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From: Shakes Peer2B <shakespeer2B@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} (New) Wheels of Fortune - Getting a Push (Mf, lolita, oral, cons)
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Date: Thu, 26 Feb 2004 08:10:03 -0500
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________________________________
This is a story about a sexual FANTASY written for consenting adults. If 
you're not both of those, don't read it.  Characters in a FANTASY don't 
get sick or die unless I want them to. In real life, people who don't 
use condoms and other safe-sex techniques do get sick and die. You don't 
live in a FANTASY so be safe.  The fictional characters in my stories 
are trained and experienced in acts of FANTASY - don't try to do what 
they do - someone could get hurt.

If you think you know somebody who resembles any of the characters here, 
congratulations, but you're wrong - any similarity between the 
characters in this story and any real person is purely coincidental, 
since all of these characters are figments of my dirty little imagination.

This is my story, not yours. Don't sell it or put it on a pay site. You 
can keep it and/or give it away with all of this information intact, but 
if you make money off of it, you're breaking the law and pissing me off.
_________________________________
Wheels of Fortune - Getting a Push (Mf, lolita, oral, cons)
(C)Copyright 2004 - Shakes Peer2B
shakes_peer2b@NONOsbcglobal.net
(remove 'NONO' from the above address to contact me)

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Shakes_Peer2B/
http://storiesonline.net/  (go to the Author's page under 'S')
________

She was probably a ninth grader - pretty enough, but lacking confidence, 
if her posture was any indication.

I usually try to schedule my rides earlier in the day, so I don't have 
to ride past the local High School while classes are letting out. I just 
don't trust teen-age drivers to see me when I'm on my bike.  Today, 
though, I was running late. Thankfully, late enough that most of the 
traffic had died down.

I was huffing up the hill past the school and I noticed the slender 
brunette walking alone, head down.

"How 'bout a push?!" I asked as I pedaled even with her.

She looked startled for a moment, gave a nervous laugh, and then, bless 
her heart, said "OH! Do you really need...?"

I grinned, and between breaths said, "Not really! Getting up these hills 
is just a matter of putting my mind to it, but sometimes the mind needs 
a little comic relief!"

She laughed that tinkling laugh that younger girls seem to lose as they 
get older.

I paced her for a few minutes, since she didn't seem inclined to shy 
away, and I was enjoying the interchange. I find young people, up to a 
certain level of their development, refreshing to be around, and this 
girl seemed still to have some of her youthful innocence.

"Let me guess," I panted, still trying to get my lungs caught up with my 
legs, "Boy trouble?"

Her head whipped around like I'd hit her, and she said, "How'd you know?!"

I smiled and said, "I still remember what it was like to be young. If 
you had problems, it had to be one of three things: School, parents, or 
the opposite sex! If it was parents, it was probably about school, and 
you don't look like the kind of person who'd have trouble at school. So, 
does he even know you like him?"

We had finally topped out on the hill and my breath was coming back.

She looked at me with sad eyes and shook her head.

"Let me guess," I said again, "He's 'A' list and doesn't even know you 
exist, but you've had this big aching crush on him, like, forever!"

Giving me a sidelong look, she asked, "What are you, like, a mind reader 
or something?"

I laughed and replied, "Nah, besides having been through it myself, I 
raised a daughter and watched her heart get broken all through junior 
high and high school. Ya know what, though?"

She shook her head.

"She survived just fine." I said, "Just got married to a great guy. 
That's why I ride this thing everywhere. I had to hock my car to pay for 
her wedding!"

She started to laugh again, then that soft spot showed up and she asked, 
"Really?"

I grinned, having gotten her a second time. "No, not really. It only 
FEELS like I'll have to hock the car when I'm paying the bills! I do 
this for exercise, and to meet pretty girls!"

She blushed and said, "I'm not pretty!"

"I beg to differ, young lady!" I said, "You're plenty pretty, but you've 
got two things working against you."

"Like what?" she asked.

"You lack self-confidence. It shows in the way you stand, the way you 
dress, and the way you hold your head when you walk.  The second thing 
is that boys your age think that 'pretty' is what they see in Playboy 
and Penthouse. They haven't matured enough to look past a woman's boobs 
and see what she really looks like."

She actually blushed when I said 'boobs'. How sweet!

"Ok," I said, "I'd better get on or it'll be dark by the time I get done 
with my ride! Nice talking to you...?"

"Um, Angie!" she said. Then, "Thanks, uh...?"

"Ted!" I said over my shoulder as I accelerated downhill.

