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From: "gm" <gm@mrdouble.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} PETE and CINDY (Mg INC 3/4) PART 3
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Date: Sun,  1 Feb 2004 16:10:05 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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The following story depicts explicit sexual contact between adult and 
under aged participants. Those offended by graphic descriptions of 
incestous relationships 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 (Mg, INC)
PART 3: AFTER THE BATH

6.

CINDY:

She rode high up on his right side, slender arms draped loosely `round 
his neck as he carried her through to the hallway. Her heart rose even 
higher, buoyed by the warmth of an almost indefinable happiness. Peter's 
hand stole teasingly beneath her thick blue bath-towel; she squirmed in 
ticklish rapture as his fingers found her ribs and tummy. Sleek, 
tapering thighs glistened with a film of moisture, as pale as Vatican 
marble. Turning lithely in his embrace, she brushed her cheek against 
his stubbly chin. The towel loosened around her shoulders, unfurling to 
her hips. His left hand supported her from below. She could feel his 
upturned palm mollycoddling her firm, ripe bottom-tops, and that was 
unspeakably ticklish too.

The scent of potpourri spiced her nostrils as they entered her quarters. 
Cindy's bedroom was a Victorian boudoir. Lavender bears frolicked across 
the wallpaper, carnival glass glittered from every available surface. An 
ornate cheval mirror watched them from the corner of the room, its oval 
surface reflecting a mammoth four-poster bed. Far too large to 
accommodate one small child, it housed a collection of porcelain dolls 
and huge, squishy pandas.

Peter carried her over to the bed, absently flicking her towel aside as 
he laid her down on the rose-petal coverlet. The quilted satin felt 
wonderfully cool against her moist skin; cold night air whispered over 
her with insubstantial fingers. She trembled from crown to heel, more 
from expectation than the chill evening breeze. Something was going to 
happen; she could feel it building up around her like a static charge.

Peter stretched himself out on the bed, placing a light hand on her 
waist. Cindy's eyelids quivered like a humming-bird's wings. Her veins 
were throbbing with sultry heat, her belly felt as tense as a coiled 
spring. Petey was touching her and she wasn't wearing anything. Not even 
her panties. That exhilarating sense of unbridled naughtiness descended 
over her once again.

(i'm naked)

His fingertips moved over her tummy in slow, languid circles, raising a 
hum of gooseflesh in their wake. Parting her lips, she shifted sinuously 
on the bedcover, thick blond locks fanned around her in rough semi-
circle. Her body was a gleaming arabesque on the burnished satin. Pete's 
fingers ringed her navel, grazed the tip of her cleavage. Thin 
lightening swept through her midriff, shocking her nervous system into 
high alert.

(i'm naked)

Her mind was swimming with a kind of hazy, liquid pleasure. This was 
just like her day-dreams, the ones where she was all grown up and Petey 
was her boyfriend. She had some vague idea what men and women got up to 
in bed, she'd seen it often enough in those videos her Mommy liked to 
watch on her days off. It seemed to involve a lot of kissing and 
touching and heavy breathing (sometimes, the girls were stripped their 
underwear; other times, they were wearing nothing - just like she was 
now. They were always very beautiful, regardless of how they were 
dressed). 

Petey's hand was weaving its way along her belly, following the shallow 
groove running up the center of her torso. Closing her eyes, she sighed 
with sensuous rapture, wishing he would hold her close and kiss her the 
way she imagined. 

His fingers reached her nipples.


PETER:

He had never felt so aroused in his life. 
Her skin was unbelievably soft; his merest touch seemed to leave faint 
rose bruises on her albino flesh. She lay passive and trusting beside 
him, surrendering her luscious child's body to his roving digits. A 
rich, fragrant aroma pervaded the air around them; the intoxicating 
scent of little girl-sex. Peter's gaze wandered down to her tiny pink 
cleft. The lips were slightly divided, revealing a slash of melting 
crimson.

