A Reluctant Pedophile

by RiskyBizAR

Let me begin by stating that I have never considered myself a lesbian, or even Bi. In addition, the concept of pedophilia was abhorrent to me. Like many young women of my generation the idea of making it with one of my girlfriends in my pubescent years was one that I had considered, but was too timid to test, and frankly the opportunity never presented itself. Oh, I knew of friends, or more accurately friends of friends that were said to be lesbian. When the sleepover discussions of those girls came up, the conversation usually was couched in the terminology of either outright derision, complete denial or distant curiosity. There were a couple of my buddies that had what seemed to be more thorough knowledge of the act than seemed plausible without some prior participation, but if they had engaged in that behavior they were in denial publicly. As for pedophilia, that was reserved for those shadowy men in windowless vans offering candy and kittens to children on the playground. Never women, and never in any acceptable or innocent context. At age 26 my experiences sexually have been pretty limited, and my exploration of my sexuality has taken a back seat to raising my daughter, Amy.

Likely one of the major reasons my exploration of Sapphic love never went further had to do with a boyfriend I met when I was 14. He was older, and actually a friend of the family. My relationship with Carl is the topic of another story, but it is fair to say that the relationship gave rise to the situation I am going to share with you today. That relationship resulted in Amy. I was 14 when Carl impregnated me, and 15 when Amy was born. Although I love Amy without reservation, it goes without saying that her appearance on the scene changed the course of my life dramatically. Carl has been very good to me, and even married me, although that took court approval. (yet another story)

After Amy's birth in my freshman year of high school, there is no denying that life became more difficult. Dating was out of the question. While my parents were supportive and understanding, they drew the line at watching Amy while I played. school district programs to support teen moms helped as well, and Carl bore the financial responsibility and provided emotional support that made it possible for me to finish high school. We married in my sophomore year, and Carl was the only man I had more than a passing interest in.

Fast forward to the present. I am 26 now, and find time to take classes at the local community college. Carl works a good job so I don't need to work outside of the home. We are not wealthy by any measure, but we get by ok. My focus is on my daughter and my classes. That is still pretty all consuming, and I cannot imagine a girl in my situation that has to work a job to feed a family as well!

Amy is a beautiful young girl. She is 11 now and in the 7th Grade. She's petite, weighing in at just over 70 pounds and has her fathers beautiful blonde hair. Unlike her father, that hair extends almost to her hips. Since I know you are interested, her chest is still quite boyish, although her nipples are pronounced and the soft rise of her forming breasts are becoming apparent. In that regard she is pretty much on par with most of her friends as far as I can tell. I see them changing into their bathing suits and trying on clothes and they range from board straight to clearly developing, so in that context Amy is middle of the pack. Amy is fairly casual about her nudity around me, but more shy around her beloved daddy. Not having the inclination to make a thorough inspection I would say that the finest of blonde fuzz is starting to show on her mons. Not enough to shave a bikini line, but she started early shaving her legs.

The experience that prompted me to write today arose last Saturday night. Amy was having a couple of friends stay the night. Kirsten and Shari are probably Amy's best friends, and are frequent guests. They are in the same Scout troop as Amy, and share many of the same classes in school. I tease them about being the three musketeers. They share their pre-teen interests in boys, music and typical teenage drama. Last Saturday I had shuttled them all to a movie, then out for pizza afterwards. We got back to the house late, and prepared to settle in for still more movies and snacks as is typical of the "all-nighter" sleepovers that they frequently have. That usually means they chatter and carry on until two or three in the morning and end up falling asleep with the movie running. I am generally up as well, providing adult presence and keeping snacks coming. Normally I will fade away when they are settled in for the long haul. Saturday, however, after slipping off to our bedroom and stripping off my clothes I considered my options. Carl was long since asleep in our bedroom, and there was no way I was going to fall asleep with his snoring. Love him dearly, but those nights he is deep in the lumber-yard sawing logs it is hard to get to sleep. I pulled on my favorite robe and wandered off into Carl's office to stretch out on the couch to see what was on TV. Although I was exhausted from the long day, my body would not relax.