I thought nothing more of it, but finished the ride with a pleasant glow 
where the memory of that conversation rested.

A couple of days later, I found myself, once again running late, huffing 
and puffing my way up the hill by the school. There was more traffic 
this time, and I was trying to watch the cars, in hopes of being able to 
take evasive action if one of them accidentally took aim at me, so I was 
a little surprised to hear a familiar, feminine voice, say, "Need a push!"

"Hi, Angie!" I panted. It's strenuous enough getting up that hill, but 
when I had to accelerate and decelerate to avoid cars and pedestrians, 
it took quite a bit out of me. I never do hills fast, but I do 'em 
better if I can maintain a steady pace.

"You look like you could use that push, Ted!" she said, falling in 
beside me. Something was different. Her head was up, her hair was done 
differently, she wore brighter colors. She looked positively radiant!

"Hey! You look great!" I complimented her. She did too!

"Thanks!" she said, blushing, "I thought about what you said the other day."

"Yeah?" I answered, "Imagine that! A teenager thinking about what I have 
to say! Wow!"

She giggled a little and said, "No, seriously! I decided there wasn't 
anything I could do about the way boys see girls, but maybe there was 
something I could do about my self-confidence!"

"And?" I prompted.

"And I got my hair done," she answered, "changed my clothes, and put on 
a little makeup. When I looked in the mirror, I realized, 'Hey! that 
girl in there doesn't look half bad!' So I came to school like this the 
last couple of days, and guess what?"

"The boys have been buzzing around you like flies?" I guessed.

"Yeah!" she laughed, "I couldn't believe it! But you know, it's totally 
weird..."

"What is?" I asked.

"When I saw how easy it was to attract them just by changing my 
appearance, I realized just how shallow they were, and suddenly, the 
boys I'd been drooling over looked more like immature kids!" she gushed.

Now, I know what you're thinking. This is the point where either the 
dirty old man starts wondering if he's got a chance, or the responsible 
adult thinks, 'Uh oh! Crush coming! Think of something, quick!'

Frankly though, I was just enjoying our conversation, and marveling at 
the change she'd made in herself.

"You know, Angie." I said as we crested the hill, "It takes a pretty 
special person, at your age, to be able to make such a dramatic 
turnaround.  You should really be proud of yourself!"

She blushed again, but instead of putting her head down, just smiled and 
said, "Thanks, Ted! You don't know how much that means to me."

"Well, I made it up one more time without that push!" I said, "Guess 
I'll survive this ride after all!"

"How far do you ride?" she asked.

"Oh it's only about twenty-six miles, but most of it's uphill."

She thought for a minute, then said, "Wait a minute. Do you start and 
end at the same place?"

"Yeah."

"Then it should be half uphill and half downhill, right?"

Smart cookie! She'd been paying attention in class.

I laughed and said, "Distance-wise, yeah. But since I it takes only a 
few seconds to go down hills that it takes me several minutes to climb, 
when you measure the time, it's about ninety percent uphill! So in terms 
of the workout, most of my time is spent climbing hills."

"OH! I never thought about it like that!"

"No reason you should! Hey, I gotta get movin'! Nice to see you again!" 
I said as I took off. I love the downhill part, even though I can coast 
for those few seconds, I usually wind up pedaling at least the first 
part, sometimes reaching speeds as high as fifty miles per hour. As much 
as I enjoy the downhill, though, I treasure the uphill because it's kind 
of an affirmation of how much good I'm doing for my body.

It was a couple of weeks later before I found myself near the school 
after the closing bell. This time, Angie was kind of hanging around. She 
smiled with relief when I came alongside and she fell in alongside.

"Have you been waiting for me Angie?" I asked, out of breath.

"Yeah, kinda." She said.

"I'm sorry!" I said, "I should have told you: I usually ride earlier 
unless something delays me. These kids behind the wheel scare me!"

"Oh." she said, "I was afraid you didn't want to talk to me anymore."

Ok, NOW the alarm bells were going off, but I wasn't sure what to do 
about them. Maybe she just liked our conversations as much as I did.

"Oh, no!" I said, afraid of damaging that fragile confidence she'd built 
for herself, "I just didn't realize our little uphill talks meant so 
much to you! Jeez, when MY kids were teenagers, they couldn't WAIT for 
me to stop talking! It never occurred to me that you'd actually WANT to 
have these conversations!"

I stopped my bike and propped myself up with one foot on the curb at the 
top of the hill.