Peter knew at that point that he was going to take her, regardless of 
the consequences. He simply wouldn't be capable of denying himself, not 
when she was lying so close and vulnerable. Taking her pants down in the 
bathroom had almost pushed him over the edge; now he stood poised to 
pitch himself headlong into the abyss. A tremendous pressure was 
building up inside him, he could feel it thundering through his 
bloodstream with cyclonic force. Its fury both shocked and amazed him; 
he'd never experienced such intensity with any girl his own age. 

He returned his attention to her nipples. The aureoles were dark and 
engorged, the tips pulsating with red heat. He could actually see them 
swelling up beneath his gently probing fingers, their points as sharp as 
needles. Cindy moaned softly as he stroked his index around each 
straining, carmine orbit; they looked big and ripe and terribly 
sensitive. Peter's mouth began to water. He could already taste them, 
firm and sweet on the edge of his tongue.

Lacing an arm about her shoulders, he gathered her closer in his 
embrace, bringing her face within an inch of his own. Her eyes were 
pools of deep blue sky, her mouth a glistening scarlet flower. He could 
feel her tripling heartbeat, thudding through his fingertips. So small, 
so frail, so ... immediate. Lowering his head, he brushed his lips over 
her right cheek, relishing her milky white girl-smell. She pressed 
herself into the hollow spaces of his chest, upturning her lips to meet 
his.

"Petey?" 
"Yeah"?
"Do you think I'm pretty"?
Pause.
"... I think you're beautiful."
Her fingers touched the side of his face:
"I love you, Petey."

And incredibly, his heart broke for her, shattering like a crystal 
figurine. Because she did love him. He could feel it radiating up from 
her in tangible waves, as huge and pure as an April sunrise. Longing 
reared up in within him like some crazed black stallion, shattering the 
last of his inhibitions. The time had come, he couldn't wait any longer. 
He had to have her. Another second on this treadmill of agony ... 

and he'd lose his fucking mind.


CINDY:

Petey was kissing her.
Not baby-kisses, not rain-drop kisses, not the sort she was used to.
No, these were real kisses, hard and wet and lightening swift. He was 
kissing her in places her Mommy had never kissed her before, places she 
hardly even knew existed. He had started with her mouth, feathering her 
lips with his own. His hands had continued to caress her denuded form, 
paying close attention to her nipples and belly and waist. Folding her 
arms around his neck, Cindy had received his affections with half-
slitted eyelids.

Then suddenly, everything had changed. Petey began kissing her the way 
they did in Mommy's videos. His tongue flickered inside her mouth, 
darting and finicking between her teeth. The brief contact had left her 
gasping with surprise, but she continued to lie submissively in his 
arms, nerve-endings humming like high tension wires. It was all 
excitement: there was no fear, no anxiety, no real trepidation; nothing 
but an overpowering sense of trust. Peter loved her, he would never do 
anything to hurt her. Not in a thousand years.

His kisses trailed over her chin, her throat, her slim, flat chest. 
Cindy's tummy stiffened with anticipation; somehow, she knew what he was 
planning to do. His fingers stretched the skin around her nipples, 
making them impossibly tight. He slid his tongue around her aureoles one 
at a time, causing the points to pop up in hard, jutting peaks. Cindy 
writhed on the coverlet, swallowing a mouthful of cold air. Raking her 
fingers through his hair, she closed her eyes and moaned in high, 
breathless tones.

Then she felt his teeth.

Bolts of arctic heat lanced through her torso, as keen and abrupt as the 
edge of a razor. Cindy whipped her head from side to side, digging her 
nails into the back of Peter's neck. He was biting her, driving his 
incisors into her tender red nippies like shards of frozen glass. The 
pain was enormous, blinding, unendurable. Eyes glinting with encroaching 
tears, Cindy arched her back, pushing herself into his jabbing, tweezing 
canines. Her moan of pleasure turned into a sob of anguished joy.

