Chapter 2
They walked off together down Eighth Street. Robin was at a loss for words. He'd learned all the right things to say under most circumstances but this was a new situation. Never in his life had he been propositioned by a girl. Never had he even been successful in picking up a girl and gaining her complaisance in so short a time. What could he say to the girl? He was afraid that anything he might say would mark him as somehow inexperienced in these ways of the metropolitan sex-hungry crowd. The weather was clearly out. So was talking about her job or asking where she lived or where she came from.
Robin decided to maintain his reputation for silence. His mind went off on a trip of its own. His senses took in as much as possible for the girl walking so casually at his side. She wasn't tall-she barely reached his shoulder. Her hair was long and thick and fell down to below her shoulders. Her forehead was high and rounded-rather like her breasts, which were high and rounded too but in a demure sort of way, just as her lips presented a feeling of demureness despite a certain full sensuality. He was dying to get his hands under the sweater and on to those luscious looking tits, and another hand up those sheer nylons she was wearing and up her long thighs and under that little tweed skirt that hardly hid anything.
"We'll get milk here," the girl said suddenly and turned into a small delicatessen. They had to wait in line while various student and hippie types were getting orders of sandwiches and coffees to go, and in the relative dark the girl turned to face Robin and moved close to him, pressing the full length of her body against his. Robin felt his cock give an immediate twitch as it started to rise out of the relative inactivity of the previous five minutes. His cock became hard, still slightly bent inside his zipper, and bulged out against the girl's belly. She noticed it, smiled, reached down, opened the zip, and took hold of his cock.
Would this girl never cease to surprise him?
Obviously not. He found his right arm held by the wrist and then his hand was guided, up past a stretch of nylon, under a short length of silk-lined tweed and against a silk-covered mound of flesh. Robin needed no encouragement to explore further. His fingers slipped under the elastic of her bikini panties, groped and stroked their way, touched a resilient mound of curly hair, passed on, found moistening lips, pushed and entered.
The girl Drought her face up to his and Robin made as if to kiss, but she opened her lips only to whisper: "Put them all in, get your whole hand in, push it all the way in, make me come."
The line in front of them was shortening as customers received their bacon-and-pastrami on rye or eggs-cheese-and-tomato on white. "Go on!" the girl urged. "Bring me off here. I can't wait till we get home." She pushed her body even tighter into Robin's so that his hand was jammed up her dripping cunt up to the knuckles. Her breasts projected into his midriff, her thighs were between his as she jerked her torso and her ass in time with the grasping, groping of his fingers in her cunt.
"What's yours?" the counterman in a white paper hat and stained apron asked.
"Half-and-half, a pint, keep on, don't stop, I'll be ready soon." Some of the words were directed at Robin, some at the counterman who didn't quite seem to understand.
"Here's your pint of milk, lady," he said. "What was the other thing you wanted?"
But the girl was too deeply engrossed in what was happening to her. She was thrusting her haunches wildly against Robin. Her lips were on his as she greedily sucked in sensations from his tongue and lips. Her cunt was wide open but she had tight muscles in it that gripped Robin's fingers firmly, as if she was trying to milk those, too. She was in a positive frenzy as she thrust herself backwards an d forwards against Robin's body.
The delicatessen wasn't in complete darkness and the girl's activity certainly couldn t have passed unnoticed, but Robin was too excited and engrossed to pay much attention to what others might be thinking. The girl obviously knew the place and if she thought it was a good place to get jerked off, she must Know what she was doing.
"Hey lady, your milk. I'll put it on the counter here. When you're quite finished what you're doing...." and he went on to serve the next customer.
The juices were dripping down Robin's hand from the greedy cunt he was groping, and the cunt started getting up a rhythm of its own as the muscles tightened and contracted spasmodically. The girl gave a moan, her body shuddered, she gave his straining cock a final hard squeeze, and then slowly she subsided. She kept clinging to Robin a few seconds longer, then gradually she relaxed, her well-lubricated cunt disgorged Robins fingers, she took her hand of his cock, pushed it back into his fly and zipped him up. At the same time Robin withdrew his dripping hand from inside her panties, raised her miniskirt slightly as he took away his hand and wiped it unceremoniously on the back of her sweater, and they pulled apart.
"Give him a quarter for the milk," the girl said aloud to Robin, and continued in the same breath: "I like the feel of your cock. Mmmmm! Can't wait to taste it. Now we have some cream for the coffee, good." She raised her voice only slightly to say "Bye!" to the counterman and customers of the deli, picked up her carton of milk and left the store with Robin.
Robin's mind was in a whirl. He kept glancing at the girl. "God!" he thought. "I don't even know her name and I don't know now I can ask her now." She seemed so pure and innocent, he couldn't figure it out. They walked on, together, unconcerned, not even with their arms around each other. It all seemed so unreal. The warm afternoon sun of late spring beat down on them, emphasizing reality with its harsh lines, but for Robin, nothing seemed real. They crossed Eighth Street together, turned up Mercer Street, continued for half a block, then the girl groped in her purse for a bunch of keys, selected one, and opened the street door of a dingy loft building. They started to walk up the stairs, but before they'd gone more than a few steps, the girl suddenly plunged for Robin's fly, pulled down his zipper, groped for his cock and balls, bent down quickly to take his still soft cock into her mouth, rolled it around, fingered his balls, then straightened up and continued walking up the stairs with a complete air of unconcern.
