Chapter 1
Lying stark naked on my back, the heated water-bed spreading its soothing warmth up through my body, I didn't realize that the window had been opened until a cool breeze wafted across the room and started doing funny groovy-feeling things to my taut, pink-nippled tits. Shivering deliciously, I could feel my nipples rise pecker-like into tiny, twin erections. I couldn't resist the temptation to help nature along a little with the smooth palms of my hands which I began circling ever so gently across die tops of my firm little apple-shaped knockers.
Suddenly I heard die stealthy padding of feet coming across the rug and I peered into the dark-in anticipation, not alarm. I'd been praying he'd come tonight and now I was almost sure he had. A thin shaft of moonlight enabled me to realize that I was right! His even, white teeth gleamed as he quickly made his way towards me, smiling.
I sighed softly, closed my eyes in wild anticipation, and almost unconsciously began readying my hot little snatch for what I knew lay just ahead-one royal cunt stretch. Moving as if with a life of their own, the long, shapely fingers of my right hand crept over my silken young thighs and then dipped into my already oozing little box. They were just about to do a little preliminary clit-flicking when I realized that he was standing over me-shaking his head with a grin.
I understood instantly. The shake of his head meant "leave the driving to us"-and I was only too happy to oblige. My hand dropped limply at my side and my legs instinctively splayed outwards, revealing my mossy little love grotto to his increasingly lust-ridden gaze. As usual he was naked, as if I really gave a shit where he left his clothes before climbing in my window! He could walk the streets in the buff as long as he got here! A barely audible gasp escaped my lips as his lean, muscular body came into full view. As usual, he too was ready for action. His long, thick hunk of man meat stood out from his crotch like some giant tent pole. I wanted to be cool, but it was impossible. As he climbed up on the bed to join me I reached out and lunged for his prick with my small, greedy hand, trying to encircle it's girth completely (which I couldn't) and drag it towards my pulsating quim.
He gently removed my hand and lowered his head to a point just below my navel. His tongue snaked out and began licking and swirling its way closer and closer to my heat. I began to moan and writhe, but he was determined to take things at his speed, despite my obvious desire to have him bury his meat inside me as quickly as possible.
So I resigned myself to suffer the prolonged ecstatic torture he was grinningly subjecting me to. As his tongue suddenly slid into my eager hole, my tight little ass began spasming up from the bed in uncontrollable jerks and heaves. I almost threw him off and out of me, but he hung in like a veteran bronc rider. His oral member stabbed its way deeper and deeper into my cunt and his work paid off in spades as my love juices trickled down from the innermost recesses of my hot channel, over and around his wildly lapping tongue and onto my flexed thighs.
My ever increasing moans and movements against his face fired his lust even more. He began using his now rigid tongue like a prick-thrusting in and out with such speed and frenzy that it literally made my head spin. "Yeees! Oh, yes! More ... more! Faster ... arghhhhh!!!" The words and animal sounds leaped from my mouth as he whipped my pussy into a seething vat of clenching muscles and hot, frothy vaginal juices. My brain screamed silently as I approached my first climax. "Ahhhh! DON'T STOP!!!"
Suddenly the door opened and light poured into my room. Looking down I saw my fingers thrusting like pistons into my wildly climaxing cunt. Another dream! Still barely conscious of what I was doing I whipped the sheet over my quaking body.
And just in time! Standing in the doorway, as though a little hesitant to enter, was my darling mother. She switched on the overhead light and I instinctively shielded my eyes from the unwelcome glare. "She knows what I've been doing in my sleep," I thought to myself as she walked quickly towards me, "but she's so damned uptight in her own head that shell insist on playing out that dumb little charade of hers."
I managed a little smile as she bent over me and put an "anxious" hand on my forehead. "It seems like you've had another one of your terrible nightmares, Cindy darling." Cindy darling! Christ! When is she going to face up to the fact that while I might be a little girl chronologically, my body and my sexual desires-especially my desires-are fully developed? When is she going to face the fact that age doesn't always determine when a person is going to come alive sexually or mature physically?
I know that, as far as my dear, sexually hung-up mother is concerned, I am simply a fifteen-year-old girl-nothing more, nothing less. If it wasn't for the fact that I know she'd fall to pieces if I told her the truth about myself, I'd have done so six months ago when my full sexual awakening took place. But, far be it from me to be the one to pull the plug on her neurotic inability to face the truth.
"Yes, mom. Another nightmare. But it wasn't all that terrible this time." Of course it wasn't! I managed to come before she came rushing in to save her "little baby" from whatever evil monsters she pretended I was busy fighting off. Thank Peter for small favors!
She pursed her lips and gave me a peck on the cheek. "Now you just go back to sleep. Everything will be alright. Just remember, your father and I are just down the hall-so there's nothing to be afraid of." The only thing I was afraid of was what was going on down that hall-which was precisely nothing. Poor Papa Jax (the nickname I gave my dad when I first learned to talk). I'd watched, crouched in the hallway, as he pleaded with her to "loosen up" and enjoy sex.
As far as I could tell, my folks used to ball like crazy until a couple of years ago. I mean, when I was a little kid I could hear them fucking their brains out and a few times I even got up enough nerve to watch through their slightly open door. But then, suddenly, it seemed as though my mother just turned off, and my father, try as he might, couldn't get her to say why. He'd talk patiently and gently to her until he was blue in the face and finally, once in a while, she'd say something like "Oh, alright Jax! If it means that much to you." Then he'd climb aboard and bang away at her unresisting twat while she just lay there with her legs spread and her eyes closed.
But I figured that things would have to change and they did. About six months ago Papa Jax started staying out really late. My mother never asked where he'd been-and he never volunteered any information. But the pleadings behind their bedroom doors stopped-at just about the time my dreamy, sleeping finger-fucking began. At times I would wake up in the throes of a violent climax and wish it was Papa Jax instead of my fantasy-fucker who was slamming his way into my aching hot snatch. I never felt any guilt about imagining myself balling Papa Jax, because, I guess, my love for him was so great that I had a deep, almost unconscious desire to give him what my mother apparently couldn't.
I had never mentioned it to him, but as I watched my mother leave my room I had the strange feeling that it wouldn't be too long before I would. Smiling to myself I slipped my hand under the sheet and began idly toying with my still unsatisfied pussy. As I massaged my twitching clit I closed my eyes and gently fingered myself into a nice, quiet climax-my head swimming with visions and dreams of Papa Jax cutting into me like a long, glistening knife into hot butter.
And like my mother always said: "If you wish hard enough, honey, your dreams will all come true." "You bet your ass they will, mommy!" I thought, drifting off into sleep.