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 [I am a writer of fantasy.  This story is a fantasy.  If you don't know
what that word means, go look it up.  My stories, whether of forbidden
sexuality or otherwise, have no connection with reality.  If you cannot
distinguish between fantasy and reality then you are well and truly doomed.
I'm sorry.  There is nothing more I can do for you.  Petition your local
deity for a new life.]

   [This work of fiction may be downloaded for personal use, but may not be
reproduced or otherwise transmitted with out including this above
disclaimer and the title/author header below.]

   Holly Synchronistic, a fantasy romance (M/g, 1st, cons, ped, rom)
Bluemonkey(c)2004

   Do you know what synchronicity is?  C.  G.  Jung gave the world the
first modern description of it, in simplest terms synchronicity was an
external physical manifestation of an internal psychical (or mental) state.
He believed it was a fundamental operating principle of reality: acausal
simultaneity .  His quantum physicist friends already had a term for it,
they called it "magick" (with a 'k').

   But what Jung marveled at most regarding synchronicity was that there
was no way to empirically determine for any given acausal simultaneous
event which was the cause, and which was the effect.  They happened at the
same time, without being linked by a cause.  Oh, yeah, that's what acausal
simultaneity means, isn't it?  The easiest way Jung reliably documented
such events was in "runs," the repeating synchronistic sequences that gave
him a glimpse into the inner processes of the universe.  One notable "run"
followed after him dreaming about a fish.  Contemplating intently the
meaning of fish in dreams Jung encountered fish-symbols in a half-dozen
places the next day, several people even sent him pictures of fish, that
had been posted days before.  But was the fish manifested by his dream, or
the dream manifested by the fish?

   So I must ask, did I create her?  Or did she create me?

   I first met her in a chat room, one dedicated to those like us who
appreciate the budding sexuality of the young.  I don't know how she came
to be there, or why.

   I had encountered a girl, about ten years old, earlier that night, on
the bus home from my editing job.  Her thighs were plump and fresh and
flawless in her translucent white shorts; little marshmallow-shaped nipples
were visible on her flat chest as they pressing through the fabric of her
polo shirt when she moved, or when the bus passed over a bump in the
highway.  She smiled at my attention.  And I smiled back.  Outwardly I was
just being friendly, the bus was full of people, her parents sat next to
her.  I smiled at them, too.  Inwardly I wanted to bury my face between her
thighs.  I wanted to hear her moan and scream as my tongue brought her to
orgasm.

   Right there.

   On the bus.

   In front of everyone.

   A fire burned in my head for the rest of the journey home.  The thing I
desired most at that moment was sex with that ten year old girl.

   I hadn't plan to chat that night.  I jacked off furiously to a story
found in an online archive, about a seven year old and her first lover.  I
was spent and satisfied, but after a while I logged in anyway, just to see
if someone I knew was there, to unload the day's frustrations.  But aside
from myself, there was only one other guest displayed: "Holly10."

   I thought I had died and gone to Heaven, or else was trapped in a
Hellish delusion.  But no, she was no delusion, she was only Holly, ten
years old.  She was a virgin, but ached for a sweet and gentle older man. I
was a virgin too.  That is, she was the first woman, of any age, that I
brought to orgasm in a chat-room.  I had told her of my teenage experiences
with my ten year old step-sister, how we had discovered sex together, and
made love for the first time.  She wished that could happen to her.  She
wished her brother could do that to her.  I wished I could do it to her. 
That was our first synchronicity.

   Whenever my body ached, whenever the fire in my head flared, whenever I
really needed to make love to her, she was always there.  There in the
chat-room, as if she knew I needed her, as if my thoughts and desire had
manifested her there.  Or her manifestation had set my mind aflame, drawing
me to her.  She loved my words, she thought me charming, and I loved even
just the thought of her sweet body next to mine, trembling bare skin to
trembling bare skin, lost in the ecstasy of each other's sex.  That was our
second synchronicity...

