Anniversary

by Kathy-Anne Niemann

This is purely a work of fiction. All characters and situations are fictional. All rights reserved. If you like it or have any pointers for me, feel free to email me. Enjoy!

It was snowing, the roads were icy, I was more than a tiny bit tipsy, and I was in real trouble with my girlfriend, Jessie.

I left work late, having to cover the weather on the six o'clock news. Usually I'm out at four, but the evening weatherman called in, and I had to do the six until the alternate showed up. After that, I went out for dinner and drinks with some of the people from the mid-day newscast. The anchors are, of course, too good to hang out with the rest of us, but the production staff and the daytime sports crew are always good for a laugh. We had some margaritas, probably more than I should have knowing my tolerance, and a great dinner. We laughed and made fun of some of our co-workers. I was having such a good time, I didn't check my watch until it was nine-thirty. I said my good-byes as quickly as I was able, threw in thirty dollars for the drinks and the food, and rushed out to the parking lot. And of course, it was snowing outside, and freezing.

I knew it was going to be cold. I mean, I spent the whole day telling the entire state what the weather was going to be like. But even I wasn't prepared for how hard it was snowing.

The drive across town was hard, at best. At worst, it was downright suicide. Normally it took no more than twenty minutes to get from the station to Jessie's house, tonight, it took twice that. Tires sliding all over the road, windshield wipers working at full speed.

My anniversary no less. I pounded myself on the head, trying to sober myself up as much as berate myself for being this late. Stupid of me to be this late. Poor Jessie. She had been waiting for this for six months. Luckily, I had put my presents to her in the trunk when I left my house this morning. If I could just make it to her house, then the only thing I would have to worry about would be smoothing things over with Jessie. Boy, was I in trouble.

Somehow, I arrived safely at Jessie's house, and the snow was in full bore. A light wind out of the southwest was slanting the fat flakes as they fell. I got in the trunk and pulled out Jessie's presents, and hurried as quickly as I could up to the front door. I knocked, going over the things I was going to say to Jessie in my head.

We met through that most glorious of inventions for pedophiles, the internet. I had been trolling around various chatrooms and discussion forums for years before I came across Jessie in a Bratz forum. We talked for a long time about stuff, got to know one another, and eventually, we started talking about sex. If she’d kissed any boys, if she ever touched herself, standard stuff.

The hard part about trolling for girls on the internet is that you never know a) that it’s actually a tween-aged girl not a sweaty fat guy just looking to get his jollies or b) that it’s not a cop you’re talking to. There are subtle ways of telling, though, and if you’re savvy enough, you can sneak around them.

Anyway, I never told Jessie what I did for a living while we were talking on the internet. As far as she knew, I was a thirty six year old single woman, tall, with long straight brown hair and hazel eyes weighing approximately 130 pounds. All I knew about her was that she was eleven, with wavy blonde hair and blue eyes, weighing in at 85 pounds. We never traded pictures, we never even saw each other until we met much later at the mall.

She told me she’d never kissed a boy, but always wanted to. When I nonchalantly asked her if she’d kissed any girls, she said she’d only kissed her older sister one time as a joke. I asked if she liked it, and she said she was okay with it.

Eventually, she started asking me questions about my sex life. I told her I liked being around women, but mostly young girls. I told her about losing my virginity when I was in high school to another girl on my cheerleading squad. It was experimentation for her, complete infatuation for me.

Our emails grew steamier, our relationship grew heavier. I asked if she ever thought about other women, and she said she had a tiny crush on one of her sister’s friends. She wrote out one of her fantasies with this girl she called Charlotte.

After a while, I asked her if she wanted to meet IRL. She said yes, and we decided to meet Saturday afternoon at the main atrium of the mall. She said she’d be wearing a red dress and I told her I’d have on jeans and a white blouse.

This was the moment of truth. I had asked her as innocently as possible if she was a cop, and she’d answered no, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to be followed by any cops. I arrived at the mall three hours before our designated meeting time and began subtly surveilling the atrium, looking for anyone talking into their cuffs or other such suspicious behavior.