Finally I decided to have a smoke. I rarely smoke at all now. I may have 1 or 2 cigs in a month, but late at night, when I can't fall asleep it sometimes helps. It was probably after two o'clock and I anticipated that the probability of getting busted by my daughter was pretty slim. My last check of them showed some legitimately heavy eyelids. I cracked a window and leaned back to relax and enjoy. One of the endless re-runs of toddlers and tiara's was on, and I was vacantly watching that as I relaxed. As I finished my cigarette and leaned back the door to the office cracked open. I was surprised to see Kirsten slip in. As is the custom in our house for sleepovers, she was in t-shirt and panties. In her case the t-shirt was an oversized one, ending about mid-thigh

"Hi Mrs. B" she said, "Can't sleep?"

"No sweetie, why are you still up?"

"I can't sleep either, and the movie is over. The other girls are all asleep too, so I got bored"

I offered Kirsten a spot on the couch, which she happily accepted, pulling an afghan over her long legs. Kirsten is one of the larger girls in Amy's group of friends. Large is not a kind euphemism for overweight in this case. Kirsten is taller than the others, almost my height, and most of her seems to be legs. From what I have seen she is probably more developed in the chest than the others too, but still not large enough to make the boys snicker about her or make up stories. Her figure was pleasing, and beginning to show some curves at her chest and hips. I noted this not in a sexual context, at least not consciously, but the way any parent may make an observation about their kid's friends.

"My mom and dad watch this show sometimes. I think it's 'cause daddy likes looking at the little girls in skimpy costumes..." she offered.

I just smiled. I know some people take this pageant stuff seriously, but I am convinced half the audience for these shows are men sneaking a peek at little girls. Closet pedophiles at best, possibly predators.

"I'm sure your daddy only watches out of kindness to your mom, and not because he lusts after little girls."

"I don't know Mrs. B, some of those outfits are pretty small, and their make-up makes them look pretty adult. I think he likes them as much as mom does!"

I rolled that thought over in my mind a bit, considering the context of the comment and the likelihood that Kirsten did not realize what that suggested about her mom. I let it go.

I offered Kirsten a cup of hot chocolate to help her relax, but she politely declined.

"Sometimes when momma can't fall asleep I rub her back, that helps her. Want me to rub your back Mrs. B?"

I considered this offer a few moments. It seemed a little awkward, but I have to admit the idea of a gentle massage was appealing.

"Ok Kirsten, but only if you stop calling me 'Mrs.' You can call me Marci."

"Great Mrs. um, I mean Marci, roll over and I will start with your shoulders."

I complied, carefully and modestly holding my robe together as I rolled over.

Kirsten started working on my shoulders immediately, and it felt great. She was clearly experienced, but my thick robe was not helping her. Finally she said "Marci, your robe is in the way, can you take it off your shoulders?"

Having had professional massages before, and anticipating the skilled massage that Kirsten had already showed me she could deliver, I carefully slid my robe off my shoulders without exposing myself to her, and she helped adjust it so it covered my butt and legs. Kirsten then launched into what I have to say was one of the best massages of my back and shoulders I had ever had. Her touch was strong, but delicate, hitting all my trigger points and working like magic. I could feel the tension flow out of my body as she worked over my shoulders and neck. Her hands rolled along my spine all the way down to the edge of my robe and I felt like I was turning to jelly.

"Roll over Mrs. B, and I will do your feet and legs."

I was too relaxed by that point to correct her on the name, and rolled over without question. I had a fleeting thought of my tits being fully exposed to this young girl, but it was only a fleeting thought, easily dismissed by considering that she possessed the same equipment, and if she was accustomed to giving her mom massages, they would be no shock to her. Kirsten took no obvious note and moved to the foot of the couch where she began working on my left foot, carefully working each toe, the sole of my foot and then my ankle. As she worked I continued to drift off, nearly falling asleep. She lifted my foot and worked my ankle and lower leg up to my knee. She was kneading my calf with my foot balanced on her upper thigh. It barely crossed my mind that with my leg lifted like that Kirsten had a nice view up my robe to my trimmed pussy. Kirsten set my foot down with my left knee leaning against the back of the couch, and began her ministrations on my right foot and calf, following the same routine. Sometime while she was working on my right leg I guess I drifted off to sleep. The relaxation and sensation was delicious and complete.

