Message-ID: <16929eli$9811060829@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/16929.txt>
From: "Laredo Wilson" <laredow@hotmail.com>
Subject: RP: Hope (M/f, first, teen)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain
Path: qz!not-for-mail
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-ID: <19981106101237.303.qmail@hotmail.com>

NOTE: This story deals with sex between a 20 year old man and a 13
      year old girl.  If you are offended by such content, or if it
      illegal for you to read such material, don't.

NOTE: This story is copyright 1998 by Wayne Laredo.  Permission is
      hereby granted for reproduction and distribution for personal
      use only.  Do not sell it, and do not incorporate it into
      websites without the author's permission.

NOTE: The author welcomes comments and constructive criticism.  His
      email is laredow@hotmail.com.


                              Hope

       			       by
 
                          Wayne Laredo


Sometimes you just can't help yourself.  I swear I didn't plan it the
way it happened, and I like to think that my resistance was genuine,
even if it failed.  But she had a woman's body, even if she was only 13, 
and it was four in the morning.  Any psychologist will tell you that 
four A.M. is the cognitive nadir for human beings.  I wasn't thinking 
clearly.

And, yes, I was lonely.

My girlfriend and I had broken up a couple of months before.  I was,
maybe pathetically, clinging to a few shreds of hope, so I hadn't even
thought about starting over.  Kim was 17 and I was 20, and like most
people our age, we had a lot of sex.  (Yes, good sex.)  I missed the
closeness, and the warmth, and the connection of all that.  Really I
did.

And, yes, I was horny.

After high school, I'd decided to take a while off before college.
High school had bored me, and while college was a definite, it wasn't
something I was ready to rush to.  I moved away from home at 17 and
got a job with an advertising firm, doing HTML design work.  It was a
decent job -- good people, and I could set my own hours.  Good money,
too.  Being a night owl, I gradually gravitated toward later and later
hours until I was going into the office to code at five, just as 
everyone else was leaving.  I'd put in an eight hour day and get home at 
about two in the morning.

Anyway, after Kim and I broke up, I fell into a routine.  I recognize
it now as depression.  I was just going through the motions, doing
nothing and trying to think about nothing.

I'd made friends with the graveyard shift down at the convenience
store on the corner.  Every night at two, I'd stop by and chat with
them, help relieve their boredom.  In return, they'd let me take a
videotape home with me, as long as I had the tape back by 6:30.  It was 
a good arrangement.

The night that Hope showed up on my doorstep, I'd snagged "Angel
Heart."  Remember that one?  Mickey Rourke, Lisa Bonet, Robert DeNiro.
It's a stylish movie, and there's some sexy stuff in it.  Coincidence.
Usually I'd bring home something good but mindless, like "Ferris
Beuller's Day Off."

I'd popped the cassette in my VCR, my cat already kneading herself a
warm spot on the bed next to where I'd be laying, when I heard an
engine outside as a car pulled next to the curb, laughter, and then 
the squeal of tires as the car pulled away.  A few seconds later,
while I was being warned about the FBI kicking my ass if I made a copy
of this tape, there was a hesitant knock on my door.  The glass barely
rattled.

Barefoot, barechested, in my boxers, I padded to the door, looked out, 
and frowned.  Hope.

Hope was -- is, actually -- my cousin-in-law.  She's -- lemme get this
right -- my uncle's wife's daughter.  She was 13 at the time; like I
said, I was 20.  Hope is really intelligent, and she was pretty mature
back then.  She read, you know.  Fantasy and science fiction, like me,
but she also genuinely enjoyed real literature, like me.  We'd talk
Shakespeare, Faulkner, Kesey.  We'd flirt.

I liked her.  I still do, though things have changed.

So there she was, all 5'3" and 105 pounds of her.  Straight black hair
in a ponytail and beautiful dark eyes.  Her jeans hugged slim curvy
hips; her white blouse was unbuttoned to the third button, so that
I could see her black bra through the gap as well as through the
blouse.  You have to understand, though -- I saw all of this, and
I even noticed all of this, but I didn't think about it the way
you are, right now.  She was my cousin and -- I suppose -- my
friend.  She was only 13.

She was also drunk.  I could see the look in her eyes, along with a
little embarrassment.  That explained why she was on my porch --
Hope's mom is a recovering alcoholic, and she's understandably
militant about drinking.  She's a really nice woman, but there it is.
If Hope went home and got caught, she could forget about enjoying the
upcoming summer vacation.  I opened the door and smiled at her
ironically.

