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From: AlfredE65@hotmail.com
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X-Article-Creation-Date: Sat Oct 14 01:12:54 2000 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Molly's Shower <*> (g-solo)
Date: Sat, 14 Oct 2000 14:10:03 -0400
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Molly was taking a long shower. She had always taken long
showers in the evening, ever since she was very small, six or
seven. She wasn't so much older now, 13, and she certainly wasn't
much bigger.
Molly was small, but her breasts had begun to develop;
small, awkward lumps on her still-girlish chest. She was in the
clumsy time between a child and a young adult.
Water poured down from the nozzle onto Molly's pink skin.
It ran down her body, dripping off of the ends of her chin-length
hair and fingertips, down her belly, and between the cheeks of her
buttocks.
Molly had finished washing; she had scrubbed her body,
her face, and her hair. She was quietly, if a little guiltily,
fingering her breasts now. The TV and magazines had made it
perfectly clear that breast cancer was dropping women by the
bushelfull, and she was naive enough to believe in the life-or-
death importance of self breast exams. Still, there was some
guilt. Was it really supposed to make her feel this way?
She used three fingers to carefully feel one of her small
breasts. It was not like that of a grown woman; it had a hard, not
quite ripe feel, like a lotus bud before it had blossomed. The
breast beneath her fingers was tender, and she had to be careful
not to press it to hard, or the pain would make her utter a small
sigh.
As Molly explored her breasts in the shower - using both
hands now, feeling both breasts - her fingers would accidentally
flick across her nipples. This sensation was new to her, something
strange and intriguing. Soon, this "accident" became more
frequent, and the tiny buds of her nipples stood up on her areolas,
two dime sized areas of red in a sea of pink.
It was not long before Molly could do nothing but fondle
her nipples, playing with the small, hard beads. Molly took the
shampoo bottle in hand, and squeezed a small amount onto her chest
rubbing the fragrant gel over her sensitive skin, feeling the cold
shampoo become warm against the heat of her body, feeling her
finger slide over her nipples.
Above the caress of her own fingers, Molly became aware of
the streams of water. Their impact played against the length of
her small body, her chest, her quivering face, and her thighs.
It was the water against her thighs that she felt the most
now. Molly relaxed her knees, spreading her legs a little as she
stood, so that she could better feel the intense stream against the
inner parts of her thighs. Every now and then, her small shudders
would direct a single beam of water into the place she only her as
her private parts. It was a sensation so new to her, so intense.
Something almost painful, something that made her feel guilty, but
exciting. It was a sensation she wanted more of, even though it
made her afraid.
Molly knew that place to be private. She would not show it
to anybody, and had tried to have as little to do with it as
possible. Slowly, though, Molly was awakening. If her sex was
indeed private, it would be hers, and hers alone - shouldn't she be
able to do with it want she wanted?
The blossoming woman glanced around nervously, as though
she expected to find someone behind the close shower curtain to
catch her being naughty. Quickly, like a child stealing candy, her
hand darted down to her mons, encountering the small bit of
drowning hair. She stood there for a minute like that, with one
hand on her breast, and the other covering her sex, feeling the
warmth radiating out above the heat of the shower.
Slowly, a bit afraid of what she might find, she slipped a
slender finger past the lips of her sex, and was surprised to find
it was wet, not with water, but with her own juices. They had been
building for some time, and now dribbled out passed her fingers.
Molly moved her one finger slowly, up and down, up and down, still
caressing her breast, playing with its hard nipple, rolling it
around gently between her fingers.
The finger in her sex felt the entire length of her slit,
from the top, with its explosion of sensations, to the bottom,
where she encounter a what seemed a hollow, a small place that
seemed, perhaps, not to belong there. She pressed against this
placed, and it hurt. It hurt, but she couldn't stop, pressing
against it. Slowly, excruciatingly, she pressed, sobbing quietly
now, shivering even in the heat, and pressing hard against her
breast, despite the tenderness.
It tore, it gave, and, with a thin red dribble down her
leg, it was gone. Molly hadn't expected this, and her fingers -
for she had all of them now within her slit - now shot into her
waiting tunnel, and felt the heat of the honey within. There was
no stopping Molly now, as small gasps escaped her lips. Her
fingers moved fast, pumping in and out of her, and her thumb rubbed
against the slippery explosion of her clitoris. Her hands pressed
very hard against her breast as she felt a bubble rising inside of
her, something she was helpless to stop, and wouldn't want to for
the world. She could barely keep from screaming in the shower, and
she moved her fingers inside her tight sex, slowing feeling her
legs tense until she could contain it no longer.
Nearly forgetting herself, Molly let slip a barely
controlled gasp, threatening to become a scream, as she felt the
bubble bursting, long and hard, he legs relaxing as she fell to her
knees, the cleansing water washing over her.
Molly felt some guilt, but she knew what she had done
wasn't really wrong; it was actually very, very right, and her long
showers became even longer
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This is my first story, and my first post to this newsgroup. Looking
back, the story seems kind of silly. Oh well. I'd really like to hear
your comments, good and expecially bad. Thanks
-Alfred E.
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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