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Eliston X. 'Ex' Gaulfre
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Special_2.txt
Special Needs Lovers - Part 2 of 8 (Special_#.txt)
- Smiles in a Wheelchair from Mary
- A Very Timid Trisha
- Treats, Tears and Permission to Undress a Sleeping Angel
- A Bedtime Story and Touching Trisha's Titties
Mf
Cons, Rom, Pett, Teen
Eliston X. 'Ex' Gaulfre
Rewdius@gmail.com
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Got an idea?
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Send your ideas and if 'I' like it, I'll use as many details as you
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Loving 'special needs' children wasn't something I expected I'd ever
do, but found I wasn't able to resist after my heart was stolen from
me, accepting my task with aplomb. Finding damaged angels in an
orphanage that was little more than a refuse container and last stop of
an extensive child prostitution network shocked me. But it didn't
deter me from eventually giving five of them a safe home and only one
loving 'daddy' to have fun and grow up with.
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Continued from Part 1 (Special_1.txt)
With my evening taking a turn for the better, I began making my way
around the room once again, looking quite casually at each of the
crafts being offered for bid and the little person responsible for all
the effort. Almost every one of the children in attendance hungered
for an ardent embrace, a delicate and sincere smile and lots of
attention, my reluctance falling away after the second very open
attempt by a pretty little paraplegic girl named Mary. By her speech,
mannerisms and expressions, I figured she was around ten.
Her first invitation at physical affection was cautiously suppressed,
my unwillingness to hold her around her shoulders an obvious failing on
MY part. Mary had absolutely NO qualms about pulling my hands down
into her body and eventually, into her lap. She had no hesitation to
have me touch her or show innocent affection as well as kissing a
friendly but unknown stranger.
My hands were pulled toward her body and down onto her legs at least
twice to embrace a broken smiling cherub of an angel, sitting rather
painfully in a worn and tattered wheelchair. I finally allowed myself
to feel incredibly relaxed, willing to squat down right next to the
wrecked body of a child whose parents didn't have the decency to take
care of a life that they worked so hard to create.
After all, during the lusty pleasures of consentual sex between adults,
shouldn't her parents have considered what the consequences of their
actions would have been after all the fun was over? Too often, people
are so lost in the passion of the moment that they lose sight of just
how precious and maybe how disfigured their creation might be.
On more than one occasion, I caught myself openly arranging her skirt
and holding her hands, huge smiles coming from the face of the little
gem as ample reward. I even permitted my lonely and physically
challenged hostess to pull me close enough to steal a couple of quiet
and brief kisses, her face lighting up tremendously after the illicit
adventure, thinking she had gotten away with an incredibly naughty
crime. From what I had seen upstairs, what SHE did was NOTHING!
She kept my attention focused on her face as I knelt down beside her,
never letting me turn or face away from her even when someone
carelessly dropped an empty plate to the well worn but beautifully
stained hardwood floor. She seemed increasingly hungry for my
attentiveness now that I was close to her, wanting to hold my hands or
hug me if I leaned close enough. For her, it was't often enough, but
for me, I felt quite nervous about her continued and unrelenting
requirement for physical contact, of ANY kind! Especially with so many
other people milling about around us.
It got so comfortable to be around Mary that she kept pestering me
about what my lady friends liked to do on dates, where we went to eat,
dance and eventually if they like to kiss as much as she did. She kept
pushing all my buttons, coaxing me further and further down a dangerous
road, my body reading and following each cue until I felt my cock throb
almost painfully in my slacks. What I wasn't aware of immediately was
my right hand sitting on her bare legs slightly under the bottom hem of
her outfit.
When my conscious mind was finally able to understand what my fingers
were doing, I had to look quickly down to my digits to see them tucked
between her lower limbs, halfway to her panty covered Heaven. Mary
only realized what I'd been up to when she saw me release the gentle
grip of my wayward digits and retrieve my hand. She seemed incredibly
excited rather than scared by my bold and daring activities. She even
looked me straight in the eyes and beamed at me, telling me a lot more
than she should have.
"Thank you, Terry. I'm glad you're not afraid to touch my legs. I
wish we were all alone so you could touch my panties too."
I immediately blushed another deep crimson, this little waif certain to
notice and gain a degree of satisfaction from seeing me do it.
We carried on our conversation for the next thirty minutes, neither of
my hands repeating their immoral adventure as we chatted. Our soft
banter kept on, not paying heed to anything else going on around us
until we were interrupted by someone that she had been visited by
before, a matronly and very outspoken woman that made her presence
known the moment she entered the room.
"Well, HELLO Mary! How is my darling little angel THIS month?"
This MONTH? How long had it been since this woman came to see her
'darling little angel'?
Mary's reaction, although polite, was incredibly reserved. It was
apparent that this woman was only here in front of Mary because it
provided the WOMAN benefit, not the child.
"Fine Mrs. Robisen. How are you?"
"Oh, just peaches Honey."
With little regard for my proximity, Mrs. Robisen turned Mary's
wheelchair so the little girl was now facing away from me completely,
the front of my body pointed toward the back of Mary's head. It was so
rude for the woman to impose on our visit that I almost told her
exactly what was on my mind, but thought I should refrain, lest I not
be welcomed back to the 'House'.
Knowing there would be another opportunity to visit with Mary and be
the center of her conversation, even briefly, I stood up, walked to the
front of her chair and slipped between Mary's feet and Mrs. Robisen.