"Hi, Sile."  It's short for Silas, and I can't help it.  Get over it.
She had the voice of a 20 year old, to match her body.

"C'mon in.  You can stay 'til you sober up."

She slipped past, tip-toeing to give me a kiss on the cheek.
"Thanks."  I could smell whiskey on her breath, and I saw the brown
stain on her blouse.

I padded after her.  "When you leave, if I'm asleep, don't forget the
mouthwash.  And you can borrow a shirt, too."  I paused, watching her
lever off her Nikes.  On screen, the movie was starting.  I turned the
overhead light off and climbed into bed.

This is where it started.  I didn't have anywhere else to sit to watch
the TV, except some uncomfortable straight-backed chairs.  But Hope
and I had shared my bed before, without anything even passing through
my mind, so I didn't think about it.  I wasn't even thinking about it
when she peeled her jeans off; the tape was rolling, my hands were
behind my head, and I could already tell I was going to like the film.
I just smiled down at her when she squeezed in beside me and pulled
the sheet over us.

We talked, quietly, some.  "Angel Heart" is a dark film, with not a
lot of dialogue.  I found out what led up to her being on my porch.
She'd gone out with some older kids, done some drinking out on a back
road somewhere, and when one of the guys -- the driver -- tried to get
more from her than she wanted to give, she scratched him on the face
and made him bring her back into the city.  She couldn't go home, of
course, and this was all she could think of.

"So here I am," she said, eyes half-slitted and fixed on the TV.

"You're too young to drink," I said.  "Hell, I'm too young to drink,
legally."

She nodded, wisps of dark hair brushing against my shoulder.

"Your mom really would kill you."

"I know."  She sighed.  "Really, Sile, this is only the second time,
and I won't be doing it too much.  I promise.  I'm scared, 'cause
of Mom."  She paused.  "Not 'cause she'd ground me, just 'cause I
saw the way she was ... "  She trailed off and I nodded and we
watched the movie.

Neither of us fell asleep, which surprised me.  I keep my alarm set,
because I often do zonk out, and I have to get the tape back to the
store before 6:30.  But when that sex scene came on -- if you've seen
the film, you know the one I mean -- we were both awake.

Hope's hips were moving, just barely rotating beneath the sheets.  Her
dark eyes were still slitted, her lips open slightly.  I could hear
her breath and feel the smooth warm skin of her thigh against mine.  I
leaned close to tease her.

"You a little excited, kid?"  On screen, Ephiphany reached her climax
and Hope made a little sound in her throat.  "What?" I asked.

"God," she said, "I'm so wet."

My stomach clenched and I exhaled.  Embarrassed.  "Mmmm."  That was
all I could think to say.

"You wanna feel?"  She turned her face to me, eyes flashing
devilishly.  She purposefully scooted closer, putting more skin in
contact.

I smiled nervously.  "If you were four years older.  You wouldn't even
have to ask."

She reached for the remote while I frowned, stopped the tape, and then
clicked the TV off before a too-bright, too-loud car ad could wake the
neighborhood.  Darkness settled over us, a streetlight through my
curtains the only light.  My cat, not too happy about losing her spot
to Hope in the first place, mraowed her indignation at the break in
our routine.

"I'm asking."  She reached for my hand and I pulled it away.

"Hope, look."  Shadows fell on her face and moved as the tree in my
front yard swayed in a late spring breeze.  "You're 13.  I'm 20.  Even
in this state, that's illegal.  You're also my friend, my uncle's
step-daughter.  Finally, you're drunk."

She flipped on her side, facing me, her small breasts against my arm
as she looked up at me.  She was so lovely and so fragile.  All I
could read in her eyes, as black as they were in the dimness, was
reasonableness.  Through her shirt and bra I could feel her nipple
hardening against my arm.  My cock lengthened down the leg of my
boxers.

"Sile, look."  I had to smile.  She continued.  "First of all, I'm not
drunk.  I was a little drunk when I got here.  But that was almost two
hours ago."  I glanced at the VCR LED.  She was right.  "Second,
nobody's gonna know.  Not my dad, my mom, or the cops.  Do you think
I'd get you in trouble?"

I stared at her.  Of course she wouldn't.  "Not on purpose.  But you'd
talk ab -- "

"Oh, gimme a fuckin' break."  She pressed a finger hard into my ribs.
"I'm a kid, but I'm smart.  Give me some credit."