Finally, Jessie arrived. I’d have known it right away even without the red dress--which was awesome looking. My little blonde angel strolled in carrying her purse, and started walking around the atrium, looking for me. No one was following her, no cop cars had pulled up in front of the mall. I waited another ten minutes before getting up the nerve to talk to her.

She recognized me right away. “You’re the weather lady!” she said, too loud. I hushed her and confirmed that yes, I was the weather lady from channel 9. Her body was gorgeous, from what I could tell, in the way that all pre-adolescent bodies are, skinny and flawless. The first hints of breats and hips, the long coltish legs, the skinny arms and fingers.

We went shopping, looking around for clothes, jewelry, whatever. She joked about wanting to buy this enormous diamond at the Zales store. I bought us Jamba Juices and we sat in the food court talking and laughing. A couple of people recognized me from the news, but that was nothing new. Everywhere I go I get recognized, no matter how hard I try to disguise myself. A few people asked if Jessie was my daughter, and I shrugged it off saying, “Something like that.”

Our first date ended a couple of hours after it began. I had to get to the station to prepare that night’s broadcast and Jessie had to get home to start her homework. We shared a lingering hug in the parking lot, and I watched as she got on her bike and pedaled off.

We met a couple more times at the mall, and our encounters became more and more heavy as they went on.

Sitting in the food court having lunch one day, Jessie asked me about other girls I’d been with. I told her about the time when I was sixteen and I would babysit this girl and her brother who lived down the street from me. The boy was fifteen and more interested in playing video games than sex, but the twelve year old girl and I used to take baths together and finger each other under the water.

I told her about when I was in college and I used to hang around this middle school across the street from campus. After getting to know this sweet little girl named Mandy, she invited me to a slumber party with her friends. We played kissing games, we tried on each others’ clothes, and by the end of the evening I was in the middle of a full blown orgy with six gorgeous little girls.

I told her about the other girls I’d met on the internet, and about the one time the “girl” turned out to be a forty year old fat guy.

We wandered through Victoria’s Secret this one time, looking at all the pretty things and at one point, Jessie pulled this pink silky lacy bustier thing off the rack, whispering in my ear that she wanted to see me in it. I rifled through the rack to find one in my size, and told her to find me some matching panties and meet me in the dressing area.

I changed quickly while Jessie waited outside. When I was done, I told her to come in.

She sat on the little stool, gazing up at me like I was sent from heaven. I posed playfully for her, giving her a good long look at my satin panty covered ass. I strutted seductively around the room, relishing the looks she was giving my body. She put a hand on my shoulder at one point and pulled me close to her. We kissed. Tiny pecks at first, more passionate lip-locks later. I pulled her body to mine, moving my hands over her tiny back. She explored my mouth with her tongue, my butt with her hands. When the kiss broke, we were so flushed we could barely breathe.

I bought the bustier outfit and the panties, adding a pair of matching nylons to clip on to the garters. I told her that I would wear this thing under my suit when I did the broadcast that night, and she grinned devilishly. She emailed me the next day and said that she watched my weather segment, and touched herself all the way through it, imagining how good I’d looked in the lingerie.

I was talking to her on the phone during my lunch break one day, and she asked if I’d like to come over and have dinner with her and her family.

“They know I’m dating an older woman,” Jessie said.

“And they’re okay with that?”

“They weren’t at first, but they’re cool with it now.”

I found this hard to imagine. It felt more like a setup, but I went anyway. The idea of spending time with Jessie was irresistible to me.

I dressed conservatively for the dinner, not knowing what to expect.

Her parents almost hit the floor when I arrived.

“We’ve never met anyone who is on TV!” her dad Roger said, impressed.

Her mom Lauren shook my hand vigorously. “We watch you every night!”

“Wow!” I said. “Well, thanks for watching!” I always say this when I meet a fan.