   Today I was in an unfamiliar city, far from my home town.  I had come
here to meet a publisher, hopefully to sign a contract for my novel, the
culmination of ten years' of research on magick and synchronicity.  With
air-fare the way it was I had arrived early Saturday morning, even though
my appointment wasn't until Monday, to get one of those "weekend stay"
discounts.  The hotel was expensive, but very comfortable and right in the
heart of a downtown complex gleaming with steel and glass, a bustling
convention center, an underground light-rail and bus terminal.

   And a five-story shopping mall.

   With nothing to do, and no one I knew who lived in the city, at noon I
set out to explore, beginning with the mall.  The red-eye flight had served
breakfast, but as is the case with most airline food, could scarcely be
called that at all.  The mall housed a substantial "food court." And soon,
with a hearty meal on my tray, I found a table near a stone fountain and a
planter filled with potted greenery.

   There were only a few other people here, no doubt it filled up later. 
But almost immediately someone quite extraordinary caught my eye, a young,
brown-eyed, brown-haired angel.  A thick golden brown slightly wavy hair
framed her face and draped lightly over her shoulders.  Her ten year old
body was just beginning to break out, soft nipples clearly visible,
bra-less, rising up from under the fabric of her yellow sun-dress, her pale
calves, shapely and ending in matching yellow canvas Topsiders and white
knee-high stockings.  Her hips swept out from her narrow waist into a
heart-shaped curve that would have made Botticelli swoon.  She was shapely,
strong, hardly more than seventy pounds, well under five feet tall.  She
reeked of latent sexuality.  Did she dress that way on purpose?  Did she
know what it did to some people?

   No doubt she did.  She was seated at a table with two much older boys.
They were engrossed in one of those insipid conversations usual to
teenagers, and were completely ignoring the young girl, perhaps the sister
to one of them.  But the girl had found another way to amuse herself.

   She sat at the end of the table, her chair pushed back, perched lazily
towards the edge of the seat.  Her shapely legs were parted, the fabric of
her dress having ridden up her thighs, and her white cotton panties were
clearly visible.  Tight, white cotton panties.  Had I been seated a half
dozen tables to the left I would have been in full view of the cleft of her
sex.

   But I was not the target audience of this little show, a quick glance to
that desired table showed it to be occupied.  A middle-aged, balding man
sat there facing his son and wife, whose backs where to the little
seductress.  I could see his eyes had fixed themselves on the spot between
the girl's legs, and he had somehow positioned himself to look just over
his wife's ear, appearing to stare at her face while she talked nearly
incessantly through their meal.

   About what the woman talked I could not hear.  No doubt her husband
couldn't hear either, what with the blood rushing to his brain.  The young
brown-haired angel of seduction was pleased with this reaction, a
mischievous little smile creased the ends of her lips.  She slowly took a
napkin from the table, unfolded it and wiped the inside of her left thigh,
from knee to crotch, spreading her legs even farther.  The man was having a
great deal of difficulty maintaining his composure.  One of his knees was
shaking.

   Then the girl dropped the napkin.

   Bending over, she reached down to pick it up from the floor, and the top
of her sundress opened enough to allow the man an unobstructed view of the
small puffy cones that were her undeveloped breasts.  I myself could not
see them, but evidently the man could quite well.  The foot of his shaking
leg kicked the metal table with a loud clang, startling his wife into
momentary silence.  The knuckles on the his hand, whitened, gripping his
paper, soda-laden cup so tightly I thought it would explode and drench his
entire family.

   My meal was finished by this time, so I gathered up my tray and made my
escape from the arena of combat, before the creature turned her attentions
on me, and I did something to rouse the ire of the two feckless teens that
accompanied her.

   I mounted a nearby escalator and climbed the polished chrome bridges
that stacked up in a tower through the center of this over-engineered,
glass-roofed cathedral of consumerism.  I stopped on the third floor, I had
spotted a Brentano's Bookstore, a rare sight these days.  Being the
book-whore that I am, I couldn't pass one up.

