Flowersex n. From the German, Blümchensex: Sexual relations characterized by the male's tenderness and affection, and the female's blushing, coy demeanor. In the classic form, the man offers the woman a bouquet of flowers--even rose petals strewn upon the bed. The woman, her heart quaking in hesitant anticipation, reluctantly allows herself to be slowly taken by the man in a gentle, romantic coupling.

A knight in shining armor. That's what Bethany dreamed of. Well, not literally--okay, sometimes literally, sometimes she was a damsel in distress, a princess saved from the clutches of an evil dragon by a handsome hero. But mostly, Bethany's dreamy hero was a "real" man, and the knight in shining armor only a silly metaphor for someone who came and swept her off her feet, a man who loved her and cherished her, and brought her flowers and gave her little gifts and told her she was beautiful. What he wanted, all that he wanted, was to win her heart. This was his only motivation. Pure and simple love.

When Bethany had these dreams, these fantasies, they never involved boys her age. Fifth grade boys were annoying. Smelly and unpleasant, childish and rude, sometimes mean and even cruel. And always annoying. No, the men in Bethany's fantasies were older than her: cute teenagers like the guys in the boybands she liked, or even older than that. Sometimes even as old as her dad.

These weren't sexual fantasies, not really. The man just loves her, and cherishes her, and wants to hold her and kiss her and be close to her. But sometimes, when she had these thoughts, late at night with her bedroom lights off, she would blush as she slipped a hand up her pajama shirt and pretended that it was the man's hand, touching her belly, then her chest, then her nipples. Her nipples stiffened to his touch, and tingled. And then he slipped his hand down her pajama pants and rubbed her down between her legs, gentle touches, soft and sweet, while he kissed her and told her how beautiful she is.

Sometimes, then, he would ask her if he might make love with her, quietly and tenderly whispering the question in her ear. And she would tell him yes, and then she tried to imagine what it would be like; what his cock would look like, what it would feel like to have him enter her, her fingers working hard between her legs and pinching at her nipples, as she and her lover united together. He is always sweet when they make love, gentle and kind, careful and cautious, concerned only for her.

Someday, Bethany knew, she would have a man like this. Someday.

Bethany opened her eyes to the sound of the front door opening.

"Hello, Beffany..." Mrs. Johannsen said, her voice slurred, her face red, her eyes glassy. She stumbled as she stepped over the threshold, and her husband caught her by the arm.

The man, Mr. Johannsen, looked apologetically at Bethany. "Sorry," he said, "I'm afraid Judith had a bit too much to drink after the show." Bethany nodded. She'd seen this before when she babysat for the Johannsens. Mrs. Johannsen seemed to like to drink too much. "Let me just get her up to bed, and then I'll take you home, okay?"

She nodded again, sitting up as she watched Mrs. Johannsen stumble up the stairs, her husband supporting her. Bethany slipped her glasses on and found the book she'd brought, then sat up a bit straighter and ran her fingers through her unruly curls, trying to make herself look a bit more presentable. She felt a little guilty, having fallen asleep when she was supposed to be babysitting the Johannsen's son.

She liked the Johannsens--well, at least, she liked Mr. Johannsen; Mrs. Johannsen kind of scared her, even when she was sober. She wasn't a very pleasant lady. Bethany often wondered why Mr. Johanssen had married her. Certainly a man like him could have found a better wife. But, she definitely liked babysitting for them; their son, Scotty, was a nice kid, well-behaved enough, and they paid her well.

A couple minutes later, Mr. Johannsen came back down the stairs. "Sorry about that," he said. "She..."

"It's okay," Bethany said quickly, not wanting him to feel like he had to apologize for his wife.

"How was Scotty?" he asked. "No trouble, I hope? How much do we owe you?" He walked over to her as he took his wallet out of his back pocket.

"Forty dollars," she said. "He was fine. He went to bed at eight, just like he's supposed to, and I guess..." She took the two twenty dollar bills that Mr. Johannsen held out to her and stuffed them in her pocket. "...I guess I fell asleep after that. Sorry..."

"Oh, that's okay, Bethany," Mr. Johannsen said. "I glad you to feel comfortable here." He sat down next to her, which surprised her a little. She thought he was going to take her home. He seemed to sense what she was thinking,. "I just need to sit down and catch my breath, it was such a trying night. I'll take you home in a second."