"Look, Angie!" I said, pointing to a kid doing donuts in the 
intersection ahead, narrowly missing a couple of kids on the crosswalk. 
"It really IS dangerous for me out here this time of day. Drivers, 
especially young ones, don't watch for bicycles, and I really have to 
stay alert to avoid them.  If you really like having these talks, maybe 
we should find another way."

"Um, like, what?" she said, just knowing I was giving her a brush off.

I thought about that for a minute. Then said, "Hey! You know where 
Starbucks is?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"I indulge myself by sitting there in the morning on weekends and 
enjoying an expensive cup of coffee. If you can get down there, maybe we 
can talk then?" I asked. I didn't really want to let her down, but I did 
want to keep our meetings in a public place.

Her face brightened and she smiled, "Yeah, I can ride my bike down 
there! It's not as fancy as yours, but then I don't use it to pick up guys!"

I grinned at her little joke, and said, "Great! I'm usually there by 
about eight thirty. Is that too early for you?"

"No." she smiled, and said, "See you Saturday?"

"Sure!" I said, snapping my shoe back into the pedal, and waving as I 
took off.

Saturday dawned bright and sunny. I told the cute little 'barista' to 
put my coffee in a ceramic mug and took it out to one of the Umbrella 
covered tables outside. This was one of the reasons I came here. I had 
gotten on a first-name basis with most of the young ladies who worked 
here, and we always exchanged pleasantries when I came for my coffee. 
Most of the time I didn't even have to order - they'd start getting it 
ready for me as soon as they saw me getting off my bike.

I enjoyed the warmth of the sun on my Lycra-clad legs as I sipped my 
coffee. I was on about the third sip, when Angie rode up on a Trek 
comfort bike - sort of a cross between a mountain bike and the old 
single gear sit-straight-in-the-saddle bikes.

I waved and gave her a smile as she parked her bike next to mine. She 
came over and gave me a hug, like we were old family friends.

"Can I get you anything?" I asked.

"Oh no! I'll just get a cup of hot chocolate and be right back!"

We chatted about school, boys, music, and pretty much anything that came 
to mind. Unlike my own kids, Angie seemed to actually enjoy listening to 
what I had to say.

You cyclists out there know that unless you're wearing a pack of some 
sort, the best place to keep a wallet when you're dressed for riding, is 
in one of the pockets at the back of your jersey. When you're sitting in 
a chair with a back on it, though, that wallet makes an unpleasant lump 
at the small of your back. Somewhere during our conversation, I took 
mine out and placed it on the table under my helmet. I've done this 
every Saturday and Sunday morning, and it's never been a problem.

This particular Saturday, I had an appointment, and needed to get home. 
I bade Angie good-bye and donned my helmet, never realizing until I got 
home, that I'd forgotten my wallet.

Frantic, I called Starbucks. The young lady who answered looked in their 
'lost and found' drawer then went out and looked all around the outside, 
but found no sign of my wallet. Great! I was just resigning myself to 
having to call all my credit card companies, the DMV, etc., etc., when 
the doorbell rang.

When I opened the door, there stood Angie, my wallet in her hand.

"I hope you don't mind. When I saw it you had already left, so I checked 
inside the wallet for your address, and brought it over." she said, 
looking a little bedraggled in the heat.

"Oh thank God!" I replied, "Come on in! Let me get you something to drink!"

"Um I'd like that drink," she said, "but, um, my bike..."

"Oh, just wheel it in here and lean it against the stair rail, there!" I 
said, "I guess you're not used to riding that far, huh?"

"Not really!" She laughed, "Now I see why you're in such good shape!"

"Oh, that's only about ten miles, round trip!" I laughed, "I ride to 
Starbucks for the coffee and the fresh air, not for exercise! Oh, and 
the pretty girls!"

She laughed and asked, "Aren't you married?"

"Was." I answered, handing her a cold bottle of water. I'd have offered 
her soda or something, but water's all I drink since the kids left home. 
Oh, and milk.

"My wife died while the kids were still in school. It was pretty rough 
on them, but it made them stronger in the long run."

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Angie said, "I didn't mean...!"

"Nothing to be sorry about!" I said, "It was a long time ago, and even 
wounds that deep heal eventually."

"So," she asked, "do you ever date those pretty girls you're always 
trying to pick up?"

"Nah," I laughed, "I'm just an old perv who likes ogle the sweet young 
things. They aren't interested in me!"

She giggled and blushed at the 'old perv' remark, probably unaccustomed 
to having adults talk to her like that.

"I don't know." she said, "You're in pretty good shape, and don't look 
half bad for an 'old perv'!"