I lay there for a few minutes, feeling her breath stirring against my
neck, her nipples against my arm.  My cock pulsed, and for the first
time, I really imagined sliding into her small body, her warmth
beneath me, looking into her face.  I know now that that was when I
was lost.  But I kept trying.

I smiled, trying my best to make it fatherly.  "Hope, it's just wrong,
okay?  I'm not comfortable with it."  I laughed, then.  "Christ, what
an understatement."  After another second, I moved to free myself and
crawl over her and out of bed.  "I'm going to get some blankets for
the floor.  You can have the b -- "

Her small hand, in the second or two I was straddling her, slipped
into the leg of my boxers and closed gently around my dick.  She
smiled up at me, lopsided, showing no teeth.  I froze, then groaned,
my eyes closing.  It had been a while since anybody's hand but my
own had been there.

Her breath coming a little faster, she slowly moved her hand up and
down my length, her touch light, barely moving the skin.  My arms
began to tremble, and before I collapsed on top of her, I fell back to
my previous position.  She lost contact with my cock for just a
moment, but regained it quickly.  "Mmmm," she said, from in her
throat.

"Hope ... "  Helpless.  My hips moved by themselves, pushing my cock
through the circle of her fist a little faster.

While she moved her hand, she shifted to put her lips at my ear.  Her
breath was warm and her voice was husky.  Lust.  I'd always thought
that was a cliche.  "Touch me," she said.  Her hips were moving, too.
"Please?" 

The shadows moved again, and I saw the sheet rippling.  I stared
at it, and it was another second before I realized that it was my
hand causing the sheet to move and simultaneously felt the fabric
of her blouse at her lower belly.  My fingers did their thing,
working buttons.  Soon enough I felt bare skin and I lay my hand
flat over it, soft.  Hope's hand was still skimming over my dick,
my hips still jerking on their own.

The angle was a little awkward.  I wanted to move up, to feel the
flatness of her stomach and eventually the swells of her smallish
breasts.  But I couldn't reach, and with her tiny hand circling my
cock, my breath catching in my throat, I didn't want to change
position.  So I went down her body, which is what she wanted in the
first place.

Her panties were satin; I could feel the slick material on the back of
my hand as my fingers slipped beneath the elastic waistband.  Then I
could feel the softness of her pubic hair atop the slight mound.  And,
as I just stroked it for a moment, swallowing thickly and enjoying her
hand squeezing and relaxing and skimming along the length of my cock,
I caught my first smell of her.  I felt my prick lurch in her grip;
the smell was shampoo and teenage-girl perfume and sex.

"Hope?"

"Shhh."  Into my ear again.  I shivered.  "Touch me."

"You're sure?"  I'd regained some control.  My hips weren't moving;
her small hand still felt amazing, though -- she was using her thumb
on the swollen head, spreading around the slick pre-cum leaking from
it.  I wanted to hear a "yes."  It wouldn't make anything okay,
legally.  Maybe not even morally.  But it would make me feel better.

She didn't answer with words.  She just took my hand with her free
hand and gently pushed it further into her panties.

"Okay."  I extended my index finger and searched for her slit.  When I
found it, at first I thought I'd been wrong about how turned on Hope
was.  But as her hand worked at my cock, I parted her lips with my 
finger -- and released a flood of her slick wetness.  She was drenched.  
I dragged my finger through her parted lips, feeling her tiny pussy 
sucking at my fingertip.  Her breath caught in her throat as my finger 
passed over her clit, a BB drowning in oil.

"God," I said, as lust overwhelmed me.  "God."  She gasped as I pulled
my hand free, then grasped her by the wrist, stopping her motion up
and down my dick.  I struggled out of my boxers and tossed them aside,
then straddled her, my knees around her hips.  I stared down at her,
and she stared up at me.  Our eyes had acclimated to the dimness, and
I could see her clearly.  She looked both frightened and almost
fainting with lust.  Her lips were parted; she breathed from her
mouth.

I'd intended to ask again, but I didn't need to.  My cock throbbed
on her lower stomach, above the waistband of her low-cut panties.
Hands shaking, I unbuttoned the remaining buttons of her blouse.  I
pushed it over her shoulders, and reached for the clasp of her bra.
She closed her eyes and arched her chest toward me as I brushed
against her breast.  The clasp came free, and her breasts --
apple-sized, another cliche -- fell free.  They were beautiful:
perfectly formed, aureolae dark and the size of quarters, nipples like
the tip of my little finger, erect already.