   As I exited the shop I spotted her again, running her hand lazily along
the brass-railed glass parapet, the brown-haired angel from the food-court.
Obviously she was on the prowl for more adventure, and now alone.  I smiled
as I passed her.

   She smiled back, cocking her head to look up at my face.  For some
reason this caused me to stop, and glancing over my shoulder and found that
she was doing the same.  And was still smiling.

   I turned and she had stopped, turning as well, facing me square on. 
Feet planted wide, hands lightly on her hips, a curious look filled her
eyes.  A child, yes, but there was something older and wiser within.  Ah, a
duel now, of wills.

   Then I felt suddenly as if I had been struck by lightning, my feet
melted to the floor, my bones turned to ashes, my flesh to flame.  I knew
her this young girl, she had described herself to me in great detail.  Down
to the placement of every tiny freckle that dotted her cheeks.  "Holly?" I
said.

   She flushed, recognition crossing her face.  "Bluemonkey?" she asked,
uncertainly.

   "Yes.  But call me Martin," I replied.

   She looked at me appraisingly, critically.  "You're a bit thicker around
the middle than I'd imagined, but you are definitely my beary, hairy
Bluemonkey." She smiled, she liked me anyway.

   "It's all for you, my love."

   "Ooh, do you promise?" Holly cooed.

   "For you and only you," I said.

   A third synchronicity,...  and suddenly I was recklessly bold, no longer
anonymous and detached, no longer safe behind a chat room nickname.  "I
will die right now if I don't make love to you this instant," I whispered.
"I am staying in the hotel across the street.  Are you alone?  Are you here
with someone?  Can you ditch them?"

   Hang on, she had said, and disappeared in a pale yellow flash.  I
remained where I was, I honestly couldn't move a muscle.  It was as if I
had lost the duel, and the witch had turned me to stone.  The whole
building could have collapsed around me and I would still be standing
there. Then she was back, a grin splitting her delicate face from side to
side.

   "I'm here with my brothers.  I told them I found some friends from
school, and their mother would bring me home.  They were only too happy to
be rid of me, there is some stupid girl from their high-school here," Holly
reported with obvious distaste.

   "Follow me across the street to my hotel," I said, turning towards the
exit, my legs suddenly free to move, my bones whole, but the flesh of my
hands and feet still tingling and incandescent from the lightning strike.

   Unspoken, we played a game.  Holly followed me like a stalker, always
making sure I never caught her tailing me.  I would stop, and stare into a
shop window, trying to catch sight of her reflected in the glass; or look
over my shoulder at a random moment.  She was there, but doing something
else, or walking the other way, or slipping into a shop.  She was skilled;
she had played this game before.  Irrationally, I was jealous.  I doubled
back around, tried to catch her, but had only a glimpse of the running
child desperately trying to stifle giggles with her hands.  Then she was
gone.

   I punched the walk button for the signal on the street corner across
from my hotel.  Everything seemed gray, painted with a palette of chrome
from an overcast sky, every surface of the civic centered reflecting silver
in the glass.  The only color seemed to be the traffic lights.  And then
Holly was there, beside me, looking straight ahead, her dress now golden
like the sun, filling the gray street with light.  I could hear her
breathing, it was rapid and short, like a runner; or a lover anticipating
her first kiss.  In the middle of the crowded street we suddenly became
anonymous, nobody knew us here, nobody cared.  Holly's slim hand slipped
into mine, our fingers interlaced, locked like a vise.  I do not know whose
heartbeat was racing faster, hers or mine.

