Chapter 1
It had been so long since that delightful train and carriage ride to Chesterton Manor that my mind balked at specific memories and the intervening years blended into a sort of charmed harmony of life that defies such segregation. Suffice it to say that I spent three deliriously happy years with my Aunt Lois and my cousin Althea. One of the most delightful parts was in learning, after I had been at Chesterton for a year, that Althea was not really my cousin. She had been adopted years before, as an infant, by my Aunt Lois and Uncle Harold, long since dead.
When Althea and Thad had both learned this, our lovemaking sessions became more frequent and more avid. Fortunately, we were lucky and the beautiful girl never became pregnant from our careless and carefree flings. I was to learn later that she was almost incapable of become pregnant.
Following the university of Zurich, Althea and I married and settled down to live in London. Fifteen years ago, she did become pregnant and delivered me a baby daughter, a fine, sweet young infant we named Nancy, after a sister of my father who had died as a child.
The years were good to us, however. We lost Father and Aunt Lois to the grim reaper, but all in all our fives were happy, content, and healthy. Nancy grew to a splendid youth with all her mother's physical and mental charms.
But when I passed my fortieth birthday, strange changes come over me and I was no longer satisfied with my usual fortnightly episodes with Althea. She was still as good as ever, but my mind had begun to cringe at the thought of touching her flesh, at entering the older and well-used tunnel of her sex. I knew I was at the dangerous age, but it was a very strange dangerous age-I wanted younger girls, not just an affair with another woman.
Althea still retained much of her attractiveness and beauty; in fact, she had improved in some ways. In all our years of marriage, I had not cheated on her, even during my long sojourns to the Continent. I had gone into the same business as my father, and happily, I was able to roam about the beloved Continent to my heart's will.
My first chance for a really good extramarital affair came when Althea needed a small operation and was to be in a hospital for two weeks. I thought of her returning to the large, seven-room flat in Battersea and knew that she and Nancy would not be able to care for it alone. We could easily afford a maid, but Althea, knowing my strong inclinations toward sex, had not allowed another woman in the house. But this time, I had the perfect solution. I confronted her with my proposition.
"Look, darling," I said from the chair beside her hospital bed. "I know you haven't wanted us to have a maid in the house all these years, but you can't come home after this operation and care for our huge apartment."
"We don't need a maid," she said. "I manage quite well, and as soon as I'm a bit stronger, it will be quite unnecessary. Besides, Nancy can help me a lot."
In the end, I persuaded her. The major point of my persuasion proved to be the major point of my desires.
"All right," I said. "I think I know one reason why you do not want a maid in the house, even though we can easily afford two or three. You're afraid I will become attracted to her. Although that is pure poppycock, let us compromise. There are a number of young girls in the city who hire out as domestics because their families need the money and can't afford to keep them in school. They are strong young girls and are quite accustomed to caring for large apartments and houses. Nancy has not been trained in domestic duties, and the two of you cannot keep up the house properly in view of your operation. Why don't we hire one of these children-say a girl of fourteen or fifteen-to do the chores?"
She thought of it a moment, then seemed happy that I had come up with such a delightful solution. She had really wanted a maid, but her mind had been thinking in terms of a woman in her twenties or thirties, a matronly woman who would charm me right into her bed. If she only knew!
As soon as Althea returned from hospital, I contacted an agency and, stating my requirements, asked them to send a few girls around to the flat for interviews. The first to come was a dark Spanish girl who not only had. thick legs, but was Catholic and therefore unavailable to me for my purposes. She was also quite ugly, and I was fearful that Althea would select her.
Fortunately, her English was quite bad and she smelled strongly of body odor. I let Althea dismiss her on the basis of these obvious faults. Next came a Swedish girl who would have suited me fine, except that she did not want to sleep in.
She lived with her aged mother and would also have to take three days off each week to care for her. Again, I let Althea make the decision.
The third girl was perfect in every respect. She was French, and her name was Eclair. She said she was sixteen, but I later learned that she was only fourteen, witch made it even more perfect. She was slim and fair, with long blonde hair, which fell below her shoulders. She had strangely enigmatic eyes and a soft and lovely set of bubbies under her full peasant blouse.
