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Subject: A Christmas Carol (M/f, ped)
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Date: Sat, 25 Dec 2004 06:34:40 +0000
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A Christmas Carol (M/f, ped)
By Inno Cencelost
It was the night before Christmas, and it was my turn to play host for my
sister and her family, who traveled down from Dayton to celebrate the holiday.
I'm 42 years old, a confirmed bachelor, and although I wouldn't go as far
as to call myself a Scrooge, I admit that I have spent my adult life pretty
much married to my work. So, without a wife and children, holidays like Christmas
don't have much meaning for me, except that they provide an opportunity to
relax a little.
It had been a really nice evening. We prepared and ate a fine meal, had a
few drinks, told some stories, then sat around the tree to exchange gifts.
It was fun to watch the two kids, 8-year-old Jamie and 11-year-old Carol,
barely able to contain their excitement.
I had actually been infected with a little of the holiday spirit and had
put some thought into the gifts I purchased for the kids. I found Jamie a
remote control big-wheel truck. With Carol, I took the advice of one of the
business partners and picked up a large soft doll called "My Best Friend".
The doll was the rage gift of the season for young girls and it had taken
a bit of effort to find one. It was about three feet tall, and was sort of
like a rag doll but much more life-like. When you buy the doll, it comes
wearing a long flannel nightie with buttons all the way down the front. There
are several colors to choose from and the package includes a matching nightie
for a young girl. It was Christmas, so I chose a doll with a green and red
nightie with wreaths, candy-canes, and bells all over it.
My niece Carol squealed with delight when she opened the gift, and after
thanking me enthusiastically, she ran from the room with the doll and the
nightie wrapped in her arms. She was back in two minutes carrying her doll
and wearing her new matching nightie.
I really like Carol. She is a beautiful kid, smart, charming, honest, very
sensitive, with a disarming sense of humor. I should also mention that she
is an absolutely stunning little beauty, with shoulder-length dark blonde
hair, lovely blue-green eyes, and the body of an un-opened rose, tall, slim,
girlish curves, full of potential but not quite ready to blossom. I am a
confirmed admirer of pre-blossom young girls, and my niece Carol is one of
the loveliest I have ever seen.
By midnight, everyone else had wandered off to bed and I was left sitting
quietly by myself on the couch, basking in the warmth of the evening and
the soft light from the Christmas tree. It was pretty nice moment and I wasn't
quite ready to hit the hay so I sat back and lit up a joint.
The room was quiet, the mood so peaceful. After I'd consumed the herbs, I
lay my head back, closed my eyes, and let my mind wander. Within a few moments,
I found myself remembering the look in Carol's eyes as she opened my gift,
remembering the look of her slim girlish frame hidden under the soft flannel
of her new nightie. Fuck she looked good.
For some reason also I remembered a conversation I had with my sister, Carol's
mom, a month or so earlier. Meagan said her 11-year-old daughter was growing
up far too quickly, that she actually thought the kid was masturbating already.
In my dreamy, smoke induced state, I imagined myself with a ringside seat
for that intimate little piece of theatre and felt my cock thickening up
inside my briefs under my housecoat. I even flirted momentarily with the
idea of sneaking down the hall to peek into the main floor guest room in
the hope that I might catch her in the act. But I knew that was not an option.
As much as I loved to look at young girls and engage in fantasy, I was certainly
not prepared to launch an attempt to turn those fantasies into reality with
my 11-year-old niece.
I smiled to myself and drifted into a smoke-filled dream.
I don't know how much later it was. It might have been only half a minute
or a minute, but it seemed like an hour. It felt like I was awakening from
a light sleep. I was still on the couch, sitting in the soft glow of light
from the Christmas tree. Then came the soft tinkling of tiny bells, followed
by a light rhythmic metallic clanking noise down below, as if some person
were clinking chains together, creating a strange repetitive sound that seemed
oddly musical.
I sat up, rubbed my eyes and opened them. The strange sounds had stopped.
"Oh shit," I said to myself. "You're losing it boy."