The cool air hit Robin in the balls and he bent to do up his zipper but delayed it for a few moments,, luxuriating in the sense of freedom it gave him to walk up the public stairs of the loft building with cock and balls hanging out.
At the top of the stairs, dimly lit by a grimy skylight, the girl got out another bunch of keys and undid four locks in quick succession, then she pushed open the heavily buttressed door, held it for Robin, let him enter, and closed it after him, locking the door from the inside with the same care she had used unlocking it from the outside.
"She must want to make sure I'll stay to fuck her,"
Robin thought to himself, and the thought made him rather proud.
It was dark in the loft. If there were any windows, Robin could not see them. The walls seemed covered with various exotic hangings and strange implements whose purpose he could not guess. Other implements were hanging from the ceiling. Light, when the girl had turned a few switches, came from behind other-worldly shades and covers. There were paintings of either an abstracted oriental school of art or of an ultra-modern surrealistic bent. A button pressed by the girl flooded the loft with exotic drum music in an incessant beat that worked its way out of the confines of a hidden speaker system.
The girl, having made various arrangements and adjustments in her room, the while leaving Robin standing aimlessly by the entrance, now returned. She looked, if anything, even innocent and more wholesome than she had when he had first met her at the outside cafe in Greenwich Village all of...could it be? .... just twenty minutes before.
She had changed her clothes. Now she looked like a little girl, twelve perhaps, in what might have been a tiny flounced party-dress or a seductive nightgown. It was scooped low at the top, shirred around the shoulders, pinched with elastic at the waist, and ended a bare six inches below the waist, a flimsy something in a transparent lime-green nylon, that could not cover the tiny bikini panties of the same fabric she wore underneath. On her feet, incredibly, she wore a little girl's patent-leather shoes, shining black. In her hair she wore a big bow.
And on her face she wore the most wanton, most abandoned, most lustful expression a scheming twelve-year-old could wear.
As he stared, with mounting tension and desire, she waved her hips from side to side. She ran her hands down her thighs, then up again, displaying the length of her legs, the tiny bikinis, transparent so that the dark hair around her cunt showed through. She pulled at her panties, pulled them up tight, splitting the mouth between her cunt lips, emphasizing the cleft of her cunt opening. He could even see the thin green fabric moistening as she ran her fingers over it around the cunt lips. With her skirt raised, she rubbed her smooth flat belly, pressing her hands on it, finger tips together, then slowly and lasciviously drawing them apart and up.
For a moment he thought that she was going to take the dress off, but not yet. She undulated her body like a belly dancer of the Orient, then she slowly lowered her hands again, made an "O" with them around her cunt, stroked her way down her thighs-and smiled at him with her look of innocent depravity.
He wanted to rape this child-woman. He wanted to get her on the ground and tear off her childish clothes and shove his prick into her childish, teasing mouth, shove it in until she choked. He wanted to tear those ridiculous childish and innocent-teasing clothes off her back and beat her with his belt until she was black and blue and screaming for his mercy. He wanted to beat her and pinch her and kick her until the blood flowed and the look of innocence was wiped off her childish face. He wanted to shove his cock up her baby twat until it came out of the other side. Was that what she wanted, he wondered, because if it wasn't, she'd be getting it soon, anyway, if she kept up like this.
She let her skirt drop-as far as it could which wasn't very far, and faced him, her weight on one foot, looked at him with little-girl eyes, put the tip of a finger to her lips and said, in a little-girl whining voice; "You haven't asked me yet what my name is."
Oh, God! How he wanted to ram something-anything--his fist, his cock, a lump of shit-down this innocent girl's throat. He'd come here to fuck, not to play games, and certainly not to be teased.
"All right," he started to say, but his voice was strangely hoarse and choked so that he could get the words out only with great difficulty. "So what's your name, then?"
She turned on one leg, put her weight on the other, inclined her head to one side and lisped: "I'm Elithabeth."
"Pleased to meet you. Now stop this game and let's fuck!"
She continued as if she hadn't heard him: "But everybody calls me Lithbeth."
"I said, let's fuck!" He wanted to make his voice sound authoritative but he couldn't get his command past the constriction in. his throat with any degree of conviction."
"What'th your name? You haven't told me yet."
"Robin."
"Can I call you Robby?"
"No, I'm Robin. And stop this game. You're not a little girl. Let's fuck and get it over with. Wasn't that what you wanted?"
She struck a hurt pose and pouted.
"You're nasty. If I'd known you'd be nasty I wouldn't have invited you here to play with me. I thought you were nithe and we could play together and have fun."
She hung her head and continued undulating her hips. Then she cupped her full breasts, one in each hand, and pushed them up and out.
"You think I'm just a silly little girl, don't you? Well, I'm not. I'm a big girl. My mummy says I'm too big to walk around without a bra. Do you?"
