Chapter 6

Elizabeth tells her story:

It happened when I was twelve. He was, let me see, he must have been about thirty-eight.

We were away at our summer place, early in the vacation. There was a pool that we shared with some other vacationing families and I was splashing around in it, just having fun.

He was in the water, too. We raced each other in the water and he dunked me and he let me dunk him. A lot of contact. It was fun. I'd always admired him in his masculine way and I'd even had dreams about him, I felt very disgusted when I had dreams like that. But I liked it when he held me like this. It made me feel a real woman.

My mother and my sisters had been at the pool, too, out they had to go into town to make some purchases and get my little sister's braces adjusted on her teeth and do a few more things and I knew they wouldn't be home before dark. There was food in the refrigerator and my mother had told me to me to make myself something for lunch and for dinner, and for my dad too, if he was around.

They'd gone now, and I was playing and splashing in the pool by myself, and at every opportunity I got him involved in my game, too. We danced and jumped some in the water, then I asked him to let me sit on his back while he waded and then swam, then he took me on the middle diving board, me sitting on his shoulders, my legs around his neck and over his shoulders, and his head shoved tight against my pussy. It was fun and felt good and I tried to pretend to myself it was all innocence. He dived off the board with me sitting on his shoulders and we separated in mid-air. He came up first and I came up after him-but I made sure to surface between his legs, and I forced my way, starting at my head and ending with my whole body and eventually my feet, all the way through his spread legs. He tried closing his legs on me a few times as I was coming up and I can tell you, that felt really good when he clasped me.

I told him I wanted to practice swimming under water and asked him to stand with his legs spread and I'd swim through them. We did that a few times, each time he closed his legs on me so that I had to squirm through, and I felt myself tingle all over held between his thighs. When we'd done that a few times we reversed position and now I made him do the same thing and I clamped my thighs on him. That felt even better!

So we did that a few times, changing positions every few turns and I felt myself getting more and more excited, but the excitement had another effect on me too, by draining the blood from vulnerable parts of my body, and I started shivering.

"We'll either have to give it up and sun ourselves on the grass," he said, 'or else we'll have to go in and get the proper equipment."

I didn't want to give up the fun in the water and I trusted him implicitly.

"Let's not stop swimming yet," I pleaded "Get the equipment or whatever it is." I had no idea in my mind what he meant.

"Come," he said and climbed out of the pool. I watched his broad-framed body with admiration. I shook the water out of my hair and followed him, our footsteps leaving wet traces on the flagstone path and the water running in rapid drips from between our legs. I held the tip of his hand as we walked under the shady trees the few hundred yards to the cabin. He opened the door for me and held it while I went in, then he shut it and, I noticed rather surprised, locked it.

He walked straight to his bedroom, his feet making dark wet imprints on the rug. I followed directly behind him.

The drapes were closed in his bedroom. He switched on a bedside lamp that threw subdued light on the richly furnished room.

"Here!" he said and threw me a large fluffy towel. "Dry yourself on this and slip out of your swim suit. Don't worry, I won't peek."

He got himself another towel and I watched with rising pleasure as he dried the water off his broad shoulders and his narrow waist and then, with a towel around his waist, he slipped out of his bathing trunks and I watched as he dried himself carefully between his legs. He moved his cock and his testicles to one side as he dried the other side of his crotch, and then he moved them back over, and dried that side. His cock, as he moved it, seemed fairly big. Not really big, but big enough.

He knotted the towel around his waist and went to a closet. I dried myself, slipped out of my swim-suit slowly, hoping to delay the moment, so that he would catch me naked when he turned around. The idea of letting him see my naked appealed to me. I wasn't any longer the little girl he thought I was. I was big now, over twelve, I'd started menstruating, there was quite a lot of hair on my pussy and my breasts were getting a good shape. I'd soon be wearing a B-cup-if I felt like wearing a bra rather than let my breasts poke their natural way out of my sweater.