Even though my heart thumped wildly during the interview and I felt my cork erecting as I studied the girl's fine and beautiful features, I remained in the background, allowing Althea to conduct the interviewing. If she turned her down, though, I was resolved to seek the girl out at her home and to have her before the week was out. She was positively ravishing, and the longer the interview continued, the hotter and hotter I got-and the more determined I became to screw this young French lass.
"How much time off would you want for your studies?" Althea asked.
"Not so much time," she said in halting English. "I would want to study English and French history and mathematics. But I have ah my books, and I can study at night in my room. It will not take time away from my duties."
"You seem to be eager to learn, my child," Althea said. "What does your father do?"
"He is a barrister."
"A barrister! My word, why on earth would a barrister's daughter be seeking a job as a domestic servant?"
Eclair looked down sadly at the floor. Her fingers had been nervously twisting a small silk handkerchief, and she threatened to tear the material into two pieces.
"My mother and father were divorced many years ago," she said. "My mother died, and I do not want to live with my father. He is in Paris. Fie sends money to my foster home to care for me, but I shall never join him. He..."
I was certain that she was going to reveal something excitingly scandalous, but Althea stopped her.
"I see," she said. "And you do not mind house-work, preparing meals, cleaning the floors, and such?"
She smiled, and it was the most innocent and charming and devastating smile I had ever seen. My erect tiger jerked painfully under my thick trousers, and I thanked the stars that I was able to cover his prominence with my smoking jacket.
"I do not mind," she said. "It keeps me occupied and makes me think less of my problems. I am not happy in my foster home, madame, and I would welcome the chance of living and working in such a warm and comfortable apartment. Besides, I could save my money and someday return to Paris to study law."
Althea looked at me, and I could tell by the tiny smile at the edges of her mouth that she was pleased with this girl. Not only would Eclair be a good and happy worker, but we would be contributing to her welfare, education, and entire future.
"What do you think, Louis?" she asked.
I pursed my lips, pretending to be considering the matter with some degree of doubt. I looked at the girl and deliberately made my voice dull and seemingly uninterested when I asked, "Have you done housework before?"
"Oh yes, m'sieur," she said. "In fact, at my foster home, I am practically a full-time maid. They require me to do most of the housework as a condition of my living with them."
Bloody bastards, I thought.
"All right," I said, looking at Althea. "That cooks it. I had no reservations, really, but if I had, that would have taken care of them. If you wish, Eclair, you can move in with us immediately. You will be well paid for your work, and you will be able to save all the money sent by your father."
In her exuberance and gratefulness, she rushed forward as though to hug me, then hugged Althea instead. Althea looked up at and smiled. I had become the hero of the day and had played my part well, even to the point of indicating that an embrace from the girl would have embarrassed me.
"When do you wish to begin work?" Althea said.
"I have my belongings just outside in the hallway," she said. "If you wish, though, I could return to my foster home and come back when you so designate."
Althea looked at me and then smiled at the sweet, precious, sad little child.
"Louis," she said, still looking at Eclair, "would you please bring the child's belongings inside. She begins immediately."
From the catch in Althea's throat, I could tell that the story had touched her deeply. Even if I had said "No" I am certain to this day that Althea would have insisted on the darling child's coming to work for us-or even just to live with us.
It was with a great deal of excitement that I brought in Eclair's belongings-two suitcases of typical Paris design-and took them to the far bedroom in our flat. It had been used as a spare bedroom for years arid had served my father and my aunts well. Once, a niece came to visit and stayed in the room three weeks, but I had done nothing to satisfy my yearnings for her. She was too young, really, and had virtually no bosom at all. Yet still I had desired her.
In the bedroom, I placed the two suitcases on the bed and wanted desperately to open them. I wanted to see her fine underclothing, to feel the soft silk in my hands, to admire the flimsy designs. I was just starting to open one, when Althea came into the room with Eclair.
"The curtains are not right for you," she was saying, "but it will be no problem getting new feminine curtains."
"The room is beautiful," Eclair said. She ran to the window and saw that it overlooked Battersea
Park. "Ooooh," she gushed, and jumped for joy. When she jumped, her breasts flopped enticingly under her thin blouse, and I felt myself erecting again. "This is so beautiful," she said in her highly affected English. "In my room at my foster home, my window looked out onto a stone wall, and there was always the smell of fish and rotten garbage coming up from the alley below."
