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Have you ever felt like the world is going through its motions for your benefit alone? Like it s a test to see how you will react to all of the crazy and improbable situations?
My name is Anthony Manchrist. Call me Tony. I am excited for today, on this Fourth of July. Not because of the US holiday, but because I am celebrating an important one-year anniversary. The anniversary of a day of love that surpasses all understanding. We all know that sex with the right person, under ideal conditions, is wonderful beyond words. But the truth is that the English language fails us completely in that regard. Words cheapen and vulgarize what God has given us as the ultimate gift, which is an indicator that historically, other aspects of our natural human sexuality have been distorted and twisted as well. The English language with regard to sex is evidence of a major shift in our culture, back when men siezed control through religious institutions and took away female sexual freedoms. The reverberations are clearly felt even today. This story is about a major discovery along those lines and the joy that wells up when the bonds of history are released. Last year on this day, the world did change. It was for the benefit of myself, a few hapless mothers and daughters, and my lovely and brilliant wife. The reverberations of what she set in motion were literally felt across the Galaxy.
Chapter One: Becky s Research Project.
I was an adorable little boy. A beautiful boy. Sweet and lovable. My brother and father beat that out of me. Not physically. It s a mystery to me why people see things backwards. Physical abuse pales in comparison to emotional abuse, and yet there are no consequences for the latter abuser. Needless to say, it changed me. My grade school years were marked by my steady decline. I was gloomy and introspective all of the time, and I dressed down to match the image I had of myself. My chipped front teeth helped in that regard. In college, it was still getting worse. I could not see the reason for it, other than believing I was strange and repulsive, but my aunt could. She knew then and now, always showing me her concern, but not enough to interfere. Once I was out of the house and in college, she took me under her wing and secretly paid for a counselor who had helped her own son. Mr. Brown was his name. He made me call him Bill, and after our first session, he assured me that things were very different than I had come to believe.
My first homework assignment was to get my teeth fixed. When I told him my dad wouldn t pay for it, he made a call to his own dentist and let me listen, ...Just bill the father. I will take responsibility. His name is Manny Manchrist. He can t refuse. If he does, I ll pay. It worked. My dad had a screaming fit into my voicemail. I saved it and played it back for people whenever he claimed to be a great father, or I felt the need for some payback. That voicemail revealed him in the most horrific light. He seethed underneath, being forced like that to see himself for what he was. Maybe that doom and gloom costume I wore all of my young life was my way of sticking it in his eye, him being so concerned about our image .
My next homework assignment was to shave and get a haircut, and some new clothes. This was difficult for me and I resisted. Bill enlisted my aunt Grace to help. At one point she actually grabbed my ear and threw me into a changing room. We laughed later. The clothes and everything made me feel goofy at first. Bill suggested I just walk around campus and see the difference in how people react to me. I reported back that there was no change. All it did was make me feel like I was a fraud.
That was our sixth session. Bill listened, seemingly unconcerned. Then he leaned back in his chair with his massive arms held open wide. Calm down. I get it. I expected no change. After today, you won t need to see me anymore. You have one more assignment. I want to see you in a year to hear all of your stories. Okay?
That last assignment was to smile. He said I never smiled. Just smile. Make it a habit. Especially when you enter a room, or meet someone new. He went on to explain that It was causing people to shy away from me, and that if I would just smile, I would know instantly that I am actually someone that people will love.
I guess it isn t hard to imagine how something like that could change a person. My new persona suddenly opened up all kinds of doors. It was a bit much for me, being such an introvert, because I could not adopt all of the people who suddenly wanted to climb inside of my smile and swim around.
The students in my classes at the university watched the changes occur in real time. One girl in particular, whom I had greatly admired from afar, and whom I imagined was extremely out of reach for a guy like me, came and sat next to me. I just kept that stupid smile on my face. The girl, Stacey, flirted and asked me out for Friday. I had no money, so she pulled me around campus for a while before saying I want to show you my dorm room. She kicked her roommate out and rode my cock for the better part of two hours.
I thought I had stumbled upon a slut. (Ahh yes. So many words to choose from for a slutty girl and none for a guy) She had me thinking she did that sort of thing all the time. But I was wrong. I learned that hiding under the most circumspect and innocent facade, there lies a voracious sex machine within every college aged girl. The sad fact was that it was the first time I had really screwed a girl. There were experiences that might technically make that statement false, but you know what I mean. Those early experiences were with reluctant girls too young and inexperienced to feel the freedom necessary for real sex. They were still polluted by those cultural reverberations that strike fear into them. Fear that some of those labels might stick.
I made an entry into the little black book in my head that Beautiful Stacey was the first through the sixth time I really screwed a girl. My inexperience was so complete that I didn t even know I had popped her cherry. The first was her first too. I was beginning to realize that Bill had been right about everything.