Suddenly, she went quiet and studied the water bottle in her hands. 
Then, as if steeling herself to do something difficult, said, "Ted, 
would... I mean, well, um... see these young guys are so... and well, I 
guess, um, what I'm trying to say is, um, would you, uh, would you, 
like, uh have sex with me!"

That last part was rushed and barely audible, but I understood it well 
enough. Now all I had to do was figure out how to answer her.

I took her pale, slender hand in both of mine, and said, "That is 
probably, no that is definitely the greatest honor anyone has ever 
bestowed on me...!"

When I paused, Angie jumped in, "I know, here comes the 'but I'd get 
arrested and put in jail for the rest of my life!' I know that Ted. 
That's why I would never breathe a word to anyone! I swear on my 
grandmother's grave, or a stack of bibles, or whatever you want me to 
swear on!"

"What will you say when your parents discover you're no longer a 
virgin?" I asked, "As soon as you go in for an exam, they'll find out."

"I took care of that little problem with my hairbrush several months 
ago." she said, "Mom already knows."

"Girls really masturbate with hairbrushes?" I asked, "I thought that was 
kind of an urban legend!"

"The handle, Ted," she said, "and I only got started. I tried it because 
it was the nearest thing to, you know, like, a phallic object, but it 
was too hard and hurt too much! Did you know that there are little bits 
of plastic sticking out of the surface of a smooth plastic hairbrush 
handle? Ow!"

Getting back to the subject, I asked, "Why me, Angie? Surely some of 
those guys who've started noticing you are willing to volunteer?"

She shrugged dismissively. "I thought about it a lot when they started 
noticing me, and I'll probably start going out with one of them, but I 
want my first to be really special. As much as I'd like to believe that 
Dan would be a gentle, caring lover, he's really just a horny teenager 
looking for something to stick his dick into. I can live with that, but 
it's not how I want my sex life to start."

"You get really good grades in school, don't you Angie?" I asked.

She was a little puzzled by the change of subject, "Yeah, why?"

"Because you're very smart and very observant, and you think about what 
you observe." I said appreciatively.

She blushed again, but wasn't to be side-tracked. "So, is that a 'yes'?"

I studied her for a moment before answering,and before I could say 
anything, she jumped back in. "This isn't a schoolgirl crush or 
anything, Ted. I like you, but I'm not 'in love' with you. I just happen 
to think that you're a thoughtful, kind, man, who if you'll consent to 
do it, could make my first time very special."

"Don't talk for a minute, Ok, Angie?" I said, "I need to think."

I thought, and I thought, and I couldn't escape one conclusion: The 
little girl made sense. Yeah, I know my gonads were helping me think, 
and yeah I would have jumped at the chance to go to bed with a pretty 
young girl. I know that about myself, and I'm okay with it. I also, 
believe, however, that I'd never have consented, if it hadn't seemed to 
be the best thing for her at the time.

"Angie," I said, "this is one secret you can NEVER share with ANYBODY! 
I'm way too old to be somebody's girlfriend in prison, not to mention 
what it would do to my kids!"

"I swear, Ted!" she said earnestly, "Not even my best friend! Not a 
whisper."

"So, when do you want to do this?" I asked, first clearing my suddenly 
dry throat.

"My parents are gone for the weekend." she said, "If you like, we can do 
it now."

"Why don't we shower first?" I said, "After pedaling our asses all over 
town, I imagine we could use it, and we'll shower together. That ought 
to present some opportunities for foreplay, okay?!"

"Foreplay?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said trying to think of a good metaphor, "it's kinda like the 
intro to a good song. It sets the tempo and gets you in the mood for 
what's to come."

We were walking up to my bedroom as we spoke, side-by-side on the 
stairs. I still sleep in the king-sized bed my wife and I shared, just 
because I like having the space, but the sheets and bedding are damn 
expensive.

The room, of course, was a mess, as was most of the rest of the house. 
Before I met my wife, my studio apartment was always a mess, now I've 
got more than twenty-five hundred square feet of space, and no one to 
tell me to clean up after myself. What can I say? Like most bachelors, 
I'm a slob.  My daughter comes over about one weekend a month and goes 
through the place like a tornado. I spend the next three weeks looking 
for the stuff she put away.

Angie, though, took it all in stride. She started, self-consciously, to 
pull her tank top over her head, but I stopped her and took over the job.

"Unless you're doing a strip-tease for a guy," I lectured, "always let 
him take your clothes off for you. Trust me; you'll both like it better!"

