index


Message-ID: <46341asstr$1074852603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Gaius Marius" <gauismarius@hotmail.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} PETE and CINDY (Mf inc)
Lines: 286
Date: Fri, 23 Jan 2004 05:10:03 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Disclaimer: The following story is entirely a work of fantasy. All 
characters and events represented herein are completely fictional.

PETE & CINDY (Mf inc)
By GM

PART 1.

It was one of those fine, blustery days towards the end of summer, when the 
sun sets early and the winds begin to sharpen to a knife point. Peter 
Hopkins shouldered his back pack and headed down Domain Road, brown hair 
whipping around his face. His young cousin Cindy Connors trotted along 
beside him, her long blond pigtails flying in the slipstream. Pete glanced 
down at her in quiet amusement. She was a pretty little girl with pale blue 
eyes and lips the color of rose petals, chattering way in fluent childspeak. 
Her bright red sun-frock lifted in the rising gale, the hem flickering above 
her knees. It was Friday afternoon; Pete had picked her up from school and 
was walking her home through the Domain.

"Can we stop and play on the swings?" the nine year-old twittered in her 
high canary voice. Doug shook his head, glancing at his watch.

"No, not this time, Honey-girl. Your Mom's working tonight, so she's 
expecting you home straight after school. We're running late as it is."  
Cindy's mother was Pete's Aunt Julie. She'd phoned him up last night asking 
if he could do some babysitting over the weekend. This was a comfortable 
arrangement for both of them; Julie was night editor at The Messenger, Pete 
was an Arts major without a nickel to his name (and even less to his 
account).  Most weekdays, she had no trouble finding a sitter, but the 
weekends were slightly more problematic. Given his tenuous economic 
circumstances, Peter could be most accommodating. Julie Connors paid well 
and allowed him unlimited access to her refrigerator. Of course, there was 
another reason why he was willing to forego Friday night drinking sessions 
at the Uni Bar - but it wasn't something he could explain to any of his 
friends.

Cindy skipped along the footpath, singing some nonsense song she'd picked up 
in the playground. Her face beamed with simple, childish joy. Pete was a 
beloved constant in her life, a kind of walking, human playground who could 
keep her entertained for hours at a stretch. She always looked forward to 
their Friday night snuggle-sessions; Pete usually let her stay up and watch 
TV, nestled in his arms until she fell asleep. Sometimes, drifting away on 
the slow tides of slumber, she would feel his fingers stroking her cheek so 
gently she could barely feel his touch. Times like that, she'd imagine ...

"This way, Kiddo," Pete directed, inclining his head towards a jogging path 
lading off to the right. They turned off Domain Road and cut through 
Memorial Park, following a trail composed of woodchips and pine needles. A 
wild, green scent engulfed them as they descended into the woodlands. Cindy 
curled her fingers around Pete's wide palm, listening to the bellbirds 
chiming in the branches. This was her favorite part of the Domain; walking 
down these sunlit corridors, she could almost believe the woods were 
populated with all manner of elves and hobbits and faeries.

"Know what I can do?" Cindy asked entirely out of the blue.

"No," Pete replied absently, "what can you do?"

"I can do handstands!" she declared proudly, swinging his hand back and 
forth. Pete looked down at her, raising his eyebrows.

"Get outta here," he said in a carefully disbelieving tone, "where'd you 
learn to do handstands?"

"At school," she told him, eyes glittering with excitement, "one of my 
friends showed me how." Cindy paused, bit her lip, then added shyly, "Wanna 
see me do one?" Pete grinned his reply, making her pulse jump a beat.

"Sure, I would," he nodded, releasing her tiny hand. An exuberant giggle 
escaped Cindy's lips as she scampered a few yards up the path and swung back 
to face him. Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure, her heart was hammering 
in her chest. She'd been practicing all week, preparing for this moment.  
She had just reached that age where boys were starting to matter, and Pete's 
good opinion meant everything to her.

Raising her arms straight over her head, she flipped over onto her hands, 
kicking up her legs in mid-air. Her dress immediately fell inside out, 
revealing her white cotton panties to the open sky. Her thighs gleamed in 
the hazy sunlight, soft and lush and crystal smooth. Her pudgy round bottom 
bulged through her tightly stretched underpants, the cleavage plainly 
visible. Cindy had never completely lost the puppy fat around her hips and 
tummy.

Arching her spine slightly, she pointed her feet towards the heaven, 
teetering on the fine edge of balance. Her skirt inched down several inches, 
exhibiting a generous sweep of milky-white torso. The hem was practically 
trailing on the ground. Cindy held her stance for nearly ten seconds, 
wavering on the brink, then dropped lightly onto her feet. The frock 
returned to a more modest position, skittering about her knees.