Stacey and I parted as friends a few weeks later at the airport. Even though ours was a purely sexual relationship, and we never saw each other socially, she asked if I would drop her off. She kissed me so passionately, saying that she had a boyfriend back home, and would be true to him from then on. It hurt, but with my old doom and gloom image getting all wobbly as if it would come completely apart, my hurt was tempered by the excitement I felt to see if Bill s Frankenstein monster could do it again.
I d like to back up here and tell you a little side story. Those first attempts at screwing that I refused to mark down in my little black book were all bundled up in one summer when I was thirteen. I was still adorable then, with only a few shades of doom and gloom, making me mysterious to the girls for such a young looking boy. I had made some friends at my new Junior High, and when I rode my bike to their neighborhood, hearing about a tree fort and wanting to see it for myself, I found the Newberry girls there. They were marching home from the fort for lunch and brought me along. These girls, Linny, Lacey, and Lucy, were thirteen, eleven, and ten, respectively.
I was introduced to their father, Bud, and his girlfriend, Lisa Lovelace. Linny explained that Lisa was a slut and a nymphomaniac, and had to explain the significance of the Lovelace nickname. She was fifteen years younger than Bud and looked only slightly older than his oldest daughter. On the end table beside my seat on the couch was a squirt gun shaped like an erect penis, the balls being the handle. That was my introduction to the sexy side of life. In my home, you would think that side didn t exist.
Lisa Lovelace took an interest in me, asking the girls where they found such a beauty. She went to undo my pants right there in the family room, in front of Bud and the girls and while I ate my PBJ and potato chip sandwich. Fortunately, the girls defended me.
The girls were now energized as we headed back to the tree fort. They were talking openly about getting me naked and having their way with me. I was terrified knowing what was coming because of my hairless and smallish package. I was a slow bloomer. They asked me what was wrong and I confessed. They helped me get over it by stripping down first, posing wide open so that I could see that the two younger girls were also bare and smooth as a baby s butt. They were sweet to do it, and I was finally able to let go, allowing them all to strip me down and practice sucking on my thin, but rather long, penis. I didn t masturbate very often back then and I hadn t seen my erection for a while. It had grown. They also found five pubic hairs I didn't know about. They taught me how to masturbate a girl properly, and they lined up. After all three had experienced an orgasm, they started a silly game I didn t understand. I wasn t even really playing. It was between them, and little Lucy lost. Linny and Lacey grabbed the shy girl and spread her open on the floor. They held her down and braced her legs wide apart as they ordered me to Fuck her. I made them let her go first, and I told her I wouldn t unless she asked me to. Her sisters persuaded her to say the words and I went to work. She was afraid, and even though she didn t really block me, she didn t help at all, just laying there like a fish. I humped away at her, trying to do what her sisters kept ordering, but in the end, I went limp and that was that. They sent me on my way and an encore of that scene never came. Mainly because those girls seemed mean, and I hated the thought of what would happen to me if Lisa Lovelace ever got her way with me. I was a shy kid. Give me a break. There were other dramas with girls that summer. One was significant, and ended in disaster. If I remember correctly, that story gets related on the big day one year ago. So I will defer.
When the initial high of my new found confidence wore off, I realized the situation I was in. I was Bill s Frankenstein monster, and it made me feel powerful. There could be no doubt: people absolutely loved me.
Ice hockey was one thing my dad did for me that I appreciated. He pushed me pretty hard and it paid off. By the time I enrolled in the university, I had enough skill to make the team, but without a scholarship. Still, all of that free ice time was amazing. I played and practiced all the time and made it onto the fourth line. I played in every game, traveling with the team to campuses all up and down the east coast. No one other than my teammates knew knew. It was easy to stay anonymous in collegiate ice hockey. There were no names on our jerseys, only numbers, and we wore helmets. The ice rink was privately owned and leased by the university, so it was off campus across town. No real grandstands either. It gave me a great physique. Not overly muscular, but obviously extremely athletic. Just a couple of years back I was a senior in high school, still skinny and scrawny. Now, in college, I was filled in with some meat on my bones. I took an honest look at myself in the mirror, preparing for my date, erection in hand and smiling. I was impressed at the guy staring back at me. I could hardly believe I was the same person.
I explained all of that, about my childhood experiences and how my personality and character were formed, because it is an important factor. Stacey had shown me some pictures of herself as a young girl. She was very odd looking, growing out of one awkward stage and into another all of her childhood, which is why she showed me, to prove her point. She had been teased and bullied because of it. Maturing into the beauty she was made her extremely attractive. Not because of her body, which was dynomite being in the track and field team, but because she was not stuck-up. She was explaining to me that I was in the same boat. I still carried myself in a humble way, and they sensed it. Everyone did.
The next girl I dated was one that I had dated in high school. The date back then was a major disaster, and she didn t want anything to do with me. I watched her from the sidelines with loving eyes through all of her boyfriends until I graduated one year ahead of her. Now I found her again wandering around campus. She didn t recognize me. Only that I reminded her of someone. Her name was Rebecca. I called her Becky, even though she asked me not to. We lived together on campus. When she graduated, we broke up for a summer, got back together in the fall, and got married a few years later.
