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From: "Nikki@P.U."
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.incest
Subject: Holly Synchronistic, a fantasy romance (M/g, 1st, cons, ped, rom)
Date: Mon, 27 Sep 2004 16:21:16 -0700
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Holly Synchronistic, a fantasy romance (M/g, 1st, cons, ped, rom)

By Bluemonkey (bluemonkey©2004)

Do you know what synchronicity is? C. G. Jung gave the world the first 
modern description of it, in simplest terms synchronicity was an 
external physical manifestation of an internal psychical (or mental) 
state. He believed it was a fundamental operating principle of reality: 
acausal simultaneity. His quantum physicist friends already had a term 
for it, they called it "magick" (with a 'k').

But what Jung marveled at most regarding synchronicity was that there 
was no way to empirically determine for any given acausal simultaneous 
event which was the cause, and which was the effect. They happened at 
the same time, without being linked by a cause. Oh, yeah, that's what 
acausal simultaneity means, isn't it? The easiest way Jung reliably 
documented such events was in "runs," the repeating synchronistic 
sequences that gave him a glimpse into the inner processes of the 
universe. One notable "run" followed after him dreaming about a fish. 
Contemplating intently the meaning of fish in dreams Jung encountered 
fish-symbols in a half-dozen places the next day, several people even 
sent him pictures of fish, which had been posted days before. But was 
the fish manifested by his dream, or the dream manifested by the fish?

So I must ask, did I create her? Or did she create me?

I first met her in a chat room, one dedicated to those like us who 
appreciate the budding sexuality of the young. I don't know how she came 
to be there, or why.

I had encountered a girl, about ten years old, earlier that night, on 
the bus home from my editing job. Her thighs were plump and fresh and 
flawless in her translucent white shorts; little marshmallow-shaped 
nipples were visible on her flat chest as they pressing through the 
fabric of her polo shirt when she moved, or when the bus passed over a 
bump in the highway. She smiled at my attention. And I smiled back. 
Outwardly I was just being friendly, the bus was full of people, her 
parents sat next to her. I smiled at them, too. Inwardly I wanted to 
bury my face between her thighs. I wanted to hear her moan and scream as 
my tongue brought her to orgasm.

Right there.

On the bus.

In front of everyone.

A fire burned in my head for the rest of the journey home. The thing I 
desired most at that moment was sex with that ten year old girl.

I hadn't plan to chat that night. I jacked off furiously to a story 
found in an online archive, about a seven year old and her first lover. 
I was spent and satisfied, but after a while I logged in anyway, just to 
see if someone I knew was there, to unload the day's frustrations. But 
aside from myself, there was only one other guest displayed: "Holly10."

I thought I had died and gone to Heaven, or else was trapped in a 
Hellish delusion. But no, she was no delusion, she was only Holly, ten 
years old. She was a virgin, but ached for a sweet and gentle older man. 
I was a virgin too. That is, she was the first woman, of any age, that I 
brought to orgasm in a chat-room. I had told her of my teenage 
experiences with my ten year old step-sister, how we had discovered sex 
together, and made love for the first time. She wished that could happen 
to her. She wished her brother could do that to her. I wished I could do 
it to her. That was our first synchronicity.

Whenever my body ached, whenever the fire in my head flared, whenever I 
really needed to make love to her, she was always there. There in the 
chat-room, as if she knew I needed her, as if my thoughts and desire had 
manifested her there. Or her manifestation had set my mind aflame, 
drawing me to her. She loved my words, she thought me charming, and I 
loved even just the thought of her sweet body next to mine, trembling 
bare skin to trembling bare skin, lost in the ecstasy of each other's 
sex. That was our second synchronicity…

Today I was in an unfamiliar city, far from my home town. I had come 
here to meet a publisher, hopefully to sign a contract for my novel, the 
culmination of ten years' of research on magick and synchronicity. With 
air-fare the way it was I had arrived early Saturday morning, even 
though my appointment wasn't until Monday, to get one of those "weekend 
stay" discounts. The hotel was expensive, but very comfortable and right 
in the heart of a downtown complex gleaming with steel and glass, a 
bustling convention center, an underground light-rail and bus terminal.

