mouth away from hers long enough to ask, "Feel good?"

   "Yeah," she wheezed and resumed our kiss, her hand still riding on the
back of mine as I rubbed her through her shorts.

   "It'll feel better," I said, "if we take these off.  She didn't say
anything.  She didn't do anything.  She wasn't going to take them off
herself but she wasn't going to stop me from doing it.  I unzipped the
shorts and tugged them down over those long, luscious, downy-covered legs.
She lifted her hips to let me pull them down.  "These, too," I said as I
tugged on her panties.  She lifted again, then relaxed against the back of
the sofa as I struggled a bit getting her shorts and panties off over her
tennies but she made no move to stop or hamper me.

   She sat there, slumped back against the sofa, feet on the floor, now
wearing shoes, socks and a shirt but nothing else, legs slightly apart, her
eyes beseeching me.  I looked at her cleft for the first time and found it
open, her inner lips protruding like flower petals, glistening with her
juices.  There was a sprinkling of fine, straight hair covering the delta
above her cleft.

   Patty held her arms out to embrace me in our kiss again.  Our mouths
locked again, our tongues in gentle combat as I reached down between her
hegs again and cupped her pussy.  It was sopping wet -- a swamp.  She
groaned a bit when she felt my hand.  Slowly, I bent my middle finger
inward, sinking it in between the folds.  I heard,"Mmphhh," and her kiss
became more passionate, her arms pulling my body tightly against hers.

   I curled my finger upwards, aiming for her G-spot, rubbing it along the
upper wall of her pussy.  She stiffened and thrust her tongue into my mouth
as far as she could when I found it.

   Now I used my thumb to locate her clitoris.  I found it easily, poking
up above its hood, hard but dry, so I ran the finger I had been diddling
her with up to the top of her slit and over her clit, moistening it.  The
finger went back into her pussy and my thumb began to push her clit around
in little circles.  Her body stiffened every time I pushed it upward from
below.  Periodically, I would withdraw my finger again and paint her clit
with her juices.

   She threw her head back against the top of the sofa back with an,
"Aaaaahhhh.....  Aaaaaahhhh," and then came.  Her legs clamped down on my
hand and her hands tugged at my forearm, pulling me away from her pussy. 
She was over the top, panting, her bangs plastered down onto the sweat
sheen on her forehead, eyes closed, cheeks bright red.  With my hand out of
the way, she slumped, completely sated.

   I leaned back with her, my head on her shoulder.  She didn't move. 
Neither of us spoke as I listened to her breathing descend from panting to
huffing to deep-chest breaths.  Her hand came up to my face, just resting
on my cheek for perhaps a minute before she spoke.

   "That was..........AWESOME!" she said with a big breathy, husky, sexy
voice.

   "I thought you'd like it."

   "So, why don't people do that a lot?"

   "They do."

   "I mean kids.  My dad showed me how to ride a bike.  Mom showed me how
to iron a shirt but nobody showed me about sex."

   "This isn't really sex yet.  It gets better."

   "Wow!  You mean where you put your thing inside me?"

   "Yes, that, too.  But there's other stuff."

   "Like what?"

   "Like oral sex."

   "Oh.  I've heard some stuff about that but I don't really understand
what it is."

   "Like where I use my mouth to do what I was just doing with my
finger...."

   "Ooooh."

   "...  or you use your mouth on my 'thing.'"

   Her eyes brightened in disbelief.  "Really?"

   "Yeah, really."

   "Girls put their mouths there -- on your thingy?"

   "Yeah.  And guys lick and suck on a girl's pussy."

   "Doesn't it taste bad?"

   "Not at all.  You know that stuff that was making you all wet and
squishy?"

   "Yeah.  I'm sorry.  It just all came out."

   "Don't be sorry.  Be happy that it's there.  If it wasn't there, you'd
get all sore when I rubbed your pussy and it's what makes it easy for a
guy's 'thing' to go up inside later."

   "You mean fucking."

   "Yeah."

   "So, doesn't it get all messy?"