Maybe that surprises you. That someone with such power would tie himself down like that. Well, I have no explanation.
Being married, and wearing a prominent ring, calmed most of the girls down, and me too. I took my marriage seriously, because I loved her, and I knew how hurt she would be. I fell back into my old introverted ways, not realizing it was the ring that had changed their behavior. It was easy for me to backslide emotionally, and Becky wasn t helping. She never really said or did anything designed to pump me up. She was the tear-down type, God love her. I did.
One situation that didn t change, because they didn t care about rings on men s fingers, were the reactions I was getting from young girls. My smile infected them instantly and they would latch on to me, oblivious of their parents being right there and ignoring their reprimands and strong apologies to me for their abhorrent behavior. She s never acted like that before. They would all say. Obviously the girls liked my looks, but I also seemed to project some kind of aura that I was nice and safe and approachable. Maybe that humbleness that Stacey pointed out.
The first few times were frightening for me: how sexual they were. Their dirty minds would go straight there. I could see it in their eyes and their body language. I had no idea that the innocence they projected was just an act. I could understand it in a college girl, but that young? No way. It became so predictable, the way they would find a way to send me a message. Like whispering an ambiguous suggestion, their lips tickling my ear as they did, their arms clutched around my neck like iron bands. If I was foolish enough to play along, they quickly upped the ante by offering to play one of those silly games designed to slide down the slippery slope of titillation and nudity. Like spin the Bottle, or Truth or Dare. I didn t pay much attention at first, chalking it up to childish outrageousness. But they didn t seem to care that their parents were right there in the room with us. Finally I began to understand their methods and motives. They were all acting on instinct, and I realized how incredibly dangerous it was to play along. Because instinct has no limit. Not until it accomplishes its goal. They will keep pushing the boundaries, with parents witnessing it all, until I have to put a stop to it. That is what is so dangerous. Females in general, and young girls in particular, are vindictive little shits if you scorn them. How do you avoid pissing them off without playing along with their games? It isn t possible. Which is why it was causing me panic attacks.
It was strange that I was so willing to share all of that with my wife. I told her everything. She was a mental health counselor. She was keenly interested in the behavior of the girls I was describing, and especially my reactions to them.
At first I felt her interest and concern was that I might be abusive to them somehow and not even realize it. As if it is some big female secret I didn t understand. It hurt my feelings to think that she didn t trust me in that regard, and I argued with her about it until she was forced to impress upon me that it was exactly the opposite of what I thought. She was worried that I would damage them by freaking out, being callous about their feelings. That I would make them feel ashamed for wanting to play at being sexual with me. She was right. My panic had me assertively rejecting them. I made no bones about it when I explained that to Becky, and it seemed to melt her down emotionally.
You can t treat them like that. It just isn t right. She cried.
We kept arguing about it, never really agreeing on anything. I knew she wasn t being completely honest with me. Despite that, Becky forced the issue and started coaching me on how to behave. She said it was to avoid the scorn I was so afraid of, but I knew that was just a cover story. By then I had pretty much figured it out on my own:
Rebecca, whom I dearly loved and respected, was harboring some deep regrets from her childhood that this new situation between the girls and me was causing to flare up. She was deeply and emotionally affected by my stories, and her coaching was to encourage me to interact more with them: as physically and lovingly as possible, without crossing any major lines of inappropriateness. How is that even possible? , I asked.
I played along with Becky s wishes in that regard, mainly because I trusted her, but also because it felt like the right thing to do. Her arguments were nothing if not persuasive. She made sense of it to me, even though she still would not admit why she was so emotionally tied into it all.
Subtly, she began latching onto any couples we met who had one or more young daughters, She dragged me out to some teeny-bopper concerts just to recruit new blood, inviting them over for a swim and a barbecue. Then she would watch with smiling eyes as the girl parked her wet bikini in my lap. Of course I was ordered to use my smile as a weapon at all times.
Becky was compassionate towards girls who seemed less fortunate in the boy department because of their looks. They had been shied down and bullied enough to think twice when an attraction came around. Becky was adamant in those cases that I should flirt with them.
Those first experiences made me panic, worrying that the girl s parents might magically see into the fantasies swirling around in my head. Or, God forbid, Becky. I still had the nagging sense that she would be upset if she knew how much I thought about the tree fort and Little Lucy s legs being held open, eventually begging me to fuck her, and me humping away ineffectively. Those images and feelings were scorched into my memories.
So many times, After each new encounter, I would become afraid and angry. We would fight and fall out over it. That is how I learned her mind. She insisted that it was perfectly appropriate and necessary in those situations to dole out physical affection. I argued that it makes me seem like a pervert. She would smile knowingly and shake her head. Tony, trust me when I say I can control the situation. All you have to do is act reluctant. Let me push things forward. Can t you see the humor in it? The parents won t care if it comes off funny. I know it will work.