I bent and took her left nipple in my mouth.  She groaned, her chest
coming up again, her hands going into my hair.  "Oh," she said.  "Oh.
That feels so ... "  I sucked gently, my left hand covering her right
breast, squeezing it rhythmically.  I tasted bourbon; this is where
she'd splashed whiskey on her shirt and bra.  I changed positions,
moving my lips to her right nipple, my hand to her left breast, and
lifting my knee from over her.

As I caught her nipple between my lips, running my tongue around it
again and again, I reached my right hand down again, fingers touching
the soft skin of her belly, fingertip dipping briefly into her navel.
Lower still, as she gasped and moved her hands in my hair, until I
could slip my hand again beneath the waistband of her satin panties.
Her pussy hair was so fine, so soft.  I breathed through my nose,
loudly, bent over her as I was, and took more of her breast into my 
mouth.  I could feel her nipple at the back of my tongue as I found 
her pussy again.

"Unh," she said, fingers tightening in my hair as I found her tiny
clit and slipped my index finger over it, slowly, twice.  Her smell
was literally intoxicating; I was lightheaded.  Again and again I
passed my finger through the slickness of her pussy, from hole to
clit.  Each time, she groaned; each time, her stomach muscles jumped.
I alternated kneading and suckling her breasts until her breathing
began to rasp and hitch in her throat.  I caught her tiny clit between
finger and thumb and gently squeezed it, feeling it glide from between 
them, slippery with her wetness.

"Oh, God," she said.  "Oh, please."  Thirteen years old.

Her breasts shone in the dim light from the street as I released them
to watch her face as she came.  Her eyes were half open, but she
wasn't seeing anything.  Her hands were still tangled in my hair, and
her breath came in ragged gasps timed with each roll of her clit
between my fingers.  Her black hair was coming free of its ponytail,
wisps spreading over the pillow as she turned her head slightly from
side to side.  Her blouse and bra were pushed back over her shoulders.
She was beautiful.

"Uhn," she said, and pushed her pussy hard into my fingers.  Her
hands in my hair became almost painful.  "Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh ... oh!"
I watched her stomach ripple and her eyes flutter, her mouth open
in some wondrous amazement as she came and came hard.  I let up on
her clit, mostly, barely gliding my finger over it as she shuddered
in her orgasm; each time I touched it, her hips jerked again, but
less.

Finally she was still, her eyes closed, her breathing becoming more
regular as the flush faded from her face and breasts, leaving behind a
thin sheen of sweat.

I looked up at her, questioningly.  She smiled her lopsided smile
and pulled me up by my hair into a kiss.  Her lips were so soft,
and again I tasted bourbon.  Her tongue flickered against my lips,
then my teeth, then my gums.  My cock jumped against her side.  Her 
hands left my hair to stroke the back of my neck as we kissed.

"You're so beautiful, Hope."  I was breathless when we broke, but
managed that.  "So young, though."

She put her finger on my lips.  "Shut up."  She still smiled.  "I want
you inside me." 

I stared at her.  Finally I nodded and moved down her body, until
I could hook my fingers beneath the waistband of her panties.
Everywhere my bobbing dick touched her skin, it left a spot of
stickiness that shone in the light of the streetlight.  She lifted
her slim white hips for me, and I tugged her panties down past 
them.  I watched the juncture of her legs and closed my eyes -- only
for a moment -- when her sparse black pussy hair, stark contrast to
her pale skin, slowly appeared.  Again her rich smell reached me.

I bent and kissed her flat stomach, and then just below there, the
softness of her hair against my lips.  I inhaled and my head spun.  
I pulled her panties off her feet; she was still wearing pink jogging
socks.  She sat up and pulled off her shirt and bra, dropping them to
the floor beside my bed.  Then she lay back.

Again I bent and kissed her -- the tops of her thighs, her soft black
cunt hair, her navel.  "Hope?" I said, into her stomach.

"Mmmm?"  I could tell, without looking, that her head was back, her
eyes closed.

"Are you a virgin?"  I felt her shift and looked up into her dark
eyes.  A little scared, but glassy with lust.  She was only thirteen
years old.

"Yes," she said.

"Are you sure you want it to be me?"

"Yes," she said.