I was getting angry about her foster home and was of half a mind to go over there and thrash the lot of them. It was inconceivable to me that anyone with a sane mind could mistreat this delicate French pastry. She was perfect in all respects.
During the afternoon, Althea took Eclair on a shopping trip into the city, and I paced the large living room of our flat, trying to subdue the impulses that were leading me to the maid's bedroom. When I thought of all the lovely French underwear that she and Althea had laid so gently in the dresser drawers, I could resist my impulses no longer.
I fairly flew down the long corridor to the room, noting with pleasure that the room was separated by the bath from the other bedrooms. The room directly across from the maid's bedroom was the library and was never occupied at night. It was a perfect location for what I had in mind.
Before I launched into what I knew was going to be a delightful interlude of inspecting, touching, and smelling the girl's clothing, I checked my pocket watch. It was two hours before Nancy would be home from school, and it was at least that long before the two would return from their shopping trip.
I opened the top drawer, and quickly memorizing the position of her brassieres, corsets, and panties, I lifted the fragile garments out of the drawer. My tool erected with a rigid stiffness when I brought the garments to my face. I spread the brassiere around my chest and tried to gauge the size of Eclair's titties. I shoved my fist into one of the cups and noted that there was room for more. Delightful. I smelled her panties and caught only the faint odor of perfume. I dropped the corset back into the drawer and concentrated on her brassiere and panties.
Suddenly, I was thoroughly overcome with an immense desire to be inside the silk undies. I had no effeminate tendencies, but I remembered the night I had crawled under Miss Henderson's nightie with her in it, and I longed for the feel of silk against my naked skin. I went to the front door, however, and locked it just in case a serviceman or deliveryman should show up and try to come inside or in case the women would return early from shopping.
Back in the room I looked out onto the street and in the park to make certain that callers were not about to come. Then, with a feeling of juvenile excitement, I shucked off my clothing and stood naked in the maid's room with her pants and brassiere in my hands.
The panties were tight, but I managed to pull them all the way to my hips and to snap the band into place. My tool was throbbing under the tight, dangerously stretched silk, and I ran my hand down the length of it as it nestled against my stomach. I caressed my own. buttocks and thrilled to the strong sexual sensations aroused in me from the silk. Next, I tried the brassiere, but the holding strap was too short. I put my arms through the shoulder straps and let the bra hang loose on my hairy chest.
Then I was struck with the sudden urge to see myself in Eclair's clothing. I would pretend it was she and that I was going to make love to her. I knew I was behaving like a silly ass, but I could not help myself. Althea's clothing had not done this to me in years, and for some reason, I had not thought of delving into Nancy's frilly undies.
I turned to the mirror over the maid's dresser and caught sight of my ridiculous hairy body in the fragile, feminine garments. Instead of repulsing me, the sight enhanced my sexual excitement, and I found my hand stroking my hard member with increased vigor. It had been years since I had manipulated the bugger into a sexual lather, but the touch of the silk and the constraint of the tight garment on my hips, buttocks, and organ aroused me to a fitful peak. I unsnapped the band of the panties and drew the material down until the head of my tool was exposed.
. Suddenly, I was entranced with the idea of humping the sweet young maid. I imagined that I had my raging penis inside her panties while she was still in them. I imagined that she was in the room with me, that I was on the bed with her. With that vivid scene on the screen of my imagination, I leaped onto the bed and, pulling the panties farther down, began to frig myself with an almost brutal passion.
During the ensuing fortnight, Eclair became a welcome member of our family, and in spite of myself, I began to treat her more like my own daughter with each passing day. Nancy took to her directly, and the two studied together in the evenings. Instead of a maid, it was like having another dear relative in the house, one who is most welcome and contributes as much to the family atmosphere as she receives. I made no attempts to force anything other than normal attentions on the girl, and she, in turn, seemed to draw closer to me as a result.