I lay my head back once more, and almost as soon as I closed my eyes, the
sounds came again, difficult to place, like they weren't really coming from
anywhere but were everywhere at once. I let it go on, growing louder, a warm
friendly, soothing, rhythmic sound, building around me. I remember thinking
that I was probably experiencing a bit of an audio hallucination, like if
you think you hear something, and you think hard enough, you will probably
hear it, but the sounds are actually being created in your mind, to fill
the empty space generated by your intense listening.
But when the rhythm guitar joined in, filling out the percussive beat with
a tight rattling strum, I sat up and opened my eyes again, as if seeking
visual clues that might give me a better sense of the source of the strange
musical sounds.
There was an odd wispy softness in the room and as I looked over at the doorway,
I saw a ghostly image standing there.
"I know him," I found myself thinking.
Then I was filled with an image of strange, inexplicable, dread...locks?
It was Marley's ghost.
"Bob?" I asked incredulously. "Is that you?"
"Ya man, what do you think?" the ghost answered in his island drawl. "Of
course it's me."
The same face; the very same. Marley in his dreadlocks, usual vest and t-shirt,
jeans and boots, the tassels and beads on his vest bristling.
He walked into the room, sat down beside me on the couch, reached into his
vest pocket, pulled out a huge reefer, lifted it to his mouth and sparked
it up.
"Here man," he said, handing me the joint after taking a big draw himself.
I smiled. I love dreams, but I seldom try to decipher them, or parse them,
or interpret them, and I never fight them. I simply welcome them as friendly
visitors, and cherish the best of them. And this was turning out to be a
masterpiece, sitting in my living room, sharing a number with Bob Marley.
We smoked together in silence, both of us exhaling big round smoke rings
that drifted around the room turning red, orange, green and blue in the soft
light of the Christmas tree.
Bob snuffed the roach in the ashtray.
"Ah man, this is nice," the ghost said to me. "You got a nice thing here
man. But I got to go."
I was dazed and stoned, barely able to focus as I watched Bob walk to the
doorway and turn back to face me.
"You have a nice Christmas," he said. "And remember, don't worry, bought
a thing, cause every little thing, gonna be alright."
Weird man, very strange. I sat on my couch wearing a silly grin, gleaning
deep amusement from the odd dream state I found myself in. Marley's ghost
was gone, and with him, his music.
My eyes drifted, flirting lightly over the Christmas tree, letting myself
be visually entertained by the sparkling colors. There at the bottom of the
tree, leaning up against a large box, looking up at me with its big round
eyes, was Carol's new doll, in its red and green flannel nightie. I smiled,
thinking of the girl, and leaned forward to pull the doll up into my lap,
sitting it straddled across my thighs, facing me.
I found myself drifting again, slipping back into some place, perhaps it
was sleep. It was odd because there were things about it that felt very real,
and things about it that were definitely dream-like. I couldn't tell if I
was half awake, or half asleep, or the other way around, as if that might
be a better way to describe the strange place I was in, sitting on my couch
with a big doll in my lap. Then things slowly faded to black.
My next memory is of an odd feeling of movement between my fingers. I was
holding the doll's wrists and I remember thinking "why would there be movement
there?"
"Uncle John," a soft voice whispered out at me from the smoky grey backdrop
of my dream. "Are you awake?"
My eyelids creaked slowly open and I found myself looking into the soft warm
eyes of my 11-year-old niece. She was straddling my thighs on the couch,
facing me with her wrists in my hands. She smiled.
"I just wanted to say thank you for the gift," Carol whispered to me. "It's
just what I wanted. My mom said I couldn't have one because it was too expensive."
I smiled my silly grin, amused once more that my dream was still working
on me, giving me the physical feeling my niece's young body leaning forward
to snuggle up against mine.
"I really mean it," she said softly. "Thank you."
Man this was too real. How can you dream the soft scent of a little girl's
hair, and the musical sound of her young voice?
"How come you're not married Uncle John?" she asked me softly, then continued,
as if her young mind lacked the patience required to rest long enough to
hear an answer. "Once dad said, maybe it's because you're gay."
I actually shook my head trying to clear it. My dream was turning on me,
confusing me, teasing me with reality. How can you smoke a joint with a ghost?
How can you have a conversation with a dream?
"But I know you're not gay," she whispered, with obvious youthful conviction.
"Because I've seen the way you look at me sometimes."
