index


Message-ID: <46377asstr$1075014603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "gm" <gm@mrdouble.com>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
Subject: {ASSM} Pete and Cindy PART 2 (Mg* Inc 2/4)
Lines: 306
Date: Sun, 25 Jan 2004 02:10:03 -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 depicts explicit sexual contact between 
adult and under aged participants. Those offended by graphic 
descriptions of incest should read no further. This is entirely a work 
of fantasy, and does not advocate the abuse of minors in any way, shape 
or form. All characters and events represented herein are completely 
fictional.

PETE AND CINDY
PART 2: TIME TO PLAY

3.

As Peter expected, Julia Connors was rushing about in a dither by the 
time they arrived home. Her shift began in less than fifteen minutes, 
and she'd barely finished blow-drying her hair when they walked in the 
door. Julie had been this way as long as Pete had known her; like many 
highly organized professionals, her personal life was an unqualified 
shambles. She darted into the main hallway, hurriedly tucking her blouse 
into her loose blue Levis, raising a miniature tornado in her wake. She 
was a tall, slim thirty-something with dark brown eyes and the face of 
an errent pixie. She paused just long enough to bend down and kiss Cindy 
on the cheek.

"Hey, Baby. Have a good day at school?" she asked without listening for 
an answer. She was ferreting around for her shoulder bag, which she was 
certain she'd left on the coffee table. Or on the sofa. Or maybe out in 
the kitchen. Cindy managed to fire off a few words edgewise before her 
mother vanished into the living room. Pete hung his backpack over a wall 
hook and ushered the girl through the doorway, keeping his face 
carefully neutral. His Aunt probably wouldn't notice anything unusual, 
but he wasn't about to take any risks. Cindy stood next to him, 
unconsciously kneading the hem of her dress, listening to her mother's 
rapid-fire banter.

"I'm sorry, I didn't have time to cook a meal tonight," Julie prattled, 
clipping on a pair of gold ear-rings, "so I've put a couple of those 
frozen casseroles in the microwave. Just set the timer to seven and push 
the button." Pete nodded his assent, grateful for the general chaos that 
seemed to surround Julie's existence. She'd be out of here in five 
minutes, and he'd have the place to himself for at least the next nine 
hours.

"What time are you coming home?" he asked, just to make certain.

"Probably around six tomorrow morning," she replied 
distractedly, "unless we decide to hit McDonald's for breakfast." 
Casting around distractedly, she clocked over to the coffee table in her 
impossibly tall high-heels, reaching down for her shoulder-bag. For 
once, it was exactly where she remembered leaving it. 

"There any desert, Mommy?" Cindy chipped in, never one to overlook the 
most important meal of the day. She'd long since grown accustomed to her 
mother's nightly absences, and knew precisely the right questions to ask 
as she was on her way out.

"Yeah, there's some Sarah Lea in the fridge, Sweet-heart," Julie said, 
then straightened up, looping the bag over one arm. "chocolate mudcake, 
I think. Pull it out of the freezer now, it'll be ready by the time you 
finish dinner." She checked her watch, then glanced across at her nephew 
with an oddly quizzical expression. Pete knew that look, he'd seen it 
practically every week over the past three years. She was about to make 
some kind of request.

"Pete, could you do me a favor?" she asked, immediately confirming his 
hunch. 

"Yeah, sure," he answered without hesitation.

"I'm running a bit short on time here," she said, rifling through the 
bag, "do you think you could you run a bath for Cindy?"

Cindy giggled, eyes widening with surprise. She put a hand to her mouth 
to hide an embarrassed smile; a fine carmine tint began to creep into 
her cheeks.  Showing off her underwear had been (mostly) innocent fun, 
but this was completely different. The thought of actually taking all 
her clothes off in front of her cousin set her heart galloping like a 
race horse. A swarm of butterflies started cartwheeling in her belly. 

(petey's going to see me NAKED)

"Well sure," Peter agreed, disguising his astonishment behind a shrug of 
indifference, then added, as if in afterthought: "I mean, if Cindy 
doesn't mind ..."

"Of course she doesn't mind," Julie interrupted, a little 
impatiently, "you're like a brother to her. See, she's laughing." It was 
true, the little girl was sniggering behind both hands now, blue eyes 
dancing with a kind of mischievous joy. Peter glanced down at her, 
unable to believe his good fortune. This was literally the last thing 
he'd been expecting. A vast wave of elation washed over him, almost 
boiling the blood in his veins. It was almost too good to be true. Julie 
had all but given him carte-blanche to take her upstairs and -

"Anyway, I have to get moving," Julia said, pulling the car-keys out of 
her bag and stepping into the hallway. It was ten to the hour, she'd 
have to drive like the devil to make her shift. 