"Mary, when we have an opportunity to have a chat without any
interruptions, I'll give you my undivided attention. You have a nice
visit with Mrs. Robisen and we'll talk later."
I could see the despair in the little girl's eyes, MY vicinity having
greater value than this brusk and boorish woman.
My right hand gently lifted hers from her lap and with the delicacy and
grace of an English gentleman, I softly kissed the outside of her hand
and departed. Mrs. Robisen got the message and glared at me as I
turned to go see the next available craftsperson.
I'd later find out that Mrs. Robisen enjoyed interrupting peoples'
conversations and vying for ANY childs' attention, so long as it served
her purposes. What an ignorant and insensitive old bitch! Instead of
seeking out a lonely child that wasn't engaged in a pleasant
conversation with another person, she seemed to take great pleasure in
her callous attempt at control of any other adults' public involvement
with one of the children there.
When she interrupted me a second time in front of another little broken
angel, I rather directly stepped in front of her and pressed my face
incomfortably toward her, making her step back two feet. I was so
close to her, she could feel me breathe as I softly told her about her
insensitive attempt at another impolite interruption. As I smiled at
her, I told her that it would be better if she made her presence known
to some other lucky host.
"Mrs. Robisen, I'm having a nice quiet conversation with this little
girl right now. Why don't you go and find another less involved
craftsperson to chat with and make them just as appreciative of YOUR
presence?"
My eyes were filled with rage and absolute ferocity, the lout of a
woman getting the message immediately. I was never interrupted by the
bitch from that point on. The remainder of my conversation with yet
another lonely little deformed or damaged little girl was genuinely
appreciated and was over far too soon. For the little girl, anyway!
I knew I'd need to come spend more time at the 'House' in the future,
since all of my problems seemed so insignificant compared to the ones I
was being exposed to from all the children around the room. Anything
Mrs. Robisen did from that point on was little more than a passing
gesture of politeness or mocked courtesy as we passed each other from
one child to the next.
Everyone else around us seemed to be having a lot of fun, visiting with
the other friendly townsfold or chatting away aimlessly with whomever
was bragging about how hard they worked on the craft that was carefully
displayed. Everyone else, that is, until I got to the far end of the
room and made my way around a quiet corner, following a handwritten
sign that indicated another craft available for bids.
When I saw Trisha, she was cowering behind a large china cabinet with
only one eye peeking out in my direction, looking as if she knew
perfectly well what had caught my eye earlier when Debbie was hoisted
gleefully into the air and her plump fanny was presented for my casual
visual inspection. It looked like she could read my mind and also see
the images of the eight year old little girl and the preteen boy orally
being tended to by their adult suitors. It was extremely disconcerting
but somehow fascinating to be so closely watched as I made my way
closer.
Trisha was the most frightened and terrified one of the group, nobody
around to visit with her or willing to bid on anything that she might
have worked on during the last eleven months. It seemed odd that out
of so many orphaned children with various restrictions and maladies,
all of whom were perfectly content to visit with anyone that strolled
by, Trisha was the only one that pulled back from everyone around her.
Her meager craft was quietly waiting for someone to happen by, her name
carefully printed by Martha on a tent card, sitting just below what she
was offering. Martha was now close enough for me to gently pull her to
the side, so I asked about a pretty but highly fearful fourteen year
old.
"Martha. Would you please tell me a little about Trisha? She seems to
be the only one of your children that doesn't feel comfortable around
people."
"Poor dear! Trisha came to us a number of years ago from Mercy
Hospital over in Harristown. Someone left her on the emergency room
steps out in front of the hospital one cold December night when she was
about two years old. She had already developed quite a strong aversion
for anyone and it took a number of weeks to even get her to sit with
the rest of the group during dinner. Most of the time, she keeps to
herself, and the rest of my children know to leave her be. I wish
there was some way to reach her, but alas, I'm afraid if she doesn't
begin to improve, she may have to travel to Halletsville and end up in
the sanitarium for the rest of her life. I hate to think of what might
happen to her there, since most of the people there are treated more
like inmates than patients."
"Is there anything that you'd recommend I do if I wanted to help reach
out to her?"
"Oh, Terry! What a nice sentiment. But I'm afraid she's too far gone
by now. When she turns fifteen, the state is gonna send the fellas in
white coats over to fetch her and take her away. It tears me up to
think of what might become of her when that happens, but there's little
I can do if she doesn't show any progress at socialization whatsoever."
Martha was obviously skilled at manipulation, making me feel obligated
to make an attempt at quiet conversation and hopefully more. I almost
didn't recognize her activities, until the end of her desperate
monologue. That's when I knew I'd be helping the frightened girl and
trying to provide her whatever comfort I could offer.
"What if I just go and sit close by? Would you mind if I did that?"
"NOT AT ALL! At this point, I'd be willing to try just about ANYTHING
to keep her from being sent to that awful place."
With a smile on my face and a pat on the back, I was off to the
refreshments area to find a nice sweet bribe. In little over a minute,
I had gathered up a tiny tray full of cookies, sweets and fruit juice
and was sitting with my back to Trisha about three feet away, her
single prize an oversized but very realistic painted replica of a
tennis ball carefully crafted out of clay.
Even though I had my back to her, I could see her reflection quite
clearly in a tall glass window to my right. I purposely set the tray
of goodies where nobody but Trisha could see them, close enough that I
could carefully select from the mound of delectible treasures but more
importantly, in easy reach if the little feral resident should decide
to take the bait and join me in quiet conversation.