“Jessie was really lucky to meet you,” Roger continued.

I blushed at this. “I think I’m the lucky one,” I told him.

They invited me in and went to setting the table for dinner. “Jessie’s up in her room finishing her homework,” Roger said. “Upstairs, third door on the left. It’s hard to miss.”

“It’s okay if I go up?” I asked.

“Sure!” he said. “But dinner’s in a couple of minutes so don’t start anything you can’t finish!” He winked at me and smiled devilishly.

I went upstairs, and sure enough, it wasn’t hard to spot Jessie’s room. The door was decorated with clippings from magazines, construction paper cut-outs and a big, colorful piece of paper on which was written in enormous letters, “JESSIE’S ROOM.”

I knocked lightly, and I heard Jessie’s little voice from inside tell me to come in.

I opened the door and saw Jessie sitting at her desk. She looked up at me, and leaped out of her chair, running across the room to hug me.

I had to kneel down to get at her level, but it was so great putting my arms around her little string-bean body. We kissed briefly, and I playfully pinched her butt under her tiny jean shorts which showed off her long, coltish preteen legs. She had a pastel pink t-shirt on top, and when I put my hand on her back, I could feel the evidence of her training bra.

Her room was a disaster area, but that was to be expected. Clothes strewn about, papers lying haphazardly here and there. Dresser drawers open, closet a mess of clothes. She led me over to her bed, a daybed with white, ornate metalwork on the back. The bed wasn’t made.

She sat me down and stood in front of me while we hugged and kissed more. “I’m so glad you’re here,” Jessie said, between kisses. “I missed you so much.”

“Me too, love,” I said.

We had just started in on a deep kiss and things were starting to get kind of heavy, when we heard Lauren call us to dinner. Jessie led me downstairs by the hand and sat me next to her at the table. Roger and Lauren sat across from us, and Roger poured the wine while Lauren served pasta in red sauce.

At first, they wanted to know about my job, everyone does. I told them about the blue screen I stand in front of, I told them about the rest of the news team. My job is interesting to other people, but not much to me. I do it all day long, and when I’m not there I don’t like thinking about it.

“So,” Lauren asked at one point, “how long have you two been dating?”

Now would come the grilling, I figured. Honesty was always the best policy. “A couple of months,” I said.

“And where did you meet?”

“On the internet.”

“You met our daughter trolling for young girls on the internet?” Roger asked.

“Oh, Daddy,” Jessie scolded. “You said you’d be nice.”

“I am!” Roger protested. “I was under the impression that was very hard to do.”

“Not if you’re careful,” I said.

“So you’ve done this before,” Lauren asked.

I paused for a moment. “A couple of times,” I answered finally. “But Jessie is by far the most beautiful girl I have ever had the pleasure of being friends with.” I put my hand on her head and stroked her blond hair.

After that, the dinner went remarkably well. They drank a couple of glasses of wine, and soon Roger and Lauren seemed to be okay with having their daughter date an older woman, and by the time Jessie cleared the table, they were laughing like old friends.

When she was done with the dishes, Jessie came over and put her arms around my neck, holding me to her. I slipped my own arm around her waist and we held each other close like lovers.

Six months tonight we began dating, and my infatuation with her has never been stronger. I haven’t driven by a Junior High school or visited any of my old chat rooms. I still linger around the Disney channel and Nickelodeon, but all my fantasies revolve around my little blonde angel.

And here I was, late on our anniversary, about to screw everything up. I hoped I could salvage the situation.

Lauren answered the door, her head cocked to the side, disappointed.

"Jessie is really pissed at you," she said. She let me in and I stomped snow out of my shoes.

"I don't blame her," I told her, shaking my hair dry. "I really fucked up."

Lauren stood in front of me with her arms crossed under her breasts, eyes nasty and judging. "I'm not going to let you keep seeing my daughter if you're going to treat her like this."

I hung my head. "I know. I'm sorry. Just let me make it up to her."