   "Sort of, but the pleasure is so great, the feeling is so good that
nobody minds a little mess."

   "Ok."

   "So, now, let's see if you can do that sexy look.  Think about what we
just did and how you felt and look at me like you want more and you can't
say anything; you have to let me know you want that pleasure just by
looking at me."

   "Ok.  How's this?" She kind of scrunched up her face into what looked to
me like a stern teacher staring down a student or perhaps someone who has a
blister on her foot -- not quite what I had in mind.

   "That's not it.  Your face has to say, "Please."

   "Ok.  How 'bout this?" Now she wrinkled her forehead and put a little
smile on her face.

   "Not bad, but I think you need a little more experience."

   "Like that other stuff you were talking about?"

   "Yeah."

   "Like fucking?"

   "Not yet."

   "Good.  I don't know if I'm ready for that yet."

   "Your body is ready but it's not familiar yet, not comfortable.  We can
do the other stuff, the licking and sucking along with the touching and
kissing.  You'll know when you're ready.  Pretty soon you'll want me to
fuck you.  You'll want my thing up inside you doing just like me finger did
but deeper."

   "You're sure?"

   "Yeah.  I'm sure.  It's a natural thing, not something you have to
learn. Everybody wants it and, after they've done it once or twice, they
want it all the time which is why people get married."

   "I know my parents do it; I hear them sometimes when daddy's home."

   "I do it.  The girls I go out with do it."

   "Do you do it a lot?"

   "Not as much as I would like."

   "So, do you just do it or do you do some of the stuff like we've been
doing?"

   "I do it all.  It's all part of the pleasure of sex."

   "So, what do you want to do now?"

   "Whatever you want."

   "Can I see your thing?"

   "Sure.  Why not?" I kicked off my shoes, then stood facing her and
dropped my pants.  I was already hard and tenting my jockey shorts.  Patty
sat quietly, watching with what looked like a plain academic interest.  But
when I pulled my shorts down and my cock popped free, her eyes widened and
mouth dropped open.

   "Wow!" she said.  Her eyes flicked back and forth between mine and the
cock in front of her that was waving slowly up and down.  "I didn't know it
would be so big."

   "Mine's about average."

   "We saw pictures of them in school -- in sex-ed, I mean -- but they
didn't show how big they were.  Is that supposed to fit inside my little
hole?"

   "Yeah, it does."

   "Wow!  (again).

   "Don't forget that this goes in the same hole that a baby comes out of.
If a baby's head and shoulders can come out, this can go in."

   "Oh.  I never thought about that." She studied it for a few seconds. 
"Can I touch it?"

   "I'd like that.  Guys like to have a girl play with his dick just as
much as girls like guys to play with their pussies."

   Patty reached out carefully and touched her fingertip to the head.  It
jumped to her touch and she recoiled with an "Oh" and wide eyes.  She
grinned and looked up at me.  "That's funny," she said before she touched
it again.  It became a little game.  She's touch it, it would jump and
she'd giggle before repeating the process.  I kinda enjoyed it, too.

   "A guy's cock is very sensitive," I told her, "just like your pussy.  It
feels nice when you touch it but it would feel even better if you wrapped
your hand around it and stroked it up and down."

   She looked back and forth at me and my cock for a few seconds,
processing that information.  Then she did as I asked and began to slowly
and gently move her hand up and down.  It felt great.  "Like this?"

   "Perfect."

   "It's kinda neat.  The skin kinda slides with my hand." She continued
for a few seconds.  "Does this feel good?"

   "Sure does.  You're doing great."

   "So, what happens?"

   "After a while, if you make it feel good enough, some white stuff will
come out.  That's my semen."

   "That's the stuff that makes babies, right?"

   "Yeah."

   "Can I see it do that?"

   "I'd like that.  You remember how you felt when I had my finger in your
pussy and your body went all crazy -- when you had your orgasm?"

   "Was that what it was?  I never had one before."

   "That's what it was.  Remember how good it felt right then?"

   "Yeah it was ...  awesome!"

