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From: bigguy2005@mail.ru
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Subject: {ASSM} Travis and Lindsey (Mg, non-cons, pedo)
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Date: Fri, 16 Jun 2006 11:10:02 -0400
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Travis and Lindsey
Part One of Two
By Baldwin
(Mg, pedo, non-cons)

WARNING: This is an erotic story depicting the non-consensual, sexual
relationship between a preteen girl and a teenage boy. This is a work
of fiction. Read stories do not hurt kids. If you are offended by this
sort of thing then please do not read it.

The coo-coo clock struck two. A solitary bird song in the otherwise
silent, autumn night. The song of the absurd little bird sounded
throughout the living room of the darkened house, its mechanical
innards whirring, returning the bird to its place as the silence
engulfed everything once more. Tick, tick, tick, the only sound, it
seemed, in the whole house. That and the furious pounding of a young
man's heart.

Travis lay on the couch in the dark living room. He could hardly hear
the ticking of the little clock for the resounding pounding of his own
heart in his ears. He was hard, painfully hard. But the seventeen year
old did not touch him self. He had made up his mind, he was going to
follow through with his desires.

Travis and his parents lived in the country, a full fifty miles from
the nearest town. Being the youngest, and last to leave the nest,
Travis resented the isolation that their country home now brought them.


His Parents attended a nice church in Pxxxxxville, WA. As on most
Sunday afternoons his parents had been invited over to one of their
friend's houses for dinner and fellowship after Church. Travis did
not mind spending the afternoon with the Masons. He did not mind it one

bit.

The Masons lived in a nice, two story house some twenty miles out the
other side of town. Travis's parents and Mr. and Mrs. Mason were good
friends and had been friends for as long as Travis could remember.
Travis enjoyed the Mason's company, liked the fact that Mr. Mason
always treated him like an adult, asked him real questions and would
listen to his replies. But most of all Travis enjoyed the company of
Lindsey, the Mason's young daughter.

Lindsey was about eleven, soon to be twelve. At foor foot nine inches,
with flowing brown hair, green eyes and developing form, she stood just

a bit higher than Travis's chest. She still had the slim, almost
fragileness of girlhood while already beginning to develop the round
curves of the woman she was growing into.

Travis had begun to notice this change over a year before. He had never

had a girl-friend worth talking of (sixth grade puppy-loves not
counting) and found most of the girls his own age intimidating, loud,
too outgoing and unfeminine. When he first found himself looking at
Lindsey Mason, really looking, like a man looks at a woman, he had
cursed himself and felt guilty. But as she put on inches and developed
he could not help noting the wonder and beauty of the change. And he
could not help lusting.

They had eaten some sandwiches for lunch, Travis's parents and the
Mason's had gone in to the family living room to chat. Lindsey and
Travis had spent the afternoon talking, playing Frisbee, jumping on the

trampoline, playing a head to head race-car game on the Play Station,
etc. Travis had developed his own game for these long afternoons. How
many times could he touch Lindsey. The trampoline was nice for this,
lots of bumping and falling and so forth. He'd touched her firm
little ass a few times, "accidentally" brushed her chest once,
touched her thighs several times. The game was a good one, but
frustrating and far from fulfilling.

Dinner had come and gone with a nice barbeque and the parents were once

again talking. A lot of talk, Travis always thought, over things one
would never be able to prove or disprove. Predestination, salvation be
grace or works, pre-trib / post trib rapture and the likes. Did any one

really care?

As the parents hashed out the finer points of doctrine, Travis and
Lindsey sat out on the front porch. It was getting late. Travis talked
Lindsey into showing him her gymnastics routine. She was shy but Travis

was a good friend and she conceded. Truth be known, Lindsey
loved the attention she got from Travis. If she had been one-hundred
percent honest she loved Travis' attention.

Travis watched as the lithe little girl went through her routine. He
couldn't keep his eyes from fixing on her blooming breast, poking up
from under her tight, light blue t-shirt. He couldn't deny that the
movement of her jean clad hips aroused him. He tried to calm his
pounding heart, his sweaty palms and growing stiffness in his pants but

he couldn't keep from thinking how much he wanted to hold her in his
arms. As she went through summersaults, cartwheels, hand stands,
bridges and back flips, he would catch glimpses of her training bra and

 her beautiful flat tummy.