"Okay..." she said, the word catching in her mouth when he leaned back into the couch and stretched his arm out over the cushion behind her.

"I hope it's okay if you stay a little while?"

Bethany nodded uncertainly, looking up at him.

"We could talk a little," he said. His hand moved from the back of the couch, and Bethany felt his fingers brush against her shoulder.

"Talk?" She wanted to move away from him, away from his fingers. "What about?"

"Oh, I don't know," he said causally, thoughtfully. "School? How's school?"

"It's... it's good..."

"What are you studying?"

Bethany felt his fingers brush against her shoulder again. "Um, algebra, and..." His fingers brushed again. "...and the American revolution..."

"Cool." By now, his fingers were petting her shoulder, lightly stroking. "Any sports? Or music?"

"I... I play soccer..." He had his hand over her shoulder now, cupping firmly around her arm. She thought maybe he was pulling her towards him. "And piano..."

"Cool. I'd love to hear you play sometime. And whenever you want to kick a soccer ball around, just let me know. I used to be pretty good."

"Y... Yeah...?" she stammered. He definitely was pulling her into him. He wasn't aggressive about it, but he was strong, and determined, and she let him do it, even though she didn't really want to. Her heart was starting to pound as she felt her body press up against his side. She felt his fingers rubbing her arm. She could tell that he'd turned his head and was looking at her, although she couldn't bring herself to look at him.

"You're very pretty, Bethany," he said in a quiet whisper. "I've always thought so." He reached his other hand over and set it on her leg, high up, his fingers on her inner thigh.

She didn't know what to say, so she just sat quietly, not looking at him.

"I've always thought..." he continued, "...I mean, I've always hoped, that we could get a little closer."

"Closer?" she said, finally turning now to look at him.

"Yeah, you know..." His one hand was rubbing her neck now, while the other one petted her thigh. "Judith is out cold, and Scotty's asleep, so we could..." His fingers on her thigh inched higher up her leg.

She wanted to stop him. She knew where his fingers were going. But she seemed to be frozen at that moment, and she didn't know what to do. Her heart was pounding hard.

"It's just," he said, "I've always been so attracted to you. I've always thought that you are so sexy."

"Sexy?" She was looking right at him. She was terribly confused, she didn't know whether she should stop his fingers, or if maybe... maybe she should just let him? Maybe that would be okay? Maybe that would be easier than trying to stop him?

"Yes," he whispered. "You're very sexy." He leaned in towards her and kissed her. And she let him. She felt his tongue come out and lick her lips. She was feeling freaked out about that, but right then, the fingers inching up her thigh made it to their destination, and his hand was now cupped over her private parts, his fingers rubbing her through her pants.

"It's nice to touch each other," he whispered, his mouth right in front of hers as he talked. She really didn't know why she did it, but she nodded in response. "Will you touch me, Bethany?" he asked her.

She nodded again. She really didn't know why she nodded this time, but she did it anyway, and he smiled at her and lifted his hand away from between her legs and took her hand, and moved it over and set it on his crotch.

"Do you feel how hard I am, Bethany?" he asked her. She nodded. She could feel it. She definitely could. There was something very big, and very solid, underneath her hand. He moved his hand back to her crotch, but this time he set it on her belly, then slid his hand down. A second later, she felt his fingers burrow into her pants and under her panties. Without even thinking about it, she just did the same thing--moved her hand up to his belly and then slipped her fingers down his pants. She wasn't sure why she did it. Mostly, she was just curious--she wanted to learn more about that big solid bulge she'd felt in his pants.

At first, when her fingers got inside his pants, she was confused, because she didn't find anything. But then she realized that her fingers were above his underwear, and she had to pull them back up a bit to slip them underneath. Even then, all she found, all her fingers could feel, was his pubic hair, thick and curly. But no cock. It wasn't until he pulled his hand out of her pants again and reached over and unbuttoned his fly, that she was able to push her hand in deep enough to finally find that thick stiff thing that she'd felt through his pants.

As she explored, reaching in deeper so that she could get her fingers around his thickness, he unbutton her pants, too, and pushed his hand back down her panties until his fingers were on her pussy. Suddenly, Bethany realized that she'd gotten wet down there, and she was terribly embarrassed, because he'd feel it, he'd know that touching his cock made her pussy wet! But he didn't seem to notice. He just started rubbing her, stroking his fingers over her little clitty. The feeling of it took her breath away, and made her heart go so light! And in response, she wrapped her fingers around him and started rubbing him, too.