   We entered the busy hotel swiftly, almost running.  A red carpet and
automatic door heralded our arrival, but no one noticed.  The lobby was
packed with conventioneers and we reached the elevator safely, still
invisible, anonymous.  Had the elevator been empty we would have fucked
liked animals on the floor before reaching my room.  There was a gap for us
in a rear corner.  In the crowded space Holly pressed her shapely body
against me, leaning hard, not a bit of space between our skin save our
clothes.  The top of her head touched my chin.  She nodded her head,
brushing my short goatee back and forth.  I could smell her hair, a hint of
lemons or oranges, like someone had distilled sunlight into a bottle.  Her
firm ass was pressed against my groin.  The young girl fidgeted, shifted
her weight on her feet, and then forcing her hips backward, firmly clasped
my erection in the crack of her ass.  I glanced down, I could see a wicked
smile curling the very ends of her lips.  I bent down to her ear,
whispering, "You are a very naughty girl."

   As I slowly raised my head Holly turned, whispering in my ear, "Better
punish me then...with this," and she reached back with one hand to grip my
rigid cock with all her strength.

   Thank God no one looked at us.  That would have been the end, for it
would have quite obvious what the Holly was doing.  But they were too
involved with themselves to even notice our existence.  Emboldened, Holly
reached back with both hands and grabbed my ass, pulling herself tighter
against me.  It was all I could do not to cry out.

   Then we were free from the elevator's press, into the hall, tripping
madly to my door.  I dropped the card-key twice, and she laughed at me.  I
turned sharply to look at her, but my frown vanished the moment I saw her
smile and her limpid eyes, gleaming with anticipation.

   Pushing me out of the way with her slim hand, Holly bent over and picked
up the card.  She turned as she did this, deliberately, so that her
sun-dress rode up her ass and presented me with a perfect view of a firm
round ass trapped in a pair of white cotton panties.  There at that moment,
all doubt fled from my mind.  Between her thighs, the soft fleshy lips
framing her virgin sex were clearly visible, and running along the slit
between them, like an exclamation point, was a line of sticky wetness.  Was
it my imagination, or was their steam rising from them?

   The card-key unlocked the door with a loud snap, my hands swept around
her waist as she turned the knob, propelling us both through the door. 
When the door slammed shut Holly's arms flashed around my neck.  I lifted
her off the ground, her lips found mine.  Her tongue flicked like a fish
into my mouth and for a moment I did not know where her tongue ended and
mine began.  She jumped, her legs clasped around my waist, I could feel her
wet panties even through my jeans, her pubic bone grinding against my
imprisoned erection.

   We fell onto the bed, a eight-limbed writhing beast, trying to crawl
down each other's throats.  Gasping for breath I broke away, standing up to
take off my leather jacket.  Holly kicked off her shoes, then knelt on her
knees at the edge of the bed, watching hungrily, waiting.

   "Is this what you wanted, Holly?" I asked.

   "Yes," she groaned.  "Oh, yes, Martin.  I want you.  I want you now."

   I approached her, my hands visibly trembling.  She smiled at this, as I
gazed into her liquid mahogany-brown eyes.  I could see her pupils dilate,
and there were little gold flecks around each iris.  I kissed her again,
sucking her bottom lip into my mouth, imprisoning it between my teeth.  She
groaned again, a low animal purr.  My hands found her round ass, slid down
her thighs, under her dress, and pulled it in one motion up and over her
head.

   Her pale skin erupted in a turgid sea of goose-bumps.  There before me
was my goddess, Holly, my goddess of synchronicity, naked but for white
panties and stocking feet.  The crotch of her panties glistened wetly,
soiled, plastered to her skin.  I could see clearly the rounded lips and
cleft of that was the gateway of my only heaven.  Above her shapely hips
and trembling stomach her chest was creased with a shallow valley, from
each side of which rose two perfect peaks, rising smoothly no more than
half-an-inch from her chest, surmounted by two tiny, soft, pink nipples.

   Trembling still, my hands lightly touched her bare waist, my fingers
running across her goose-bump covered skin to find the valley over her
spine.  Her spidery fingers tugged my button-down t-shirt from my pants. 
She pulled it up to my shoulders, I lowered my head and she pulled it down
my arms.  The grin had not once left Holly's face, save when our tongues
were intertwined.  To remove the shirt I had had to let go of her waist,
but she knew I didn't want to.  Swiftly she pushed my arms aside and
pressed herself to my naked chest, rubbing her slim torso like a cat over
the curly blond hairs covering my chest and stomach.  My hands cupped her
heart-shaped ass under her panties, and she kissed me, sucking my bottom
lip into her mouth, imprisoning it between her teeth.  She was a fast
learner.