This was too much. I began to believe it. My hands lifted and reached around,
circling the girl in my lap, coming to rest on her back, hugging her lightly.
"Carol...I don't think," I started to mutter.
"It's ok," she said reassuringly, pressing her body harder up against mine.
"I don't mind."
"Oh man Marley," I grinned to myself, closing my eyes once more. "You cultivate
some kick-ass weed."
I think you get the picture. I was actually allowing myself to believe I
could blame the deceiving reality of my dream on the potency of some smoke
offered by a ghost. My eyes closed and I drifted back into the enveloping
grayness.
Like I said earlier. I don't fight my dreams. I let them come. And, after
what could have been a lifetime or a moment, this dream came for me with
a vengeance. It looked for me in the smoke-filled haze, found me and pulled
me in, tweaking the parts of me that could sense, could feel, could hear,
could see, could smell, while sedating the parts that could test my senses
and tell the difference between what was real and what might be imagined.
As my dream pulled me closer, wrapping me in its embrace, the first thing
I sensed was a rhythmic airy sound that quickly became breath, long deep
breathing sounds close to my ear, colored with soft murmurs.
Next I felt soft warm skin pressing, rubbing up against my bare chest, and
little arms inside my housecoat, hands tucked up under my arms, between my
shoulders and the back of the couch, holding me close.
Then came the sweet scent of youth. I breathed deep through my nose, sampling
it.
It was a magical dream indeed. I let my body feel the extent of it, sensing
my wide-open housecoat, the warm body pressed up against me.
With great effort, I shook the embraces of those sensations and inched my
eyes open trying to find something to focus on. I was looking through her
hair, and in there somewhere, I saw the unmistakable red and green flannel
of an unbuttoned and wide-open nightie.
Strangely, the most intense sensation came to me last, the dull ache and
blood-thick feel of my cock, stiff and hard, laying straight up over my belly,
still trapped in but fighting hard to escape from my briefs.
And there was something else...I let myself feel it, interpret it, sense
it. The sensation started down low, near the base of my cock, then traveled
slowly up its length, rubbing over the hard shaft, as if coaxing more blood
into its stiffness.
My mind worked to decipher the sensations, all of them, to put them together,
to make sense of the dream. Finally the smoke cleared and I came to understand
that my 11-year-old niece Carol had opened my house coat and her nightie,
that she had her flat chest pressed up against me, that she was straddling
my lap, with nothing but her little panties and my briefs between us, that
she was rubbing the soft warm lips of her little vagina up and down the hard
shaft of my big cock.
I moaned, my dazed mind fighting to clear, to find a piece of what I knew
had to be reality, something to latch on to, something that made sense.
My hands lifted off the couch, coming up almost defensively, intending to
prove that it was a doll in my lap and not a little girl, but finding instead
the warm soft skin of my 11-year-old niece's naked thighs.
She jumped a little at the contact and pressed her body down a little harder
on mine. I moaned, feeling the pressure of her little vagina on the base
of my hard cock. The extra pressure pushed the head of my cock right out
from under the waistband of my briefs. Her body was tense, her chest rising
and falling with deep anxious breaths.
"Uncle John," she whispered nervously. "Are you awake?"
"Carol?" I responded, still unsure of myself, of where I was, of who I was
with. "Carol, what are doing?"
"I thought you would like it," she whispered back. "I thought it could be
like my Christmas present to you."
I struggled there on my couch, trying to find an answer, trying to find a
path that might lead me to a place that was not quite so strange, to a sensation
that did not lead me so much into temptation. Almost as if with a will of
their own, my hands moved, my fingers slipping up the sides of my niece's
naked thighs, up behind the open folds of her flannel nightie, to bump into
the elastic leg bands of her little panties, and further, around to gently
cup and tenderly squeeze the soft cheeks of her cute little ass.
Oh, what a pleasure, to hold that beautiful little ass in my hands, to touch
it, to feel its soft curves under my fingers. I moaned, finding it incredibly
difficult to resist, and lifted my hips in a gentle pumping motion, rubbing
the shaft of my cock over the material of her panties, feeling the soft hairless
folds of her little vagina underneath.
"Mmnn," Carol murmured softly. "I knew you would like doing this with me."