As the tank came off the ends of her upraised hands, she dropped her 
arms and they sort of automatically crossed over the cups of her padded 
bra. I kissed the delicate curve of her neck, where it met her 
shoulders, and she shivered like a chill had passed through her.

I unhooked her bra, and gently pried her arms down to her sides. I slid 
my hands under her arms and the band of her bra from the rear, and came 
to rest with her small mounds cupped softly in my palms.

"I'm so small!" she whispered, embarrassed.

"How old are you Angie?" I asked, "About fourteen?"

She nodded and I said, "You've got plenty of time to grow, but don't do 
it today, please. I really like women with small breasts! Yours are 
perfect!"

"But you haven't even seen them yet!" she whispered, more vehemently.

"Don't have to!" I replied gently, "I can feel them. They fill my palms 
nicely, and I can't wait to get my mouth on them."

I thought her knees were going to buckle when I pinched her nipples 
lightly, as I spoke of getting her breasts in my mouth. She let out a 
gasp and sort of melted against me.

Pushing my hands forward, I tugged the brassiere down her arms and let 
it fall to the floor.

I reached over and closed the mirrored door on the closet so she could 
watch as I kissed the side of her neck and gently held her breasts, 
lightly pinching and releasing her nipples. I could see a wet spot 
forming in the crotch of her low-slung jeans.

"I'm going to get a look at your ass now, Angie." I whipered, making 
sure that my breath tickled the fine, downy hairs inside her ear. She 
shuddered again.

I ran my hands, palms flat, down her soft belly, avoiding her ringed 
navel for now. The button on her jeans yielded to a quick twist of thumb 
and forefinger, and the zipper slid smoothly down its track.

Angie held her breath and stared at me in the mirror as I knelt and 
pulled the jeans off first one foot and then the other. She held my 
shoulder for stability as she stood first on her left foot, then on her 
right.

She wore a plain white satin bikini panty with a tiny satin bow in the 
middle of the front of the waistband. I kissed the bottom edge of her 
buttock, just under the panty as she stared at us in the mirror.

Standing behind her, one hand covering a soft breast, the other  lightly 
rubbing the satin material just at the top of her little cleft.

"Look!" I whispered, "Look at that sexy young lady in the mirror! Isn't 
she beautiful?"

Angie's breathing was becoming heavy, and her hips were rocking in 
rhythm with my rubbing. As her movement got more pronounced, I slid my 
hands to her waistband, and slipped her panties off. They slid unaided 
down her legs to puddle around her feet.

The few little hairs that sprouted from her mound glistened with the 
moisture from her arousal. In a single movement, I swept her feet from 
under her, supporting her shoulders with the other hand, and carried her 
into the bathroom. I left her standing for a few moments while I turned 
the shower on.

While we waited for the water to heat, I took the opportunity to suckle 
at one of her sweet little breasts. I placed my lips over the tip and 
nibbled gently at the hard little nipple hiding in the middle of her 
puffy aureola. The little angel gasped and pulled my head closer. I 
switched back and forth between those succulent morsels, enjoying every 
sigh and moan I was able to wring from her. I kept my hands on her 
waist, fearing that she would cum too easily if I touched her pussy. I 
had other plans for her first orgasm.

Steam started drifting about the bathroom, and I reluctantly 
relinquished my claim to her breasts. When I looked at her face, Angie 
was flushed and breathing very hard!

"That," I said, "Is a small example of foreplay!"

"Well, Ted," Angie gasped, "I'm not sure what a 'fore' is, but you can 
play with mine anytime!"

I laughed, not so much at the joke, as the fact that it was the sort of 
lame pun my kids always groaned about when I delivered them. (Just so 
you other parents out there know - I've caught my kids on numerous 
occasions handing out those same 'hated' puns to their friends, so don't 
pay too much attention to what they think of your sense of humor. I 
think it's illegal for them to laugh at something an adult says!)

I loaned Angie a shower cap that my daughter had left behind, to keep 
her hair dry. Once we were in the shower together, I insisted on washing 
her. Soaping the wash cloth and gently laving every square inch of her 
flesh. I paid particular attention to her tender breasts and her 
vulnerable little cleft, exercising extreme care not to rub too hard. By 
the time I finished, Angie was panting as if she'd just run a race.

I soaped the washcloth again and handed it to her, saying, "My turn!"

She was tentative and her hands were soft and gentle on my flesh. When 
she rinsed my chest, Angie bent forward to bite gently at one of my 
nipples. Oh yeah, that was good!