I could see the anguish in her eyes, the intense struggle going on in
her tiny mind, between the absolute terror of being this close to a
stranger, and a deep longing for something sweet and tasty. When I set
a full cup of fruit juice on a small side table less than two feet in
front of her and then turned as if I intentionally didn't want to see
her take it, she finally began to trust me. Her hand reached nervously
to the cup, taking it carefully and then quietly emptying it of its
sweet contents, setting it back exactly where she had removed it after
drinking. I even saw her turn it so it was in the same orientation
when I set it down.
Now empty, I carefully returned it to the tray and exchanged it for a
full one, adding a cookie and a small bar of chocolate to the same side
table. Without a word, I watched as Trisha took each of the proffered
gifts and quietly consumed all of them, emptying the cup of fruit juice
last. When everything was gone, including a few remaining crumbs, I
slowly rose to my feet, took the empty tray with me to the refreshment
area and collected an array of finger sandwiches, chips, cheese and
pickles, along with another few cups of fruit juice to wash it all down
with.
This time, I purposely sat closer to her, setting the tray on the same
side table but my body still not facing hers. After I got settled, I
saw a tall door with beveled glass lites that seemed to lead to a quiet
stairway. Nobody ever ventured through the door or up the stairs the
entire time I sat there. I suspected from my earlier travels around
the room that they might lead to the balcony overlooking the main room,
but wasn't brave enough to actually open the door and make certain
myself.
Once I was settled and saw Trisha take a small finger sandwich, I knew
it was finally time to introduce myself.
"Trisha? My name is Terry. I don't want you to be afraid of me, but
if you don't want to talk, I don't mind, okay? I hope you liked me
bringing you some goodies. You can eat as much or as little as you'd
like, but I sure wish I could talk to you 'cause it looks like you're
just a little lonely right now. I don't know if you have any friends
here and need to know if you'd like to talk to me. I saw your pretty
tennis ball and would like to know if I can bid on it."
Nothing!
The only response I got was her hand snaking out from behind the china
cabinet to delicately take possession of a morsel to eat, then to
disappear quietly where it started. When all the newly arrived
delicacies were calmly devoured, I knew to return the empty tray to the
refreshment table and fill it once more. Martha met me at the dessert
table and was practically beaming with excitement when she saw me about
to leave the room.
"Terry! I don't know how you did it, but that's the first time I ever
saw Trisha smile before. What on Earth did you TELL her?"
"Actually, I really didn't say much at all. All I did was to offer her
some of my food without making a big deal out of it. She seemed to be
quite content to share my goodies and welcome me in her own special
way."
"Well, you just do what-EVER you feel like this evening. I'm sure if
you keep her smiling like that, she'll be a completely different person
before her fifteenth birthday."
"Martha? Where does that doorway go that I was sitting near?"
"It goes to a private balcony that overlooks the front room. Nobody
ever uses it anymore but it still has a lovely kissing bench that the
previous owner's daughters were courted on when they came of age.
Would you like for me to open it for you?"
"Yes, please. If Trisha can be away from the crowd, she might grow
confident enough to actually talk to me if she gets brave enough."
"Gosh I hope so. It would be so nice to see Trisha smile again and
hear her voice. The only time I ever hear her make a sound is when she
cries."
"Well then, if you'll go open the door for me, I'll carry a tray full
of stuff out with me and see if I can coax her upstairs to visit with
me for a few minutes until the bidding starts."
"Don't you worry about that Terry. I'll make sure YOU win her bid
too."
Martha's anxious determination for me to spend more money on her
children wasn't missed, the funds most likely tucked away to provide
for the well being and safety of her group. At least, that's what I
was HOPING would happen to anything I'd be willing to offer.
Martha disappeared into the front room, greeted a few guests along the
way and made it around the corner to where Trisha was still hiding,
nobody slowing the woman down enough to prevent her taking action on
our quickly devised plan. This time, my nervous visitor anxiously
looked harder around the edge of the china cabinet to see who else was
invading her normally quiet domain, and see if she could determine
where I had gone.
When Martha returned to the refreshment area where I was putting the
finishing touches on my offering, the woman was beaming with
excitement, anxious to see if I might be able to reach out to a lonely
orphaned child in her care, able to do nothing more than to quiver and
shudder if someone should look at her.
With the tray filled almost to overloading, I quietly made my way
behind everyone in the front room, back around the corner and through
the door opened by Martha, Trisha looking on with astonishment. When I
made my way backward carefully through the slightly opened portal,
smiling but not looking directly at Trisha as I carried our
refreshments in front of me, she looked both frightened and anxious to
join me. Knowing that she might be just as curious about the food and
my friendly demeanor as she was frightened at the prospect of having to
talk to someone, I left the door slightly ajar and made my way up
hoping my tempting offer of food and quiet conversation would coax her
to follow.
When I settled onto the 'S' shaped 'courting chair' facing away from
the top of the stairs, the full tray on my lap, I waited anxiously.
Even though I knew there were a number of children being used as sex
toys by a variety of adults, I genuinely felt a strong need to connect
with and help Trisha, hoping she didn't associate my actions with any
others'.
I didn't have to wait very long before Trisha quietly made her way up
the narrow stairs and beyond the top step, her diminuative form
settling into the opposing seat, her face now less than two feet from
mine and no longer hidden from view. As slowly and carefully as I
could, I lifted the tray of food up from my lap and set it on the top
edge of the chair close enough that she could reach it easily.