And a five-story shopping mall.

With nothing to do, and no one I knew who lived in the city, at noon I 
set out to explore, beginning with the mall. The red-eye flight had 
served breakfast, but as is the case with most airline food, could 
scarcely be called that at all. The mall housed a substantial "food 
court." And soon, with a hearty meal on my tray, I found a table near a 
stone fountain and a planter filled with potted greenery.

There were only a few other people here, no doubt it filled up later. 
But almost immediately someone quite extraordinary caught my eye, a 
young, brown-eyed, brown-haired angel. A thick golden brown slightly 
wavy hair framed her face and draped lightly over her shoulders. Her ten 
year old body was just beginning to break out, soft nipples clearly 
visible, bra-less, rising up from under the fabric of her yellow 
sun-dress, her pale calves, shapely and ending in matching yellow canvas 
Topsiders and white knee-high stockings. Her hips swept out from her 
narrow waist into a heart-shaped curve that would have made Botticelli 
swoon. She was shapely, strong, hardly more than seventy pounds, well 
under five feet tall. She reeked of latent sexuality. Did she dress that 
way on purpose? Did she know what it did to some people?

No doubt she did. She was seated at a table with two much older boys. 
They were engrossed in one of those insipid conversations usual to 
teenagers, and were completely ignoring the young girl, perhaps the 
sister to one of them. But the girl had found another way to amuse herself.

She sat at the end of the table, her chair pushed back, perched lazily 
towards the edge of the seat. Her shapely legs were parted, the fabric 
of her dress having ridden up her thighs, and her white cotton panties 
were clearly visible. Tight, white cotton panties. Had I been seated a 
half dozen tables to the left I would have been in full view of the 
cleft of her sex.

But I was not the target audience of this little show, a quick glance to 
that desired table showed it to be occupied. A middle-aged, balding man 
sat there facing his son and wife, whose backs where to the little 
seductress. I could see his eyes had fixed themselves on the spot 
between the girl's legs, and he had somehow positioned himself to look 
just over his wife's ear, appearing to stare at her face while she 
talked nearly incessantly through their meal.

About what the woman talked I could not hear. No doubt her husband 
couldn't hear either, what with the blood rushing to his brain. The 
young brown-haired angel of seduction was pleased with this reaction, a 
mischievous little smile creased the ends of her lips. She slowly took a 
napkin from the table, unfolded it and wiped the inside of her left 
thigh, from knee to crotch, spreading her legs even farther. The man was 
having a great deal of difficulty maintaining his composure. One of his 
knees was shaking.

Then the girl dropped the napkin.

Bending over, she reached down to pick it up from the floor, and the top 
of her sundress opened enough to allow the man an unobstructed view of 
the small puffy cones that were her undeveloped breasts. I myself could 
not see them, but evidently the man could quite well. The foot of his 
shaking leg kicked the metal table with a loud clang, startling his wife 
into momentary silence. The knuckles on the his hand, whitened, gripping 
his paper, soda-laden cup so tightly I thought it would explode and 
drench his entire family.

My meal was finished by this time, so I gathered up my tray and made my 
escape from the arena of combat, before the creature turned her 
attentions on me, and I did something to rouse the ire of the two 
feckless teens that accompanied her.

I mounted a nearby escalator and climbed the polished chrome bridges 
that stacked up in a tower through the center of this over-engineered, 
glass-roofed cathedral of consumerism. I stopped on the third floor, I 
had spotted a Brentano's Bookstore, a rare sight these days. Being the 
book-whore that I am, I couldn't pass one up.

As I exited the shop I spotted her again, running her hand lazily along 
the brass-railed glass parapet, the brown-haired angel from the 
food-court. Obviously she was on the prowl for more adventure, and now 
alone. I smiled as I passed her.