She settled on back scratches as the perfect way to accomplish her goal. So, taking her advice, if I found a girl in my lap, I would slide my fingernails across her shoulders, back and forth a few times, until predictably, she would lift her shirt up in back, or ask me to, in which case I would work it up and hook it on her head, usually high enough in front to expose a puffy little nipple or two.
One such girl, little Mandy, who had a bad case of early-onset-puberty, was only nine years old but was filling out a bra nicely. Firm and high on a perfectly formed athletic body. The moment I started scratching, she lifted her shirt completely off, tossing it on the floor. Her mother just smiled as Becky pointed out how embarrassed and awkward I was, coaxing some laughs from everyone. She was a master manipulator, soothing everyone into her way of thinking, using reassuring words of how appropriate it all was. You had to witness her in action to appreciate her skill. It never seemed contrived or scripted. Everyone naturally agreed with her, because the things she said could not be argued against. It was all common sense.
Mandy sensed that she was the center of attention, and she liked it. I made comical bulging eyes and craned around for a better look at her breasts. Becky and her mother laughed. Her breasts were so stiff and pointed, they distracted me from my scratching and Mandy squirmed her displeasure. She spun around in my lap to face me, blushed all the way down her chest. She was high with titillation. I apologized for slowing down and offered her to lay down across my lap. I scratched and rubbed more earnestly. It only satisfied her for a moment before she squirmed some more and inexplicably flipped over so that I could work on her front side. The women laughed at my shock, and the way I wouldn t look down. Mandy was drunk with arousal and being the center of attention. She placed my hands on her breasts and rubbed them around. That is how Becky had orchestrated it, making it seem funny, as if I wasn t really interested in that way, and the girls precociousness was causing me to panic. So, it became humorous, which was fine with me. I loved the arrangement. We were becoming a team, although I didn t know why. She still wouldn t tell me.
The first time I was actually alone with one of those girls was also when I learned how dirty minded the little shits were. This girl hunted and captured me as if she were an expert. Becky and I were in a new city, visiting the only friends we knew from our hometown. They lived in a shabby little apartment near the coast under the flightpath of jumbo jets on approach. There was a cabinet door in the kitchen that would come open every time one went overhead.
Katie, whom we had known as a little baby, her mother giving birth when she was only fourteen, was now eleven years old. When we arrived, we were amazed at the girl s shabby appearance. Usually people bathe and dress their kids when company is coming. Her hair was frazzled and dirty, and she wore dirty pajamas with nothing underneath. That fact was obvious because there were holes worn in the bottoms and you could see her bare skin shining through. Little Katie seemed happy enough, so we didn t worry that she was being emotionally neglected or abused, which is what really matters. She parked herself in my lap minutes after arriving, and got a prolonged backscratch. During dinner, Sally finally apologized for not having time to get the girl cleaned up. Becky, in her usual way, sideways suggested that I could bathe Katie. I choked out an astonished laugh. Katie jumped up and spun in a circle. No one else showed any reaction to the crazy suggestion. When Katie finally settled down, Craig, her father, suggested she show me the hideout she has found and that he has not seen. Craig was a pretty massive guy. Every time she goes she comes back filthy with holes torn in her clothes. I d like your opinion if its is safe enough. He turned to his daughter. By then you really will need a bath.
Katie took me by the hand out onto the balcony. I asked what she was up to. I got a strange and devious look that said I would soon find out. In a flash she was over the balcony railing. I panicked, grabbing for her and missing, wondering if her parents knew she did this. She coaxed me to follow, and I had to climb across to the neighbors balcony and then onto a retaining wall.
She took me by the hand and led me on a trail high along a wall that bordered the pool deck on the far side. It was a coastal city. Many buildings were on lots that sloped steeply. Any large flat areas, like pools, had to have retaining walls. The wall had a chain-link fence on top to keep the animals out. There was just enough room for me to squeeze between it and some dangerous thorns as we disappeared into heavy bushes, crawling along on our hands and knees before the trail descended and the retaining wall rose beside us. It was dark in that hallow, and she stopped, turning to face me, and smiling devilishly. This is my hideout. She proclaimed. And you are my prisoner.
Oh, no. I m doomed. Do you come here a lot? I asked.
She nodded.
So, what now? What do I have to do to earn my freedom?
She thought for a moment. Do you want to play a game?
Sure. What do you have in mind?
We can play the naked game, if you want.
Panic hit me, hearing that, like a punch in the stomach. Remember, this girl was popping my cherry. I thought they were all dolls and flowers. Did she really just say that? I knew enough through Becky s work how damaging it can be for a child to be rejected. Especially in situations like that, where they put themselves in such fragile and vulnerable emotional situations. Saying no just did not seem to be an option.