With almost glacial progress, she lifted her left hand without looking
right at me and collected a small chicken salad sandwich and then a
pickle. This was a first very brave step, and wanting to make her feel
as though she was a participant in this quiet game, I also took a
matching set of goodies. We both wordlessly consumed the remainder of
the treats, finishing our repast with some small cups of drink. When
empty, I set the tray to the floor to my left, anxious to become a
friend to a young teen that looked as if I might be considered her
worst nightmare.
"Thank you for coming to visit with me Trisha. I hope you're not
afraid of me anymore."
In a mouse of a voice and as softly as she could, she revealed just how
terrified she was, a slight tremor revealing that she was practically
crying as she begged for mercy.
"Please don't hurt me. Please?"
I felt my heart almost explode with sorrowful pity for the young teen,
her attitude so affected by something that she and I knew might happen
to her if the wrong person wanted to show some unwanted and unwelcome
affection.
"I'm not going to hurt you Angel. I won't even TOUCH you if you don't
want me to, okay? I promise, I'll never do anything that you don't
want me to."
With painful resolve, she leaned toward me and lay her head against my
right shoulder, her voice breaking with gut wrenching but quiet sobs.
I could only imagine what she might have endured throughout her
troubled life, someone possibly forcing her to 'visit' them and do
things she didn't really think was appropriate nor enjoyable.
Trisha softly wept to herself as I sat motionless beside her, separated
by the rounded portion of the fabric and frame between us, the name of
this chair well deserved. With the back of each seat high enough and
the divider sturdy enough to prevent wayward hands or curious fingers
from snaking into places they weren't meant to go until AFTER the
wedding night, the only thing I could do for her was remain upright so
she could continue to use my shoulder as support.
When she finally stopped crying, she turned her face toward me and
tried to smile. She said very little and couldn't look directly into
my eyes for any length of time, her body unable to move either from
fear or lack of energy. When she finally DID move, she took me
completely off guard.
Rather than maintain a discrete and safe distance from me, Trisha got
up, made her way around the chair behind me and around my left side,
gently wiggling her bum onto the seat next to me after I caught sight
of her along my left knee. The incredibly brave young teen began to
force her fanny tightly against my left side, working her way deeper
into the single seat until she was almost molded to my side. I slid as
far as I could away from her so she could take possession of as much
room as she needed to settle safely, waiting to see what she might do
next. I didn't have to wait very long.
With a return to her earlier soft crying after she was settled, she
leaned into me and put her head on my left shoulder, surrendering
herself to me completely. There wasn't any way I could resist holding
her now that she was so close, so I carefully wormed my left arm around
her and pulled her tight to me, the warmth of her body filling me with
the same sort of passion that I'd felt when I was mindlessly nibbling
on Tammy's thighs. Trisha's tender sobs never diminished the entire
time I held her to my body, her impression that I was about to act on
her fears or memories certain to keep her attitude just as it was at
this moment.
With increasingly determined movements, Trisha shifted her right leg
over my left and then carefully shifted her bum over my thighs until
she was nestled onto my lap, her determined attitude to allow whatever
I was going to do permeating her soul. She never said a word the whole
time, her soft crying and terribly despondent whimpers tearing at me
and making me feel as if I had at some time in the past, done her or
her many friends horribly wrong.
I felt a mixture of lust and sorrow as Trisha nestled into me, slowly
growing comfortable enough to lean harder into me and relax with
increasing ease. Incredibly, with my left arm holding her around her
waist, she finally fell asleep on my lap ten minutes later.
Martha quietly made her way up behind us and saw Trisha sleeping on my
lap, the woman almost not able to contain her excitement. She sat on
the other seat and whispered into my right ear, not wanting to wake my
slumbering lap dancer up.
"TERRY! What on Earth did you DO?"
Was my hand somewhere it didn't belong? Had I unintentionally slipped
my nasty digits under her skirt or down inside the front of her blouse?
I had to consciously think of where both of my hands were before I
responded. Feeling perfectly guilty, I answered.
"Actually, nothing! I shared my treats with Trisha and when she
started crying, told her that I wasn't going to hurt her. Without a
word, she made her way to my lap and fell asleep ten minutes later.
She's been sitting here for only a few minutes, so if you'd like to
wake her up and take her to her room, then I'll let her go."
"Would you carry her for me Terry? She's doesn't wake up without being
startled once she's asleep and I'm sure you'd prefer to visit with a
few more of my children before the bidding starts in a few minutes."
"Sure Martha. Is there a less public path toward her room? I'd hate
to have to carry her back downstairs through the noisy party."
"Yes! If you'll follow me, I'll open this OTHER door for you and lead
the way."
Martha rose and walked around my back to the far end of the small room,
right next to the stairs where a nondescript door hid yet another way
out of the quiet chamber.
Trisha was so small and so light that it took little effort to pick her
up and nestle her into my arms, her head leaning against my left
shoulder and her right arm around my neck. Although I hadn't intended
on doing it, I had shifted her skirt up a lot more than I should have
when I picked her up, a majority of her stocking covered thighs open in
front for visual inspection. With Martha leading the way, I got more
than a dozen opportunities to look straight up her skirt between her
legs and stare at the diamond shaped patch of fabric that clued me in
about what was hiding mere fractions of a millimeter beyond.