"How did I look?" she asked in her warbling, girlie soprano, "did I do OK?" 
A faint crimson blush had suffused her features: despite her exhilaration, 
she was almost fainting with embarrassment. She'd wanted to impress him, 
wanted to bask in his admiration. Most of all, she'd wanted to show him her 
underwear, which she knew was something boys liked to see. Now that she'd 
actually done it, she could barely meet his gaze. She suddenly placed both 
hands over her mouth, as if she'd been caught out telling a great big fib.

"Pretty good, Kitten" Peter answered, flashing his devastating, two hundred 
and fifty volt smile, "any chance of a repeat performance?" Cindy's heart 
soared in innocent rapture. He hadn't laughed at her, hadn't made fun of her 
efforts (as she'd half expected him to do). He wanted her to do it again. 
She ran over to him, swirling her skirt up to her calves, unable to hide her 
enthusiasm.

"OK!" she giggled, feeling almost unspeakably naughty, "I can walk on my 
hands, too, Petey! You want to see me walk on my hands?"

"You can walk on your hands too?" Peter raised his eyebrows in mock 
skepticism.

"Yes, I can!" she exclaimed, still holding her dress up around her thighs, 
"watch this, Petey! I'll show you." She backed up a few paces, giving 
herself some extra space. Pete leaned back against the trunk of a nearby 
pine tree, smiling at his cousin's endearing precocity. It was obvious how 
excited she was, how much she enjoyed displaying her fresh, white underpants 
to his indulgent gaze. He gestured for her to proceed, his expression 
betraying nothing of what he was really feeling.

Cindy lifted her hands over her head and stepped over into a perfectly 
controlled handstand. Her dress fell way once more, fluttering down over her 
face and upper body. The frock crept down to her ribcage, exposing an 
impudent young belly button. She weaved precariously back and forth for 
several seconds, then started hand-walking around in a rough circle, showing 
off her panties from a variety of angles.

They were sheer full briefs, the kind with elastic trims around the legs and 
waistband. They rippled like liquid silver in the late afternoon sun. Peter 
shifted his weight to one foot, tilting his head for a closer look. His 
breath came in quick, shallow spurts; he felt a familiar tugging at the base 
of his stomach. Cindy called out to him from behind the sweeping red 
curtain.

"See Petey?! I told you I could!" she chirruped in her sweet, giggly voice, 
"am I doing it right?"

"You're doing great, Kiddo," Peter nodded, glancing over her lusciously 
contoured body. Her dress had slipped so far down it was practically 
dropping off her body. Her plump, curvaceous tummy was humming with 
gooseflesh; her tiny, pink nipples poked from her chest like crimson 
dart-points. They seemed to pulse in time to the girl's racing heart beat. 
Pete moistened his lips, his eyes devouring her small, voluptuous figure. He 
drew in a deep, calming breath, willing his temperature back to normal 
parameters. Electric fire streaked through his nervous system.

Cindy was hand-stepping in his direction now, her legs splayed out like a 
pair of half-opened scissors. The gusset of her panties was stretched taut 
between her thighs, the shadowy outline of her love-rose was visible through 
the thin cotton. Pete could actually make out the complex folds of her 
vulva, framed by a rim of white lace. High, girlish laughter tinkled through 
the pine trees. She kicked her legs several times, frilly white girl-socks 
glinting in the evening sky, then dropped gracefully back onto her shoes. 
Her dress was still hiked up over her back, so that her ripe, pantied bottom 
stuck out in rude display. She looked cute and funny and sexy at all the 
same time.

Pete remembered to breath again. He looked back down the trail, listening 
for approaching footsteps. Anyone could come rambling down the path at this 
time of day, just cutting through the woods or roaming about the Domain. How 
would he explain what he was doing here, a grown man watching a nine-year 
old girl turning handstands in the middle of a pine grove? The show had been 
entertaining in the extreme - spectacular, as a matter of fact - but he had 
to get her home.

Where the show could continue.

"Did I do it OK, Petey?" Cindy trilled, naively struggling with the 
rebellious sun-frock, "you want me to show you again?"

"No, I think you've shown enough panty for one day, young lady," he answered 
in vaguely amused tones. Cindy's rosebud mouth popped open in surprise; her 
tummy tingled with simple, childish delight. She stared up at him, blushing 
more in pleasure than embarrassment. He'd actually noticed, just as she'd 
secretly hoped he would. He'd even decided to tease her about it, making her 
feel unbelievably wayward. Of course, she didn't want him thinking she'd 
shown off her panties on purpose (even if it was true). Despite her age, 
she'd learnt the value of playing hard to get.

"Peter!" she exclaimed indignantly, folding her arms and looking away with a 
stereotypically feminine toss of her head.

Pete chuckled good-naturedly, leaning down to scoop her up in his arms, and 
subjected her to the torture of a thousand tickles. Cindy screamed at the 
top of her lungs, writhing about in his grasp as his fingers sought out her 
ribs and belly with merciless accuracy. This was a liberty of the most 
insufferable proportions. Needless to say, there was absolutely no escape: 
Pete Hopkins was a world-class tickler, having had years to perfect his 
technique on Cindy's defenseless little body. The torment went on until she 
had tears running down her cheeks and she was certain she was going to 
explode with helpless mirth.