   Holly let go of my lip with a wet snap.  "You like that?" she asked. 
"Mmmm," was all that I could reply as I tried to crawl down her throat
again.

   After a while my lips found her chin, her cheek, her jaw, her ears.  My
tongued filled these with saliva, she shivered and gasped.  I kissed the
valley between her nose and her brow, then brushed lightly over her closed
eyelids.  She sighed as I moved down her neck, my hands still trapped by
the elastic of her panties.  My lips found the hollow of her collar-bone, I
filled it too with my tongue.  Then, down her chest to find a budding
nipple.  It was soft, like whipped cream, and it expanded as my tongue
explored it, tiny little bumps covering the soft pink surface.  Now
hardened, I sucked it into my mouth, pulling it and the skin around it away
from her rib-cage and muscles.  Her fingers laced into my hair, gripping me
tight; then stroking down the back of my neck, pressing against my back. 
She moaned sharply, a burst of air rushing from her lungs.

   Then she said, "You're goatee tickles."

   I started to pull away, but she held me firmly in place, her arms young
and strong.  "No you don't," she said.  "I like it.  But do the other one
now."

   I could not refuse her, and transferred my attention.  Saliva stretched
in a glistening strand from my mouth to her recently sucked nipple, a ring
of red skin marked were my lips had been.  Once I had asked Holly about
this, asked her what would happen when a man sucked her nipples.  No one
had ever done that to her, she had said.  I was the first to taste this
pleasure.  "I feel tingling going all the way down to my cunny," she
murmured in a little girl voice.

   She trembled, her nipple trapped in my mouth, her chest pressed into my
face.  Her muscles of her ass pinched together, trembling and clasping
themselves tightly in a jolting series of spasms.  She was coming already;
a heady, musky aroma filled the room.  Her hands fell loosely to her side,
she swayed on her knees is if drugged.  I pushed her backwards, her legs
folding into a flattened 'W' on the soft bedspread.

   Holly's skin seemed be glowing golden from within, her face flushed with
sexual arousal.  She straightened her legs, then parted them, so that
nothing was hidden from her lover.  She had stopped trembling now.  The
grin had left her lips.  They parted, wet, as she began breathing heavily
and rhythmically.  Her tongue licked them as she watched me remove my
shoes, my jeans, my socks.  "Mmmm," she murmured, now able to see the
raging erection trapped within the red FTL briefs I had put on that
morning. The end of that bulge was moist, stained dark.

   I climbed onto the bed, my arms and knees holding me over her, like a
lion over its prey.  I could see her toes stretch, her feet arching, the
moment I did so.  Her thighs spread some more, so my knees would be between
her legs.  I bent down, and found her eager, questing tongue.  But soon I
escaped from her embrace to trace a line down her chest with my quivering
lips and tongue, over her flat stomach to the swelling mound between her
legs.  My finger tips hooked under the elastic of Holly's panties, and I
slid them down, as she lifted her ass off the bed to make my work easier.
Her thighs came together as I backed away, and then the panties were down
her ankles and onto the floor.

   Holly lay there now, passive and relaxed, her legs together, as I rolled
her stockings down her legs and off her slender feet.  There would be
nothing between her trembling skin and mine but the heat of our sweat. 
Staring into her eyes I freed myself from my sticky briefs, my erection
pointing straight at her, thick and glistening, the veins on its surface
bulging like never before.  With a tiny gasp she spread her legs wider, her
arms reaching for me.  Her pussy lay open before me, a wet cleft hidden
between a pair of perfectly hairless, flushed and swollen lips, a pair of
pale, over-ripe figs.