She smiled back, cocking her head to look up at my face. For some reason 
this caused me to stop, and glancing over my shoulder and found that she 
was doing the same. And was still smiling.

I turned and she had stopped, turning as well, facing me square on. Feet 
planted wide, hands lightly on her hips, a curious look filled her eyes. 
A child, yes, but there was something older and wiser within. Ah, a duel 
now, of wills.

Then I felt suddenly as if I had been struck by lightning, my feet 
melted to the floor, my bones turned to ashes, my flesh to flame. I knew 
her this young girl, she had described herself to me in great detail. 
Down to the placement of every tiny freckle that dotted her cheeks. 
"Holly?" I said.

She flushed, recognition crossing her face. "Bluemonkey?" she asked, 
uncertainly.

"Yes. But call me Martin," I replied.

She looked at me appraisingly, critically. "You're a bit thicker around 
the middle than I'd imagined, but you are definitely my beary, hairy 
Bluemonkey." She smiled, she liked me anyway.

"It's all for you, my love."

"Ooh, do you promise?" Holly cooed.

"For you and only you," I said.

A third synchronicity,… and suddenly I was recklessly bold, no longer 
anonymous and detached, no longer safe behind a chat room nickname. "I 
will die right now if I don't make love to you this instant," I 
whispered. "I am staying in the hotel across the street. Are you alone? 
Are you here with someone? Can you ditch them?"

Hang on, she had said, and disappeared in a pale yellow flash. I 
remained where I was, I honestly couldn't move a muscle. It was as if I 
had lost the duel, and the witch had turned me to stone. The whole 
building could have collapsed around me and I would still be standing 
there. Then she was back, a grin splitting her delicate face from side 
to side.

"I'm here with my brothers. I told them I found some friends from 
school, and their mother would bring me home. They were only too happy 
to be rid of me, there is some stupid girl from their high-school here," 
Holly reported with obvious distaste.

"Follow me across the street to my hotel," I said, turning towards the 
exit, my legs suddenly free to move, my bones whole, but the flesh of my 
hands and feet still tingling and incandescent from the lightning strike.

Unspoken, we played a game. Holly followed me like a stalker, always 
making sure I never caught her tailing me. I would stop, and stare into 
a shop window, trying to catch sight of her reflected in the glass; or 
look over my shoulder at a random moment. She was there, but doing 
something else, or walking the other way, or slipping into a shop. She 
was skilled; she had played this game before. Irrationally, I was 
jealous. I doubled back around, tried to catch her, but had only a 
glimpse of the running child desperately trying to stifle giggles with 
her hands. Then she was gone.

I punched the walk button for the signal on the street corner across 
from my hotel. Everything seemed gray, painted with a palette of chrome 
from an overcast sky, every surface of the civic centered reflecting 
silver in the glass. The only color seemed to be the traffic lights. And 
then Holly was there, beside me, looking straight ahead, her dress now 
golden like the sun, filling the gray street with light. I could hear 
her breathing, it was rapid and short, like a runner; or a lover 
anticipating her first kiss. In the middle of the crowded street we 
suddenly became anonymous, nobody knew us here, nobody cared. Holly's 
slim hand slipped into mine, our fingers interlaced, locked like a vise. 
I do not know whose heartbeat was racing faster, hers or mine.

We entered the busy hotel swiftly, almost running. A red carpet and 
automatic door heralded our arrival, but no one noticed. The lobby was 
packed with conventioneers and we reached the elevator safely, still 
invisible, anonymous. Had the elevator been empty we would have fucked 
liked animals on the floor before reaching my room. There was a gap for 
us in a rear corner. In the crowded space Holly pressed her shapely body 
against me, leaning hard, not a bit of space between our skin save our 
clothes. The top of her head touched my chin. She nodded her head, 
brushing my short goatee back and forth. I could smell her hair, a hint 
of lemons or oranges, like someone had distilled sunlight into a bottle. 
Her firm ass was pressed against my groin. The young girl fidgeted, 
shifted her weight on her feet, and then forcing her hips backward, 
firmly clasped my erection in the crack of her ass. I glanced down, I 
could see a wicked smile curling the very ends of her lips. I bent down 
to her ear, whispering, "You are a very naughty girl."