I went then on a long trip to Moscow, and during the long ride across the barren plains of western Russia, I began to think of the pretty little Eclair and of her lying on her bed in my own apartment. When a tall, stately Russian girl seemed to show me great attention, I immediately took up the challenge and lured the sweet girl into my room on the Pullman. She was nineteen and was a student at the University of Moscow. She was on her way back to the university after a spring vacation.
For the first time in almost twenty years, I took a strange woman to bed with me and later bemoaned my unfaithfulness to Althea. The girl was marvelous, and her wet, oozing pussy was a tremendous delight to my starving, lonely, unattended cork. We slept together twice more on the long journey to the Russian capital, and when we parted at the station, she gave me her address at the university. I never called there, because of the press of business, and returned to England with a feeling of exultation. I had broken my marriage vows, and quite frankly, they had been the last vestige of my reluctance to do anything definite about Eclair.
Since the maid's arrival at our home, I had lain awake many nights wanting her, desiring her, erecting in bed beside Althea, knowing that eventually I would go to Eclair or she to me. But I had remained faithful for a long time, and in spite of my terribly strong yearnings for young flesh, I was trying my best to continue that long period of faithfulness. And now I had been unfaithful and was eager to do so again.
My return home was a joyous one, and after I kissed Althea and Nancy at the station, we went home, where Eclair obeyed an uncontrollable urge to leap into my arms. Althea and Nancy merely smiled approvingly as I pretended great embarrassment and surprised pride of a fatherly nature. The girl's firm breasts rubbed against my chest, and I was fearful that I would erect in front of my wife and daughter. Her lips were wet and sweet, and she planted them firmly on mine.
"Oh, m'sieur," she gushed, "I am so happy to see you again. I hope you do not mind my boldness."
I played the role of the British stuffed shirt.
"Why, of course not, my child." Harumph, them, snort. "I suppose I should feel honored. Quite all right, child. Quite."
And the day settled down as they had before, with me desiring the pretty young maid and doing nothing to appease that desire. The girl, to her immense credit, gave no indication that she wanted me sexually, that she felt anything more than a daughterly interest in me. As I was to learn later, it was as difficult a pretense for her as it was for me.
My chance came unexpectedly in June when the school term was out and Althea decided that she wanted to take Nancy to visit Chesterton. The manor was occupied by her half-brother, my cousin. He had taken over the manor after Aunt Lois's death and, according to all reports, had done a marvelous job of restoring the beloved old house and grounds to their former grandeur. She was to leave Eclair with me, to care for me and fix the meals for me, because my business required that I remain in the city.
Fortunately, Althea not only trusted me implicitly, but she was convinced that Eclair was virtually a daughter to me. It did not enter her mind that a man my age could possibly have sexual interest in so young a child or that the child could have sexual interest at all, especially in an older man.
I saw them off in the carriage on a Friday afternoon, but unfortunately, I had a business appointment that I could not break. All though the discussion-with two businessmen from India-my mind was on Eclair, wondering what she was doing in the big apartment all alone, hoping that she was putting on my under drawers and dashing madly through the house like a sex-crazed hussy.
The dinner and appointment finished, I hailed a carriage and told the driver to rush, that it was an emergency. And it was an emergency. I had an erection that throbbed and ached so terribly that I was fearful that the movement of the carriage over the cobblestones would cause me to shoot off into my trousers. What a bloody, unsightly mess that would have made!
When I entered the flat, I was delighted to see Eclair lying on the floor of the parlor reading a book. She was in her robe, and her fine young buttocks made a dangerously enticing target for my lust. She looked up, and I noticed that her long hair had been brushed out to a fine gleam.
"Hello," I said, trying to sound casual. "You look awfully comfortable there."
"I just washed my hair," she said. "I didn't think you would mind me studying in here."
"Nonsense, child," I said, hating myself for using the word "child" when I wanted her to begin to think more like a woman. "You have free rein of the house, you know. I'm delighted to see you in the parlor-you make the flat less lonely."
She sat up and pulled her robe tightly about her bosom. In that brief split second before she closed the robe, however, I noticed the naked tops of her breasts and realized with a sudden throb of ardor through my body that the girl had nothing on under the robe. Great Scott, could she have been waiting for me to return? Did she have on her mind the same thing that had been torturing me these long, agonizing weeks? Was the girl actually trying, in her girlish way, to seduce me?