Martha led me toward but not through the same hallway that Tammy led me
down on the second floor, my mind wandering back to the vision of a
little eight year old girl being tongued heartily by a much older adult
male and that happy Down's boy being 'taken care of'. We were through
two more doors and a narrow hallway before we were at the far end of
the main hallway, my head whipping around briefly to catch another man
sitting down in a rather comfy couch about midway down the corridor, a
young teenaged girl on his lap and his right hand between her legs and
inside her panties.
Fortunately, the young lass seemed to be enjoying their quiet time
together, feeling the effects of his constant and determined touch.
Her head was leaning back across his shoulder, her legs splayed
completely apart, her eyes closed, her mouth open and her expression
revealing that something about his fingers had stirred her into
hedonistic bliss. I was pleased that she was a willing partner to all
this loving abuse and never brought Martha's attention to the sexy
display I had briefly witnessed.
Martha HAD to know there might be some patrons wanting to spend some
'special time' with some of her children before the bidding started,
not wanting me to see what was going on before she knew what I might do
if I didn't care for such indecent behavior between adults and minor
children. Otherwise, why did she make an obvious detour AWAY from the
main hall when she led me along?
Trisha never stirred the entire time we travelled through a whole
series of wide and narrow doors, short passageways and long hallways
until finally, Martha stopped and turned the doorknob to a room that
looked more like a broom closet than a bedroom.
There was a single bed, a chest of drawers, a desk and chair and little
else. The poor little girl most likely had to do without since she
wasn't responsive to any of Martha's visitors or the many townsfolk
that liked to sponsor at least ONE of the disadvantaged children.
"Terry, go ahead and tuck Trisha into bed. Make sure she goes potty
before you get her all tucked in, okay? I need to see to my guests and
make sure they know the auction is about to start in about an hour.
Come on down when Trisha's all settled and I'll make sure her craft is
set aside for you to pick up whenever you'd like. Spend as much time
as you'd like with Trisha and don't worry about anyone bothering you
two. Her room is far enough away from all the excitement that she
shouldn't be annoyed by any of the noise downstairs and then wake up."
With my sleeping beauty still in my arms, Martha patted me on my right
shoulder and left, closing the door as quietly as she could. I stood
there in the quiet stillness of the room as Martha's ungainly motions
carried her back down the hallway and toward her guests.
Once all the noises behind me died down, I leaned my head down and
stared longingly at the tight thin fabric between Trisha's thighs, for
the first time in my life since puberty imagining what a little
fourteen year old might look like naked. As if Trisha could hear my
mind screaming at me, wrestling with each side of an argument that
shouldn't have been going on in the first place, her left leg pushed
away from her right, a greater portion of her stocking covered panties
coming into view.
With her thighs parted only an inch more, I got the delicate aroma of
her perfume for the first time, nothing like my memories of hundreds of
much more experienced women that I tongued brutally until they
practically begged me to marry them. Her fragrance was less musky and
more fruity, as if she had been perching inside a crystal goblet filled
with peach or pear nectar. It almost seemed as if I could have
immersed my face into a strawberry patch or cherry basket.
Martha's words kept echoing between my ears, making me wonder if she
was trying to get me to implicate myself in child molestation charges
by undressing her and then having my way with her sexually. With
strong doubts about my own safety in this VERY quiet and most likely
observed room, my mind cleared and I set about to act as gentlemanly as
I possibly could.
I set Trisha down on the bed carefully, making sure her skirt didn't
shift too high on her pretty legs, but high enough that I could see
between her thighs. Stepping over to the chest of drawers, I pulled
each one open quietly, looking for a t-shirt or nightshirt.
The first drawer contained a whole series of pretty and very plain
undergarments, most of them perfectly white. I was afraid to look
inside the next drawer, afraid that it might have held more sex toys
than I could have imagined, including dildos, vibrators, edible lotions
and body paints. Instead, it contained clothing that looked somewhat
more accustomed to being worn by a teenager Trisha's size. Most of her
things looked as if they had been shared or handed down from one girl
to the next for quite a while. It wasn't until I got to the bottom
drawer that I actually found some relatively normal looking
bedclothing, most likely to be used during what might have been
considered typical nighttime activities.
I found a traditional nightshirt and held it in front of me, shaking it
out so I could determine if it would provide adequate cover for my
sleeping beauty less than two feet away. With the last drawer closed
and my fingerprints left on NONE of the contents of any of the other
drawers, I turned back to Trisha, still sleeping on top of the
bedcovers.
I lay the shirt above her head on the pillows and turned my attentions
to the task at hand. With the care of any loving parent, I untied her
shoes and slipped them off her pretty feet, setting them down just
under the front edge of the bed.
As slowly and carefully as I could, I lifted Trisha's shoulders off the
bed and held her to my chest with one hand as I tugged the covers down
the bed behind her until they wouldn't go any farther. With a gentle
tug upward, I lifted her bum up and allowed the bundle of cloth beneath
her to travel a little further toward her feet, setting her back down
onto the clean white sheets.
With her head now laying on the fluffy down pillows, I let her come to
rest on top of the bed as delicately as I had ever lay a woman down.
Still wearing her skirt and tights, I slipped her feet under the covers
and worked them all the way down until she was perfectly still.
The covers were drawn all the way to her waist before I slipped both
hands underneath and proceeded to undo her skirt along her right hip,
unclasping the hasp and making the zipper buzz quietly as each half of
the metal teeth were set free. When it was pushed as far to her feet
as it was meant to go, I pulled my left hand out from under the covers
and used only my right to work her skirt down her legs until it fell
free from around each foot under the genteel protection of the
bedcovers.