"Oh, Bethany," he said in a hoarse whisperer, "you're so sweet! It's so sweet of you to touch my cock!" She tried to smile at him in response, but her whole body was quivering so much, in response to his fingers sliding up and down her clit, that all she could do was let out a breathy moan.

"Bethany," Mr. Johannsen said in the same hoarse whisper, as if in response to her moan, "I need you... I need you to suck my cock."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide in shock and concern. She knew that girls did this sort of thing, she'd heard about it and she'd seen it on the internet sometimes, but in all her dreams, in all her fantasies about being with a man, she never imagined that he would ask her--tell her!--to suck his cock. She wanted to object, not so much because she didn't want to do it--although she wasn't sure that she wanted to--but even more because she didn't know how, and he'd discover that she was inexperienced, that she was just a little girl. And then he would be disappointed, or, even worse, he would be angry. But before she could say anything, or even decide that she really wanted to say anything, she felt his hand on the back of her neck tighten, and push her down, and her legs were shaking, shaking because she was scared. No, not scared, not only scared--her legs were shaking from excitement, too.

As he pushed her down off of the couch, his hand slipped out of her pants, and the feelings that flowed through her body when he was fondling her clitty slowly abated. But she hardly noticed. She had other things to think about now.

By now, Mr. Johannsen had yanked his pants down to his ankles as he sat on the couch, and she was kneeling in front of him, staring with her blue eyes so wide, right at his thick, long, dark red cock. It was unbelievable to Bethany how big it was, the shaft standing rigid, snaked with thick pulsing purple veins, a strange and alien-looking bulging knob covering the top of it, with a small hole in the center of the knob that had a drop of foamy liquid forming in it. Thick curls of brown hair fleck with gray covered the area above his cock, and more covered his ballsack, which held two testicles that the girl thought looked very enormous.

Bethany had never seen a grown man's cock in real life before, and it was enthralling, and a little frightening, as well. She hesitated, staring at the foaming droplet that oozed from his hole and unsure what she should do, or even whether she should do anything at all. She could--she should!--tell him that she didn't want to do this, that this wasn't the romantic encounter that she'd always dreamed her first time would be. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was married! His wife and his son were upstairs! And he didn't love her, he barely even knew her at all. He didn't bring her flowers, or give her any little gifts, or read her any love poems. This wasn't what she dreamed of. This wasn't what she wanted at all.

But Mr. Johannsen had no interest in her objections, nor any patience for her hesitation. She saw his hands reach out, felt him put them on the back of her head and pull her in to him. And she let him. Maybe she didn't want to do this, but she let him anyway, let him guide her mouth to the tip of his cock. She felt the foamy drop, tepid and sticky, slide across her lips. Curious, her tongue ventured out to taste it, and in the process it made contact with his hole and she tasted even more. The sticky fluid was salty, and a little tangy, but also sweet. In response to the flavor, she licked her lips, and his hole, again.

"Open your mouth, Bethany," he said, at the same time moving a hand from the back of her head to her chin and pushing her jaw down with his thumb. She looked up at him with big wide eyes, and nodded, letting him open her mouth. And then he slid his cock inside.

The taste of him overwhelmed her, that same salty tangy flavor, mixed now with something else, something strange, something that made her mouth salivate and made her get wet again between her legs. But the size of it overwhelmed her even more; as he pushed his cock in, the big bulging head at the top of it filled her mouth entirely until she thought that she was going to gag.

"Ooohhh, Bethany," she heard Mr. Johannsen whisper. His face was red, and shaking; his eyes were narrow, squinting and glassy, as he looked down at her. She was startled by the look on his face. Amazed. She had no idea that she could make a man feel so good with just her mouth. Looking up at him, she gave thick fat cockhead a suck, as best she could with her mouth so full. He had told her to suck his cock, and so she sucked.

"Oh, God, Bethany," he whispered again. "That feels so good!" She felt her heart surge when she heard him say that, and she sucked again. "Oh, sweetheart," he groaned, "use your hand! Jack me with your hand!"

