Chapter 15
"Can I touch it?"
Rod wondered if his imagination had taken over his hearing. Surely he hadn't heard this little girl say that. He stared at her. She was expecting some kind of an answer. "Sorry," he said. "I was thinking about something else. What did you say?"
"Can I touch it?" she repeated.
So he had been hearing her right. There was no doubt about it. She wanted to feel his hard-on. He was about to ask another stupid question when Rod suddenly guessed the answer. Living alone with her mother in motel and hotel rooms, this child had not been able to find too many friends of her own age. She was maturing rapidly into womanhood and, despite a couple of misadventures, had probably never had a chance to sneak off into the bushes with a boy for a game of show-and-tell. Despite an attempted rape and a bungled seduction -- and he could just guess how that pimply faced car parker had scampered off with his tail between his legs -- despite the usual complement of adventures for a pretty girl growing up in this century, little Ellie had undoubtedly never had a chance to study a cock at leisure, feel it, familiarize herself with this instrument of female salvation.
I'm a nudist.
Like hell she was. There was, Rod supposed, something to be said for nudism after all. It satisfied curiosity; it prevented the kind of fraud that involves girdles and uplift bras. If only it didn't do such a thorough job of taking all the joy and mystery out of fucking. But, he philosophized, if nudism were to prevail, he wouldn't be standing in his kitchen with a cup of coffee listening to a prick stiffening little half grown blonde asking him if she could feel his cock. Wow!
He wondered if he ought to go through the motions: ask the girl why she wanted to touch it, make her explain. What would she say? What would he gain? She didn't seem embarrassed. What the hell, she'd crawled into bed with him. He wondered what would have happened if he'd been awake when she did it. The girl was waiting for him to answer.
"Only on a reciprocal basis," he said.
"What does that mean?"
"It means I will if you will."
"Oh?" The girl sipped coffee. "Well, yeah, I guess so," she said.
Rod's rod gave a sudden exultant leap which was plainly visible even through his pants.
"Guy!" Ellie exclaimed. "It jumps just like Arthur's used to whenever he looked at me."
Rod wondered if it would act like the pimply faced cat parker's uncontrollable erection in other ways. Would he fire his load prematurely -- or would he have problems of another nature? He controlled his breathing and managed, "Do you want to see it hard or soft?"
"Guy, I don't know. Both ways, I guess."
Rod sighed. Virginity, in his opinion, was greatly over-rated. He preferred dealing with girls who knew their way around, who did not require printed instructions to 'insert tab A into slot B'. But you couldn't have everything and every girl had to start out somewhere. He remembered how patient Myrt had been with his first bungling efforts at sensuality -- how little real satisfaction she must have gotten from that first session. He hoped he had repaid her later. And if not, at least he' could pass on the touch and the torch to this willing pupil. "But I'll have to make one more rule," he explained.
"What's that?"
"No talking."
"Guy!" Ellie exclaimed. "I'm not stupid. I won't ever tell anybody."
Rod sincerely hoped and prayed she wouldn't. Not until he was dead and buried anyway. But that was not what he had meant. "I mean right now."
"Now?"
Rod sighed. "There are two kinds of people in the world," he explained, "Those who talk about it and those who do it. You'll have to decide which kind you want to be."
Ellie sipped coffee and frowned in concentration. "You mean I can touch you if I'll shut up?"
Rod couldn't have put it better himself.
Ellie stared at his crotch, which still bulged enough to ruin the set of his trousers. Clearly she was torn between two conflicting desires. So was Rod. He wanted to discourage this kind of exploration. Jesus! No girl her age could keep a secret. Sooner or later she would have to tell somebody about the wonderful thing that had happened to her and her girl friend would tell somebody else and sooner or later some mother was going to overhear and then oh Jesus, would the organic matter ever hit the fan!
But even as he made up all these high aiming resolutions Rod knew he didn't want to push the girl too far. If she wanted an education she was entitled to it. And he was eminently qualified as a teacher. And -- and shit! What wouldn't he give for a chance to put his hand between those long lovely legs, to feel and memorize the shape of those lovely volcanic cones that adorned her barely covered chest... but he had to give her a final chance to back out.