As I slowly raised my head Holly turned, whispering in my ear, "Better 
punish me then…with this," and she reached back with one hand to grip my 
rigid cock with all her strength.

Thank God no one looked at us. That would have been the end, for it 
would have quite obvious what the Holly was doing. But they were too 
involved with themselves to even notice our existence. Emboldened, Holly 
reached back with both hands and grabbed my ass, pulling herself tighter 
against me. It was all I could do not to cry out.

Then we were free from the elevator's press, into the hall, tripping 
madly to my door. I dropped the card-key twice, and she laughed at me. I 
turned sharply to look at her, but my frown vanished the moment I saw 
her smile and her limpid eyes, gleaming with anticipation.

Pushing me out of the way with her slim hand, Holly bent over and picked 
up the card. She turned as she did this, deliberately, so that her 
sun-dress rode up her ass and presented me with a perfect view of a firm 
round ass trapped in a pair of white cotton panties. There at that 
moment, all doubt fled from my mind. Between her thighs, the soft fleshy 
lips framing her virgin sex were clearly visible, and running along the 
slit between them, like an exclamation point, was a line of sticky 
wetness. Was it my imagination, or was their steam rising from them?

The card-key unlocked the door with a loud snap, my hands swept around 
her waist as she turned the knob, propelling us both through the door. 
When the door slammed shut Holly's arms flashed around my neck. I lifted 
her off the ground, her lips found mine. Her tongue flicked like a fish 
into my mouth and for a moment I did not know where her tongue ended and 
mine began. She jumped, her legs clasped around my waist, I could feel 
her wet panties even through my jeans, her pubic bone grinding against 
my imprisoned erection.

We fell onto the bed, an eight-limbed writhing beast, trying to crawl 
down each other's throats. Gasping for breath I broke away, standing up 
to take off my leather jacket. Holly kicked off her shoes, and then 
knelt on her knees at the edge of the bed, watching hungrily, waiting.

"Is this what you wanted, Holly?" I asked.

"Yes," she groaned. "Oh, yes, Martin. I want you. I want you now."

I approached her, my hands visibly trembling. She smiled at this, as I 
gazed into her liquid mahogany-brown eyes. I could see her pupils 
dilate, and there were little gold flecks around each iris. I kissed her 
again, sucking her bottom lip into my mouth, imprisoning it between my 
teeth. She groaned again, a low animal purr. My hands found her round 
ass, slid down her thighs, under her dress, and pulled it in one motion 
up and over her head.

Her pale skin erupted in a turgid sea of goose-bumps. There before me 
was my goddess, Holly, my goddess of synchronicity, naked but for white 
panties and stocking feet. The crotch of her panties glistened wetly, 
soiled, plastered to her skin. I could see clearly the rounded lips and 
cleft of that was the gateway of my only heaven. Above her shapely hips 
and trembling stomach her chest was creased with a shallow valley, from 
each side of which rose two perfect peaks, rising smoothly no more than 
half-an-inch from her chest, surmounted by two tiny, soft, pink nipples.

Trembling still, my hands lightly touched her bare waist, my fingers 
running across her goose-bump covered skin to find the valley over her 
spine. Her spidery fingers tugged my button-down t-shirt from my pants. 
She pulled it up to my shoulders, I lowered my head and she pulled it 
down my arms. The grin had not once left Holly's face, save when our 
tongues were intertwined. To remove the shirt I had had to let go of her 
waist, but she knew I didn't want to. Swiftly she pushed my arms aside 
and pressed herself to my naked chest, rubbing her slim torso like a cat 
over the curly blond hairs covering my chest and stomach. My hands 
cupped her heart-shaped ass under her panties, and she kissed me, 
sucking my bottom lip into her mouth, imprisoning it between her teeth. 
She was a fast learner.