I did, however, get the sense that she was experienced at her game, and that her parents knew nothing about it.
Have you played this game here before? I asked.
She nodded.
And your parents don t know?
She shook her head.
Okay, but we need to hurry before they come looking for us.
She tilted her head. They would never find us here.
Good. I said.
She smiled large. In the wink of an eye, and completely of her own doing, she was naked. I hesitated because I had a lot more than two scraps of clothing to manage. She scowled at me that I had not moved. It s your turn. She demanded.
I unbuckled and unzipped and pulled my penis out. That seemed to satisfy her. She touched it delicately, squatting beside me like an aborigine as I rubbed her back. My cock grew long and I encouraged her to stroke it more aggressively. She did, for a short minute. She spun around suddenly and whispered loudly, What do you want me to do now?
I tapped my chin as I thought. Can you stand up in here? I want to watch you dance around. You re very pretty.
Katie jumped up excitedly and spun circles.
Slow down. Try to act sexy.
She obeyed. I stroked my cock as I watched, reaching out with my free hand to caress her butt and thighs. But in a flash, the game was over and she was dressed, pulling me back to their apartment as I tried to tuck my raging member back in its cave. I asked her if I had done anything to upset her, but she assured me it was fine, that we just needed to get back.
At the apartment, it seemed no one suspected a thing. Little Katie and I shared a few knowing smiles, and she sat in my lap every time I sat down, subtly grinding herself onto me and smiling up at me when it got hard. I caught Becky staring knowingly at me from time to time. The three other adults had been engaged in a deep intellectual discussion, Becky interjecting some controversial opinions citing her experiences as a counselor. They were keeping their voices low so that Katie wouldn t hear, and therefore me, since she was glued to me. I was listening intently and we both heard Becky say, She looks like she s already a year into puberty. I m telling, it is good for them to have some positive experiences right out of the gate. If you change your mind, I know I can persuade Tony to help. I just know from experience that opportunities like this, where she is so obviously smitten, they are very rare. It may be the only change you get to boost her self-esteem.
What are you suggesting? Craig asked.
Sally rolled her eyes. Calm down sweetheart. I know she s right. Need I remind you who knocked me up when I was thirteen?
Becky jumped on that. Well, I m certainly not suggesting that. You mentioned a bath earlier. That would be perfect.
Sally laughed. And how do we make her do that?
Becky smiled. I promise you, all you have to do is ask. She will say no if she isn t ready for something like that. It will mean the world to her, and imagine how she will feel about you afterward - knowing that you are on her side.
We are on her side.
Not about this you aren t. Not in our backassward society.
Katie whipped her head around to me when she understood. I whispered in her ear. I will, but I m going to act like I don t want to. Just let Becky talk me into it. Then we can have some real fun. Okay?
Katie scrambled off of my lap and ran into the other room. We heard you. I want to. Please? Can I
Craig and Sally s eyes grew huge.
I jumped up and came in at a fast walk. Now, wait a minute. What are you suggesting? Me get in the tub with her?
Becky looked pale. My indignation had fooled her. I gave her a quick wink.
The argument escalated for a while. I whispered again to Katie. She nodded at my suggestion and slipped behind her parent s back. She stripped off her pajamas and came out to me, arms raised like a toddler wanting to be held. I hefted her up and sat her on my forearm. You are awfully sweet, for a little nympho. I said, giving her a peck on the cheek. The room had gone silent.
I looked at them all in turn. Now I feel stupid for making such a big deal about it. You are her parents. But I think Becky is right. This is good and wholesome fun she is having. Why make her feel ashamed for it. One of my friends in college was a grad student in cultural anthropology. She was fascinated by our modern beliefs that a child playing at sex, or watching people make love, is somehow damaging, when it wasn t that long ago historically that everyone lived in the same room. It was a free for all then and we are still programmed that way. Especially children. They feel a sense of belonging from it. At least that s what she believed, and I have to admit. It makes sense.
There was an awkward lull in conversation that Becky rescued us from by asking, Why don t we all go in. That way there is nothing left to the imagination. You won t mind, will you Katie?
Katie shrugged. Can we do sexy stuff?
Sally and Craig were glaring at each other. Sally spoke. I guess that depends on you and Tony. If Tony is willing, and you promise to mind your father and I when you have homework, and stop being so willful against everything we ask you to do. Do you promise to do that?
If you mean stuff like clean my room and stuff, then I promise.
Then I don t see any harm in it. Do you Craig?
There s one other thing you need to promise. Not everyone sees things the way your mom and I do. We need to keep this our secret.
Katie glanced up at me, wanting to tell them that she had been keeping those secrets for quite some time already. I thought sure she would, but I was wrong. She was a smart girl. All telling them that would prove is that she can t keep a secret.
