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This is a fictional story involving the sexual situations, between a minor
and an adult.  If this subject offends you, close this page NOW!  If you
choose to read on you must be 18 years or older.  If you are not LEAVE!!!
   Any similarities to any person living or dead are purely coincidental.
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Girl at the Cottage
   By Romany
   (M/g)
   Dennis saw the last carriage of the six fifty leave the station as he
rushed in.
   "Dammit," he exclaimed realizing he'd missed his train.
   He stood watching the disappearing carriage and turned and looked around
the platform.  There were still quite a few people waiting for trains to
wherever.  He sat on a seat and contemplated what to do for the nearly
hours wait he now had until the next train.  He'd best not miss that one as
it was the last that stopped at his village.  The rest were all express and
went past his stop.  He recalled the pub at the corner and decided to go
back and have a pint while he waited for the next train.  He wandered out
of the station and glanced to his left.  There was a girl standing in the
shadows of a doorway recess set in the old concrete facade of the station
entrance at street level.  He saw she was staring at him and he slowed
wondering if she knew him.  He certainly did not know her.  She looked
about eleven, twelve maybe, and wearing a grey anorak and wearing a dark
coloured knitted beanie.  There was a sizable backpack beside her on the
pavement.  She was obviously a traveler here at the station.  He decided
they didn't know each other and it was just chance eye contact that often
happens on a street.  Where one sees the look of another and thinks they
might know them; only to realise both were caught thinking it was the other
that might know them.
   He got to the pub and forced his way inside the packed bar.  There was a
considerable wait to be served as the place was so busy, but he eventually
got a pint of lager and worked his way to the wall at the end and stood
regarding the patrons as he sipped his beer.  He decided he'd have just the
one as he didn't want to get into the taste as he knew he'd quickly get on
a binge and that was a no-no when he still had to get home.  He finished
his pint and left the pub at seven fifteen.  He'd go back to the station
and give himself plenty of time so he wouldn't miss the last train.  As he
stepped out into the chilly London air he shivered and pulled his coat
collar up and started along the street to the station.  The smells from a
fish and chip shop filled his nostrils and his mouth watered involuntarily.
He longed for some chips; maybe a piece of fish to go with them.  The
delicious smell was coming from behind him so he doubled back, pausing to
gauge the time he would take to get some chips and still get to the station
in time for his train.  Deciding he had enough time, Dennis continued along
the street and turned left and saw the local chippie just along from the
intersection.  Inside, he ordered two scoops of chips and a piece of fish.
He was delighted this chippie still dispensed the fish and chips in a paper
parcel.  Not the polystyrene punnets that were becoming more prevalent.
   With his parcel of fish and chips tucked under his arm, and a corner
ripped open so he could get at the hot contents, Dennis set off back to the
station.  It was now seven thirty.  He still had a twenty minute wait but
he hurried to get into the shelter of the station building as it was
starting to drizzle again.  As he hurried towards the station steps he
noticed the girl he'd seen when he'd left earlier.  As he got to the bottom
step to bound up into the station door he heard her call.
   "Giz a chip mister," she called.
   He got to the top and stopped and turned and looked at her.  Her voice
had a strong Scots accent.
   "Giz a chip mister," she repeated, holding her hand out.
   Dennis was struck how pathetic she looked standing forlornly in the
doorway.  Despite being rugged up in her anorak and beanie, there was a
lonely, haunted, wasted look about her.  He stared at her and looked down
at the parcel under his arm; feeling the warmth of the hot chips on his
inner arm and side.  She didn't wait for him to reject her plea.  His
hesitation was enough for her to quickly come forward and start up the
stairs.  He realised she thought his stopping was agreement to share his
food and to walk away now would be too cruel on the young girl.  Feeling
trapped he waited until she came up to him.  She looked up at him and he
saw the vibrant blue eyes and wisps of blond hair poking out from under her
beanie.  She tentatively pushed a hand to the ripped opening of the fish
and chip parcel and he moved it so she could push her hand in.