Holly let go of my lip with a wet snap. "You like that?" she asked. 
"Mmmm," was all that I could reply as I tried to crawl down her throat 
again.

After a while my lips found her chin, her cheek, her jaw, her ears. My 
tongued filled these with saliva, she shivered and gasped. I kissed the 
valley between her nose and her brow, then brushed lightly over her 
closed eyelids. She sighed as I moved down her neck, my hands still 
trapped by the elastic of her panties. My lips found the hollow of her 
collar-bone, I filled it too with my tongue. Then, down her chest to 
find a budding nipple. It was soft, like whipped cream, and it expanded 
as my tongue explored it, tiny little bumps covering the soft pink 
surface. Now hardened, I sucked it into my mouth, pulling it and the 
skin around it away from her rib-cage and muscles. Her fingers laced 
into my hair, gripping me tight; then stroking down the back of my neck, 
pressing against my back. She moaned sharply, a burst of air rushing 
from her lungs.

Then she said, "You're goatee tickles."

I started to pull away, but she held me firmly in place, her arms young 
and strong. "No you don't," she said. "I like it. But do the other one now."

I could not refuse her, and transferred my attention. Saliva stretched 
in a glistening strand from my mouth to her recently sucked nipple, a 
ring of red skin marked where my lips had been. Once I had asked Holly 
about this, asked her what would happen when a man sucked her nipples. 
No one had ever done that to her, she had said. I was the first to taste 
this pleasure. "I feel tingling going all the way down to my cunny," she 
murmured in a little girl voice.

She trembled, her nipple trapped in my mouth, her chest pressed into my 
face. Her muscles of her ass pinched together, trembling and clasping 
themselves tightly in a jolting series of spasms. She was coming 
already; a heady, musky aroma filled the room. Her hands fell loosely to 
her side, she swayed on her knees is if drugged. I pushed her backwards, 
her legs folding into a flattened 'W' on the soft bedspread.

Holly's skin seemed be glowing golden from within, her face flushed with 
sexual arousal. She straightened her legs, and then parted them, so that 
nothing was hidden from her lover. She had stopped trembling now. The 
grin had left her lips. They parted, wet, as she began breathing heavily 
and rhythmically. Her tongue licked them as she watched me remove my 
shoes, my jeans, my socks. "Mmmm," she murmured, now able to see the 
raging erection trapped within the red FTL briefs I had put on that 
morning. The end of that bulge was moist, stained dark.

I climbed onto the bed, my arms and knees holding me over her, like a 
lion over its prey. I could see her toes stretch, her feet arching, the 
moment I did so. Her thighs spread some more, so my knees would be 
between her legs. I bent down, and found her eager, questing tongue. But 
soon I escaped from her embrace to trace a line down her chest with my 
quivering lips and tongue, over her flat stomach to the swelling mound 
between her legs. My finger tips hooked under the elastic of Holly's 
panties, and I slid them down, as she lifted her ass off the bed to make 
my work easier. Her thighs came together as I backed away, and then the 
panties were down her ankles and onto the floor.

Holly lay there now, passive and relaxed, her legs together, as I rolled 
her stockings down her legs and off her slender feet. There would be 
nothing between her trembling skin and mine but the heat of our sweat. 
Staring into her eyes I freed myself from my sticky briefs, my erection 
pointing straight at her, thick and glistening, the veins on its surface 
bulging like never before. With a tiny gasp she spread her legs wider, 
her arms reaching for me. Her pussy lay open before me, a wet cleft 
hidden between a pair of perfectly hairless, flushed and swollen lips, a 
pair of pale, over-ripe figs.