When she'd finally caught her breath, Cindy peered around and realized they 
were emerging on the other side of Memorial Park. Peter had carried her all 
the way through the woodlands and she hadn't even noticed. They'd already 
passed through the playground; Domain Fountain was a circular white smudge 
in the distance. They were maybe five minutes from home. She looked back 
over his shoulder, lower lip pooching out in disappointment.

"I wanted to play on the swings," she sulked, just a little.

"Don't worry," he replied offhand, "I'll play with you tonight." The corner 
of his mouth twitched up into a lop-sided crescent, indicating he had 
something special in store for her. Cindy twined her arms around his neck, 
gazing into his face with that vast, pure love only a small child can feel. 
Peter was so tall and strong and handsome - handsomest boy in the whole 
world, she was absolutely certain. Sometimes, she wished she was all grown 
up, because then, Pete would be her boyfriend, just like Leo and Kate in 
Titanic. He could lie on her tummy and kiss her on the mouth and tell her 
how beautiful she was. And when they snuggled up on the sofa to watch 
Friends, she wouldn't be wearing her PJs. She wouldn't be wearing anything, 
not even her underpants. The very thought made her head spin with feelings 
she couldn't put a name to.

"Are we gonna play hide `n' seek?" she asked, melting comfortably against 
his chest.
"Nope."
"We gonna play Twister?"
"Nope."
"Monopoly?"
"Nope."
"Well, what then?!" she demanded, literally squirming with curiosity.
"You'll see," he told her enigmatically. The lop-sided crescent returned to 
his lips, as if he was savoring some strange, exotic fruit. A cold thrill of 
anticipation traveled the length of Cindy's spine. Whatever he intended for 
this evening, she honestly couldn't wait. Pete knew every game ever invented 
since the beginning of the universe, and whenever he came up with something 
new, it always left her trembling with exhilaration. Leaning in closer, she 
buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder, closing her eyes in a kind of 
drowsy bliss.

She never saw the change come over his features.

Pete shifted Cindy higher up on his hip, enjoying the way her thighs coiled 
around his waist. He loped along with the stride of a hungry predator, the 
blood pounding in his temples like a trip-hammer. His stomach was as tense 
as an over-tuned guitar. She wanted to play with him. The words flashed 
through his mind in huge neon letters, over and over again: she wanted to 
PLAY with him. Tonight. After dinner, after Aunt Julie had headed off to 
work. Then he'd teach her a few games she hadn't learned in school. They'd 
have all night to practice, up in her bedroom. He'd take her upstairs, 
stretch her out with her thighs spread apart and her ...

No.

Not now. Not yet. He couldn't afford to lose control. He had to stay 
focused, restrain his libido, even after they arrived home. He couldn't 
allow his Aunt to see what he had in mind, not by word or thought or 
careless gesture. She didn't suspect a thing at the moment; no one did. He'd 
spent years constructing his jovial, picket fence identity, hiding behind 
his easy-going manner and Apple-Pie good looks.

It was all a question of control. In the three years since he'd grown aware 
of the feelings he had for Cindy (and other girls her age), he'd never once 
let the mask slip. He'd mastered his dark eros with a will of iron, 
affecting a facade of doting affection. This had been almost indescribably 
difficult: his cousin was breath-takingly beautiful, and the temptation to 
satisfy his rampant lusts was almost overpowering.

Nonetheless, he'd managed to confine himself to sporadic, furtive touching, 
usually under the guise of "harmless" tickling and horseplay. Their Friday 
night cuddling sessions were a typical example. Once Julie was out of the 
house, he could take Cindy onto the sofa and spend the night caressing and 
fondling her sleek young body. Once she fell asleep he was free to stroke 
her small, tight vulva; carefully drawing his fingertips across her flimsy 
cotton gusset. So far, he'd never even seen her completely naked.

Well, that all that was going to change tonight. He'd waited long enough, 
playing the devoted cousin and stealing the odd grope and fumble in the 
living room. He was ready to play. More importantly, she was ready to play - 
he'd seen that during her "impromptu" handstand exposition this afternoon. 
He closed his eyes momentarily, recalling her thighs, her navel, her 
virginal white underpants. Pete felt his manhood rising at the memory. In an 
hour, maybe less, he'd be taking those panties down in preparation for the 
evening's festivities.

Yes, they were going to play tonight.
Oh, how they were going to play.


To be continued
Email me for Part 2.
gauismarius@hotmail.com

_________________________________________________________________
E-mail just got a whole lot better. New ninemsn Premium. Click here  
http://ninemsn.com.au/premium/landing.asp

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+