"She's been looking forward to your six month anniversary for a long time. She spent all night making dinner for you. It was supposed to be a surprise."

My heart fell. My little angel. So sweet, so loving. I felt like the worst girlfriend on the planet.

"Does she still want to see me?" I asked.

Lauren nodded, but her face was still stern.

"I'm sorry again," I said. "I do love her, you know."

"I know," Lauren said. "And she loves you. But she's pissed and I don't blame her."

"I don't either," I responded. "I'm a snake."

"Okay," Lauren said. "Go on up." She paused for a moment, and then, totally, out of the blue, said, “I envy you.”

“Why?”

“It’s always been a fantasy of mine to be with a girl Jessie’s age.”

“You should try it,” I said.

“I would, but I’m married,” she answered.

“So?” I asked. “If Roger’s cool with me dating his eleven year old daughter, he could probably be talked into letting you experiment.”

She smiled distantly for a while, as if imagining what such an experience would be like. “I wouldn’t know where to begin,” she said, finally.

“I could give you some pointers,” I told her.

“I mean, I’m not a lesbian or anything, I just love the innocence of a girl that age.”

“I know,” I said. “They’re so innocent, and goofy, and funny.”

“And sexy,” she added.

“Just on the verge of womanhood.”

A pause. Finally, she asked, “Could you help me meet a girl like that?” she asked.

“Sure!” I said. “I’d be happy to!”

I took off my overcoat and hung it on a hanger by the door. I smiled at Lauren, and walked away from her. What an extraordinary woman, to let a woman my age date her daughter. I can't believe how I almost fucked up this incredible situation. Not only was she open minded enough to let her daughter date at her age, but she let her date a woman, not to mention a woman three times older than her. I'd have to make it up to Lauren, too, just to keep myself in her good graces. I made myself a mental note.

I walked quietly up the stairs, and took a deep breath before I knocked lightly on Jessie's door.

"Hey, babe," I called to her. There was no answer. I could see the light on in her room, and I could hear some music playing. "Babe, it's me," I said. "I'm really really sorry."

Again, no answer. I could almost see her in her room, sitting on the bed, waiting for me to say the right thing so she'd admit me. "I know I fucked up, hon," I said. "Please talk to me."

The doorknob turned, and the door opened a crack. She looked at me, and then swung the door opened, turning to her bed while I entered. "Hey," I said, closing the door behind me and unbuttoning my suit jacket.

"I'm so pissed at you right now," she said, sitting on her daybed, crossing her arms in front of her, much like her mother had done earlier.

Jessie was the most precious little thing I'd ever laid my eyes on. Long, blond hair that was naturally curly and came halfway down her back, enormous blue eyes and full, naturally red lips. At eleven years old, it wasn't hard to imagine what she'd look like once she grew more, but I never wanted to. Her long, coltish legs, her slender arms and impossibly skinny mid-section were more attractive to me than any fully mature woman I had ever come across. Tonight, she had on tiny jean shorts, and a tight t-shirt. She had knee socks on, and the gold necklace I had given her for our one month anniversary.

"Oh, baby," I said. "I don't blame you. I am so so sorry."

I told her about having to work late, I told her about getting dinner with the crew, and I told her about the careful drive across town. "I had to take my time," I said. "I had to be sure I made it home to you."

She wasn't buying it.

"Was she there?" she asked.

"Who?" I asked.

She rolled her eyes at me. "That Kelly."

Again, I kicked myself for ever telling Jessie about Kelly. Kelly was a high school intern at the station, and she and I had hit it off immediately. There was an immediate attraction between the two of us, and things threatened to get heavy between us for a while. I used to let Kelly hang out in my dressing room and watch me dress for the show every night. I bought her a dildo at an adult shop since she was too young to go in, and I watched her use it on herself one night after the broadcast. Honestly, though, I never touched her.

It was my turn to roll my eyes at her. "No," I said, "she wasn't."