I gave Katie her bath. With the door open and the three others in the hallway peeking in from time to time, we were both nervous. I was getting sore sitting on the side of the tub and wanted to wrap things us, so I had Katie stand up as I soaped my hands to wash her lower half. I slid the bar across her butt and down her thighs several times, set it aside, grasped her calf with both hands and slid them up and down her leg a few times, only stopping on the upward stroke because the inside hand bumped into her crotch. I kept it going, seeing that she was finally getting into it. She let out a gutteral moan of pleasure that caught everyone s attention. Until then, all was innocent, as if I were her nurse.
They watched, and I continued, drawing it out for the audience. It was Sally who finally spoke. Is that fun, sweetie?
She nodded emphatically.
I heard Becky whisper something to them.
Tony knows all about what feels good. Do you want him to show you? It s okay. There s nothing wrong with being sexy.
Again, that exaggerated nod. There was no hesitation.
I stood up. That s fine. I m already in love with this little angel of yours. But my back is killing me. Lets take her in the other room.
I left no room for discussion, lifting Katie out of the tub my the wrists and grabbing a towel as I slipped past the crowd. I sat back in their recliner, laid it back, pulled the girl s back against me, and kneed her legs open.
I nibbled her neck and ear as I rubbed her pussy luxuriously, feeling her little button tighten to a point. In one minute she was bucking against my hand, Becky cheered with teary eyes as Sally and Craig held each other.
I spoke to Katie. Do you want me to do it again?
The girl looked around the room. Once more.
Sally bolted away and came back a minute later with a bottle of scented oil. She poured a generous amount on Katie s stomach and stepped back.
As we hugged and shook hands at the door, Craig spoke to me. I hope you don t feel weird about any of this. Sally already said she can t wait to get in bed with me. I feel the same way. Like I m supercharged. So don t feel bad. I m right there with you.
Becky screamed excitedly once we were in the car. You deserve an Oscar for that. My God. You were so convincing I swear if you hadn t winked at me I would have been so mad.
I have a little secret to tell you. I said.
Becky was already so amped up, she slapped me in the chest playfully. What?
Katie molested me in her hideout.
Get out!
That was the beginning of Team Becky and Tony. It was the first time it really paid off. Or did it? I worried every time she tossed out a new idea. It was causing her to worry too. Even she had to question her motives once in a while, and wonder if all of the justifying is just to smooth over the damage being done. We worried together for a few few weeks until Sally and Craig popped up uninvited. Katie was in her swimsuit. They saw our concern and assured us all was well. Katie had been begging to see me. She had kept her promises to behave and word had been sent home from school that she had changed dramatically for the better. The only thing now that was worrying them was her wanting to see me again.
Becky explained that it might take a little while for her to move on, especially since nothing really happened. You can t fool her instinct that easily. It knows what is going on. Nothing really happened that she hasn t done to herself a hundred times.
That started another intellectual conversation. Katie asked if I had a hideout like hers. Sort of, but mine has a nice bed, and a bathroom.
No it doesn t.
I offered to show her, and she went to ask her parents, but Becky shouted for me to go to the store for some wine and beer.
Katie turned on her heel, disappointed. I smiled. She quickly recovered, asking if she could go with me.
Sally met us at the door. She whispered in my ear. Rebecca says it will do her good if you can give her another dose of something. Something more. We are traveling out west for a couple of weeks. That s why we showed up all of a sudden. Something big to tide her over.
I whispered back, She asked if I had a hideout. I was going to show her our RV. I think now we can take it on our little errand.
That affected her. Her hand went to her mouth as she started to cry. She has blossomed since you all came over. It s really amazing, but like Rebecca said, it isn t finished yet. We totally trust you, and Katie is tough as nails, so try not to worry.
I sighed. What you must think of us.
In answer, she lifted and kissed my cheek. You re perfect. I wouldn t change a thing.
Ask Becky to show you my high school graduation picture. Then you can decide.
Katie held my hand as we went around the house to the far side where I kept our small RV. It was one of those over-cab box RV s. Smaller than trailers and fifth-wheels. But it was new and nice and had a full tank of gas. We were gone for almost two hours. I parked in the grocery store parking lot and ravaged the girl to her absolute delight, sucking and tonguing her little pointed clit so aggressively that she went off like a bottle rocket. We had some vegetable oil in the cupboard, and I put it to use, letting it dribble down her slit onto the head of my cock pressing in. She was too tight to take anything more than the head when it deflated from the pressure, but not the shaft. Not without some tearing and a lot of stretching. So I found myself buried deep in her ass and filling her with a massive ejaculation.
I wiped her off and held her against me as we watched the people in the parking lot. A police car drifted through obliviously.
As we drove home, she could not tear her adoring eyes from me, and she kept repeating how awesome it was. She proclaimed her love for me, and I worried that she might get too attached. This was something Becky and I had never worried about. I wondered what she would have to say on the subject.