"Would you like to hear some classical music?" I asked when I had taken off my jacket and returned to the parlor. "I have a wonderful Gramophone and some very good records. The only French composer I have is Debussy. Do you like him?"
"Oh, I simply adore Debussy," she said. "Do you really have any of his works?"
I went to the Gramophone and put on Images and sat down in my large easy chair to listen and to dream of what might possibly happen in the apartment this night. The girl was still on the floor on her stomach, and she was facing me. The robe had fallen away slightly, and I was looking at the upper parts of her flattened breasts. She raised on her elbows, and as the robe fell away more, I saw the hanging breasts and the dark, enticing cleavage.
I covered my bulge with the newspaper and pretended to focus my eyes on the window behind her as we listened to the "Iberia" movement. Yet my eyes kept coming down to her exposed bosom, and each time they did, I noticed that she was watching my face with intent interest.
"I love Debussy," she said, watching me closely with her enigmatic eyes. "Don't you?"
"Yes," I said dreamily. "Very much. He is one of the greatest."
The record ended, and she leaped to her feet.
"May I turn it?" she asked.
"Yes, but please be careful. Records are very precious these days."
She ran to the Gramophone, and the robe swung wide as she moved. It was tied at the center point with a long sash, but it had no buttons. The movement of her body forced it aside at her neckline and along her long, slim legs. I caught flashes of naked pink skin at both levels and felt my tool turning rapidly to sensuous concrete. God, how long did I have to play the image of father before I could become this girl's lover?
As the music started again and the girl resumed her place on the floor, I toyed with the idea of just going to her on the floor, of taking her into my arms and telling her that I wanted to make love to her. I even considered taking the brutal, direct approach and yanking the robe from what I knew was a naked body and ravaging her on the carpet. But that would have been foolish and would have frightened her. It would be foolish to destroy what was obviously going to be mine anyway, if only I had the patience to wait and the wisdom to play the game in the proper manner.
In the middle of the movement, Eclair got to her feet and stretched. I caught sight of her long limbs, almost to her crotch, as the robe split down the middle. And her unbridled breasts still pointed high as the heavy material of her robe strained against them.
"I would love to stay and hear the rest of this," she said, feigning a pout, "but my hair is thoroughly dry now, and I must brush it again. Otherwise, it will become tangled and unruly."
She went to the parlor door leading to the hallway. She stopped and leaned against the door facing and turned to look at me. Unless I was a total idiot, that was a look of yearning, the eternal mating call of the woman, the old "come on" as the boys at the office called it.
She disappeared down the corridor, and I sat in the chair trying to summon up the nerve to make my move. It was clearly my move. The girl had done everything humanly possible to indicate her willingness. No man could want more, unless he was so depraved that he would expect the girl to dive into his trousers while he sat with the evening paper on his lap.
I followed her to her room a few minutes later. She was sitting at her dressing table, the robe pulled open at the neck so that her breasts were reflected in the mirror. It had fallen away at her thighs, revealing her legs almost to her crotch. She spied me in the mirror and smiled.
"I would be happy to brush it for you," I said hoarsely, "if you think I can do a good job." It was a natural offer, just in case she was merely being a careless child about her dress and was unaware that she was taunting me into a sexual frenzy. The entire matter, no matter what the signs, had to be dealt with in great care. A wrong move resulting from misunderstood actions could bring my world crashing down around my head. It was natural that I should help with her hair, because she had, on many occasions, asked Nancy to brush it for her and she had brushed Nancy's in return.
"I would love that, if you will," she said.
I stood directly behind her and took the brush from her hand. I brushed the hair, feeling my senses grow to gigantic proportions at the touch of the silken strands. When I could chance it, I looked directly down into her robe from above, even though I could see much of her breasts from the mirror image. The scene below, however, nearly tore my rampant tool out of my trousers. The robe was so loose on her body that not only could I see all the way between her firm young breasts, but I could see the skin of her stomach and the light-colored fuzz of her mound.