I was floating, I could not stop the pull of her, as I crawled across 
the bed, my hands running up her legs and thighs, and may mouth to her 
virgin pussy. I touched her hot mound with my lips, she mumbled 
something, her fingers gingerly touching my head, combing into my hair. 
The smell of her was intoxicating, sweet and hot, but what of the taste? 
My tongue flicked softly over the fleshy line, and her vulva opened like 
a flower at its touch, her clitoris and hood unfolding, thick and sticky 
strands of white cream stretching from side to side over her hymen and 
the sublime gaping darkness within.

My tongue lapped up Holly's wetness, and her fingers digging in to my 
scalp, the air rushing from her lungs in a gasp as her hips thrust 
upward to my face. The taste is like ambrosia, the wine of the ancient 
gods; my tongue forces its way into her, stretching her hymen and 
drinking deeply of the milky depths within. My goatee buried in the 
crack of her ass, I could feel my moustache brushing back and forth over 
her quivering clitoris. As I suck her dry her fingers curl up in my 
hair, pulling, tearing. She digs her fingers into my ears as her thighs 
and hips writhe under me, I can feel the heels of her bare feet striking 
my back. My name is on her lips, over and over and over.

Holly grabs my ears, my neck, pulling at me, pulling my head upward.

"Oh, Holly, I am not finished, I could eat you for hours," I begged.

"Not now. Later," Holly moaned. "I need you inside me. I need you to 
fuck me. Now, Martin, now!"

I moved over her once more, held aloft by my knees and elbows. My hands 
move under her arms, and curl up, over her shoulders. I gazed in to her 
eyes, my lover's eyes, and fell into them, my lips a breath away from 
hers, which I can feel hot and sweet upon my face. Her thighs spread 
wider and I kiss her, my tongue dipping into her mouth. Then the glans 
of my raging erection touches the hot, wet space between her thighs, the 
fleshy figs of her mound parting as swiftly as the automatic doors in 
the hotel lobby. My mouth was filled with her sticky sweet ambrosia, now 
coating her own tongue too; but she was still dripping wet.

Then I was within her, a boiling hot wetness surrounded the tip of my 
cock. It slid over the head and down the shaft like a tight, flaming 
rubber ring. The heat within her was incredible, the muscles of her 
vagina constricting with every one of her labored breaths, milking my 
cock every inch that I moved into her. She had flinched just a little at 
first as I had penetrated her, breaking her hymen, but then her thighs 
clasped me tightly, gripped my waist, her ankles crossed over my back, 
pulling me into her, deeper and deeper.

Time seemed to stop. There was only flaming heat and florid wetness, a 
sheath of flesh that seemed to envelop my body from head to toe, 
starting with the tip of my cock. Her pelvis surged against me, her 
pubic bone ground into mine, and every bit of my seven-and-a-half inches 
was buried within Holly's virgin pussy.

There was rushing sound, like the wind, like a rainstorm, filling the 
room. It pounded my ears and echoed the throbbing fire in my head, sweat 
streaming from every pore in response to it, an echo to the throbbing of 
my cock within her tight pussy. Then I realized the rushing sound was 
coming from us. We were shouting in ecstasy.

Her hands and arms were wrapped tightly around my neck, her tongue dug 
deeply as it could go into my left ear. My lips were on her neck, 
sucking at the skin just below her hairline, perspiration was pouring 
from her body. The musk of her sweat even more heady than that from 
between her legs.

I shifted my weight, Holly grunted, my pelvis drawing my cock out from 
her fleshy sheath. Just a few inches, and then I thrust into her again, 
hard and firm. A loud throaty grown escaped her lips and with my second 
stroke, longer, her body thrust up off the bed to plaster her hot skin 
against mine. One more thrust, and then I too was groaning, my pubic 
hair crushing against her clitoris. I came, a streaming jet of semen 
exploding into Holly's tight virgin pussy. It seemed to last forever, my 
hips bucking into her as her pelvis thrust madly back at me, as wave 
after wave I ejaculated into her. Her hands were now on my stomach, her 
fingers digging into the soft love handles around my waist, pulling me 
into her, harder and harder.