   "Well, that's how it feels to a guy when he shoots his sperm out; his
whole body shakes and these waves of pleasure just roll right through his
body."

   "That's what happened to me.  It felt like a giant wave, a big WHOOSH."

   "That's it.  So, using your hand feels good but if you'd use your mouth
it'd feel even better."

   "You mean like a blowjob?"

   "You know about blowjobs?"

   "Sure.  Geez.  I'm in the 6th grade, you know.  Everybody knows about
blowjobs."

   "They didn't when I was in the 6th grade."

   "Well, they do now.  But we mostly just talk about them.  I don't know
any girls who've actually done it with a guy."

   "Do you want to try?"

   "I guess so.  I'd like to see you shoot your stuff out."

   "That's the best way to do it."

   "But won't I get it in my mouth?"

   "I'll tell you just before it happens so you won't get any in your
mouth."

   "You promise?"

   "I promise."

   "Ok.  What do I do first?"

   "First, just kiss it.  Kiss the tip."

   "There's some stuff there -- a little drop of something."

   "Don't worry.  It's not piss.  It's called precum.  A little bit of it
comes out to help lubricate me if I put it inside you."

   "Ok."

   "Taste it.  Just touch it with your tongue.  Most girls say it tastes
good."

   She gingerly tasted it.  "It's ok," she said.

   "Ok.  Now put the whole head in your mouth -- like a lolipop.  Good. 
Now suck a little." I watched her cheeks cave in as she put a vacuum on my
cock head.  Her eyes looked up at me as she wondered if she was doing it
correctly..

   "You're doing great.  Just be careful of your teeth.  Remember I'm very
sensitive down there."

   "Mfpphhh."

   "Now, the most sensitive part is underneath, just behind the crown.  Let
your tongue rub it there.....Oh, sweetie, that's perfect.  Move your head a
little bit...yeah, like that, up and down." What a great little cocksucker
Patty was and all in about 30 seconds.  She continued to move her mouth up
and down on me with her hand still grasping the shaft.  She was doing an
expert job in no time at all.  A natural!

   She kept her eyes on mine, watching my reactions, as she sucked and
stroked.  I tried to telegraph, by my expressions, what felt best.  When
she went deep, I closed my eyes and let me head tilt back.  If I felt her
teeth, I would wince.  She picked up on every nuance, obviously trying to
do her best to please me.  "A little harder and faster," I told her at one
point and she complied.

   It wasn't long before I felt thee tightening in my balls.  "Get ready,
sweetie." She pulled back quickly.  "Let me ffinish it." She let go of my
cock and I stroked it furiously for about 15 seconds before the first spurt
of cum splattered on her chest.  "Eeek!" she screeeched.

   "Shit!" I said.  "I forgot to have you take your shirt off." I squeezed
myself to hold bback any additional cum.  "Quick.  Take your shirt off."

   She was astonished by the streak of cum on her shirt and took several
seconds to decide that it would be best if she did remove the shirt, so she
crossed her arms and grasped the shirt bottom and pulled it up and over her
head.  As soon as her chest was bare, I let fly the second, third and
fourth jets of cum.  Then it just dribbled onto my hand.

   She droppped her shirt and stared down at the creamy sttreaks and blobs
on her chest.  I stared at the two little pointy mounds with quarter-sized
darker aureoles.  Kinda cute, actually.  I still stood there, cock in
cum-covered hand, watching dab at the streaks of cum on her chest. 
"Slippery," she said quietly.

   "Yeah."

   "So that's what goes up inside me to make a baby?"

   Yeah."

   "So, where's the sperms?"

   "They're in there.  But they're really tiny.  You need a microscope to
see them, just like your egg -- tiny."

   "So, what do I do now?  I've got this stuff all over me."

   "Me, too.  Let me get a washcloth and clean you up."

   She sat there, idly playing with the gobs of cum while I dashed to the
bathroom, washed my hands off and wet a washcloth with warm water.  My cock
was limp again by tthe time I returned.  "It's all soft," she said as she
watched it dangling in front of my balls.