Now for her tights.
This was going to be a lot more difficult, but not as difficult as
having to undress a drunken adult female partygoer after having WAY too
much booze. This reclining angel was much lighter and certainly easier
to maneuver around, her clothes to be removed without endangering her
safety in the process.
And yet, I couldn't believe that I was about to completely undress a
teenager, her sleeping body able to offer no resistance to anything I
was about to do. It made for a diverse set of feelings in my body, a
combination of terror and lust, excitement and horror, joy and fear.
This poor slumbering angel couldn't possibly know what was going
through my mind, or COULD she?
Both of my hands returned to her waist and under the protection of the
bedcovers, I wrestled with the springy fabric and was able to take a
few quick glances at her panty covered quim as the bright white
material was carefully drawn down her chubby thighs. With each foot
set free and the material now carefully stretched out and set at the
far end of the bed, my hands were removed from between the sheets
without any unnecessary or naughty detours.
Trisha lay as quietly and as still as ANY person ever did, her
appearance more like a liquor induced sleep than a normal daily nap. I
was beginning to feel more than one set of eyes on my back as I began
to undo the buttons on her blouse at her neck.
Once her top had been completely undone, I covered her back up and
worked her blouse off from under the covers, making sure to take at
least ONE quick peek at her developing and braless titties. They
looked MAGNIFICENT!
With her blouse now folded and sitting on top of her skirt at the end
of the bed, I took the shirt that I had retrieved earlier and created a
large fabric donut, slipping the material over her head. Her hands
were each directed into the armholes and the remainder of the top was
drawn down her body beneath the sheet until she was covered from neck
to midthigh. With her body adequately protected, I could now take her
to the bathroom and help her go potty.
My mind reeled with images of me reaching up under her nightshirt and
tugging her panties down her teen thighs, my face slowly approaching
her naked quim as her hands gently led me to sights never before
witnessed. It was painfully apparent my adult sexual exploits had
generated quite a bit of passion in me, my desire for this new
experience finally forcing me back to reality.
In the least sexual manner possible, I uncovered Trisha, reached under
her carefully, picked her up off the bed, carried her to the tiny
bathroom at the foot of the bed and set her on the commode after
working her panties down her thighs, not making an obvious attempt to
see whether she had begun growing any hair.
Trisha's body hesitated no more than fifteen seconds before audible
confirmation was provided regarding her need to empty her bladder, the
familiar pungent aroma of female urine hitting me square between the
eyes. With a soft dab of bathroom tissue, she was dried and the wad of
paper dropped helplessly to the water below, the commode making a lot
more noise than I had expected. Her panties were then drawn back up
and WITHOUT any overt attempts to confirm that they were nestled as
tightly as they were supposed to be, she was picked back up and taken
to her bed.
It was only AFTER she was back in bed under the protection of her sheet
and I was about to leave the room that Trisha opened her eyes and
looked straight at me, perfectly awake. I sat startled next to her on
the bed, my eyes locked hard onto hers.
How long had she been awake? Had she been awake the whole time, even
when she was sitting on my lap in the courting room? Was this
something that was meant to break HER in or was she the one that every
new visitor was directed to so THEY could be broken in and then
blackmailed to return as often as possible? I was so confused, I just
sat there and looked back into her perplexed eyes, unsure what to do or
say. My senses finally returned to me and I spoke.
"Are you okay Trisha? I didn't scare you when I was undressing you,
did I?"
Her head slowly shifted back and forth, her eyes never breaking contact
with mine.
"When you fell asleep on my lap in the courting room, I wasn't sure
what to do other than to hold you tight to my chest and protect you
from any sort of harm. I truly hope I didn't make you feel scared or
make you think I was gonna hurt you."
For the first time ever, I saw a smile begin to form on her mouth,
growing in size until I could see almost all her teeth. When she
pulled her left hand out from under the covers and caressed the right
side of my face, I returned her smile with dividends.
"You're not scared of me or mad at me for undressing you, are you
Trisha?"
Again, her head moved side to side, her left hand now firmly tugging my
face toward hers. That's when I knew to resist at any cost.
"I'm not supposed to kiss you Honey. Big guys aren't supposed to treat
pretty little girls like that 'cause they could get into LOTS of
trouble if they did."
Her smile immediately faded and her left hand relaxed but remained
alongside my face. She knew perfectly well that MANY big guys did a
LOT more than just kiss little girls and boys around here and was
having a hard time coming to grips with the first guy that spent some
quiet time with her and DIDN'T want to kiss and touch her like other
men obviouisly did to one or more of her friends at the 'House'.
"I need to go back downstairs now Trisha. The auction is about to
start and I need to be down there when they call out the number for
your tennis ball. I'm going to win that bid and need to make sure
Martha knows."
As I began to rise from the bed, Trisha started to cry, this time
because she didn't want ME to leave rather than HER wanting to be left
alone. I only got as far as the door before I heard her call my name,
her first attempt at conversation since she begged for mercy when she
was sitting next to me earlier.
"TERRY?"
I turned around and looked into the most despondent pair of lovely
brown doe eyes I had ever seen, her face scrunched up as if she was
about to begin bawling hysterically. Both of her hands were pointed
toward me, tempting me to return to where I was moments before.
Knowing that I was about to become the victim of my own tender heart, I
smiled at her and turned around, put my hand on the doorknob and
started to turn. What happened next took my breath away.