Cindy followed her mother to the front door, chortling farewells and 
bobbing up and down like the Easter Bunny. Pete brought up the rear, 
slowing his stride to conceal his impatience. He wanted his aunt gone, 
out of the way. His eyes crawled over Cindy's pert young fanny, 
imagining how it would feel cupped between his palms. He could hear the 
skirt swishing against her panties as she moved. The sound was driving 
him crazy.

Opening the door, Julie paused to kiss her daughter.

"Bye-bye, Sweet-heart, see you tomorrow morning," she said, touching her 
mouth to the child's lips, "you be good for Peter. And no later than 
eight-thirty, right?" Cindy accepted her curfew without complaint, 
knowing she'd be up until ten at the very least. Julie lifted her eyes 
towards her nephew.

"Thanks for coming on such short notice, Peter. I really appreciate it." 
Pete open his mouth to dismiss her words with an airy wave of his hand 
(hey, no problem, anytime, don't mention it), but she was already 
turning away. A gust of wind blew into the corridor as the door clicked 
shut. Footsteps were heard clopping down the front steps, fading into 
the early evening. Keys jingled, an engine roared, a car pulled out from 
the drive way. 

And then she was gone.

Peter looked down at the little girl, that razor-thin smile touching his 
features once more.

Time to play.

4.

"OK, climb out of that frock, Honey-girl."

Blushing to the hairline, Cindy began unbuttoning the front of her 
dress. Moist, fluid heat seemed to swirl though her belly, her 
complexion darkened to a deep, feverish red. She simply couldn't believe 
this was happening: Petey was running a hot bath, and she was getting 
undressed. She had to take everything off, right in front of him. In a 
few seconds, she'd be standing completely nude with her clothes strewn 
carelessly around her feet. The words ran through her mind with a kind 
of frenzied urgency: 

(petey's going to see me naked, petey's going to see me naked, petey's 
going to see me NAKED!!)

Clouds of vapor drifted up from the tub, filling the bathroom with a 
fine white mist. Peter was leaning over the faucets, staring into the 
water while he fine tuned the temperature. Cindy felt an odd pang of 
disappointment. He hardly seemed to be paying attention to her at all. 
She opened the frilly bodice of her sundress, exposing a delicious sweep 
of alabaster torso. Her nipples were standing up in exclamation points. 
It was funny; sometimes when it was cold, they grew so big and hard she 
couldn't bear to touch them. They felt that way now, except she wasn't 
cold at all; not with all the steam whirling up from the bath tub. 

Just at that second, Petey turned his head and looked across at her. A 
rash of gooseflesh played along her tummy, all the way to her upper 
thighs. She dropped her gaze with a coy smile, wild strawberries 
standing out on her cheeks. He'd been watching her out of the corner of 
his eye for the last five minutes, waiting for her to take off the 
dress. Her mind swam with a heady cocktail of reluctant pleasure (he's 
going to see me naked, he's going to see me naked). The breath caught in 
her throat; huge waves of delight seemed to cascade through her system.

(he WANTS to see me naked!)

Sliding the sleeves off her shoulders, Cindy lowered the frock towards 
the floor. The thin red fabric glided down her midriff, murmuring 
against her smooth flesh. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. A 
moment later, she was standing up in her pretty little panties, bath-
mist whickering around her bare legs. A bright carmine flush had covered 
her entire midsection, from the dip of her throat to the thimble of her 
belly button. Her nipples had begun to throb. She stared up at her 
cousin, gapingly aware of how little she was wearing. 

Peter was sitting on the edge of the bath, idly testing the water with 
his right hand. He was watching her with that same gilt-edged smile he'd 
worn all afternoon, regarding her like she was some rare, succulent 
morsel he was about to taste.  She couldn't have put it in such complex 
terms, but that was precisely how she felt - as if Pete was going to eat 
her alive. The image both frightened and excited her.

"Over here, Honey girl," he beckoned.  

Pulse slamming into overdrive, Cindy padded over to the bathtub, her 
toes leaving prints on the slick blue tiles. She halted before him, 
unable to meet his gaze for more than a second. Her fingers skittered 
over her pristine white underpants, playing with the elastic trim. She 
felt a delicious tingling sensation between her thighs, as if someone 
was tickling her down there. Her tummy strummed and clenched with 
expectation. This was so terribly, terribly naughty - much naughtier 
than the handstands in the Domain.

Leaning forward, Pete hooked his fingers through the lacy frill of her 
waistband.

"Panties down, Kitten." 