When I drifted back to consciousness I was suddenly aware that Kirsten had worked her way up my leg and was massaging my upper thighs. I could tell from the coolness on my nether regions that my robe was no longer covering my cootchie. I laid very still and did not give away that I was waking up. I let my eyes slip slightly open and saw that Kirsten had turned around with her back to me as she was working on my thighs. Her t-shirt had ridden up over her backside, and I had a view of her beautiful ass and her young quim exposed to me. I was only a little shocked at that point to know that she was without panties as well.

I was torn between what was a great feeling and the sudden wrongness of my appreciation of her youthful cunt. Even though I had seen Amy's as a baby, and in passing more recently, I had not had a close view of hers or any other, let alone another of one so youthful. Kirsten continued to massage my thighs, rubbing slowly and smoothly in long strokes. I could feel my pussy moistening as her strokes pulled it first one way, then another. From my vantage point I could see a glisten of moisture on her thin pink slit as well. She was beautiful. Her tight pink rosebud and a nearly hairless bridge of soft flesh then the dewy opening at the closest end of her slit. Her small labia were swelling and opening up slightly to match mine as she leaned out over my legs, then drew back closer to me. It felt so wrong that I was becoming so wet, but I was mesmerized by the scene of her growing wetness. She was becoming as turned on as I was. Her strokes on my legs grew closer and closer to my pussy until her thumbs were gently grazing the softest hollows of my inner thighs and touching my outer lips. Her strokes slowed, and when she stopped she had a thumb on either side of my pussy. I felt her gently pull me open, ever so slowly. She was rewarded by a visible dribble of my juices along my cunt and down over my asshole. She sighed when she saw that, and I could see her cunny tense and relax, resting more open than before. She reached a finger back and stroked the length of her slit, exhaling softly as she did. I could not restrain a low sigh myself, but she was unaware. She took the same finger and timidly reached out and brushed her juices directly on my engorged clitty. This time I moaned audibly, causing her to look back. I kept my eyes barely shut, and feigned sleep. Seemingly satisfied that I was sleeping she retuned her attention to my cunny. She alternated running her finger along her own quim and then along mine. We were both opening up and there was no denying we were both becoming more agitated. Finally Kirsten slid a finger gently inside me and began slowly frigging her finger in and out of my now wide open hole. I could no longer restrain myself and reached up, gently running my finger over her slit. She started a bit, but never looked back, maintaining a steady pace in and out of my now sopping pussy, gently kneading my clit on each back stroke, building my orgasm like a slow burning fire. For my part I began matching each stroke. I quickly found her intact hymen, and used that as my guide to slip along her slit, over her clitty and gently massage her hymen on each backstroke. I reached out my other hand and used it as well, lubricating it well and using it to tease her tight little rosebud of an asshole, I gently pressed against it, keeping my finger lubed with her juices until it relaxed and let my finger slide in. I could feel her tension rising along with mine as we played each other like fine instruments, matching strokes, delving into our darkest holes and all the while moaning softly. We came nearly simultaneously, with her orgasm beginning moments before my own thunderous orgasm, no doubt triggered in intensity by hers.

Kirsten collapsed into my lap, her beautiful face inches from my now throbbing cunt, and hers equally close to mine. We laid like that for a matter of what seemed like hours, but what was undoubtedly minutes, appreciating each others orgasmic flowers. Slowly she slid off my lap and onto her knees on the floor. From that position she gently arranged my robe over me, covering my feet with her afghan. She rose and moved up close to my face, gently kissing me for the first time.

"Goodnight Mrs. B"