"Do you wish she was?" Jessie asked.

"No!" I said. "She's way too old for me, sweetie." I laughed internally at how funny that sounded. A seventeen year old girl, too old for me. What a sicko. I moved across the room, picking my way through the discarded clothes, and papers, the normal accompaniments for the floor of an eleven year old girl. On the walls, posters of Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera. A movie poster for High School Musical 2, and a couple of drawings that she'd made of unicorns and ponies. One of my pink lace and satin bras hung from a corner of the mirror on her dresser. I sat down on the bed next to Jessie, putting my arm around her, and pulling the hair out of her eyes with my free hand. "Kelly doesn't mean anything to me," I said. "You know that."

"She's pretty," Jessie said. I showed Jessie Kelly's MySpace page a while ago.

"Yeah, she's pretty," I said. Most of the pictures on Kelly's MySpace were of her, lounging around on her bed, in her bra and panties. She looked up quickly at me, shock on her face. "But you're gorgeous," I said, holding her chin. "And I'm only interested in gorgeous girls."

A smile started to form on her face, but she stopped it well short of coming all the way out.

"She's got bigger boobs than me."

"So what?" I asked. "I like your boobs better."

Calling them boobs was being generous. They wouldn't be boobs for another year or so yet. But I was being absolutely truthful when I told her that I liked them better.

"She can drive a car," Jessie protested. "I can't drive a car."

"You don't need to," I said, coming my fingers through her long hair.

I could feel her defenses dropping. "I can take you anywhere you want to go."

She was quiet for a moment, but her arms were uncrossed, hands clamped between her legs. Now was the time to go in for the kill. "I love you, sweetie," I said, putting my arm around her back, resting it on her hip, and pulling her closer to me. “I would never do anything to hurt you. You’re the most important thing in my world!” I meant it, too.

She allowed herself a smile.

"Forgive me?" I asked, holding her chin between my thumb and forefinger, and gazing into her eyes.

“I guess so,” she said. “But don’t let it happen again!”

I made an X between my breasts with my finger. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

She put her arms around my neck and pulled me to her, dragging us both down to the bed as we kissed. "So what do you want to do?" she asked me.

I shrugged, trying to act coy, when all I wanted to do was make out with her, this gorgeous little thing barely a third my age. “I don't know, What do you want to do?” I asked back.

She shrugged back, swinging back and forth in front of the door.

“I have an idea,” I said. “Why don’t you take off your shirt?”

Jessie stopped moving, and looked at me with her enormous brown eyes.

After a moment, she reached down and pulled the bottom of her shirt over her head. She crumpled it up and threw it into the corner on a pile of discarded items of clothing. Standing in front of me in her training bra, looking innocent and embarrassed, I thought I was going to die. She was so sweet and perfect. So beautiful and precious.

I held my hand out. “Come here,” I whispered.

She walked close to me and I spread my legs so I could hold her tightly to me. My skirt hiked up, way up to the top of my thighs, with this action. We looked deeply into each other’s eyes for a long time while we held each other. When we kissed, it was electric and wonderful. Her tiny tongue played over my lips and I opened them, meeting her tongue with mine.

“I love you,” she said to me in a breathy voice that was really more of a whisper.

I smiled, because girls this age, you never know. She seemed sincere though, and I certainly was in love with her at the moment.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” I responded.

We kissed again, and I grabbed her hand, guiding it from my shoulder, down my front onto my breast. She seemed hesitant at first, but when she warmed up, she explored my chest with great enthusiasm.

As she was touching my breasts, I leaned in to kiss her neck as I whispered in her ear. "Do you know how much I love you?" I asked.

"Tell me," she whispered.

"As much as the moon loves the sun. As much as the night loves the day. As much as Adam loved Eve and Aphrodite loved Adonis."

I kissed her lips and neck. Up and down her carotid artery, up and down her larynx. "As much as Jack loved Diane," I said, knowing she wouldn't catch the reference. "As much as water loves wind and snow loves rain."