   I was floating, I could not stop the pull of her, as I crawled across
the bed, my hands running up her legs and thighs, and my mouth to her
virgin pussy.  I touched her hot mound with my lips, she mumbled something,
her fingers gingerly touching my head, combing into my hair.  The smell of
her was intoxicating, sweet and hot, but what of the taste?  My tongue
flicked softly over the fleshy line, and her vulva opened like a flower at
its touch, her clitoris and hood unfolding, thick and sticky strands of
white cream stretching from side to side over her hymen and the sublime
gaping darkness within.

   My tongue lapped up Holly's wetness, and her fingers digging in to my
scalp, the air rushing from her lungs in a gasp as her hips thrust upward
to my face.  The taste is like ambrosia, the wine of the ancient gods; my
tongue forces its way into her, stretching her hymen and drinking deeply of
the milky depths within.  My goatee buried in the crack of her ass, I could
feel my moustache brushing back and forth over her quivering clitoris.  As
I suck her dry her fingers curl up in my hair, pulling, tearing.  She digs
her fingers into my ears as her thighs and hips writhe under me, I can feel
the heals of her bare feet striking my back.  My name is on her lips, over
and over and over.

   Holly grabs my ears, my neck, pulling at me, pulling my head upward.

   "Oh, Holly, I am not finished, I could eat you for hours," I beg.

   "Not now.  Later," Holly moaned.  "I need you inside me.  I need you to
fuck me.  Now, Martin, now!"

   I moved over her once more, held aloft by my knees and elbows.  My hands
move under her arms, and curl up, over her shoulders.  I gazed in to her
eyes, my lovers eyes, and fell into them, my lips a breath away from hers,
which I can feel hot and sweet upon my face.  Her thighs spread wider and I
kiss her, my tongue dipping into her mouth.  Then the glans of my raging
erection touches the hot, wet space between her thighs, the fleshy figs of
her mound parting as swiftly as the automatic doors in the hotel lobby.  My
mouth was filled with her sticky sweet ambrosia, now coating her own tongue
too; but she was still dripping wet.

   Then I was within her, a boiling hot wetness surrounded the tip of my
cock.  It slid over the head and down the shaft like a tight, flaming
rubber ring.  The heat within her was incredible, the muscles of her vagina
constricting with every one of her labored breaths, milking my cock every
inch that I moved into her.  She had flinched just a little at first as I
had penetrated her, breaking her hymen, but then her thighs clasped me
tightly, gripped my waist, her ankles crossed over my back, pulling me into
her, deeper and deeper.

   Time seemed to stop.  There was only flaming heat and florid wetness, a
sheath of flesh that seemed to envelop my body from head to toe, starting
with the tip of my cock.  Her pelvis surged against me, her pubic bone
ground into mine, every bit of my seven-and-a-half inches was buried within
Holly's virgin pussy.

   There was rushing sound, like the wind, like a rainstorm, filling the
room.  It pounded my ears and echoed the throbbing fire in my head, sweat
streaming from every pore in response to it, an echo to the throbbing of

   my cock within her tight pussy.  Then I realized the rushing sound was
coming from us.  We were shouting in ecstasy.

   Her hands and arms were wrapped tightly around my neck, her tongue dug
deeply as it could go into my left ear.  My lips were on her neck, sucking
at the skin just below her hairline, perspiration was pouring from her
body. The musk of her sweat even more heady than that from between her
legs.

   I shifted my weight, Holly grunted, my pelvis drawing my cock out from
her fleshy sheath.  Just a few inches, and then I thrust into her again,
hard and firm.  A loud throaty grown escaped her lips and with my second
stroke, longer, her body thrust up off the bed to plaster her hot skin
against mine.  One more thrust, and then I too was groaning, my pubic hair
crushing against her clitoris.  I came, a streaming jet of semen exploding
into Holly's tight virgin pussy.  It seemed to last forever, my hips
bucking into her as her pelvis thrust madly back at me, as wave after wave
I ejaculated into her.  Her hands were now on my stomach, her fingers
digging into the soft love handles around my waist, pulling me into her,
harder and harder.