   "Yeah.  It's soft most of the time -- eexcept when a pretty girl makes
it hard."

   "Cool."

   I wiped the cum off her chest as she sat there.  Then I gently rubbed my
palms over her little breasts, feeling the hard nipples.  "See?  They're
just little bumps," she said.

   "Nice little bumps."

   "But they'll get bigger.

   "Yes, they will.  In a couple of years you'll have a nice pair off
boobs."

   "I hope so." She paused for a moment.  "But you like 'em now, don't
you?"

   "I sure do" I could look at them all day, but what I'd rather do is kiss
them."

   "You would?"

   "Yes."

   She thought that over for a while.  After a long pause she said, "Ok."

   I leaned forward and touched my lips to her right boob, what there was
of it -- mainly a flat little cone of spongy flesh with a cute nipple on
top.  I backed off and smiled at her.  "Yummy!" I said.  She smiled, placed
her hands on the back of my head and pulled me down again to her breast.  I
knew she liked it when she puffed her chest up to force her boob against my
mouth.

   I kissed it, I licked it, I sucked it for several minutes while she
squirmed and panted.  When I stopped and sat up again she asked, "Why did
you stop?"

   "I was thinking.  As nice as it is to suck on your boobies, what I'd
prefer to do -- and I think you'll like it better, too -- is to lick your
sweet pussy."

   "Yuck!"

   "Why 'yuck'?"

   "It sounds nasty."

   "Of course it's nasty, just like you sucking my cock sounds nasty.  But
it isn't.  It wasn't, was it?"

   "No.  It was ok."

   "Just ok?"

   "Yeah.  But I knew you liked it so I wanted to do it for you."

   "Well, licking your pussy will be something we'll BOTH like.  It's a
win-win.  I love the taste of pussy and you'll get the best feeling ever."

   "Sounds dumb to me."

   "Haven't you ever touched yourself down there?  You know, rubbed your
little clit?"

   "Yeah," she said, cautiously.  "Sometimes."

   "Well, this is like that but ten times better -- and it'll make me feel
good, too.  Yum!"

   She thought about that for a few seconds before she said, "Ok." I got up
and pulled her by the ankles until her butt was hanging over the edge of
the sofa.  I knelt between her legs.

   "I feel kinda funny," she said, looking down at me as I moved closer,
"letting you look at my pussy and everything."

   "It's beautiful," I said.  And it WAS beautiful.  Her inner labia were
still distended, pink, shiny, glistening with her juices.  And the heavy,
sweet musk of her secretions made my head seem to swell like a balloon. 
This was heaven!  "You've just never looked at it closely and from this
angle.  It IS beautiful and I'm going to taste it and smell it and wiggle
my face in it." She giggled and spread her legs wider for me.

   Oh, the aroma.  My cock pulsed and trembled as I approach her.  I felt a
shiver go down my back when my tongue first touched her.  She must have
felt the same shiver because her body suddenly stiffened and threw her head
back in response.  A little "Ooooh," came from her lips and she thrust her
hips upward hard against my face.

   I looked up, my face already smeared with her profuse secretions.  "Does
that mean you like it?"

   "Yeah," she cooed.  Do it more."

   "So I was right about how good it was going to feel."

   "Yes, yes.  Do it more....pleeease."

   I went back in for more, sliding my tongue upwards through her chasm,
from bottom to top and ending with a little flick of her clit, which
brought another "Ooooh" and a spasm.  She grabbed handsful of my hair and
tugged me down tightly against her snatch.

   She got really crazy when I began to suck her clitty, writhing and
moaning and locking my head in a vice grip between her thighs.  "Oh, oh,
oh," she kept repeating as I licked and sucked and flicked until her entire
body tensed and she literally screamed, "AAAAAHHHHHH." I held still for a
few seconds until she relaxed.  Then I started anew, but very slowly to use
my tongue to plow through her furrow.