I becoming a team. Because of the circumstances of her career as a mental health counselor, operating from an office in our home on most evenings, we had a steady stream of mothers and daughters coming to the house, the latter usually left in my charge. Without my knowledge she would offer me up as a babysitter. The mothers were always surprised when they realized it was me. Becky assured them that it was not an inconvenience for me. The nerve of that woman.
I know it is hard to believe, but in that situation, it was far more common for one of those girls to make a pass at me with one of their sneaky sexy suggestions, than it was for them to remain aloof. I brought it up to Becky a number of times, being much too frightened of them to actually do anything overt with them. I just felt being open and honest would exonerate me in the face of any accusations that might crop up.
I could tell Becky was intensely interested each time it happened. Her reactions became stronger as events piled up. There was a strange dynamic that was developing between me and those girls, and she seemed intent on discovering the reason for it. She also seemed amused and energized by it. She ordered me to report it to her immediately the next time it happened, giving me permission to interrupt the counseling session and knock on her sound-proof door.
This caused me a lot of anxiety. I argued with her about it, feeling at risk ratting on the little monsters, but she assured me nothing would come of it. All she wanted was to use it as an opportunity to open a dialogue between mother and daughter, and to educate the mother about some critical aspects of childhood sexuality. Unlike Katie, who was seasoned at molesting her prisoners, these girls seemed perfectly innocent.
The first girl I ratted on was Stephanie. I knocked and calmly reported that the girl asked me to play The Underwear Game . The mother was shocked, and the girl scowled at me in a frightening way, but Becky immediately calmed them by saying that it was perfectly normal and acceptable behavior, and that we had contrived it to happen. The mother became indignant. How dare you manipulate us in such a way without our knowledge.
Oh, come now. Becky shot back when the woman refused to calm down. Surely you have had a crush on an older man? We all have.
We watched the woman s eyes. Obviously, she had quite a few stories she could tell. She softened and stroked her daughter s hair while she studied me. He is pretty, isn t he? She stated. The girl blushed and nodded. I was excused, but the daughter stayed in the office for the remainder of the appointment.
Later that evening I listened as Becky answered a call from Stephanie s mom. She had called on behalf of her daughter, who had begged to know when her next appointment would be. Becky shushed me with a finger, and with a wry smile, put it on speaker.
Mary, this is important. Are you certain it was Stephanie who came to you out of the blue? You didn t prompt her? Becky asked.
No. She came to me.
Becky paused thoughtfully. I must tell you, Mary, that worries me. I m glad you called. What were you hoping to accomplish? Are you worried about her?
No, not really. It just reminded me that we still need to set up our next appointment.
For Stephanie s sake? Or yours?
I don t understand.
Becky went on to describe how damaging it can be for a girl to be ignored by the man she has a crush on. How in our ancestral environment, a pretty girl like her would never be ignored if she was wanting to be sexual with a man. The fact that in modern society pretty girls are frequently ignored, sends the wrong message to her subconscious, where human instincts dwell. She told her that it reacts by lowering her perceived societal status. In modern terms, it lowers her self esteem. It sets the girl s sights on less attractive, less important males. It becomes a life altering situation.
Mary scoffed and seemed dubious. Becky spoke sternly now to Mary. I thought I had already brought you around to this concept. Those are instinctive desires she is having. I know you don t understand the implications, because you don t understand the subconscious the way I do.
She paused. I m sorry, Mary. I don t know why I get so worked up. There isn t anything we can do about it anyway. Not without violating my professional ethics. I could lose my license.
Suddenly, Mary had come around and wanted to know this implied cure, now believing her daughter was at risk. Becky refused to say more. Instead, she hung up and spoke to me.
Well , I d say we have them right where we want them.
I stared hard. She seemed on the verge of tears. I went to her and sat on the arm of her chair, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. This made her sob. She cried out, I am such a fucking slut. I m a whore!
This didn t make sense to me. I asked her to explain, but she was reluctant. It s nothing. I ll get over it.
Tell me. , I insisted.
It came out as a flood. It seemed to be something she had kept bottled up for most of her life. I can t seem to understand where it s all coming from. I have got to figure out what it is.
I calmed her. What we know for sure is that you get excited when girls express their interest in me. Why would that be?
She still couldn t piece it together, but it got her talking. Ever since we started talking more openly about it, I ve only been accepting appointments for mothers who have pubescent daughters. I try to make it seem like a normal session by going through the motions, but all I am thinking is how to get her talking about her childhood sexual experiences. It s the first thing I go to. I feel like a Crusader. Like I m the only champion of girls who want to have sex without feeling like a whore. She choked out those words through heavy sobs.
What about your childhood? Surely that has to be related somehow.
She immediately shook her head and waved it off, as if she had already considered it many times. But she stopped herself to reconsider. She stared off in space as her thoughts swirled inside her head. She looked up, astonished. Why haven t I considered that before? Have I gone completely insane?
I laughed, hoping to reassure her that I thought the idea ridiculous, even though I wasn t sure I did. Sweetheart, nobody can see into themselves clearly. Our instinct clouds everything. It excels at blocking things from us when it goes against nature.