I nodded and shifted my body half off the bed.  I stroked my hand
along her inner thighs until she spread them for me, and for the first
time I looked at her pussy up close.  It was beautiful.  Her lips were
barely parted and shone with her wetness.  Her pink clit peeked from
its hood.  Her black hair was sparse and trimmed closely, but damp now
with her earlier orgasm and her continued arousal.

Leaning forward, I brushed her inner thigh with my lips, and felt the
wetness of her pussy barely touching my cheek.  I repeated the kiss on
the other thigh, then caught the skin there gently between my teeth.
I trailed a line of kisses toward her center, pausing to kiss the very
top of her thigh, soft skin and toned muscle on one cheek, soft hair
and wetness on the other.  She groaned and lifted her pussy toward my
face.

I shifted again, placing my face directly between her legs.  I
breathed through my mouth, hot breath.  "Oh ... " she said.  When I
kissed her pussy lips, gently, she jumped.  When I dragged my tongue
through her slit, hooking it against her clit at the top, she groaned
again.  "God ... "  She tasted like lemonade made with salt and honey.  

Every few seconds I repeated the movements of my tongue and lips: a
gentle kiss, a long lick upward, her tiny pussy trying to capture my
tongue, and then a flutter on her clit.  Her wetness coated my face
and her scent overwhelmed me.  I was groaning against her and she
groaned with me.  I raised my eyes to see her eyes closed, her hands
bunched and knuckles whitening in my sheets.  She rotated her hips in
small, tight, urgent circles in time with her breath.

"Make me come.  Oh, please make me come," she whispered.  My cock,
trapped beneath me, throbbed almost uncomfortably, responding to my
awareness that this lovely thirteen year old girl was begging me to
bring her to another orgasm.

Heart pounding, I lifted my shaking hands to her small breasts,
finding the nipples with each thumb and forefinger.  I fastened my
lips tightly to the top of her wet slit and sucked her clit against my
tongue.

"Oh ... !"  Her hips bucked against my mouth and I lashed her tiny
clit with my tongue, nipped it with my lips, pulled it against my
teeth and groaned.  All in time with my gentle squeezing of her
nipples.  Again and again she lifted her beautiful young pussy against 
my face.  Her breath was coming in harsh gasps between her teeth.

Suddenly she stiffened.  Her back arched.  "Oh, oh, oh God ... " she
hissed.  If possible, she became wetter.  I swallowed her juices as
she came against my lips, withdrawing to lick her more gently as she
convulsed, her thigh muscles twitching.  Finally I couldn't keep my
lips on her pussy or hands on her breasts and I contented myself with
stroking her calf as she gasped for air and swallowed thickly,
aftershocks still shivering through her.

"Wow," she breathed.

I climbed back into the bed and between her legs.  She caught her
lower lip in her teeth, watching my cock bob over her damp and matted
pubic hair.  I shifted forward, bringing my knees against her ass,
pushing her knees back and to the side, almost to her chest.  Reaching
down between us, supporting myself on the backs of her thighs and my 
stiff left arm, I took my cock in my fingers and ran it up and down her 
slit, parting her lips, wetting my cock, and sliding it against her 
clit.

Hope said something.  I didn't hear what it was.  Blood was rushing in
my ears.  I fitted the swollen head of my prick into her tiny pussy,
the first half-inch of it being kissed by her wet lips.  I began to
lean forward, barely putting pressure against her.  She spoke again.

"Wait.  Wait, Sile.  Please?"  I shook my head, clearing it, and
looked into her beautiful barely-teen face.

"Hope, you can't ... " I began, then took a breath.  I didn't back
away, though.  "What is it?"

"Shouldn't you be wearing ... ?  You know."

I smiled a little.  "I'll pull out in time.  And I'm clean, I
promise."  Sure, guys say both all the time.  But I knew the second
for a fact, and I sincerely meant the first.

She chewed on her lips for a few seconds.  I reached down again and
stroked her clit.  She closed her eyes and sighed.  "Okay?"  She nodded.

I leaned forward, slowly.  Her eyes widened at the pressure as her pussy 
spread for me.  She gasped when my cockhead finally slipped inside her 
and I stopped.  Or almost stopped.  I rocked against her almost 
imperceptibly.  I was flexing my cock involuntarily; it felt so
incredible.  I could feel the constriction of her virgin thirteen year
old pussy like a strong rubber band, oiled and wrapped around my cock.
I reached down between us, and again I stroked her clit.  She closed 
her eyes.