"Petey," she murmured, squirming between his imprisoning hands, "ohhhhh, 
Petey, it hurts, it huuurrts ..."

And it did. But it was a sweet, inexpressible kind of hurt, quite unlike 
anything she'd ever experienced. Huge, glittering stars were exploding 
before her field of vision. The pain was totally insufferable, but she 
couldn't bear it to cease. The torture continued, spinning out into some 
endless purple limbo. She cried, she wept, she pleaded - 

But she didn't ask him to stop.


PETER:

It was the culmination of all his fantasies; the sultry, sweltering 
images that had haunted him every night for three years. Everything was 
precisely as he'd pictured it: the warm, naked spread of her body, the 
ivory sleekness of her flesh, the virtuous aroma of shampoo infusing her 
hair. She was even weeping for mercy, struggling weakly against his 
irresistible, masculine strength. Exaltation hammered through his veins 
like molten steel. He had never felt more powerful, more dominant, more -
 triumphant.

He laid himself full-length over the girl (he no longer thought of her 
as his cousin, or even as a person: she was just `the girl' now), 
determined to squeeze every last ounce of gratification out of the 
encounter. He wanted to hear her moan in hopeless protest, feel her 
hands push against him in futile resistance. He was a man, she was a 
girl - his girl, and he was ready to claim his prize. Fortunately, he 
could take possession at his leisure. He had the whole night to play 
with his new toy. 

Nuzzling a nipple between his teeth, he tugged on the pulsating apex, 
slowly at first, then with increasing vigor. She quailed in response, 
clawing at the quilt-cover and sobbing against his shoulder. Her eyes 
sparkled like blue diamonds as the tears overflowed down her cheeks. Her 
voice was a piping flute in the twilight's moody silence.

"Nooooooo, Petey, no, please, it hurts, nooooooo -"

The helpless quality behind her words lashed his libido up to a frenzy.  
He transferred his mouth to the right side of her chest, violating the 
nipple with his flailing tongue. A massive erection was hammering 
through his jeans, threatening to burst its denim constraints. Very 
soon, he'd be jamming that rock-hard member up inside her, making her 
shriek in ecstasy. But first, he wanted to finish his entree. He was 
only half-way through his appetizer, so to speak, and he had no reason 
to rush the main course.

I'm going to enjoy this, Peter thought, sliding his lips off her nipple 
and inching his kisses south. He sucked and gnawed his way down her 
stomach, indulging himself in her belly button for several seconds 
(amazing how sexy a little girl's navel could be, especially when it 
poked out so far). The girl seemed to know where the path was leading; 
she lay panting on the bed, growing more agitated with each second. He 
placed his hands on the trim curves of her inner thighs, thumbs resting 
on the soft mound of her femme. His fingers twitched impatiently. Was it 
his imagination, or was her labia actually splitting apart, gradually 
revealing its glistening red heart? Pete shook his head in mute 
disbelief, unable to accept what he was seeing. All this had started 
with couple of handstands in the woodlands. 

Moving with infinite care, he opened the intricate folds of her vulva, 
studying the moist, dripping interior with a sense of awe. Although he'd 
slept with dozens of women over the past few years, none of them had 
looked like this. Somehow, he'd forgotten that Cindy was a virgin, her 
delicate maidenhead flawless and undefiled. A spray of silvery droplets 
trembled on the rim of the membrane; lubricant, oozing from the 
vestibule. Peter felt his manhood bulging upwards, the shaft extending 
to impossible lengths. How would he ever contain himself after this? 

Prying her lips even further apart, Peter maneuvered himself into 
position, his mouth hovering less than an inch above her vagina. He 
could see her clitoris; a tiny pink strawberry near the top of her 
yawning labia. The hood was drawn back, exposing its wet, gleaming glans 
to his scrutiny. Once again, he found himself doubting his senses; he 
thought he could see it pulsing with arousal. He used his elbows to 
splay her knees, allowing himself more space between her legs ...