Then she screamed, a throaty growl, unexpected out of one so young. I 
could feel her orgasm then, the flesh within her pussy gripping me 
tighter and tighter in a rhythmic spasm, like a pair of hands were in 
there somewhere, crushing my cock, forcing the blood back into my body, 
and my cum into hers.

We collapsed, immobile, drenched in sweat, breathing heavily, breathing 
in unison. Our hearts were racing, but racing as one, each beat of mine 
matched by one of hers.

Not wanting to crush her, I rolled over onto my back, with her 
straddling me, my cock still buried inside her. She sits up, knees 
gripping my waist, her hands upon my belly, her touch like an electric 
spark. Then she begins to bounce up and down on my cock, riding me like 
a horse. By Holly's face I see she is going to cum again, and her hands 
grip the hair on my chest, twisting and pulling, as she throws back her 
head, hair whipping around. Wet, it showers my face with her sweat and I 
can taste the salt of it on my lips.

Holly rises, my cock sliding all the way out to its tip. I think she is 
done, but no, she slams back down its length. Again. And then rising 
once more, she comes down hard, her whole body writhing on my cock, 
churning her ass against my pelvis and crushing my balls painfully. 
Beautiful, exquisite pain. She laughs as she cums, this time. And once 
more liquid fire streams from my cock to fill her up. Where could all of 
that be going, I wonder, where could it all be coming from, as she 
collapses nearly unconscious across my chest, her arms outstretched, her 
thighs quivering.

This is no ten year old girl. The soul inside this creature must be 
ten-thousand years old.

After a time our eyes open, open at the same time, to find each looking 
deep into the others. We are lying together, on our sides, the bedspread 
piled on the floor, soaked with our sweat and her virgin blood. Cool 
white sheets are spread beneath us, somehow keeping us from falling 
through the floor and the ground beneath and out the other side of the 
earth into the depths of space.

Absentmindedly my new lover runs her hands over my body, examining 
everything - the hairs on my chest, on my belly, her finger questing 
into the crevice of my belly button. She pulls my curly pubic hair out 
into long straight strands, then watches curiously as they curl up tight 
when released. She dries off my cock with a sheet, and then explores 
every bit of it, too. Clear fluid dribbles from it in response to this 
treatment. Bold she wipes it with her finger and puts it into her mouth. 
Then Holly glances up at me, as I watch her do this. She blushes, 
embarrassed, like a child who has been caught dipping her finger in to 
the frosting of a birthday cake, hours before it was due to be eaten.

"I could feel it," Holly said. "I could feel it coming out." She 
stretched and lay languidly across me, her head resting in the crook of 
my arm. One leg moved absently, rubbing her smooth inner thigh against 
my hairy leg, and then hooking over it. "I could feel your cock spasm as 
your cum pumped out. I could feel it splashing inside me, even hotter 
than your cock. It felt like it was going all the way up into my stomach."

We seem to lay there for hours, holding each other, as our bodies cool 
down. And soon our interlude must end. One of us suggests a shower, the 
other takes that as an excuse for more fun.

The shower is hot, steam filling the white-tiled room. With soap in one 
hand and a soft terry cloth in the other, I clean the dried blood from 
between my lover's thighs. There is not so much of it, really, I had 
expected something more dramatic. I explore her marvelous, shapely body 
with soapy hands, and she explores mine with hers. I marvel at how 
perfect she seems to me, how exactly she is what I desire most. Her 
attentions on my cock have awakened it again. She hugs me, kisses my 
chest and nipples, and tugs at my chest hair with her teeth.

Holly flashes that wicked smile again. "I want to do everything,' she 
says, "but you've got too much hair down there." She stretches out of 
the shower to the shelf over the sink, returning with my razor and 
shaving gel. "Well this is new," I say, as she sets to work.

"How do you know how to do this?" I ask.

"I shave my dad sometimes," Holly replied, looking up at me, "No, 
Monkey! His face! Don't you have a filthy mind!"