   Then she screamed, a throaty growl, unexpected out of one so young.  I
could feel her orgasm then, the flesh within her pussy gripping me tighter
and tighter in a rhythmic spasm, like a pair of hands were in there
somewhere, crushing my cock, forcing the blood back into my body, and my
cum into hers.

   We collapsed, immobile, drenched in sweat, breathing heavily, breathing
in unison.  Our hearts were racing, but racing as one, each beat of mine
matched by one of hers.

   Not wanting to crush her, I rolled over onto my back, with her
straddling me, my cock still buried inside her.  She sits up, knees
gripping my waist, her hands upon my belly, her touch like an electric
spark.  Then she begins to bounce up and down on my cock, riding me like a
horse.  By Holly's face I see she is going to cum again, and her hands grip
the hair on my chest, twisting and pulling, as she throws back her head,
hair whipping around.  Wet, it showers my face with her sweat and I can
taste the salt of it on my lips.

   Holly rises, my cock sliding all the way out to its tip.  I think she is
done, but no, she slams back down its length.  Again.  And then rising once
more, she comes down hard, her whole body writhing on my cock, churning her
ass against my pelvis and crushing my balls painfully.  Beautiful,
exquisite pain.  She laughs as she cums, this time.  And once more liquid
fire streams from my cock to fill her up.  Where could all of that be
going, I wonder, where could it all be coming from, as she collapses nearly
unconscious across my chest, her arms outstretched, her thighs quivering.

   This is no ten year old girl.  The soul inside this creature must be
ten-thousand years old.

   After a time our eyes open, open a the same time, to find each looking
deep into the others.  We are lying together, on our sides, the bedspread
piled on the floor, soaked with our sweat and her virgin blood.  Cool white
sheets are spread beneath us, somehow keeping us from falling through the
floor and the ground beneath and out the other side of the earth into the
depths of space.

   Absentmindedly my new lover runs her hands over my body, examining
everything.  The hairs on my chest, on my belly, her finger questing into
the crevice of my belly button.  She pulls my curly pubic hair out into
long straight strands, then watches curiously as they curl up tight when
released.  She dries off my cock with a sheet, then explores every bit of
it, too.  Clear fluid dribbles from it in response to this treatment.  Bold
she wipes it with her finger and puts it into her mouth.  Then Holly
glances up at me, as I watch her do this.  She blushes, embarrassed, like a
child who has been caught dipping her finger in to the frosting of a
birthday cake, hours before it was due to be eaten.

   "I could feel it," Holly said.  "I could feel it coming out." She
stretched and lay languidly across me, her head resting in the crook of my
arm.  One leg moved absently, rubbing her smooth inner thigh against my
hairy leg, then hooking over it.  "I could feel your cock spasm as your cum
pumped out.  I could feel it splashing inside me, even hotter than your
cock.  It felt like it was going all the way up into my stomach."

   We seem to lay there for hours, holding each other, as our bodies cool
down.  And soon our interlude must end.  One of us suggests a shower, the
other takes that as an excuse for more fun.

   The shower is hot, steam filling the white-tiled room.  With soap in one
hand and a soft terry cloth in the other, I clean the dried blood from
between my lovers thighs.  There is not so much of it, really, I had
expected something more dramatic.  I explore her marvelous, shapely body
with soapy hands, and she explores mine with hers.  I marvel at how perfect
she seems to me, how exactly she is what I desire most.  Her attentions on
my cock have awakened it again.  She hugs me, kisses my chest and nipples,
tugs at my chest hair with her teeth.

   Holly flashes that wicked smile again.  "I want to do everything,' she
says, "but you've got too much hair down there." She stretches out of the
shower to the shelf over the sink, returning with my razor and shaving gel.
"Well this is new," I say, as she sets to work.

   "How do you know how to do this?" I ask.

   "I shave my dad sometimes," Holly replied, looking up at me, "No,
Monkey! His face!  Don't you have a filthy mind!"