"Cut out the silly game!" He started taking a step-towards her to put action into his words, but something held him frozen to the ground.
She rolled her breasts around and around in her hand, swiveling her hips and looking at him in her evil-innocent way. "My breasts are big, aren't they? You'd like to suck them, wouldn't you?"
He nodded, voicelessly.
"I bet you'd rather suck my breasts than a lollipop, wouldn't you?"
"Lollipop!" it was all he could get out.
She smacked her lips. "Lollipops! Yes, I love thucking lollipops." I'll give you a lollipop!" Robin roared. "Here, take this!"
He had unzipped his fly and his cock, red and angry, shot out at the same instance. It was a big cock with a large velvet tip of a purplish shade, and along its length bluish veins stood out and gave it a slightly knobbly appearance. Released from the restraining folds of Robin's pants, the cock quivered and throbbed.
Lizbeth opened her eyes into huge circles of surprise. "Lol...." she started saying and then the muscles in her throat were working feverishly and her tongue rolled over her lips and she took one step forward and then another and another as her knees weakened and she fell to her knees in front of him. Her hands seized his cock and her mouth swallowed it hungrily.
"That's the lollipop for you," Robin said, a smile of satisfaction on his face. Her mouth was an experienced one. It formed a mild vacuum that sucked in the skin and the tissues. She thrust her head backwards and forwards, rocking on her butt, and she alternately took in the whole length and let it slip out almost to the very tip.
"Not too fast!" Robin admonished. He didn't want to come too quickly. He had other plans for this weird chick.
She slowed down her rapid movements and instead used her tongue, slowly and sensuously, working her way in lapping, spiral movements with the tip of her tongue along the entire length of his cock. At the tip she took her time and with the very point of her tongue she penetrated into the tiny cleft from which his piss and his sperm make their issue. She moved her tongue slowly around the ridge of the crown, where the velvet tip swelled to its maximum and then fell away to the smoother, softer skin of the shaft. She tongued and laved him all along the shaft, her tongue joggling over the knobbly projections of the veins; she went along to the very end, not stopping where the hairs tickled her nose, then worked her way back again to his swollen tip.
And then suddenly she stopped. She let the tip of his cock slip wetly out of her pursed mouth, jumped to her feet, took a few steps back, looked at him coyly, cupped her breasts, smoothed her dress down, then lifted it up, like a little girl about to curtsey.
"Do you want to suck my lollipop?" she asked.
She wiggled her hips, then she thrust her pelvis forward, the lips of her cunt, under the thin covering of her bikini panties.
Robin had been angered when she so unceremoniously had abandoned his cock and gotten to her feet. He wanted to curse, perhaps even to beat and kick her, but the seductiveness of her pose overcame his angry intent. His mouth drooled.
"You'd like to suck my lollipop, wouldn't you?" she asked again, her lips and her posture inviting.
Her fingers worked away through the nylon at her crack. The crack deepened and widened between the "O" she created between the joined thumbs and forefingers of her hands. The middle finger of her right hand kept stroking at the dark valley. The moisture oozing from deep in her cunt stained the panties a darker shade, a stain that spread as she excited herself and the juices flowed ever more strongly.
"I have a lovely lollipop," she announced. "It's tasty, too." She tugged at the elastic by her right leg and pulled it up her thigh and over to the left, so that first the dark golden hair at her triangle became visible and then the dark pink flesh of her cunt lips. She thrust herself even more forward and upward and then she dug three fingers up her twat and rolled them around and when she took them out again, all dripping and glistening with her juices, she stuck them into her mouth and sucked, first all three together and then, as if to get the last drop of her cunt juice into her hungry mouth, she sucked each finger, from its root slowly to its tip.
"Yum!" she said. "It's tasty. I bet you'd like to lick my lollipop."
She kept sucking her fingers and now the fingers of her other hand dug deeply into her twat. Robin was beside himself with desire. He moved forward, as if hypnotized.
Lizbeth had dug both hands into her twat and now it lay open and exposed, the deep pink lips glistening.
Robin was down on his knees. He grabbed the cheeks of her ass in his hands to bring her cunt even further up and forward, and he planted his mouth right onto her crack where her own fingers had pulled aside the fabric. He worked his lips eagerly over her lower ones and grabbed tight at the flesh and the nylon caught up in his grasping hands. His nose buried itself in the child-woman smell of her triangle of hair.
Lizbeth groaned and ground her hips in ecstasy under his stimulation. He opened his mouth and pushed his tongue into the opening of her twat. He wanted to get his whole face inside her, his head, his entire body, shove all of himself up into her eager, yawning cunt.
His hands worked their way under the elastic at the back of her bulging ass, and found the crack between the cheeks. His fingers inched forward until they reached the rear edge of her cunt. Now he worked at her simultaneously from front and back, with his mouth and with his fingers. His cock was throbbing between his legs, but his thoughts were not on his cock but on his insatiable yearning for the dripping, eager cunt flesh of this strange child-woman.
And then, while he was sucking at her cunt and licking deep inside it and titillating her cunt from the back with his fingers, the girl started coming with long, involuntary thrusts of her whole body and a groaning and sighing that came from deep inside her.