"Oh, God," Jessie breathed, succumbing to my ministrations. My hand moved to her back, and I traced the outline of her training bra with my fingers. Wanting to prolong the encounter, I somehow fought the urge to unsnap the thing.

"How much do you love me?" I asked. By now, my hand was on her butt, squeezing and kneading it.

"I love you like flowers," she said. "I love you like rainstorms in summer."

I swooned at her poetry. I grabbed her hand, currently exploring my breast, and guided it down my body.

"I love you like early springtime. I love you like nature."

Spreading my legs, I guided her hand to my panties, her delicate fingers playing at my most sensitive treasure.

"I love you," I whispered, "like Beethoven's third. I love you like Walt Whitman." Taking her hand in mine, I slipped her delicate, pre-teenaged fingers inside my panties, guiding them to the stiff hairs guarding my delicate flower. She curled her little girl fingers, grooming my pubic hairs.

"I love you," she said, biting my ear, "like a finger loves a vagina."

"Ooh," I breathed. "More of that."

"I love you," she said, playing her tiny fingers over my clit, "like a pussy loves a dildo."

Unable to stand it anymore, I forced my fingers down the backside of her jeans, outside her panties. "I love you," I said, "like a button loves a buttonhole."

She kissed me on the mouth, fingering my clit as she tongued me. "I love you," she said, "like a nipple loves a tongue."

I moved my hands around to the front of her jean shorts, and frantically started unbuttoning her jeans, top to bottom. "I love you," I said, "like a woman's tongue loves a little girl's clitty."

I pulled her jean shorts off her hips, and they slid to the floor. "God," she breathed, pushing her tiny body onto mine. "I want you to fuck me." She planted her lips on mine, and I couldn't tell her how much I wanted to fuck her.

I helped her unzip my skirt. I watched as she greedily removed the thing and threw it across the room. I watched and writhed as she slowly, maddeningly slowly, pulled my panties off. Once they were past my ankles and free of my feet, she twirled them over her tiny blonde head a few times, and then flung them across the room. They magically hooked over her doorknob, and came to rest there. I wondered if Lauren was listening to us on the other side of that door, with her hand in her jeans, touching her own delicate regions.

She reached behind her back and unsnapped her bra. She took her sweet time about revealing her tiny, pre-teen breasts to me. When she did, I almost came right there. Delicate, tiny pink nipples. Barely perceptible mounds of flesh. Her flat stomach and her almost non existent waist.

She leaned over, kissing my knees, my thighs, my pussy. "I want to fuck you," she said, as she moved up my belly to my breasts, "like the sun won't come up tomorrow."

"I want to fuck you," I said, pulling her mouth to mine, "like I've never wanted to fuck anyone in my entire life." I kissed her hard and full. I kneaded her butt and caressed her tiny panties. "I want to fuck you like I'll never fuck anyone again."

She slid a finger inside me. She explored my insides while I writhed in total pleasure, feeling her tiny body move against mine, feeling her lips on my nipples. She nipped at them lightly with her teeth, eliciting a much more sensual response.

We were beyond the dirty talk. We were beyond mere words, into the realm of complete ecstacy. My hand in her little girl panties, her fingers in my older woman's pussy. We breathed together, we moaned as one. When I slipped my own fingers inside her, her gasps were too much to take. I came just listening to them. But she wouldn't stop at just one. She kept digging and prodding, as I reciprocated. After a moment, I noticed a gentle, pre-teenaged finger prodding at my asshole. It pushed and searched, probing against my reflexive resistance. Eventually, I relaxed, and she slipped it in. Such pleasure I have never felt. I came hard. I clenched her to me, writhing in the throes of my pleasure.

"Happy anniversary," Jessie breathed in my ear.

I kissed her on the lips, lingering for a long time before I released her. "I love you, Jessie," I said.

"I know," she told me, pulling her fingers out of my upper and lower parts, "You told me so."