She worked her way down to my erection, washing it carefully, then using 
her hand to help the cascade of water remove the soap. Damn! I always 
liked when my wife handled my manhood, but something about Angie's soft 
little hand made me harder than I'd been in years! The little angel 
knelt and stared at my throbbing rod, then looked up at me with wonder 
in her eyes.

"It's so big!" she said.

Misunderstanding, I said, "It will probably hurt when I enter you, 
Angie. If you don't want to go through with this, it's quite all right. 
I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do!"

As if she hadn't heard me, Angie kissed the tip of my glans, and I felt 
her tongue flick lightly across the opening of my urethra. She opened 
her lips, and tentatively took about a half inch of me inside, swirling 
her tongue around the sensitive end of my plum. I could feel pre-cum 
oozing out the end as my rod flexed involuntarily. Angie took the slimy 
liquid in her mouth and rolled it around her tongue as if exploring the 
taste.  Apparently undeterred by the discharge, she enveloped the end of 
my cock once again, this time getting the whole head in her mouth.

"Ah!" I cried, "Angie! Watch your teeth honey! I don't mind a little 
biting, but no scraping, okay?"

With a quick glance upward, she nodded, and blessed relief came to my 
sensitive glans. She tried for several minutes to get the entire thing 
into her mouth, but her gag reflex was too strong, and with tears in her 
eyes (from the gagging), she resigned herself to servicing what would 
fit in her mouth.

That was just fine with me, because that few inches of my dick reveled 
in the ministrations of her hot little mouth! The water started cooling 
after a while, and I turned it off and helped Angie stand. I retrieved a 
Couple of clean towels from the linen closet and toweled my young lover 
dry, then let her do the same to me.

I picked her up again, marveling at how small and light she was, and 
laid her on the bed, kissing her passionately as I carried her across 
the bedroom. As I deposited my precious cargo, I thanked my lucky stars 
that I had just changed the bedsheets the night before.

I maneuvered Angie's body until her legs hung off the bed. Kneeling 
between them, I draped them over my shoulders. There, looking fresh, 
tender, and vulnerable, lay the sweetest little pussy I had laid eyes on 
since I used to give my daughter her baths in the sink!

I wanted to dive right in, but held myself in check and started planting 
a trail of warm kisses up the inside of one pale thigh. Angie's breath 
quickened as I approached the lightly furred vee, but I stopped my 
progress and started laying a mirror image of those kisses up the other 
thigh. This time, when I reached the top of her thigh, I licked lightly 
up the super-sensitive crease between thigh and torso, causing Angie to 
gasp and shiver.

Returning to the other side, I allowed my warm breath to bathe her 
little pussy as it waited in anticipation, eliciting a frustrated little 
cry as her hips bucked upward. Another lick of the thigh crease, and 
this time she cried aloud, running her fingers through my hair.

Taking pity on her, I let my tongue run lightly up the moist crease 
between her labia.

"Oh my God!" she cried, as if she couldn't believe I'd actually lick her 
pussy.

Balancing firmness, to keep from tickling, and softness, to be gentle, I 
slowly worked my tongue between Angie's labia, seeking out the tiny 
entrance to her love tunnel.  From the moment my tongue wormed its way 
between those sweet lips, Angie emitted a continuous stream of short, 
sharp cries, and her hips jerked spasmodically at each touch. By the 
time I reached my goal, her little pussy was streaming moisture. The 
little teen edged closer and closer to the precipice and I had to be 
very careful to keep from pushing her over before I was ready.

Her cries were running together in a continuous whine until my tongue 
flicked upward and swiped at her tender young clit. Her shriek almost 
deafened me! She was so sensitive that I knew she wouldn't last much 
longer, so I clamped my lips over her little bud, and flicked my tongue 
rapidly back and forth over it.

Angie went ballistic! Her legs wrapped around my head and her body went 
rigid, then broke into rapid oscillations that slammed her hips against 
my face so hard I thought I was going to need dental work!

When she finally came down, her body collapsed onto the bed.

"Oh...(pant, pant)...my...(pant, pant)...God!" she gasped, 
"What...(pant)...was...(pant)...that!"

"I guess you DIDN'T get very far with that hairbrush, huh?" I laughed, 
"Was that your first orgasm?"

"Oh, I've had...(pant)...orgasms before," she answered, "when 
I...(pant)...masturbated. But THAT was something ELSE!"

"So I take it you're enjoying your journey so far?"

"Oh, YES!"

"Well, that was the warmup!" I said, "When you've caught your breath a 
little more, we'll move on the the next stage, okay?"