And then he went down on her.


CINDY:

Her mouth gaped in shock, every muscle in her body went into spasm. 
Something seemed to detonate, deep down in the pit of her tummy, 
spreading out along her thighs and abdomen like a tsunami. She tried to 
scream, but her diaphragm had gone into convulsion, cutting off her 
breath. A brilliant white light exploded behind her eyes, momentarily 
shorting circuiting her entire sensory network. The world receded to a 
single flickering dot, then leapt back into sharp focus, shimmering with 
Technicolor clarity.

What was he DOING to her?! She thrashed about on the bed-cover, kicking 
her feet and beating her open palms against his shoulders. Looking down, 
she saw his face squeezed into her Kitty (Mommy's word for that part of 
her anatomy), kissing her the way he'd kissed her nipples. Except this 
wasn't kissing, nothing like it. This was something different, something 
great and magical, something strange and exotic. Bracing her hands 
against the mattress, she pushed herself up, drawing in a gigantic 
lungful of air. 

"OH!! OHHHHHHHHHHH!!" she finally managed, clenching her thighs around 
Petey's neck, then collapsed back down into the quilt, tremoring from 
crown to heel. Tilting her head back, Cindy cried out his name, 
imploring him to stop - although she wasn't sure she wanted him to. It 
was like being tickled half to death, except about a million times 
better. A billion, a trillion times. She couldn't stand it an instant 
longer, and yet she wanted it to go on forever.

(what's he -? OHHHH!! PETEY, NOOOOO!! PLEASE DON'T -)

And suddenly, she knew what her cousin was doing. He was LICKING her; 
she could feel his tongue lapping at her girlie-thing, making her dance 
and squiggle. A torrent of joy cascaded through her system as he delved 
into her most intimate recesses. Virtually unaware of what she was 
doing, Cindy slipped her fingers over her nipples and began to squeeze. 
She arched her spine, lifting her tummy off the bed and pushing her 
Kitty deeper into Peter's mouth. It was wrong of her, somehow she knew 
that , but she couldn't help herself: she wanted him to hold her down 
and lick out her Kitty while she was naked and helpless. 

The room turned dim and remote around her; a formless roaring filled her 
ears, like the distant lowing of the ocean. Clutching handfuls of pink 
satin, she lay back and resigned herself to the endless blue depths, 
hoping she could drown forever.


PETER:

It was time. His weapon was drilling its way through his black stretch 
Levis, throbbing painfully against the jagged links of his zipper. He'd 
have to move slowly, he was playing with a hair trigger, and the 
slightest jar might set it off. He wanted to have it deep inside her 
before that happened; he'd waited far too long to run the risk of a 
misfire. He lifted his mouth from the girl's labia, balancing forward on 
his elbows. This had been an incredibly good night, probably the best of 
his life.

And it was going to get better.

Cindy (he could think of her that way now) was curled up on the quilt in 
an exhausted, shaking heap, still gazing up at him with that heart-
wrenching mixture of trust and adoration. She'd need a second to catch 
her breath - but no more than that. He reached out to run a finger down 
the side of her beautiful face.

"Was that good?" he asked, giving her The Smile.
"Yeah."
"You liked that?" 
His finger rounded her chin, skirted the hollow of her throat.
"Yeah."
"Really?"
Down the middle of her torso, over the crest of her belly.
"Yeah. I wish you were my Daddy, Petey."
"Oh? Why?" His voice was slick, oily, coaxing.
"Because then we could do this every night."
The Smile, again. His finger dipped into the cup of her tummy-button.
"Want to do something for me now?"
Frost-blue eyes widened with naive curiosity.
"What?"
Peter's finger slid into the top her cleft.
"Something very special."
The little girl nodded her reply, face brightening the whole room. 

****************************************************************

NEXT: THE PENETRATION OF CINDY.
Email me for Part 4.

gm@mrdouble.com

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