Lindsey did her best to impress, which she had, and sat down, rosy
checked and hot, on the porch next to Travis.
 "That was great, you're really improving." Said Travis
emphatically, looking at the girl next to him.
 "You really think so," she said, blushing despite her already
heightened complexion. "I still can't get the right form on my back
flips, they feel sloppy."
 "No, you're great." Travis encouraged, patting her lightly on
the back. "I could never do that, break my neck trying. You keep it
up and you'll be earning Olympic gold!" They chuckled and as they
talked of what they wanted to do when they grew up the sun slipped
below the western horizon.

It was eleven before the parents realized what time it was. The
Masons, being the good-natured people they were, pressed Travis'
parents to stay the night. The long ride home, the unfinished
discussion and the freedom provided by both being home-schooling
parents made the argument to stay all too well founded.

Mr. and Mrs. Mason shared the master bedroom upstairs. The guest room
was also on the second floor. The Mason's were remodeling their other
gust room and so they put Travis down in the living
room. Mr. Mason had given Travis a pair of old sweats and a large
t-shirt to wear. The group had turned in at twelve.

The idea had come when Travis watched Lindsey go to her room after
giving her parents a hug and kiss. Her room was just down the hall from

the living room. She had looked so appealing in her long pink
nightgown, her brown hair loose about her face, her arms bear to the
shoulders. She had smiled at him and said goodnight. How easy would it
be to walk down the short hall after her and make love to her tonight?
He had banished the idea, banished it as far as he could. But the seeds

of desire which had found themselves in the fertile soil of the young
man's heart over a year before had germinated, grown, matured and
were now ready to bear fruit.

The darkness was full of her, images of Lindsey laughing, running and
twirling danced before his eyes. When he was sure the house was quite
he had masturbated silently, trying to imagine what she would look like

without her clothes, laying on a bed, offering her young virgin body to

him. He had come furiously, trying to keep his sperm in his palms and
rubbing it into the white sheets, hoping no one would notice. But it
hadn't helped. He could see the hallway from where he lay, the night
light from the bathroom opposite of Lindsey's door seemed to draw
him. Was she thinking of him? Did she touch herself yet, and if so did
she think of him when she masturbated.

He lay in the dark, listening to the drumming of his heart and the
ticking of the clock on the wall. The clock struck one, the bird
springing from its nest, cooing to no one but the darkness. And Travis.

He decided he could not live without feeling her, without touching her,

without kissing her and holding her. He needed her. He needed to feel
her small frame pressed against him. He struggled with himself, cursed
his own thoughts, shamed himself. But in the end there was the light
from the bathroom, a beacon showing him the way.

The very thought tortured him. He was rock hard again, his heart
pounding in his ears. He slowly drew back the comforter and lay covered

by the sheet which Mrs. Mason had spread for him. He breathed hard, his

thoughts racing to catch his racing heart. You're a perv Travis, he
thought. You need her Trav, his groin screamed. She's just a little
girl man, his brain roared. Feel her little breasts, man,. His hands
sweat.

He drew back the sheet and sat up, sweating and panting. Was he going
to do it then? Travis looked about, seeing nothing in the darkness, his

ears straining to her above his internal racket. Nothing. Silence.
Tick, Tick, Tick.

He lay back down. She would never let him. She would scream, she would
get him in trouble. But he could tell her to be quiet, he could make
her comply. He hated himself for thinking this, but he needed her. He
felt like he was running out of air.

Coo-coo! Travis lay stark still, holding his breath. The bird chirped
out the half hour. The clock drew it back into itself. The silence
continued. Tick, tick, tick.

You're a perv Trav; she's a little girl; she's your friend! She
is beautiful; if not you some other jerk from the Junior high
home-school soccer team; she has breasts! She could get pregnant! Would

you really penetrate her? No, just touch, I'll just touch her!
Travis' thoughts raged inside his head. I can't do this. You Have
to. You can't! I must. You Must. I will. No you won't. I want this!

Could their parents hear him thinking. Would they be awakened by the
war going on in his head? He was shaking, he had to do it. It was like
fate. Predestined to do it, maybe? As he imagined Lindsey laying in
bed, waiting for him, the other voices in him began to fade. One
remaining rhythm pounded in his brain, keeping meter with his rushing
heart. Lind-sey, touch her, hold her, feel her, fuck her!

He knew finally what he was going to do. The clock struck two.
____________________________________________________________

Like? Hate? Want More? Please respond here or send your mail to
bigguy2005 @ mail.ru

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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