"You mean there's more?" she asked, still a little breathless.

I smiled and kissed her. Her lips softened and her arms came around my 
head. One leg hooked itself behind my back and pulled me toward her.

"Do you know what 'sixty-nine' is?" I asked, softly breaking the kiss.

She nodded and I said, "Why don't you get on top, so you can be in 
control, then when we're both ready, you just swap ends, and take your 
time."

I reclined with my head at the foot of the bed and welcomed Angie's legs 
as they settled on either side of my head, her sweetly perfumed 
womanhood poised inches from my hungry mouth.  I felt gentle warmth 
envelope my semi-erect phallus, and stretched upward to pay another 
visit to my new favorite place.

Angie moaned and rolled her head around the few inches of my shaft that 
fit in her mouth as I tongued her newly initiated clitoris. I'm no 
expert on blowjobs, but I'd guess that Angie would classify as an eager 
amateur.  What she lacked in technique, she more than made up for with 
enthusiasm! In no time at all, I was ready to go, and Angie was quick to 
take advantage of my turgid state.

Turning to face me she raised her fragile pelvis and nestled my plum 
between the folds of her little pussy.

"Gently...!" I cautioned, as she started applying pressure downward.

"Oh!" she cried as the rim of my glans slipped past the outer portal. I 
felt as though someone had tried to fit the mouth of a soda bottle over 
my dick,it was so tight!

Fraction by fraction, Angie braved the stretching, and I gritted my 
teeth to keep from cumming! I butted up against her cervix with a couple 
of inches still breathing air. With a strained expresssion, Angie raised 
up until my glans caught just inside, then slid back down, very slowly, 
but much faster than the first time.

Slowly increasing her pace, Angie began sliding up and down my 
overstimulated rod. Each time she hit bottom she gave a little surprised 
cry.

The longer she plunged down on my pole, the deeper it went, until, with 
a cry of victory, Angie ground her clit against my pubic bone! Rotating 
her hips to finish the stretching she had undergone, Angie groaned with 
passion.

In wonder, I fingered the bulge in her belly that marked the outline of 
my cock. When Angie looked down to see what I was doing, she gasped as 
she realized what she was looking at!

Continuing to rotate, she rose up and down, faster now, with greater 
confidence.

"Oh, my...!" she cried, now fucking me in earnest.

When she bent forward to kiss me, I took the opportunity to roll us 
over. Angie gazed up at me in wonder as I took over the fucking.

"Are you ready?" I asked, "You've been driving me crazy with your tight 
little pussy, and now I'm going to fuck you!"

She wrapped those long pale thighs around my back and pulled my buttocks 
in with her heels.

"Yes! Please!" she husked, "Fuck me Ted!"

I did! My body had a mind of its own, and it drove my cock deep and hard 
into the fragile teen-aged body. Despite her frail appearance, though, 
Angie's pelvis rose to meet every thrust of my battering ram!

"Ah..Ah..Ah!" her high-pitched cries echoed through the room as I drove 
her into the mattress!

Bending her legs until her knees touched her chest, I gave her a few 
really deep thrusts before turning her onto hands and knees to pound her 
from behind!

"So deep!" Angie cried, "So good! Fuck me! Fuck me!"

Her head dropped to the mattress as my belly rhythmically slapped 
against her buttocks. This was it! The combination of her hot, tight, 
eager little pussy, and the sight of her tiny waist flared into the ripe 
offering of her buttocks just drove me wild!

With little warning, my body slammed deep into Angie's sweet tunnel, 
swelled up, and spat my discharge deep into her innocent body! Angie, 
feeling the heat and pulsing of my ejaculation cried out and vibrated on 
my rod, cumming in sympathy as my cock dribbled its last few drops into her!

We collapsed sideways, and after sharing a sweet little kiss, drifted 
off to sleep with my cock still deeply embedded in Angie's body.

I was jerked awake by another female voice screaming "OH MY GOD! FATHER?!"

Oh, SHIT! I had forgotten that this was the weekend my daughter Tara 
came to clean up after me!

Angie awoke with a shriek, and tried to cover up with the bedclothes.

Strangely, I found myself in a state of surreal calm, as if watching the 
whole scene as a spectator. My first thought was for Angie.

"It's okay, Angie." I said, hugging her as she tried to sink into the 
mattress, "This is my daughter, Tara."

Turning to Tara, I said, "I'm sorry dear, I forgot this was your 
weekend. I suppose an explanation is in order."

I still couldn't believe how calm I was. I should have been in a panic, 
but somehow my concern for both of my girls outweighed my panic at 
having been caught.