I backed away from her a tiny bit, then rocked forward.  She was so
incredibly tight around me; I think that if she hadn't been so tight,
if she'd been just a little less constricted, I'd have come inside her
immediately.  Again I backed away; again I rocked forward.  She
breathed from her mouth, lip still in her teeth.  Again back, again
forward, each time I felt the incredible tightness slip further down
my length.  Finally, minutes after I'd started, I felt my cockhead
against her cervix, her pubic bone against mine, my balls against her
ass.

Sweat gathered on my trembling upper arms, in the hair on my chest, on
my back.  She reached around and touched the small of my back with
both hands, her touch tentative.  I forced myself to take a breath and
looked down into her face.  Her lips were parted, her eyes glazed.

"Are you ... ?" I began.  "I mean, you're ... ?"

"Oh," she breathed.  "Feels good.  So good."

I was relieved; she'd torn or loosened her hymen herself, at some
point.  On her bike, or at summer camp, maybe.  I paused, again
flexing my dick deep inside her, watching the sensation register on
her face, feeling the involuntary reciprocal response of her muscles
along my rigid length.  Her wetness coated our thighs, cool as it
dried.

Finally I moved, using my arms to slip my body back two inches,
slowly.  I shoved forward a bit faster, sheathing myself inside her
teenaged cunt again.  My eyes rolled back in my head and I groaned,
counterpoint to her gasp.  Never.  I'd never felt anything like it.  I
pulled back, almost my full length, and paused only a moment before
rocking forward against her again.  Again I felt the soft resilience
of her cervix against my cockhead.  I flexed against it and looked
down to see Hope smiling dreamily into my face.

"Wow," she said again.

"You feel so good," I told her.  "Like you were made for me."

Again I pulled my hips away from her, my cock slipping free an inch at a 
time, her pussy closing tightly behind it.  It was amazing -- when I 
slipped into her, it felt as if her cunt was eagerly sucking me in; when 
I slid out, it felt as if it was gently expelling me.  Her knees were 
drawn back beside her breasts, and every time I moved forward I 
penetrated her fully.  Every time I moved into her I groaned, her breath 
caught, and a muscle in the back of her left thigh twitched.

As her thirteen year old pussy gradually relaxed around the thickness
of my cock, I could hear the soft wet sounds of our slow movement.
The smell of sex hung heavy in the air of my small apartment.  Still I
rocked against her; our breathing was speeding up, and I increased the
speed of my thrusts into her tiny pussy to match it.  She closed her
eyes and trailed her fingernails around the small of my back.  

In and out, in and out, in and out.  She was moving her hips against
me now, lifting her pussy slightly to increase the speed of my
strokes.  I could still feel the restrictiveness of her cunt each time
my cockhead slipped back into her and each time I bottomed out inside
her, like a tight ring at the entrance to a slick, warm, glove.  I
felt my orgasm begin its approach.  My arms, supporting my weight
above her small body, were feeling the strain.

Hope was gasping now, loudly, with every deep thrust into her
beautiful tight young pussy.  I shifted slightly, achieving a new
angle that sent my cock sawing against her clit.

"Oh, God," she moaned.  "Feels so good.  Don't stop.  Please don't
stop."

I didn't stop; I'd been ready to come since I'd first slipped my
finger against her soft wet cunt.  I sped up, my eyelids fluttering,
my head back.  "Ugh," I was saying, over and over. "Ugh, ugh, ugh."
Her apple-sized breasts, lovely and sweaty, were shifting with the
force of my deep thrusts into her.  Her nails at my back were more
insistent, stabbing into me to encourage me to continue fucking her
exactly like I was.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, Gooooood ... " she hissed and froze,
straining up at me as she came around my cock.  I was close myself,
but I slowed, wanting to draw every possible moment from her orgasm.
Risking collapse, I reached my right hand down between us again and
found her clit with my index finger.  Her eyes snapped open in shock
and pleasure, her mouth worked itself into a soundless grimace, and
her cunt tightened around me almost unbelievably.  I'd been on the
brink of jamming myself against her and coming deep inside her, my
promise to her completely forgotten, but the incredible tightness of 
her climaxing teenaged pussy staved off my orgasm.

Her breath hissed in and out between her teeth as she came and came
and came.  I stroked into her -- small, short strokes -- and flexed
inside her at the deepest, keeping it going as long as I possibly
could.  She came for at least a full minute, her stomach and thigh
muscles jumping as if electrified.