Deliberately, I moved forward so that the great bulge under my trousers touched her back. She did not move away from the pressure, and I exerted more. Long after it was necessary to continue brushing, I was still pulling the brush through her long hair. I pressed my tool against her more firmly and looked at her in the mirror. Our eyes met, engaged, and held there for a long moment. It was now, I told myself, or never.
I took the chance. Putting down the brush, I gently ran my hands through her hair and remarked on its loveliness. I let my hands rest on her neck and bent down and kissed her head lightly, gently.
"You are a very beautiful young woman," I said, as I withdrew my lips from the soft hair. "Do you really think so?"
"Yes. I have always thought so-ever since the day you arrived here for your interview."
She took her eyes away from mine in the mirror and looked down at her exposed, soft, thrilling thighs.
"The madame," she said somberly, "is also beautiful."
"Yes," I agreed, feeling a deep stab in my chest from the sudden turn away from the direct target. "She is very lovely-but in a different way. Many people are beautiful and desirable, but ... "
I didn't know what else to say. Instead, I bent down and kissed her hair again, then showered her pink neck with kisses, ending with my lips on her bared shoulder. The robe fell off her right shoulder when I touched it, and her entire right breast leaped into view.
I pretended not to see it as I gently turned her face to me and pressed my lips to hers. She did not speak or resist. I found the young flesh so devastatingly beautiful and invigorating to my touch that only with supreme effort did I restrain myself from crashing into the girl and screwing her on the tiny dressing stool. I went one step further and slid my right hand down across her shoulder and cupped the exposed breast with its reddish-pink nipple. God, how long it had been since I had held such delightful and fresh flesh in my hand! Her nipple was soft and pliable.
In that moment of extreme lust and passion, I exercised tremendous restraint. Instead of grabbing the girl brutally and hauling her off to the bed, I took her shoulders in my hands and lifted her to her feet. Her resistance was nonexistent. She rose willingly and turned to face me. With the robe still hanging on her otherwise naked body, I pulled her gently to me and crushed her to my chest. The great bulge in my trousers ground into her flat, soft stomach, but she did not back away. To the contrary, she pressed forward, absorbing the huge, hard mound into her soft flesh.
I walked slowly with her to the bed, and we stood beside it, kissing, clinging to each other. After one particularly torrid kiss in which I initiated her into the realm of French kissing-a strange twist of teaching and learning, considering her nationality-I held her away from me and loosened the sash that still held the robe to her body. I pushed the robe from her left shoulder, and it fell to the floor behind her. I stepped back more and marveled at the fresh, blustery, young, budding beauty of her body.
"How old are you, Eclair?"
"Sixteen." But she was unable to look at me.
"How old?"
"Fourteen."
Great Lord, I thought. It was far better than I had expected. My next question came with bated breath.
"Are you a virgin?"
She looked down, down at the enormous throbbing bulge in my pants. She slowly shook her head. I didn't ask who, why, or how. It didn't really matter. She was young flesh, and she was obviously not well used, so it mattered little, except that I knew that entry would be easier and our first escapade would be more enjoyable.
Her body was beautifully molded, with every item in fine proportion. Her pelvis was wide and well formed, with a high mount that promised total immersion of my cork. Her lovely fair hair hung like a halo around her pretty face, and she looked at me with the dark, enigmatic eyes.
"I suppose it would be all right if I undressed," I said. It was almost a question.
"If you want," she said. Her body trembled at the thought of being in a room with a naked older man. I had heard about young girls who favored older men, but I had never counted myself as being fortunate enough to find one-especially under my own roof. "Do you like me?"
"Of course," I said quickly. "Your beautiful and fresh young body is doing terrible things to me."
"What about madame?"
"Please," I said, unhitching my trousers and letting them drop to the floor. "Let us not think of her, and above all, she must never know about this. There is no reason why she should."
"I know," she said. "Oh, please hurry, m'sieur. Please hurry and remove your clothing, if you wish to do so."