   I laugh but she warns me to be still, unless I want to be cut.  I obey.
She makes quick work of my thick pubic hair and rubs the fresh pink skin
with soap and water fingers.  She runs her hands down my thighs and legs.
Then my cock is in her sweet mouth.  She cannot take all of it, but seeing
the look of ecstasy on my face she grips what won't fit with her hands. 
Her lips ride up and down the shaft, her cheeks deflating as she sucks
hard, her lips forced into and out of her mouth with each stroke.  Her
tongue rubs the underside, her teeth touch gently on the tender skin.  I
can feel the head of my cock tickling the back of her throat; and the
realization causes me to cum.  I explode down her throat.

   Holly gasps, then coughs, swallowing every bit of it.  "I could feel it
hitting the back of my throat!" she exclaims, "Wow!" She grins up at me, "I
love it."

   I can't stand it, my member is suddenly rigid again.  I pull her up and
push her firmly against the wall of the shower, her palms flat on the
tiles, her heart shaped ass arching up at me.  Looking over her shoulder,
she watches as my cock slides in and out of her pussy with long, slow
strokes.  Soon we are moaning, her head is down between her arms, she can't
hold it up any longer.  Her cries of pleasure resound each time my balls
strike her preteen ass, and I know that everyone in the hallway outside can
hear us.

   And I am glad they can.  For we are lost in the ecstasy of each other,
lost in the ecstasy of sex, lost in the ecstasy of love.  Lost, as I come
violently once again, thrusting so hard I lift Holly's feet off the shower
floor.  Now soft, I pull out of my little lover, amazed that so much went
into something so small.

   Holly bites her arm, pressed against the wet tile, as her pussy spasms,
buttocks clenching, a jet of my semen streams out of her and onto the tile,
down her thighs.  She clenches again, and I move behind her, she rests the
weight her steaming pussy on my cock.  I press my bare pelvis into her ass,
as she arches her back, and reaches up to lace her fingers behind my neck.
Turning her head, she kisses me full on my lips, our tongues curling around
other.

   Between breaths she murmurs, "I love you, Martin.  I love fucking you,
Martin.  I love you fucking me."

   I do not remember how long we stayed that way.  But then we were
dressed, walking hand in hand out of the hotel and into the mall.  There is
a bus-stop on the far side that would take her to a friends house, the one
unwittingly acting as her alibi.

   I steer Holly into a jewelry store, and buy her one of those silly
sentimental love necklaces, the kind with a heart that splits in two.  She
smiles at me, unable to say anything, but her hand repeatedly squeezes
mine. The middle-aged clerk smiles at us.  "Your daughter is very
beautiful," she says to me.  I thank her, and say that indeed she is. 
Holly seems suddenly to be nearly beside herself, trying desperately to
keep from laughing.

   We find a secluded bench in a quiet area, where the storefronts are
vacant.  Holly carefully breaks the pendant in two, unraveling the
double-chain.  One goes around my neck, she stuffs it under my shirt; the
other she proudly displays on the outside of her dress.

   She says, "Wait here, don't move.  I have to pee."

   Holly returns a few minutes later, something clenched tightly in one
small fist.  Smiling that wicked grin, she sits next to me, pressing her
thigh against mine.  Her fist snakes down between us and into my jacket
pocket, then out again, empty.  I reach in cautiously, and find her white
cotton panties, made sticky from the anticipation of today's lovemaking.

   Content, Holly leans against me, stroking my arm with one hand, the
other invisible behind us, fingers trying to force their way down my pants.
"When is your meeting?" she asks quietly.

   "Monday morning," I answer, "and I don't suppose you can sneak out of
your house tonight"

   "No, not likely," she replies.  "But you know, I was planning to spend
all day Sunday at an arcade with my friends." She pauses, "Its in the
basement of this mall.  See you for lunch?"

   "Of course," I say.  "What do you want for lunch, my love."

   "Room service."

   The End?