She lifted her little hand, and wrapped her fingers around his shaft, and he put his large strong hand on top of hers, and together they began to stroke him. His cock felt so warm under her fingers, so thick and hard, the skin loose over the solid flesh beneath. The feeling of it thrilled her, and she sucked and sucked, and jacked and jacked, and he began rocking his hips, sliding the thick ridge of his cockhead in and out of her lips.

"Oh, fuck!" he said suddenly. "You're gonna make me cum, you little bitch!" He sounded almost angry, and Bethany's eyes went wide as Mr. Johannsen pulled his hips back, leaving her mouth entirely. She was confused. Why did he pull out? Did he just cum? Did she make him cum? No, she'd seen men cum on the internet, it was way messier than this! Why did he stop? Part of her was relieved; she wasn't sure what it would be like to have a man cum in her mouth, and she wasn't sure she wanted find out. But part of her was disappointed, too--she wanted to find out for real what it was like when a man came. She even wanted to find out what it tasted like.

But instead, she was staring now at his cock, bright red, pulsing and twitching, leaking a clear frothy liquid from his hole. He put his hands under her arms and lifted her, and when she got to her feet, he kept lifting, standing himself, until he was holding her like a rag doll in the air. He turned, swinging her, and tossed her face-down onto the couch. A second later he was on top of her, sitting on the back of her legs and yanking her pants and panties down over her butt.

She knew what he was doing. She knew what he wanted to do. She turned her head to look back at him, big blue frightened wide eyes. "N... no!" she protested. "I don... I don't want..."

He leaned over her and put a big strong hand over her nose and mouth, pressing hard. "Shhhh..." he whispered. "We don't want to wake up Judith, do we?"

Still wide-eyed, she shook her head, no.

"Good," he whispered. He leaned over further and kissed her forehead. "Now you be a good girl, Bethany, and keep quiet, okay?"

She hesitated a moment, then nodded.

He took his hand away from her mouth and stood up next the the couch, then leaned over and pulled her pants and panties down and off her feet. The next second, he was on top of her again, kneeling between her legs, forcing them open. He leaned in, and she felt his stiff manhood poking between her legs. Her heart was pounding and her breath was short and she closed her eyes. In an instant, she felt his cockhead pushing into her vagina.

"Uggghhh," she groaned, at the weight of him on top of her, at the thickness of him as he pushed into her. Suddenly a large hand was over her nose and mouth again.

"Shhhh..." he said. "Quiet."

Then he trust his hips forward, strong and powerful and domineering, and his cock drove deeper into her vagina. It hurt, and she groaned into his hand that still pressed hard against her nose and mouth. "Shhhh..." he said again, as he pulled his hips back, and pushed in, and then began methodically sliding his cock in and out of her.

He was lying on top of her now, the full weight of his large body on her back, smothering her beneath him as he pressed her belly down into the couch. He had one hand on top of her head, holding her down, and the other hand was still on her mouth and nose. She couldn't move, she couldn't speak, she could barely even breathe. She had no choice but to simply lay there, motionless, passive, while Mr. Johannsen did what he wanted to do to her.

He had his mouth against her ear; she could feel his warm gasping breath. "Oh Bethany," he said in his hoarse whisper, "you're such a good fuck, you're such a good little fuck." He breathed in her ear, panting. "You're a little bitch, Bethany," he whispered. "You're a little whore."

She opened her eyes and looked up at his red and shaking face. The pain of his initial intrusion had lessened, and mostly what she felt now was wetness, an amazing amount of wetness between her legs, and thickness, oh God he was so thick, stretching her open with each forward thrust of his hips, forcing her body to accept him, forcing her vagina to accommodate his fullness.

Oh my god, she thought, finally able to form coherent thoughts, he's fucking me! He's having sex with me! I'm having sex, we're having sex! And, yes, it wasn't anything like she'd dreamed it would be; there was no nice big comfy bed, there were no flower petals tossed across the sheets, there was no gentleness, no careful consideration, no gifts, no sweet nothings whispered between two lovers. There was only sex. Only a man, a big strong man, overpowering her and taking what he wanted from her.