Hope's breathing finally slowed, though she continued to gasp and
shiver every several seconds.  I was still deep inside her and still
painfully hard.  But there was no way I could support myself in this
position for much longer.  Hope's legs gradually unfolded and came
down; she closed her eyes and shuddered when the position change
forced my cock an inch or so out of her pussy.  Her hands moved up my
back and the touch of her fingers became gentle again.  I looked into
her face; her eyes shone.

"Is it always like that?" she asked.

"No," I admitted, and dipped my head to give her a soft kiss on the
nose, and then on the lips.  My cock bucked inside her when she
playfully slipped her tongue against my lips.  "But that's what you
try for every time."

Her eyes were wide; she'd felt the movement in her pussy.  "You didn't
come?"  I shook my head.  "Do you want to?"

I dipped again to kiss her eyebrows, her cheekbones, her chin.  "Yes;
I think if I don't, I might go nuts.  But I can't do it like this."
With that, I gently pulled out of her; again I felt that amazing
sensation: her cunt was lovingly pushing me out of her.  I watched her
face; her eyes fluttered closed and back open.  I leaned down to press
my lips against her sweaty stomach, then curled up against her.  My
cock was pulsing against her leg.

"How?" she asked.

"We'll think of something."  I trailed my fingers over her slim body,
noting the very few places where she hadn't filled out into full
womanhood yet: her hips would widen slightly, and her face would thin
a tiny bit.  She was beautiful already.  As an adult, she was going to
be nothing less than spectacular.  

My fingers found her breasts again; as she turned away from me to
press backward against me, I spooned her and cupped her right
breast, tweaking the nipple.  I brushed my lips against the back of
her neck, inhaling the scent of the incredibly soft wisps of hair that
hadn't been gatherable into her ponytail.  The ponytail itself was now
in disarray.  Hope shivered as I kissed her there.  She pressed
herself back harder against me, and my cock slipped between her legs.
I continued to play with her breast, hefting its weight, feeling its
firmness.  I continued to kiss her neck and shoulders.  I wanted her
wet again.

Abandoning her breast, I let my fingers wander downward, past her damp
belly, into the wetness of her bush.  She shifted her legs with an
"Mmmm," giving me access.  A single touch was enough; she was wet.  My
dick was between her upper thighs.  After giving her clit a loving
stroke, fingers oily with the wetness from her slit, I reached back to
my cock and pushed the head into her cunt.  It popped in with
delicious ease, and as she gasped my hips moved forward involuntarily,
driving my cock deeper, half of its length buried inside her.

"How does that feel?" I whispered against her neck.

"Even better.  It feels even better, I think."  She was almost
overwhelmed.  I knew the feeling.

Shifting for a better angle, I slid my hips back on the sheets, then
forward, fast and hard.  Immediately I slid into her fully.  I could
feel her ass spreading against my thighs, and I could feel the
tremors deep inside her pussy.

I was more than ready to come.  I quickly set up a fast rhythm,
shafting into her thirteen year old cunt from behind, again and
again and again.  My hand was still on her pussy from the front.
As I stroked, I reached down and back to touch my cock where it
slid inside her over and over.  It felt so huge; her lips were
stretched around it.  She was so tiny.

"Unh," I said.  "Feels ... yes.  Oh, yes."  Harder and harder, deeper
and deeper I shoved into her, feeling her wetness soaking my balls and
trickling onto my thigh.  Without thinking, I removed my hand from her
pussy and rolled her onto her stomach.  I rolled with her, barely even
losing any rhythm.  Her breath caught in her throat and she brought
her hands up close to her face.  She lay on her stomach, face turned
to the side, eyes closed, mouth open as I pushed into her from behind
and above, over and over again.  I dropped to my elbows above her, no
longer even capable of thinking of anything but her warm wet pussy
around my cock and her soft ass spreading against my thighs every time
I shoved hard into her.  My legs were outside hers, our skin pressed
together along their length, as I rolled my hips again and again,
slipping my cock into her from behind.

Her orgasm took her by surprise, perhaps because she was barely able
to move.  She groaned it out beneath me.  Again her teenaged cunt
tightened unbelievably around my cock, but nothing was going to stop
me this time.  