"Father!" Tara was not going to be calmed that easily, but then I knew 
that, "How COULD you! She's just a CHILD!"

"She is young, Tara," I said, "but until you've met and talked to her 
it's not really fair to her to call her a child, is it?"

God! Here I was giving my daughter a fatherly lecture after she caught 
me in bed with a fourteen year old!

"Tara," I said, "we obviously need to talk about this. Will you please 
wait for me downstairs?"

Tara didn't answer, but turned huffily on her heel and stalked out.

I turned to Angie and held her, saying, "I'm so sorry, Angie! I forgot 
that my daughter was coming today. That was the appointment I needed to 
get to when I left you at Starbucks. Look, you're not the one in trouble 
here, she's just mad at me. I wanted this to be special for you and I've 
totally blown it!"

"No, Ted!" she replied, "I loved it! I guess the timing was just bad."

"Look," I said, "Why don't you get dressed while I go talk to my 
daughter. I don't think she's going to have me thrown in jail, and she 
can't do anything to you. If you'll hang around up here for a while, 
after I've calmed my daughter a bit, I'll put your bike on the car and 
drive you home, okay?"

She nodded and started looking for her clothes.

I threw on a robe and went to find my daughter.

She had found a beer in the fridge and was sitting at the kitchen table 
sipping it.

"Can I explain, dear?" I asked, "Or are you too mad to hear it?"

"I'm still pretty mad, Dad." she replied, more calmly than I'd hoped, 
"But I'll listen. I've never known you to do anything without good 
reason, and I don't think you're old enough to have gone senile, so I'll 
listen."

I told her the history of how I met Angie, the sequence of events, and 
how I reacted when Angie made her proposal. Then I went through my 
thought processes and why I finally decided to do what I did.

By the time I finished, Tara was looking sad, rather than angry. "Oh 
Dad! If you only knew!"

"Knew what, Honey?"

Tara just shook her head, sending her auburn tresses flying.  I always 
loved the color of my daughter's hair. Thank God she hadn't started 
coloring it!

"Tara, I think you and I need to have a much longer talk." I said, "Let 
me take Angie home and we'll have that talk.  Are you upset at her, by 
the way?"

"No, Dad." she said glumly, "I guess I'm just mad at me! Go on. Take her 
home. I'll wait for you."

I dressed in sweats and got my car keys. To my surprise, Tara waited by 
the front door.

"I decided that any girl who could seduce my Dad was worth getting to 
know better. Hi!"  she extended her hand, "I'm Tara!"

Angie hesitantly shook her hand and said, "Um, Angie."

"Hi, Angie. Look, don't mind me! I remember what it was like to be your 
age, and I wish I'd had someone like Dad to show me what it was all about."

Tara decided to ride with us, and chatted with Angie the whole way. She 
pried, but Angie, bless her heart, only blushed when Tara asked her 
about the sex.

On the way home, Tara turned to me and said, "I like her, Dad. She's a 
lot like I was at her age."

"Yeah, she does remind me a lot of you when you first entered junior 
high." I agreed, "Up to a point, hanging out with her kinda brought back 
those old memories.  Almost every week you'd come home with a broken 
heart, and that would break my heart."

"I was so lucky to have you to come home to, Dad." Tara said, staring 
out the window "You didn't just make me feel better, you always knew 
just what to say to put things in perspective."

"Really?" I asked, shocked, "I never even knew you were listening to me, 
you were always so preoccupied when I'd talk to you."

"Oh, Dad! Didn't you even know what I was preoccupied about?" Tara 
seemed on the verge of tears again.

"I just kind of assumed it was your boy problems, honey."

"No..." she said to the houses passing the window, then turned sharply 
to face me, "You were my rock father! You kept me safe and healed my 
wounds, and after a while I realized why I had so much trouble with 
boys. I kept expecting them to be you, and none of them measured up! 
None of them could take the place of my Dad."

"What are you saying, sweetie?" I asked, "Are you blaming me for your 
problems with boys?"

"No!" she cried, "Don't you see! The reason I was so mad when I saw you 
with Angie - the thought that kept hammering at my heart was 'That 
should be me!' Dad I've had this humongous crush on you since I was in 
junior high, and there was little Angie - right where I dreamed of being!"

I was so shocked, I pulled the car over. "Are you saying you wanted to 
sleep with me?"

She shook her head, and gave me an anguished look, then said, with tears 
in her eyes, "Not 'wanted', dad. 'Want', present tense..."

-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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