All of Bethany's romantic fantasies about making love were gone now, replaced with something completely different, something much more basic. Sex. Fucking. A man's needs. And a girl's needs, too--because, yes, yes! Bethany did have needs, but she realized now that they weren't the needs that she'd imagined all her life, they weren't flowers and gifts and gentleness; as this large man smothered her beneath him, grunting in her ear with each powerful thrust of his cock deep into her body, calling her a bitch and a whore between each gasping breath, all those childish thoughts were gone, replaced with one overpowering need, one all-encompassing desire: to be used, to be fucked, to give herself entirely to a man.

From then until the end, the sex was a blur. She was lost in the moment, her body on fire, her pussy so wet and open that Mr. Johannsen's huge thick cock slid inside her easily, and he was fucking her so hard! Slamming his hips against her inner thighs, over and over, fucking and fucking and fucking. She closed her eyes again, but now not from pain, but from pleasure, the pure and perfect pleasure of it all.

She wasn't disappointed when he finished, when he grunted hard in her ear and drove deep into her and held himself there, and she suddenly felt a warmth and a wetness fill her deep inside. By then, she was hoping it would end; she was sore and smothered; she'd cum herself, several times, while he thrust so hard into her, and she was ready for him to finish. But even when he was done, he didn't get off of her. He lay on top of her still, his cock impaling her, breathing hard in her ear.

He kissed her cheek as he finally took his hand off of her nose and mouth.

"Thank you, Bethany," he whispered.

She smiled up at him, still unable to speak, and wanting him to get off of her, soon. And he did. He sat up, and lifted her up, too, so that she was sitting on his lap with her back to him and her legs spread around his. He put his hand on the back of her head and turned it so that she was facing back to him, and then he kissed her, and they sat there like this, both of them still naked from the waist down, kissing. As they kissed, a hand went down to her pussy and large strong fingers began to rub her clit, and another hand went up her shirt, gently massaging her nipples. And they kissed, and kissed, and kissed, as her body quaked in his strong large arms. Unthinkingly, she reached down between their legs, too. She wanted to touch his cock again. It was limp now, and smaller. She felt his balls, big and loose and hairy, and then began to stroke his shaft, and as she did, she felt it thicken in her fingers. She was shaking now, cumming, as he stroked her clit and pinched her nipples and her hand brought him to full erection again.

He reached down to her hand that was stroking his shaft and directed his cockhead to her pussy lips. "Let me in again, Bethany," he whispered even as they kissed.

And she did. Even though she was sore, and spent, and tired, she nodded, looking up at him as they kissed, and let him slip into her. Suddenly her legs shook uncontrollably, and she came again when he entered her. She moaned into his mouth as they kissed and her orgasm peaked, the most wonderful orgasm she'd ever had, his tongue in her mouth, his cock in her cunt, his fingers stroking her clit and pinching hard on her nipples. Unthinkingly, she tried to move her hips to feel him sliding in her vagina.

"That's right," he whispered, "ride me, little whore. Fuck my cock."

And she did. She lifted her hips, and lowered them, and fucked him, as they sat there together on the couch, kissing. He was stroking her clit as they fucked and she was cumming, cumming, cumming, oh God she was cumming so hard, it never stopped! She had her hand down between their legs, too, petting his huge wonderful balls and feeling his cock, slick with the wetness of her pussy, as it slid in and out of her.

Eventually, Mr. Johannsen lifted her from his lap and set her on the couch next to him. He climbed above her, straddling her, his cock right in front of her face, dark red and slick with her wetness, thick veins throbbing. He wrapped his hands around it and stroked, one hard pump, and a second.

"Open your mouth, bitch!" he said.

Bethany opened her mouth.

He shoved his cockhead into her mouth and let out a long, low groan, and ejaculated. Bethany was shocked by the force of it as his first shot struck the back of her mouth. Without thinking about the unpleasant taste and texture of it, she gulped it down as he reared his hips back, then shoved in again, and fired a second shot. "Oh you little slut," he groaned, and Bethany swallowed again, and again, until he was done.

When Bethany lay in bed that night, after Mr. Johannsen had take her home, she didn't dream of flowers. She didn't dream of little gifts, and whispered sweet nothings. She didn't dream of gentleness.

She dreamed of cocks. Big strong thick manly cocks, in her mouth and in her pussy, and even in her ass. She dreamed of men, many men, overpowering her, using her, cumming in her like she was nothing but a whore. She dreamed that she satisfied them all.

And she couldn't wait until she babysat for the Johannsens again.