Four, five, six more thrusts as she gasped and groaned in the grip
of her hard climax beneath me.  Seven, eight, and I could feel my
cum rising, rushing toward my cock.  I gritted my teeth and strained
against it, knowing I'd fail, but knowing the effort would make it
better.  Nine, ten, eleven, twelve ... I jammed myself into her as
deeply as I could, and then jerked forward once, then again,
spasmodically, until I felt my cockhead against the entrance to
her tiny womb.  And then I came, groaning something incoherent,
feeling semen pulse through my cock.  Even feeling the tiny slit
in my cockhead widen to release it, jetting it against Hope's
cervix.  Three, four times I felt the spurts come, groaning with each
one, and then two, three more contractions sent the dregs into her
milking, still fluttering, pussy.  My cock twitched inside her, on its
own, each one coming further and further apart.  Finally it was
still.

I shuddered and gasped, dropping my head gently to hers.  "Oh, God,
Hope."  She didn't say anything immediately, exhausted beneath me.  I
kissed her hair, and then pulled out of her, leaving a trail of our
mixed juices on her ass cheeks.  My cock was finally softening, but
grudgingly.  Again I curled up beside her, watching her face as our
breathing very gradually returned to normal.

What was I feeling?  I didn't know if it was real or just a cocktail
of my pleasure and hormones, but at that second, in that place, I
wanted to tell her that I loved her.  I didn't, of course; she was
13, I was 20.  But I looked at her eyes, closed, the lashes laying
dark against her flushed skin.  I looked at her soft lips, parted,
breath coming past them to caress my face.  I looked at her black
hair, laying in strands across her forehead, her ponytail a lost
cause.  And I wanted to say it to her.

Her eyes fluttered open.  "You came inside me."  It wasn't accusatory,
and it wasn't a question.  She was simply reminding me.  As if I
weren't aware.

I nodded.  "I'm sorry.  I wasn't ... I wasn't thinking very clearly."
I smiled apologetically.

She smiled her lopsided smile, ironic but tinged with sleepiness.
"Me, either."

I pushed closer to her and kissed her cheekbone, her nose and her ear.
"When was your last period?"

She thought about it for a few seconds.  "It's due soon.  Tomorrow,
maybe."

I exhaled.  "Well, we should be safe, then."  I ran my hand down her
slender body, watching it move up and down her curves like the cars on
a roller-coaster.  "You let me know when you get it."

She nodded and closed her eyes again.  She looked heart-breakingly
young.  I just watched her for almost fifteen minutes.  I thought
she'd fallen asleep, but she spoke again.

"I want to do it some more," she said, voice muffled by her face half
against the sheets.

I smiled and propped my head up on my elbow.  "Now?  You're barely
awake."

"Not now."  She yawned, showing rows of perfect Crest-kid teeth.
"Tomorrow.  And the day after.  And next week.  And next year."

I shivered and didn't answer.  She waited, then opened her eyes to
slits.  My cat, long and cruelly ignored, chose that moment to leap
back onto the bed and mraow.  I reached for her, pulling my hand
through her soft silver fur.

"We'll see," I said finally.  Hope closed her eyes again, and a few
moments later she was asleep.  I glanced at the clock.  5:50.  I
closed my own eyes but didn't sleep; at 6:15 I reached and shut down
my alarm.  Finding the remote, I set "Angel Heart" to rewinding.  I
rose, careful not to shake Hope awake, pulled on some clothes and my
Birkenstocks, and stared out the window into the pre-dawn until the
VCR clacked and spat out the cassette.

I returned the movie and while I was at the store, I made a call.  My
uncle owned the pro-shop at a golf course; he'd be 10 minutes from
leaving his house.

"Will, hi, it's Silas.  Good.  I'm doing good.  Listen, Hope's at my
place.  I didn't want you to -- yeah.  She's asleep.  No, she's fine.
She just got a little drunk last night.  Yeah, she didn't want Jenny
to see her.  No, she's fine.  She wasn't even really all that drunk;
just spilled some whiskey on her shirt.  Around 2:30, I guess.  Yeah.
Oh, we just watched a movie and talked, you know.  Right.  Yeah.  I'll
give her a ride home when she wakes up.  Okay, cool.  Take care, Will.
Seeya."

I walked slowly back home, stripped off my clothes, and crawled into
bed with my thirteen year old cousin-in-law.

Epilogue:

That was almost five years ago.  I just turned 25, and Hope is almost
18.  We've been together since that night, and I did end up telling
her that I was in love with her.  She said it back without hesitation,
without any irony in her smile.

Next week is Hope's birthday.  The week after that, we're planning on
"starting dating."  It's been hard keeping it a secret; not as hard as
you might think, but still.  In a couple of weeks, we won't have to.




-- 
+----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+
| <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> |
| Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>