My timing was good. I was standing there stark naked, my body silhouetted to perfection against the lamp, when he turned around from his searching in the closet and faced me.

I gave him an impudent smile and slowly, sensuously, continued rubbing the towel through my crotch, holding an end of it in each hand and pulling it across my cunt, from front to back.

"Oh!" he said startled. "I'm...."

"What is it?" I asked I was already then capable of wearing that little-innocent-girl look that drove you crazy, and I knew how to put seduction into it, too. I pretended I didn't know what startled him.

"I thought you'd be covered." Pause. "You know, you're getting to be quite a big girl. You'll be as pretty as your mother one day."

I knew about him and my mother. They'd been sweethearts in high school and had had a reputation for torrid love. Then they'd lost track of each other in college...until they met again. Marriage hadn't dulled their feelings for each other in any way and they were often seen necking together like teenagers, in private situations as well as in glaring public. He had a taste for teen-age love, that was very obvious to me. And I knew how excited my mother sometimes became when she was around him.

"I didn't think you'd mind," I told him sweetly, slowly and emphatically pulling the toweling between my thighs and undulating my body as I spoke. I looked so innocent, so sweet-and so depraved.

"I've got a wet suit here you can wear. It's a smallish size so it may be a bit tight, but it's the very thing, tissue-rubber type, so it'll easily stretch to fit-and cling to your curves, too."

It was a firehouse red, thin and supple and rustled sensually as he held it up for me. It really did seem small but I could imagine getting into it and having it stretch around, gripping me tight in the crotch and nipping my waist and pressing my tits to make the nipples stand out. Just the thought of getting into that and having it squeeze me and caress me made me feel excited all over.

"You'd better dry yourself a bit better, first," he said, "otherwise you won't be able to slip it on for the moisture."

He started getting into his own suit, now. It was a glossy black, an all-enveloping black rubber suit. He started by pushing one foot into the one leg of the suit, unrolling it and stretching it as he went, then he put his foot into the other Teg. He kept the towel around his waist-not very helpful or useful since his big tool had become very hard and was pushing the towel up like a flag. Standing on one leg, while trying to get the other leg into the rubber suit, wasn't easy either.

"Here," I said. "I'll help you on with your suit now. You can help me with mine later."

I got him to sit down on the bed, one leg encased from ankle to mid-thigh in rubber, the other struggling to get into the suit. I rolled, pulled stretched, smoothed, until I got his right ankle firmly seated at the edge of the leg. Then I got down on my hands and knees and slowly, but slowly smoothed the thin rubber up his leg. It gave me an excuse to massage and stroke him, slowly working my way up over his knee and along the thigh to the place he kept firmly covered with the towel.

When fd done that leg, I did the same to the other leg with the excuse that I was smoothing out the wrinkles he had made.

I could see he was beside himself with excitement.

"I'll pull it over my hips myself," he said, and fumbled with the black tights under the towel.

"Here, let me finish that for you," I said. I snatched the towel from him and worked my way up the black tights. "Stand, won't you."

I slipped my fingers between his thighs and smoothed the thin rubber membrane all the way up each of his thighs, on the inside. I tugged at the rubber and cupped his basket with it. The balls were resting snugly. I worked the rubber around them, giving them a good feel. He'd pushed his cock down between his legs before he put on his tights and I could feel it, like a hard lead pipe, pressed down the front over his balls. It made a huge ridge and must have been very painful, so I stroked it gently to show I understood.

The waist of the black rubber tights wasn't fitting too well. He tugged at it but he was sweating and the rubber adhered.

"Let me do it for you," I said.