Trisha flung the bedcovers off her body, flew across the small room and
practically threw herself at me, quietly sobbing into my back as she
squeezed me as tightly as she could. Only the second time since I had
been with her, she finally spoke to me.
"Please don't go Terry. I like you and I don't want to be alone no
more."
I turned around and put my arms around her back, holding her just as
tightly.
"I don't WANT you to be alone Honey, but I'm not supposed to be with
you when you're in bed or all by yourself. Somebody might think I
wanted to do naughty things with you and I don't want to scare you or
get into any trouble. I know there are lots of people that come visit
the other children here, but I don't want you to get mad at me if I
started to do something that a big guy isn't SUPPOSED to do with a
little girl like you."
In an incredibly quiet and obviously hushed tone, she confirmed what I
had suspected earlier.
"Is it 'cause of all the sex stuff that big people do with the other
kids here?"
"Um hmmm."
"We can stay here in my room and just TALK if you want to Terry. We
don't have to do lots of sex stuff unless you want to. I don't mind
either way, 'cause I just want you to be with me for a little while,
that's all. Please don't go! I'll be a good girl and be as quiet as
you want me to, honest. I'll try not to cry so much, okay?"
Leaning my head all the way to her left ear, I spoke so softly, even
Trisha had a hard time hearing my words.
"It's not proper for a man to be alone with a little girl in her
bedroom. I hope you'll try to understand."
Her arms squeezed me tighter still, almost enough to force me to empty
my lungs of air. I had somehow treated her more tenderly and with more
compassion than ANY person in a very long time, if EVER. Trisha knew
by my actions while undressing her that I was different from all the
other guys in town and she was getting desperate for my continued
presence.
"PLEASE TERRY? PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME. Not tonight anyway."
The longer she held me and the tighter she squeezed, the less
reluctance I had to spend a lot of time alone with her in the quiet
solitude of her bedroom.
"Please Terry? Please stay with me, just for a little while. We don't
have to do LOTS of sex stuff if you don't want to. You could just stay
with me and visit, okay? Please?"
Her soft cries, tender embrace and a little time was all it took. I
was no longer responsible for any of my actions from this moment
forward. Well, ALMOST! At least I knew to keep my hands far enough
away from her tender spots to keep me from spending any quiet time with
my nose in the corner of the local jail cell.
"Please?"
"Okay. I'll stay for a little while longer."
Trisha immediately began to cry louder, her agitation now tinged with
tremendous emotional release. We stood near the door for another few
minutes, my little whimpering and lonely host in my arms, barefoot,
wearing an oversized night-shirt and little else.
When she stopped crying, she looked up into my eyes with the passionate
surrender of a girl about to be the virgin sacrifice at a religious
ceremony in front of thousands. I clearly knew otherwise.
"Stay right there, Terry."
Trisha was a flurry of activity, picking up each of her pieces of
clothing and putting them away neatly in the small closet next to the
bathroom door, smoothing them carefully so they looked just like they
did before she put them on this morning. She then stepped over to the
bed and knelt down on it, reached to the bottom hem of the t-shirt she
was wearing and began pulling it up her body, showing me her chubby and
elegant thighs, her pretty and very plain white panties, a huge smile
and then a fair portion of her lovely titties. The moment I saw them,
I knew I wanted to see more.
She was willing to continue and pull it over her head when I knew I had
to act, in spite of the deep longing inside my mature body.
"TRISHA! S-T-O-P-!"
She looked at me with a terrified expression, unsure why I'd stop her
before she peeled her top off. With her body frozen in fear, I walked
up to her and whispered into her ear soft enough that my voice couldn't
have travelled farther than the pillows.
"If you want me to stay in your room with you Trisha, you're gonna have
to leave your top and panties on, okay?"
"But, I don't sleep with NOTHIN' on, Terry. It don't feel right for me
to have nothin' on when I'm in bed. It ain't bad for me to get
undressed for bed, is it?"
"Well . . . "
"Did you think I wanted you to do lots of naughty sex stuff with me
already, Terry? Can we wait just a LITTLE while, please?"
Her expression changed dramatically and immediately. She was no longer
sure if my being in her room was a good idea after all, my awareness of
what her body might look like in bed filling her with dread and
uncertainty.
"Honey, I just wasn't sure why you were gonna take your clothes off,
that's all."
"Do you want me to get undressed under the covers?"
"That would be okay."
Constantly looking into my eyes, she carefully shifted the covers out
from under her knees and climbed inside, taking care to keep her legs
completely veiled by either the sheets or her top. She wasn't
completely successful, however, my eyes catching the smooth white
fabric of her panties for at least half of the time she was shifting
around.
When she was all the way inside, she wiggled back and forth a few
times, wrestling the long clean garment up her body until it was pulled
over her head and off her arms. With a typical careless toss
reminiscent of any young teen, the empty fabric fell helplessly across
the small chair just a few feet away near her desk. With even less
effort, she struggled to work her white panties off and tossed them in
the same direction, my reluctance to see where they'd land keeping me
on the straight and narrow.
"Terry, would you read me a bedtime story, please?"
Poor dear! Even at fourteen, she felt it necessary to have a story
read to her so she could fall asleep.
Why not? What would it hurt, anyway?
"Sure Trisha."