Where did that come from? I m supposed to be the expert.
Yeah, but this came from outside of your field of expertise.
And where is that? she asked skeptically.
Trust me, you don t want to know.
Maybe. But not you have to tell me.
I sighed dramatically. Do you remember the girl I was with when we met?
She scowled menacingly as she nodded.
Her name was Candice. She was a grad student and teachers aide for the Anthropology department. I picked her brain clean. Did you know cultural anthropology delves into psychology?
Oops. Now I ve done it.
She glared at me, not in the mood to joke around.
One of my favorite subjects in college was cultural anthropology. I took three semesters.
said at length mayout of them now. It s the first thing I get them to disclose to me. Their sexual experiences when they were young. There s a pattern there. I feel sick that I dwell so much on it now. They ve all had crushes on men. Every single one. That has significance. I know it does. I think I know, but I need proof.
I still don t get it. But I m glad you ve told me. At least we are being honest with each other for a change.
Oh Tony, I had so many opportunities as a girl. I passed them all up. I was such a fool. I have so many regrets. Will you help me? Please? I need to find out what is going on. With me and them.
Becky was a proud woman and never said please to a man. So I knew it was heartfelt.
She pulled me into her office the next day and gave me instructions how to coax a girl into suggesting something sexual. I was to go along with it, just so I could get clarification on what she was really wanting and what her fantasy was all about. Then I was to take her and knock on the door to report her sins to her mother. At that point Becky would confess that it commonly happened and that it was a great opportunity to open a dialogue between mother and daughter, warning them both about the danger of dismissing the girl s sexual feelings. She would work on the mother to instill fear to the point of becoming desperate, explaining that the girl s overt passes at me indicated that she was at a very critical stage. Everso reluctantly Becky would agree to help and have the woman sign a fake release of liability form for the obviously illegal things they were agreeing to. Becky would file it away and give a final warning about remaining discreet, especially about keeping control of her daughter s gossip. After their initial agreement, they would call me into the office and ask if I was willing to help them do some research. I made a show of knowing nothing, wanting more details, and then becoming reluctant, for the obvious reasons. It was a big show, but eventually I would agree, for the poor girl s sake. They would create a plan for me to be alone with the girl, showering her with tender but appropriate physical affections. Purposefully, Becky would not plan another session with the girl until she and the mother analyzed the one that had just concluded. They would meet with the girl and coax her to share her feelings. Becky would put them at ease by talking openly about sex, making it sound wonderful. Becky was always vocal about aborting everything if the girl showed any signs of trauma. The mother invariably wished she could see what was going on when the girl was alone with me, so Becky contrived a plan. I walled off a small patio on the side of the house with privacy fencing. Becky teased me because I completed it so quickly and without complaining. Becky would suggest to the mother that we could set up a wi-fi camera just this once as if she was the first to suggest it.
After a few sessions, we would hear things from the parents like: It shouldn t be a mystery why that works the way it does. And then Becky would add, it s all part of the process of establishing their level of worth. Their status. Their instinct is keenly aware of those types of things, and especially how a man reacts to them in their first season. All we are doing is tricking it into believing she is the most desirable girl in the world, which is of course already true, but you know what I mean. You can t separate a human being from their sexuality and expect a good result. The two are one in the same. It is especially critical when they are first starting out. Success right from the start is the best thing for a girl. Our society has it exactly backwards.
Becky was funny the way she loved to rehash it all with me and relish certain moments when the girls and the mothers acted predictably. It was usually when we were in bed together having sex. It seemed to rev up her engine. Like when a girl was brought back for a follow up visit, how excited they were to be back. She would make me relate the intimate details of my time with the little sexpot, while Becky rode atop my cock, eyes closed, fantasizing about being that girl. In the midst of it, she would stop me and want clarification of any critical moment that occurred. I remember saying, She was such a little thing, all hairless and milky white, but she was so worked up about me that she was incredibly wet, and her clit was all puffed up under my tongue. My cock was in a rage, and with a big push, it just slid right in. I really don t think she experienced any pain, but she was so wonderfully tight. She was tense at first, but she soon stretched and she was enjoying it right along with me.
Becky also waxed triumphant when mothers would just show up unannounced with their daughters, simply because they felt the girl needed another dose of Tony. Like I m some kind of medicine show elixir.
At each encounter, Becky became more and more bold in acting out her own fantasies. When little Rosie was dropped off for one of her regular follow-ups, knowing how I loved the look of Rosie more than any of the other girls, Becky stayed and helped the girl get undressed. I was so thankful, standing there as Becky expertly teased me with the girl, posing her on the couch in ways she knew would light me up, spreading her open wide, with pouty lips, or on her knees with her ass up and inviting, instructing the girl to watch my eyes and my cock as it grew from the sight of her.
mail in the post works
Red Lyn