Perverts 'R' Us

Ten

By Tom Writer ( M/g, ped, mast )

If you want to reach Tom Writer, e-mail tomwriter@hotmail.com. I'd love to hear from you.

My hand rested on her thigh, the soft smoothness of it a counterpoint to the roughness of my skin. At least it felt that way. She wore a little cotton skirt and a skin-tight top, usual summer fare for girls her age. Ten-year-old girls, that is.

She sat on my lap, her skinny little bottom holding down my rapidly-hardening penis. We watched some sort of appalling home video show, but she loved it, and laughed along, and squirmed as she did so. I didn't deliberately try to move my hand upwards, but upwards it went, almost of its own volition.

One minute I was on safe ground near her knee, the next I was playing with fire at the hem of her skirt. It had ridden up way past mid-thigh now, and as I let my hand drop inwards slightly, I felt the heat of her centre radiating out to meet me. She gasped and tensed slightly as my fingers brushed her skin, but relaxed as I continued, head falling back against my shoulder now, eyes closed, hair spilling across my chest. I brought my other arm around now, hugging not holding, across her stomach.

My roving fingers moved ever so slowly upwards. All she had to do was close her legs and I would have stopped, but she didn't, and so nor did I. As I went higher, teasing with little strokes to more and more intimate places, she squirmed more, her backside tormenting my now rock-hard shaft. She couldn't have failed to notice it there, but didn't seem to mind, lost in her own pleasure.

The skirt finally lifted those last few inches, freeing the sight of her pale pink panties to my eyes. It let loose something else, too - a glorious aroma, the fragrance of a young girl in heat, needing release. I groaned and nearly came as the scent washed over me, and knew that now I had her in the palm of my hand. She needed sex, and I was going to give it to her.

Her legs were splayed open now, all modesty forgotten as my hand delved higher and higher, finally reaching the seam of her pants, a soft, frilly edge that felt coarse against the smoothness of her pale skin. I toyed with it for a few moments, but couldn't resist long, moving the tips of my fingers onto the soft mound at the junction of her legs.

The heat was incredible, intense, much more so than I thought possible. And the crotch was damp, too. Not soaked, but quite damp. Partly sweat, I guessed, and hopefully some excitement too. The way she gasped and squirmed when I touched her there suggested that the latter should be true. I revelled in the feeling of her sex, soft and squidgy, the lips mobile above the feel of her pelvis below, her immature clit a hard little nubbin beneath the upper folds of her sex. I roved lower, feeling the lips part, pushing the soft, damp fabric into the hollow which led to her vagina.

I was happy, for the moment, contented with what I had my fingers on. She was not, though. She was not satisfied. So together came the legs, up went the backside, and off came the panties. I wouldn't have dared do that, not yet anyway, but she was giving me the green light to do practically what I wanted.

With her legs open once more I was afforded my first view of her sex, spread wide and blushing a deep red. I could see the dampness of her, too, causing the skin to glisten. Wasting no time, my fingers were back at her, probing, caressing, and loving. I mashed her clit against her pelvic bone, causing gasps and groans, and more squirming. I moved lower, rewarded by an insistent push of her hips toward the sky, forcing my middle finger tip to dip between the folds and encounter the slimy heat of the entrance to her most inner self.

I paused there for a second, feeling the folds of flesh on the sides of my finger, and the tightness of the hole below. I had a decision to make, whether to continue past that final barrier, or to end it without doing so. It seemed like an eternity that I waited, but it can't have been more than a couple of seconds. It was long enough, though, for her to get impatient; shoving her hips upwards and curling her back to make sure that I penetrated her, right up to the first knuckle.

The heat and pressure on my fingertip were astonishing. She was soaking wet inside, but that didn't make it much easier to push my way in. I made it to the second knuckle before I sensed discomfort in her, and resolved to take it only that far. For a moment I just savoured the feel of the inside of her, the soft, warm dampness, the ring of muscle at the entrance which now gripped somewhere between first and second knuckle. I curled the finger upwards, plunging the tip into the firm wall of her vagina, eliciting a stifled moan as I hit my intended target. Even girls this young had a G-spot, and I'd just found hers.

Sweat was beginning to form in little beads on her forehead, soaking the hair at the front, turning it from dark blond to almost brown, and leaving it plastered to her skin in thin streaks. Her little top was glued to her torso, damp all over. I knew it was time for her to go over the edge, so I started to move my finger in the vice like grip of her hole whilst mashing her clitoris against her pubic bone with the heel of my palm.

It didn't take long for her to get there, wound up as she was. The orgasm didn't rip through her, and she didn't scream out. It simply started as a huge shudder, running from her tightly-curled toes, up through her quivering thighs, past her rigid tummy and into her head like the tremors of an earthquake. What has been simply a tight ring of muscle around my invading digit was now painfully constricted, pulsing with each wave of pleasure.

As the pleasure ran its course through her body, she writhed on top of me, skinny shoulder blades digging into my chest, legs clamping shut and heels pushing into the sofa cushion. Her hips rose to meet my hand, and then she expelled my finger with a grunt, forcing me from within her with one last contraction.

She lay exhausted on top of me, panting, and the sweat running freely down her brow. Never before had I had such an effect on a girl. Little did I know it was only the first time of many.

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