An odd accented voice whispered a strangely familiar observation to me through
the clouds of my confusion..."Resistance is futile."
I gave in, to my desires, to my dreams, and to my 11-year-old niece, nuzzling
her neck, running my lips up her skin to her ear, whispering softly to her.
"Do you know what you're doing Carol?" I asked her gently.
"I know about sex," she replied softly, defensively.
"Oh do you?" I whispered back, testing her, reaching around to pull one of
her hands out from inside my housecoat, pulling it down to lay her fingers
on the head of my hard cock where it was sticking out from under my briefs.
I heard a soft intake of breath as I left her fingers there, and reached
to pull my briefs right down off the entire shaft. She whimpered softly as
I reached for her fingers once more, wrapped them around my cock, and then
pulled them up and down slowly, pumping the shaft, letting her feel the thickness
of it, the length of it, the hardness of it.
Then, as she continued to tentatively pump my cock on her own, I turned my
hand and touched her for the first time, bringing my fingers up onto the
soft material of her panties, feeling the dampness there, feeling the soft
lips and the little slit of her vagina underneath. She gasped and squeezed
my cock as I rubbed her little cunt.
"Do you like that baby?" I whispered to her. "Hmmn?"
"Oh Uncle," she gasped, moving her hips in time with the tender rubbing of
my fingers between her thighs, giving me my answer.
I needed my niece's panties out of the way. I needed desperately to touch
her. Continuing to rub her with the fingers of one hand, I reached around
with the other and pulled her hand out from inside my housecoat, bringing
it down behind her, finding the leg band of her panties, pushing her fingertips
underneath it, pulling the material right over to the side, baring the cheeks
of her little ass under her nightie. Leaving her hand in place in back, I
reached around in front, unwrapping her fingers from around my cock, tucking
them under the leg band of her panties near her little mound, pulling down
and over, hearing her gasp as the warm damp material slipped out from under
my fingers leaving them laying on, touching, feeling, and gently caressing
the naked lips of her little cunt.
"Mmnngh, mmnn," she murmured softly, holding her panties out of the way with
two hands, letting her uncle finger her bare naked vagina.
With my free hand I reached down to find my cock. It was thick and hard,
raging stiff, aching to work its way into a warm wet cocoon. I pumped it
slowly, welcoming the promise of release those movements generated.
As I slowly jerked my cock, the big middle finger of my other hand slipped
between the lips of my 11-year-old niece's vagina, near the top, finding
the little nub of her clit, rubbing it for her, feeling her body jerk and
tremble in response, hearing her sharp gasps and soft whimpers. Working lower,
my finger slipped further down along her slit, finding the little circle
of her hole, moving around it, tracing it's outline, then pressing into the
centre, seeking depth, and finding it.
It was with significant surprise that I found myself with my middle finger
slipping up to the first knuckle into my niece's little vagina, with very
little resistance, and nothing to suggest that going further was going to
be any more difficult. I pressed, pushing a nervous gasp from her, as my
finger moved another half an inch up inside her little cunt.
If Carol had indeed been born, as girls almost invariably are, with a hymen,
it was no longer in place. I thought of my sister's suspicions that Carol
was already masturbating, and tried to imagine what it might have been like
to watch her take her own cherry, as I was sure she must have.
I felt her body moving with me as I gently pumped my finger inside her, letting
her feel it, hearing her fevered breath, her murmured whimpers.
You know I think I half believed I was dreaming. No that is not quite accurate.
In fact, I honestly couldn't tell. It felt so real, but the whole thing was
clouded in a dream-like shroud that both confused me and comforted me. But
I was conscious enough to find some encouragement and the audacity to continue,
in the logic that there could be nothing wrong with having sex with a child,
inside a dream.
I pulled my finger out of her and slipped it once more up to the little nub
of her clit, teasing it as I lifted her gently, coaxing her to rise further
up onto her knees so I could reposition my big cock and rub the thick head
over the lips of her little vagina, working it between them, finding her
tight hole, touching it.
"Mmnn, mmnn," she whimpered softly, expressing her nervousness, and her arousal.
Holding my cock in place with the head resting at the doorway to my 11-year
old niece's tight little cunt, I reached around to cup one of the soft cheeks
of her lovely ass.