Had to give her more than that, he guessed. He didn't want this girl ever to be able to say or feel or think that he had made her do something she didn't want to do.
It was funny. He had fucked so many women in his life. But he had never gotten into one this young. He had dreamed of it often enough. Countless nights he had lulled himself to sleep with some seduction scenario. But always it had been seduction -- the slow and gentle leading of some innocent down the byways of eroticism, gently but surely teaching her one tiny little facet of sensuality after another until before she quite realized what was happening some girl had lost that most precious possession whose losing was always so much nicer than the keeping thereof -- a slow, gentle, mutually joyful and sensually exciting encounter on the dark fields of Venus.
This girl had thrown his timing all off, caused him to lose his stride completely. Girls were supposed to be innocent, sexually ignorant. Older men were supposed to be kind and gentle and answer questions and explain and do and do over and do into and -- older men were supposed to kiss them and cuddle them and blow in their ear until the poor innocent girl melted into a tiny pool of eroticism, incapable of lifting a hand to defend herself or ward off the firm phallus that was coming to change her forever from a child into a woman. God damn it! Innocent girls weren't supposed to go around asking a man if they could handle his prick!
But this girl had asked him. What was he going to do about it? Should he let her? What the hell? As some saint had once remarked, there are many roads but they all lead to the top of the mountain. If this was the road that could lead his hands up those precipitous volcanic slopes until he could put a careful thumb and forefinger over those tiny pink nipples...
"I'll tell you what," he said. "We can turn it into a game. You do whatever you want with me and I do what-ever I want with you. But no talking. Any time you want to stop, just say 'no' and we'll quit right there. And if you say anything else and take my mind off my business it'll be just the same as if you'd said no. Now how does that grab you?"
Ellie gave an enthusiastic nod and finished her coffee with a single gulp. She got up from the table and without ceremony grabbed at the bulge in his pants.
Rod thought he was going to come right then and there. Jesus! What was wrong with him? He hadn't been this excited since that day years ago with his Lady of the Lake. His cock was suddenly bolt upright, throbbing, thumping, threatening him with instant catastrophe. He strained, clenched toes and fists, gritted his teeth, and felt a tiny drop of love's elixir squeeze past the tip of his tool. He stood rigid and straining, holding his breath and waiting for the spasm to pass.
So all his soul searching and noble resolutions had come to naught. He was going to fuck this lovely little girl. Sure as hell one thing was going to lead to another and he was going to get it into her firm little ass -- if she could just remember to keep her mouth shut. He was putting down his coffee cup to dedicate both hands to that lovely little body when the phone rang.
Now who the hell? Casting a despairing look at the ceiling, he dithered momentarily between the living room and the bedroom phone. Finally he went to the latter. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he picked up the instrument. "Yes?"
"Rod?" It was a woman's voice.
"He lives here," Rod said. "Can I take a message?"
"I'm Ellie's mother; Rose's sister. Is Ellie there?"
Rod's rod dwindled past peanut size. Shit! Why couldn't she . have called an hour earlier -- or an hour later? Either way he would not have had so much trouble.. "Yes," he sighed. "Would you like to talk to her?" Without waiting for an answer, he handed the phone to the girl. Ellie stretched across him, raking him with the tips of her firm little tits.
"Hello? Oh, it's you, Momma." She listened while Momma's voice yammered in tinny unintelligibility. Rod sighed. "Are you here in town, Momma?" Ellie finally asked.
Shit squared and cubed! He had managed, Rod knew, to get the worst of two possible worlds. He had allowed this underage cock trap to seduce his seduce him! And now before he even got a chance to enjoy his final corruption Momma had showed up and was going to take little Ellie away and all he would have was the knowledge that he had not been able to obey his own common sense, that he had been no match for a fifteen-year-old, and that if she were ever to tell anybody what had gone on, whether he had ever gotten his worm into that apple or not, Rod's ass would be mud.