I first smoothed the rubber up over his taut buttocks, outlining the split between the cheeks of his ass with my fingers. I put my fingers under the edge of the waist band and settled it smoothly all around the waist, then I slipped my hand in lower and pulled the rubber up, away from the skin, and up. I pretended I had to start pulling lower down and gradually worked my way down to his crotch. My fingers were in his curly hair. I had one hand on his hair, under the rubber, and with the other hand I was smoothing out the rubber from outside, caressing the balls and the cock. I pushed the hand inside lower still and in one movement I liberated his cock from the tight constraint into which it had been bent and let it assume its rightful position, pointing straight forward.

What a magnificent cock!

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, pretending to be terribly embarrassed. "I don't know...Let me put it back."

Before he could protest I had hold of his rigid shaft in my hand and, pretending to try and bend it back and downwards, l managed to slide my hand along its smooth skin that glided slippery-like over the hard gristle underneath. The tip of his cock, big and broad, had distended the front of his rubber suit so much that it was virtually transparent. I kept holding that prick and massaging it, burning with excitement, and all the time I was pretending innocently that I was just trying to fold it away neatly!

He couldn't contain himself. I knew what he wanted: he wanted to fuck me of course, but knew he couldn't permit himself this "outrage." I had him neatly in my power. I was seducing him and forcing him to defend himself against me!

There was only one thing he could do.

With an inhuman roar he picked me up in his powerful hands, holding me by the waist, and flung me down on the bed, face down. The towel I had tied around myself, over my breasts and covering my cunt, got ripped away. He flung himself on the bed and then...

Crack!

He rained down a heavy blow on my bottom. Slap! Bang! Slap! Blow after blow. I thought he was going crazy. He just wouldn't give up. Blow after blow after blow. I was in tears. I was screaming with pain but even more I was screaming with disappointment. This wasn't what I wanted. I'd wanted him to treat me like a woman, gain his arousal from me as a woman and react like a man-by making love to me.

Instead he was treating me like a naughty little girl, spanking me on my bottom. I was furious. How could I get him to see I was a woman, now, not a little girl anymore to be beaten on the bottom.

"You scamp!" he was yelling at me as he slapped me, once he'd got over his first rage and was able to respond with words. "You're trying to make trouble you little whore. What sort of upbringing have you had? Who set you this sort of example?" And he kept slapping and hitting and spanking.

I made a firm resolve. It needed a lot of strength under the blows he was raining down on me. I turned my body around on the bed, turned around so that I was lying with my back to the covers-and all my front exposed.

It won me two points. For one, I knew he would hesitate to hit me so hard now I had all my tender parts exposed-my face, my tits, my belly and my cunt and all that went with it.

Moreover, in this way I reminded him I was a woman. A little girl has a back and a bottom; when she gets spanked, she's only a little girl. But when a girl of twelve, with a full-grown cunt and lots of hair around it and all the right curves in the right places and breasts like ripening melons-well, I mean, a man can hardly think of her as a little girl who ought to be spanked.

And of course he couldn't see me as a little girl anymore. And the smile I was putting on, a seductively innocent smile, was hardly a little girl's smile, either.

He stooped suddenly. His face went white. "I don't know what...I'm sorry...I didn't mean to hit you like...."

I put up my arms to him.

"Will you forgive me?" he asked.

I nodded and tried to pull him down to me.

"No!" He shook his head emphatically. "None of that now. Let's go right on and pretend nothing's happened. It'll be our own little secret, right?"

I nodded. he helped me to my feet. His erection, I saw, had gone down and he tucked his cock down again between his legs and into the crotch of his rubber tights.

"You'd better slip into your rubber suit," he said. "You shouldn't be standing around nude like this."

"I'm too sore to be able to pull it on myself. You'll have to help me."

The red suit was in one piece, un-like the black one. It had short legs that ended at the thighs, a couple of inches below the crotch, and long sleeves and came up to the throat. I stepped into it through an opening in the back that could be zipped down all the way to the crotch and around and up the front so that you could piss through it without having to take it off.