I wished to do so. In the flicking of an eyelash, I had leaped out of my shirt and necktie, then attacked my underwear with a great deal of viciousness. When I was naked in front of her, she stepped back to look at me. My rigid tool, which had grown to an admirable proportion, seemed to astound her. She stared at it wide-eyed and I knew that she was both delighted with and worried about its size. I studied her firm young body again, taking immense delight in the perfect shape of her and in the brilliant rosiness of her nipples. Her breasts were not immense, but for her age and size, they were ample. The rose-colored nipples just barely covered the tips of the pointed titties. I took her into my arms, and crouching a little, I took one of her breasts into my mouth. She gasped, and her hands quickly encircled my probing dong. She worked it back and forth, and I knew that heaven had descended upon me. At long last, after more than twenty years, I was once again touching and being touched by a girl of such tender age that my head swam to think of it. My last teen-ager, before marrying Althea, had been a country girl who lived near Chesterton Manor and who had virtually seduced me in the loft of the great barn at Chesterton. The girl, whose name I had long since forgotten, had been only thirteen, and she had been as horny as one of her father's bulls.
We literally fell across the bed, and lying side by side on the soft mattress, we fell to indulging our senses of touch by exploring each other's bodies. I kissed her lips gently and then moved my mouth over her neck and breasts, stopping to suck gently on the soft nipples, biting them tentatively, and then massaging them with my hot tongue.
Her hands explored my entire pubic region, stroking my long, thick member, fondling and tickling my balls, running her fingers delicately along the sensitive line between my ball-bag and my anus. Her fingers fairly clawed into my pubic hairs, and she gripped the hairs firmly as her other hand stroked my penis. Suddenly, I could contain myself no longer, could no longer be content with kissing her lips and her breasts. I doubled over, and after stroking my hand the entire length of her shapely legs, I pushed my face into her blonde thatch and lashed out with my tongue to taste the sweet delights of her young cuntlips.
She bucked violently under me and closed her fleshy thighs around my head. Apparently, this had never happened to her before, and her gasps and sighs and tiny outcries spurred me to greater and greater accomplishments. I felt her tiny clitoris as it erected under passion, and after kissing it fervently, I took it between my lips.
To my great surprise, her twat moistened quickly, and I felt a fine spray on my face as she gasped, bucked, and thrashed wildly on the bed. It was almost inconceivable, but she had just climaxed! And I had only begun.
I left her pubic region and kissed my way up along her sweet body. She had apparently hoped at this would happen and had bathed and showered herself well with perfume before I returned home from my business meeting.
As our lips crushed together in what, for me, was a torrid and gut-wrenching kiss, my hand slid into the small blonde triangle of her pussy. I knew that I had to arouse her again or be content with letting her frig me to completion. Or perhaps she would prefer to take the throbbing animal into her small, sweet mouth. It was too much to expect on our first session, so I contented myself with bringing her to full passion once more.
I found the entrance to her love tunnel and ran my finger all the way in. She lurched on the bed, and I brought the finger out again. I found her small bud and touched it lightly and carefully. She began to moan her delight as I massaged her gently and, at the same time, lightly sucked her left nipple which had now hardened into a small, erect bulb. Her body began to writhe against me as I sucked and fondled her, and I could hear the quickening of her breathing. My prick pressed against her right thigh, and I moved in an up-and-down motion against the smooth skin. She responded almost magically by sliding her slim body beneath me and closing her thighs over my raging cork. I pushed hard, and the tip of my dong pushed into the soft, velvety hairs of her pubus.
I gripped her small body tightly to me, luxuriating in the feel of her soft, firm breasts against my chest. My sense of domination over this girl was powerful, and I knew that nothing short of total disaster could stop me from once again feeling the youthful innocence of a teen-age pussy.
I raised on the girl, pulling my prick from between her closed thighs, and allowed the swaying, dipping instrument to brush lightly against her stomach. She looked down along her body, between the erect breasts, and watched the big animal in its moment of terrible need. Her hands closed over it once more, and for a long, sweet, agonizing moment, I thought she was going to sit up and take the crazed animal in her mouth. If she had, I would have immediately spent into her mouth and the session would have ended.
Instead, she parted her thighs and guided the thrusting stanchion to her pussy. I lowered my position on the bed to allow the object the proper path of intrusion. She wiggled the job back and forth in the soft folds of her wet puss, and I pressed forward.