Stretching the elastic with his fingertips, Peter slipped her pants down 
over her hips. Cindy gasped, suppressing a nervous giggle. Her pudgy 
little girl-spot popped into view - softly pouting lips folded around a 
pink, dimpled cleft. Cindy's hands twitched, but she made no move to 
cover herself. She was close to fainting with arousal; Peter's eyes were 
gliding all over her nubile young form as he slid her panties down to 
the floor. Literally everything she had was on open exhibition, 
everything! 

(i'm naked)

She stepped out of her underwear, looking down at herself in naive 
curiosity. Like most little girls, Cindy was fascinated by the sight of 
her own body; its frail beauty; its flawless, feminine perfection. Her 
hair was a sumptuous blond waterfall spilling over her shoulders, her 
waist surprisingly slim for one so young.  She moved with an unconscious 
grace, an innate sensuality unique to girls her age. She ran her hands 
over her sleekly contoured torso, mesmerized by the crystal texture of 
her skin.

(i'm naked. i'm naked)

She'd never been this undressed in front of any man. She couldn't 
remember her father, and there were no other males in her immediate 
family. Peter was the closest thing she'd ever had to a brother (or a 
Daddy, for that matter), and here she was, standing nude and vulnerable 
and utterly helpless before him. She looked shyly up at her cousin, 
large eyes filled with love and trust and the unquestioning devotion of 
a child.

5.

Peter roamed his vision over Cindy's naked body, drinking in her thighs, 
her nipples, her tiny pink labia. His breathing shallowed, his pupils 
dilated, a fine layer of cold sweat coated his neckline. He was almost 
delirious with lust: peeling Cindy's panties down had set his overloaded 
libido into melt down. When his fingers had skimmed over her plump 
little vulva, he'd virtually imploded with yearning. He could barely 
restain himself even now. Shaking beneath his skin, he rolled his tongue 
over his teeth, eyes circling back to her tightly pursed lips. They 
looked so tender, so delicate, so ... 

He wanted her. 

He wanted her now, this instant. He could already feel his lips closing 
around her jutting red nipples, sucking and gnawing until she moaned in 
ecstasy. Oh yes, he'd make her moan. He'd be as gentle as possible, she 
was only a little girl after all; but she'd gasp and writhe and shudder 
in his arms. Maybe she'd even weep and plead for mercy ("no, Petey, no, 
please stop, it hurts"), but he was going to have her, all the same. He 
was going to satisfy himself in her frail, yielding girl-flesh. And when 
he'd finished stroking and sucking and groping and squeezing, he'd splay 
her thighs and - 

He'd have to be careful. 

He couldn't allow himself to leave marks or bruises. He couldn't get too 
rough with her, no matter how much she stoked his fire. As he said 
before, it was all a question of control. He had to reign himself in: 
she was a child - a rather fragile one, at that - and he couldn't afford 
to harm her. A scrape, a scratch, a single drop of blood, and the game 
would be over. Forever. Her mother would guess the truth. She'd never 
forgive him, never trust him again. And he'd never touch her again.

Control. 

Peter wiped his mouth with the back of his hand (a gesture he'd learned 
from his father, years ago), giving himself a moment's breathing space. 
There had to be an answer, some resolution to the paradox. Patience was 
the key to the puzzle. The same quiet perseverance he'd shown over the 
past three years. He could still have her - there was absolutely no 
question of that - but first, she had to be warm, relaxed and 
comfortable. Not drowsy, the way she was when they stretched out 
together on the sofa. He didn't want her nodding off to sleep tonight. 
No, he wanted her wide awake, lively, frisky ... 

playful. 

He smiled down on the small, naked girl, relishing the spectacle of her 
exquisitely molded form. It would take all his strength, but he'd have 
to postpone the celebrations for a few minutes longer. He'd waited three 
years to immerse himself in the lush delights of her body, he could wait 
another half an hour. Then she'd be his for the rest of the evening. 
He'd carry her, clean and fresh and giggling into her bedroom, her long 
golden hair smelling of wild strawberries. He'd lay her gently on the 
pink satin quilt, her nude, damp torso open to his caresses. He'd touch 
his mouth to her crimson, swollen nipples ...

and the games would begin.

The tub was nearly full. Peter twisted the faucets and looked back at 
his cousin

"OK, Kitten", he said, reaching down take her under the arms, "let's get 
you clean."

NEXT: After the Bath

Email me for Part 2.
gm@mrdouble.com

-----------
All emails sent to this mrdouble.com domain that contain any file
attachment type other than "txt" or "zip" will be deleted.  That
means if you reply to this message using "html format" or with a
"jpg" or image file, or any other file type other than "plain
text", "txt" or "zip", the entire email will be deleted and your
message will not be delivered to this domain.  This is intended
to prevent abuse, spam, and viruses.

-- 
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}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+