He helped me as I had helped him-though without the same amount of exaggerated touching I had used. But he had to work harder than I had worked because it was really tight on me and because my bottom was so sore. I made him smooth it all along the thighs and kept complaining that it was wrinkled so that he had to go over it again. Then I complained about the fit at the buttocks and made him go over the soft red rubber at least a dozen times until he had it stretched over my bums to my satisfaction. Then it was too loose on my crotch and I made him pull it tighter up into my cunt, with the zipper fastened, of course. Next it was my waist-but I spent most time getting him to adjust the thin rubber around my budding breasts. Nothing was good enough for me. I kept complaining about pinching here and binding here-I really felt it and I must say that pinching and binding from the rubber was a really heavenly feeling-and I kept making him adjust the rubber over my tits-a bit higher here, a bit lower and so on.

I was in a fine sweat now and the sweat made the rubber cling the more to my breasts. My nipples, needless to say, were very hard and they poked their points through the rubber-like his cock had pushed out his tights earlier, only of course not as big by any stretch of the imagination. I made him smooth my breasts from above and from below and still I wasn't satisfied. And I kept him for ages smoothing the rubber down each of my arms.

"Well, will that do?" he asked. "Can I put on the top of my suit now?"

"No," I cried, suddenly pained. "It hurts here. I don't know what you've done. I can hardly stand." I pointed to my crotch and, to keep my balance, I put my rubber-clad arms around his broad nude chest.

"There?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "That's better. Just there." And I clasped my rubber-sheathed crotch tightly over his groping hand. At the same time I had my arms, in their red-rubber sleeves, over his shoulders and around his chest and I brought him close to me. I pressed my crotch into his and felt the hardness of his cock. I pressed his manly chest against my young tits. I brought his face to mine, my lips to his...and my tongue in his mouth. He melted and we kept up the torrid embrace.

Suddenly he pulled away from me. His face looked creased with anger.

"You're not going to slap me again?" I begged, making my eyes big and my mouth into a plea.

He stopped, said nothing.

"You've already punished me once. You can't punish me again for the same thing."

He opened his mouth but said nothing.

"Remember we promised each other we wouldn't tell a soul, didn't we. I really won't tell."

Pregnant silence.

"It won't be your fault if...."

I had conquered him. He was all mine. I pressed his mouth to mine and this time it was his tongue that shot into my mouth. I stroked his masculine back with love. I pushed my thigh into his crotch. I reached down with one hand, and grabbed his cock.

This time he picked me up gently and deposited me on the bed with love. I rolled down the thin rubber from his waist, just far enough to let his prick out. He unzipped my crotch and muzzled my cunt with his lips. He sucked out my cunt and made me come that way and then when he had me fully lubricated, he took my maidenhead.

He pushed in his cock very gently. It went in a couple of inches or so and hit my hymen. He stopped slowed, kissed me, murmured words of love and then very gently pushed his cock in again. I could feel the tearing, there was pain for a moment but then all dissolved in the pleasure he was giving me.

He fucked me beautifully and I came again and he came at the same time, and then we started all over again.

We were still at it when my mother suddenly walked in and surprised us.

Lizbeth finished her story in silence.

"I bet your mother gave you hell for that," Robin said. He'd found the story very stimulating and all the time she was talking he'd found it hard to stop himself from fingering his cock and stroking it. "And I bet she was furious with him too."

"You bet right. She sure as hell was. She laid into both of us with a golf-club she picked up in the hall and she kept hitting us, sometimes him and sometimes me, till she'd completely bent it."

"Were you sorry?"

"Me? Of course not. I loved every moment of it. I loved it when I was seducing him and when he was seducing me and when he was hitting me and when she was hitting me and even more when she was hitting him. Maybe that's where I got to like being hit and watching people getting hit. It turns me on. I always associate a beating with pleasure because there's always enjoyment for someone somewhere."

"What about your father? Was he very angry when he found out?"

"Found out? What do you mean 'found out'? Who the hell do you think that was fucking me?"