She gasped, and her legs went up and around my back. The joy in my heart and body was unbearable. I could scarcely believe that after all these years, I was once again preparing to shove my distended member into a youthful, pleasing, and clean pussy. There was a small resistance at first; then the juices of her love flowed over the great purple knob, and the rigid cock began a slow and torturous entry into the tight, sacred tunnel.
Either she was much smaller than the young girls I had remembered or my dong had grown considerably since I was a teen-ager. But entry was extremely difficult, and she cried out a couple of times when I made strong efforts to penetrate her pussy. When she would cry out, I would stop and wait, massaging her tender breasts and kissing her sweet, wet lips.
Her legs squeezed into my sides, and clutched at my wide back. Her vagina gradually distended until it accepted my strong, hard member, and then I was deep inside her young body, my tool in her almost virginal passage to the hilt. She kissed me passionately, pulling my head down to hers and clinging to my neck and shoulders.
I waited for a long moment, allowing her tunnel to adjust to the massive intruder, then began to screw her. The more I stroked my instrument against the walls of her tight puss, the greater my lust grew. I soon forgot my intentions to be tender and gentle, and before I knew it, I was bounding into her like a rapist. My lust for youthful flesh was being fulfilled, and I was now ramming my cock into her ruthlessly, my hands clawing at her buttocks and my nails digging into her rounded, youthful cheeks. In a moment of total passion, I grabbed one of her tits in my mouth and bit into the tender flesh.
As I continued the brutal stroking and plunging and thrusting into her sweet cavern, she rose to meet me and began to shake and writhe in my tight clench. My prick was throbbing with immense delight, my balls napping and bruising themselves against her buttocks. I spread my legs in an effort to prolong my orgasm, but all efforts were futile. It had been so long since I had violated young flash, and I had built my passions over a long and arduous period for this moment.
I was afraid that this time I would come first, leaving her in the clutches, so to speak. It became completely imperative that I bring her satisfaction with my tool, that my enormous, throbbing, ramming, thrusting prick be the one to cause her second climax.
"Oh, you sweet, sweet, sweet young thing," I said in a moment of great passion and love.
"Darling," she breathed. "My darling, darling man. Oh, it is so good. So good. Take me, my darling Louis. Take me, tear me to pieces, rip me to shreds."
"I will, my sweet," I said. "I am fucking you with my great prick, and your sweet, tender, tight pussy is accepting my monster cock. Fuck with me, my sweet Eclair."
"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!" she cried.
And the climax came in one great and magnificent burst of passion. I jerked spasmodically and made three or four more thrusts into her slippery puss as the spunk jetted out of me in quick jerks. Her own spidery sperm mixed with mine, and I could feel the juices flowing out of her, past my balls and onto the inner parts of my thighs. I made one final, crashing, bursting, bone-shattering lunge against her, and we came to rest in a tight clench that held our bodies rigid for a long, delicious moment.
When I pulled out of her and saw the moistness of her small pubus and the glistening wetness of my tool, I wanted to enter her again and blast off into another wild and rollicking screw. But that was impossible. Already, my slightly aged monster-tool was drooping sadly and threatened to lose sight of all carnal objectives.
She cuddled in my arms, her breasts lying defiantly against my rib cage. I cradled her to me like a baby and enjoyed the smooth-soft feel of her young skin against my body.
"Perhaps I should not say this," I said, "but I think I love you, Eclair. I love you more than a father would love. I love you as a lover."
She snuggled against me and ran her hand over my stomach. Her lips nibbled at my neck, and she purred almost like a contented kitten.
"Can we be lovers?"
"Yes-at least, until my family returns and, if possible, forever. But we must be discreet."
"May I call you Louis?"
"Yes, but only when we are certain that we are alone."
"I love you, Louis. You are the kindest, sweetest, most generous, and most sexy man I have ever known."
"Sexiest," I corrected. "There is no such term as 'most sexy.' "
She laughed and snuggled even closer. I felt as though my genitals had been garroted by a great hook. All the manhood and virility had been drained from me. Yet her body felt good against mine, and I looked forward to the next few weeks with an immense amount of satisfaction and anticipation.
"We will be lovers," I said with a great, satisfies sigh. "We shall be lovers such as the world has never known."
"Wonderful," she said, clasping her hand over my soft penis. "If that is true, may we fuck again?"