I don't know if I would have had the nerve to actually attempt it. Probably
not, I mean she was a flat chested little girl, and as aroused as I was,
she was still my niece, my sister's daughter. I doubt that I would have been
capable of actually opening her up, pushing my cock into her. But in a brief
moment of time, all of that became academic, as my niece pushed herself down
onto me, gasping, willing her little vagina to open up and accept the swollen
head of my big cock.
Every physical sensation I have felt in my life, before and after that moment,
pales in comparison with the incredible feeling of having my 11-year-old
niece straddling my lap, holding her panties aside with both hands, gasping
with determination, pushing herself down on the head of my big cock, stretching
herself, trying to work it up inside her. She made several attempts, pressing
down, trying to open herself up, relaxing to take a couple of breaths, then
trying again. Finally, something gave way, and the head of my cock slipped
up inside her.
I don't know if you can imagine the intensity of that sensation, of feeling
a little girl's tight vagina squeezing the head of your cock in a warm, wet
embrace, mating with it. It was incredible.
"Ooh, awh, awh, ohhhh," my young niece gasped and whimpered, trying to adjust
to the sensation of having the head of a man's big cock inside her for the
first time in her life.
It was clearly something she wanted, and I had sincere concerns that I might
actually hurt her if I moved too quickly, so I let her control her own movements.
In a few moments, the immediate shock of having me inside her must have abated
a little because she began to move again, pressing down, pushing me deeper,
gasping with each tiny increase in the depth of penetration, until she had
my cock half-buried inside her.
"Oh, ohhh," she murmured. "Uncle John, it's so big."
She seemed to find the depth she wanted and began a very tentative motion
pulling up a little, then pushing back down, working within a range of only
an inch or so, slowly, gently, tenderly fucking my cock.
What a beauty, what a doll, what an incredible experience, what a dream.
I could feel an orgasm building in her. She had pulled away from my embrace,
and was kneeling tall, holding her panties to the side, with her head leaning
back, pushing slowly up and down on my cock, milking it lovingly with her
tight little cunt.
I couldn't resist. Giving her naked ass a gentle squeeze I let one big finger
slip between her cheeks, down into that intimate little valley, pressing
in, seeking and finding the tight little ring of her asshole. Then feeling
her respond, trembling nervously at this new and very intimate physical contact
in that very private place, I pressed at the centre of her hole, making her
gasp.
I was gentle, careful not to rush it, but I was also determined, and it was
with immense pleasure that I heard my 11-year-old niece voice a tiny squeal
of surprise as her tight little asshole opened up and welcomed my big finger.
She was up high on her knees as my finger entered her.
"Oh, oh, Uncle, what are you doing to me?" she gasped as my big finger pushed
its way up inside her ass.
"It's ok honey," I whispered, reassuring her. "Relax, take it."
"Oh, oh," she responded, finally settling down, calming.
With my finger buried to the first knuckle in my niece's tiny ass, with the
head of my cock wrapped in the tight embrace of her little cunt, I rested
and left it up to her.
She didn't disappoint me. After waiting a moment to collect herself, Carol
pressed down once more, pushing down on my cock and my finger, impaling herself,
front and back, and continued to fuck. I watched her passion build.
She came first, her head way back, the naked skin on her flat chest glowing
softly in the colored lights of the Christmas tree, her breath coming in
sharp, anguished gasps, her little asshole squeezing my finger, her tight
little cunt muscles convulsing, sucking my cock for me.
Just as it finished, as her body began to collapse and fall into my arms,
my cock exploded, pumping hot cum up her inside her. She responded immediately,
her eyes opening wide, looking for mine, questioning, seeking an understanding
of the strange new sensation of having her uncle's big cock pulsing inside
her, pumping hot cum up her little cunt.
When it was done we both collapsed. The last thing I remember was the gentle
whisper of her beautiful little voice in my ear.
"Merry Christmas Uncle," she said softly.
I awoke at about five am, alone, with a nagging ache deep inside me, laying
on my side on the couch, the room bathed in the soft colored light of the
Christmas tree. There at the bottom of the tree, leaning up against a large
box, looking up at me with its big round eyes, was Carol's new doll, in its
red and green flannel nightie.
And I swear I saw it smile.
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