I laugh but she warns me to be still, unless I want to be cut. I obey. 
She makes quick work of my thick pubic hair and rubs the fresh pink skin 
with soap and water fingers. She runs her hands down my thighs and legs. 
Then my cock is in her sweet mouth. She cannot take all of it, but 
seeing the look of ecstasy on my face she grips what won't fit with her 
hands. Her lips ride up and down the shaft, her cheeks deflating as she 
sucks hard, her lips forced into and out of her mouth with each stroke. 
Her tongue rubs the underside, her teeth touch gently on the tender 
skin. I can feel the head of my cock tickling the back of her throat; 
and the realization causes me to cum. I explode down her throat.

Holly gasps, then coughs, swallowing every bit of it. "I could feel it 
hitting the back of my throat!" she exclaims, "Wow!" She grins up at me, 
"I love it."

I can't stand it, my member is suddenly rigid again. I pull her up and 
push her firmly against the wall of the shower, her palms flat on the 
tiles, her heart shaped ass arching up at me. Looking over her shoulder, 
she watches as my cock slides in and out of her pussy with long, slow 
strokes. Soon we are moaning, her head is down between her arms, she 
can't hold it up any longer. Her cries of pleasure resound each time my 
balls strike her preteen ass, and I know that everyone in the hallway 
outside can hear us.

And I am glad they can. For we are lost in the ecstasy of each other, 
lost in the ecstasy of sex, lost in the ecstasy of love. Lost, as I come 
violently once again, thrusting so hard I lift Holly's feet off the 
shower floor. Now soft, I pull out of my little lover, amazed that so 
much went into something so small.

Holly bites her arm, pressed against the wet tile, as her pussy spasms, 
buttocks clenching, a jet of my semen streams out of her and onto the 
tile, down her thighs. She clenches again, and I move behind her, she 
rests the weight her steaming pussy on my cock. I press my bare pelvis 
into her ass, as she arches her back, and reaches up to lace her fingers 
behind my neck. Turning her head, she kisses me full on my lips, our 
tongues curling around other.

Between breaths she murmurs, "I love you, Martin. I love fucking you, 
Martin. I love you fucking me."

I do not remember how long we stayed that way. But then we were dressed, 
walking hand in hand out of the hotel and into the mall. There is a 
bus-stop on the far side that would take her to a friend's house, the 
one unwittingly acting as her alibi.

I steer Holly into a jewelry store, and buy her one of those silly 
sentimental love necklaces, the kind with a heart that splits in two. 
She smiles at me, unable to say anything, but her hand repeatedly 
squeezes mine. The middle-aged clerk smiles at us. "Your daughter is 
very beautiful," she says to me. I thank her, and say that indeed she 
is. Holly seems suddenly to be nearly beside herself, trying desperately 
to keep from laughing.

We find a secluded bench in a quiet area, where the storefronts are 
vacant. Holly carefully breaks the pendant in two, unraveling the 
double-chain. One goes around my neck, she stuffs it under my shirt; the 
other she proudly displays on the outside of her dress.

She says, "Wait here, don't move. I have to pee."

Holly returns a few minutes later, something clenched tightly in one 
small fist. Smiling that wicked grin, she sits next to me, pressing her 
thigh against mine. Her fist snakes down between us and into my jacket 
pocket, then out again, empty.

I reach in cautiously, and find her white cotton panties, made sticky 
from the anticipation of today's lovemaking.

Content, Holly leans against me, stroking my arm with one hand, the 
other invisible behind us, fingers trying to force their way down my 
pants. "When is your meeting?" she asks quietly.

"Monday morning," I answer, "and I don't suppose you can sneak out of 
your house tonight"

"No, not likely," she replies. "But you know, I was planning to spend 
all day Sunday at an arcade with my friends." She pauses, "It's in the 
basement of this mall. See you for lunch?"

"Of course," I say. "What do you want for lunch, my love?"

"Room service."

The End?
    

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