Turning her reading light on at the headboard, I turned and flipped the
overhead light off and stepped to her desk, a single book prominently
laying face up. With her favorite book in hand, I returned to her
side, sitting down to her left at her waist, opening the book and began
reading at page one.
Now, instead of feeling apprehensive about my being so close to her,
she shifted inside the bed and snuggled next to me, almost cupping her
tiny frame still inside the covers around my left hip, my bum squarely
and safely on the other side of the sheets.
She seemed strangely fascinated with turning each page as I completed
it, carefully holding the book with both hands for me by the time the
sixth page was read through. Now that she was taking control of the
reading material, I extended my left arm over her and leaned on my left
hand, sitting on the outside of the covers against her left hip.
Without her direct knowledge, Trisha had begun to uncover her soft body
a little at a time until I could see her right breast, her
determination to help me hold both sides of the book allowing me to
casually gaze upon the perfectly shaped beginnings of her cone shaped
titty.
I knew it was terribly wrong for me to glance back and forth between
the book and her body, but seemed incapable to discontinue. After
having the opportunity to see her tender form far longer than I was
supposed to, I carefully tugged her sheets up slightly using my left
hand while I maintained a constant pace reading, hoping she'd notice
what I was trying to do.
She never relinquished her grasp of the book, holding it with increased
focus as time went on. After trying to maintain a more gentlemanly
composure for about five minutes, I allowed her to maintain control of
the reading material and assumed she had no knowledge of just what I
was able to visually enjoy. Her breast, not the book!
It took about thirty minutes of reading before her eyes closed and
another ten before she let go of the book, her body succumbing to her
tremendous need for slumber. With her chest almost completely
uncovered, I shifted my eyes between the book at her left and both of
her absolutely perfectly formed titties, heaving up and down with each
of her deep breaths.
In the dim light of her reading lamp, I watched carefully as she slept,
her breasts holding my attention like natural magnets, my heart racing
and my hormones coursing heavily through my body. If I didn't leave
soon, I'd be tempted to assume the attitudes of two adult men I'd seen
earlier, their interest in illicit sex with children directing their
mouths and hands along soft places that they weren't normally supposed
to be.
Her book was quietly and carefully lifted off the bed and set down on
top of her desk, my next action meant to provide Trisha with protection
rather than discomfort. Lifting each of her arms, I worked them under
the covers only half way, her eyes popping open wide and her face
taking on a frightened expression.
Once she recognized me, she smiled immediately, understanding my
actions as paternal in nature rather than indecent. With her titties
still partially open for view, I knew I should have tried harder to
shift her covers higher, but allowed the top of the material to remain
just below the two gentle rises on her body.
"I've gotta go now, Honey. You're nice and sleepy and need to get some
rest."
"NOOOOO! Please don't go Terry! It's so nice for you to be here with
me. I'm not REAL scared of you no more, so please stay with me, okay?"
Her eyes were fighting desperately to stay open, her lids heavy and her
attention waning. Without realizing what she was doing, she extricated
both of her hands from under the covers and grabbed mine, pulling them
toward and then hugging them to her naked chest. Without any effort at
all, my naughty fingers were now pressed tightly against her tender
nipples, both sets of her fingers clenched around my wrists so I
wouldn't be able to depart too quickly.
In an ever decreasing volume level, Trisha softly whispered her
intentions to keep me in place long enough to provide her with comfort,
her delicate slumber having an increasing grasp of her consciousness.
"You don't have to leave yet, Terry. You can stay with me . . . for a
little while, okay? I don't mind if you . . . if you wanted to <yawn>,
if you wanted to just play with my titties a little bit. That isn't
<yawn> BAD, is it?"
In little over five minutes, she was asleep yet again, this time
holding both of my hands against her elegantly soft and petite breasts.
I was no longer able to resist the intense stimulation of her silky
skin, the absolutely immoral contact of my hands against her nymphet
body making my heart race and my cock throb. My thumbs were the first
to move, softly making arcs over her nipples until they were both firm
and erect.
In little over five minutes, I was gently caressing her titties rather
openly, both of my hands working free of her grasp, my fingers
delicately pinching her nipples and rotating them as if they were more
fragile than anything I had ever had the pleasure to caress. When
Trisha shifted her arms over her head and stretched, I knew it was time
for me to discontinue my indecent activities with a fourteen year old.
I really didn't want to, but knew it best if I removed my immoral hands
from her demure chest, her naked boobies so silky and soft that I had
no true desire to do anything but fondle her. It took me a few moments
to consider what she'd think of me and once I realized just how nasty
my actions were, withdrew my touch.
With her eyes half open, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers,
gently munching on her dainty mouth for no more than ten seconds. She
smiled up at me, her eyes completely closed and seemed to revel in the
attention I was paying her.
Once I had regained my composure, I broke our kiss, leaned back,
flipped her reading light off and got up. With just enough light
streaming in from under her door, I made my way across the room, opened
the door and then latched the inside lock tab, quietly pulling it
closed after I made my way outside. Now safely on the other side, I
took a deep breath, adjusted my woody inside my slacks and made my way
down the hall, certain that I had enjoyed a brief interlude with
someone that shouldn't have been so anxious for me to visit her behind
closed doors.
Thankfully, I exercised enough self control to keep from doing
something with and TO her that would have gotten me into more trouble
than anything I had ever done before in my life. With a renewed
interest in lovely little girls and the fascination they seemed to hold
for any man over fifteen, I made my way back to the crowd on the first
floor.
Continued in Part 3 (Special_3.txt)
--
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