   Soon, I brought my hand into play, using my middle finger to probe up
inside her and my mouth to pleasure her clit.  I was surprised that my
finger went deep; no sign of a hymen, so I backed off to look.  I pried her
lips apart with my finger and looked up into her vagina, opened somewhat by
my finger.  No membrane.  What luck!  I would be able to penetrate her with
my cock, most likely without pain or bleeding.

   So I went back to sucking her clit and using one or two fingers in her
pussy, building her up to another climax.  As she drew near, I lifted my
head long enough to say to her, "Tell me you want me inside you.  Tell me
you want to fuck.  Tell me you want the greatest pleasure you can have. 
Tell me you want me now.  Tell me, sweetie.  Tell me."

   She did.  In the throes of a second orgasm she said, "Put it in me.  Put
it in me.  Yes, yes, yes, do it now.  Pleeeeease."

   I didn't have a condom handy.  They were in my night stand but I didn't
want to break the mood while I got one and put it on.  Fortunately, she had
just cum twice and I had cum several minutes earlier when she blew me, so I
could last longer than usual and she would get off again quickly.  Besides,
I much prefer bareback.  The condom, no matter how thin, removes half the
wonderful sensation of that warm, wet, slippery snug channel as it
surrounds my hard dick.  And, lastly, she said she hadn't had her first
period yet, so I figured I was safe.

   Her pussy was already hanging over the edge of the sofa so all I had to
do was raise up on my knees and scoot forward until my cock lined up with
its target.  I rubbed the head up and down in her gaping slit a few times
to lubricate it, then guided it in slowly.  She might be hot and wet and
without a hymen but she was unaccustomed to having something up inside her,
so I proceeded to feed it in slowly, an inch forward, half an inch back.

   Little by little, her soft channel welcomed my cock.  Patty was
apprehensive, with her hands on my hips, just in case, but she accepted
more and more of my hard probe until, finally, I felt my pubes bump against
hers, with her fully engorged lips cushioning the contact.  God, she was
hot -- and tight.  The walls of her pussy fit me like a tight glove, giving
just enough to admit me and then constantly massaging my dick as I moved it
within her.

   Gentle, slow strokes, pushing deep, pulling most of the way out before
going down again, accompanied by her puffing, "Oh, oh, oh." one for each
stroke.  Her face was beet red, completely flushed.  Her forehead was wet
with sweat, her mouth open, her eyes open but glazed, seeing nothing as I
fucked this little new-found toy.  Of course, I was her toy, too.  That's
how it should be.

   In just a couple of minutes, well before I was there, she lifted her
feet up over me and locked her ankles behind my back, grunting with each
downward stroke.  "Ngh, ngh, ngh..." and then the low scream,
"AAAAhhhhhhhgghhh" as it hit her.  She had me in a death grip for a few
seconds before she relaxed, limp as a rag.  I stayed in her while we both
came down from her high.  Finally, my cock half deflated, I pulled out of
her.  "Oooof," she gasped.  Her eyes opened and she looked at me and
smiled, saying nothing.  But her look told me she was well satisfied. 
Relaxed.  Exhausted.

   "So that's what it's like," she said in a whisper.

   "That's what it's like."

   "I like it."

   "Me, too, as often as possible."

   "Me, too," she continued, smiling.  "Can we do it again sometime?"

   "Anytime."

   "School will be out soon.  Maybe we can do it all day," she said, with a
big grin on her sodden face.  Then her eyes went wide.  "What time is it?"

   "Almost five."

   "Shit," she gasped.  "I gotta get home."

   "I know." She scrambled back into her clothes, breathlessly.  I put my
pants on without the underwear.

   "Can I walk the dogs with you again tomorrow?" she called as she sailed
out the door.

   "I'd like that a lot," I said, pretty much to myself as she disappeared
down the street.

   --------------------------------------------- I always enjoy comments,
positive or negative.  It's what keeps me going.  Let me know if you'd like
this story to continue.  I'm not always successful in finishing my stories
but people seem to enjoy them anyway.  Email me at:

   cyberguy20038yahoo.com

   Originally posted: 4 June 2012 Revised: 5 June 2012 (Thanks to an alert
reader in NZ)