So what was he going to do now? Rod had a sudden sickening feeling that little Ellie had opened a door in his psyche which he would just as soon not have had opened. All his secret daydreams and wishes -- the weird and kinky little things that lurk in the dark and secret corners of every man's mind had suddenly come to light.
Shit! For thirty years he'd prided his ability as a cocks-man, smug with the knowledge that he'd never left a woman unsatisfied or unhappy. He had comforted the loneliness of spinsters, of widows and divorcees. He had brought a little happiness into their drab and wretched lives. When had he ever broken up a marriage or stolen a maidenhead or done any harm? Never.
And now he had nearly betrayed himself. What was worse, he realized, was. the knowledge that he had opened the gate for a whole new ballgame. Now that he had come this close to getting it into an adolescent, Rod knew Ellie would be gone within minutes, off to meet her mother -- god damn her!
And Rod-Christ! Was he going to turn into something on the precinct bulletin board? Would every cop in this end of town learn to keep his eye on that gray haired old fart who hung around playgrounds and schools?
I'll kill myself, Rod resolved. I'd rather be dead than turn into a clown -- a dirty old man who -- But he knew that now that he'd come this close his mind would never cease pawing at that dark corner of his psyche until he had actually done it -- until he had gotten his cock into some underage girl. Maybe then, he prayed -- maybe once he had satisfied his curiosity he could go back to happily studding his stable of regulars, pouring his tired old cock to Helen, to Rose, to Vera, to -- To little Ellie, god damn it! If he didn't get his cock into her before she left his apartment he'd -- Forget it -- that's what he'd do. Jesus. Force her, scare her, and what wouldn't she tell her momma? The lovely little blonde was still on the telephone, still listening. He wondered if she knew how deeply he was in her power. Goddam it! He was forty-five, a cocksman with thirty years experience. How could he let a kid this young, this inexperienced tie a knot in the end of his cock?
Ellie, like any teenager, seemed unaware of the effect her taut little body was having on him. Instead of going around him to sit and talk, she sprawled across his lap, bare midriff against his thighs, her firm little ass poking perkily toward his face. What would she do? What would she shriek into the telephone if he were to bend over and bite that delectable duff? She bent her knees and squirmed. As long legs came up toward his face Rod felt his cock start to rise again.
Forget it, he told himself. It's over. You're never going to get into her now. She'll hang up and she'll pack up and -- and she'll leave you high and dry and Rod felt like crying. Here was this lovely, firm little body sprawled across his lap: his dream girl come to life after lurking in his subconscious for thirty years, emerging only to tickle his tool when he was asleep. Here she was on his lap in the living, breathing, warm and throbbing flesh! And she sprawled across his lap and he didn't dare lay a hand on that lovely smooth skinned, round, firm, fully packed little body. He wondered what would happen if he were to scream.
God! If only he dared put his hands on those long, smooth, perfectly tapered thighs... He hadn't been this hardup, this frustrated since that long hot summer when he had invented countless errands to go to Elton's store and sneak still another glance at the firm filling of the new clerk's bodice.
Christ almighty, there he went again! Daydreaming about a thirty year old fuck when he had a girl who hadn't been alive half that long across his knees. She was, he abruptly realized, in spanking position. God damn her provocative little ass! He was tempted to pull those tight-fitting short shorts down and give her little ass a couple of whacks and to hell with what she might say into the telephone.
Little Ellie seemed to be settling down for a long session. Blast and damn her! Why couldn't she hang up, pack up, and get it over with. It was finished anyway. Would she scream or gasp or giggle into the phone if he were to slip his hand between those long smooth skinned legs and sample the texture of that tender, sensitive inner thigh? Oh Jesus! She was squirming again, grinding the head off his cock and if she didn't stop it he knew he was going to come right in his pants.
Still murmuring an occasional 'yes, Momma' into the phone, Ellie squirmed until she had turned clear over. Abruptly she sat up and, clutching the phone with her ear and chin, she began working on his belt buckle with both hands.