   "They're hot," he said warning her.
   She was trying to grasp a handful but quickly realised she couldn't pull
her hand through the opening if she took too many.  She let some go and
withdrew about three or four chips.  He watched her carefully trap the
chips with her free hand and then satisfied she wasn't about to drop any,
she put one to her mouth and started to devour it.  She tried not to wolf
it down but he could tell she was very hungry.
   "You're starving," he said solemnly, feeling pity for the kid.
   She didn't answer but continued transferring another chip to her hand
that fed her mouth.
   "Look, come in out of the cold...get your rucksack," he said.
   She glanced back and then looking at the parcel in his arm, decided
being near him was a good deal right now.  She pushed the last chip in her
mouth and turned and skipped down the steps and retrieved her backpack.  He
led her into the station, holding the door open for her.  He noted she
paused and looked around as if looking for someone.  Satisfied whoever it
was she was looking out for wasn't there, she moved further into the
barn-like building.
   "Over here," Dennis said and walked to a seat on the platform.
   She followed and sat beside him.  He arranged the parcel so she could
get at it; and seeing he was generous and wasn't about to cut her off from
his food, she only took one or two chips at a time as they sat and shared
his food.
   "What's your name?" he asked.
   "Morag, Morag McAllister" she replied and took another hot chip.
   "That's Scottish...you're a Scot," he said.
   She nodded and munched her chip.
   "What are you doing in London?" he asked reminding himself she was kind
of young to be out alone; clearly without a parent of guardian.
   "Looking for my brother Tam," she said fishing another chip from his
parcel.
   "He lives in London?" Dennis asked.
   "Yep...I think so," she answered.
   There was something about her that Dennis couldn't quite put a finger on
what it was.  They sat in silence for a few minutes and shared his chips.
She felt the fish and said there was something big inside.  He broke the
parcel open further and exposed the fish and the last few handfuls of
chips.
   "I'll break it in two," he said ripping the fillet of fish in half.
   He handed her a piece and she smiled appreciatively at him and took it.
   "When did you last eat," he said gently.
   "A couple of days ago," she answered, eating the fish with enjoyment.
   "Don't you have any money?" he asked.
   She shook her head.
   "And presumably you haven't found your brother?" he added, drawing the
conclusion she was destitute and alone.
   She shook her head again.
   "Do your parents know where you are?" he asked but knew it was unlikely.
   "Father's in prison," she said casually.  "Don't know where me mum is."
   He grinned noting she pronounced father as feather.  The Scots accent
was a mystery to him.  He'd decided that despite whoever was responsible
for her, she was a runaway.  She might well be looking for a brother called
Tam but it was a fair bet she shouldn't be here alone at all.
   "So who do you live with?" he asked intrigued to know her background.
   She shrugged her shoulders.
   "Here and there," she said working a piece of hot fish in her mouth to
cool.
   She wasn't about to let his inquisition disturb her getting a least half
of his fish and chips.
   "Foster care?" he said looking at her.
   It was probably a rhetorical question.  If she was right about her
parents, it was a fair bet the kid was in foster care or a home of some
sort.  And clearly she'd done a runner.
   "Usually," she said.  "Sometimes the boys and girls home, but I hated it
there," she said candidly.
   "So you run away," he concluded.
   "She nodded and licked her greasy fingers clean.
   "To find Tam...and be with him.  He'll look after me," she answered.
   "How old is Tam?" he asked.
   "Seventeen," she said, and eyed the last few chips in the open parcel.
   He nodded she could have them and she gathered them up; picking up the
small crispy ones on her fingertips.  She was clearly very hungry.
   "It seems a bit young to be caring for himself and a sister," Dennis
said.
   "He's fine.  I'm twelve, I can get a job...supermarket, something like
that," she said.
   He saw she had a fixed idea about what she was going to do when she
found Tam.  Probably told herself all the rosy stories about how it would
be with her big brother.  And like most runaways seeking better, she had
fallen short of her simple dream.
   "You're twelve," he began.  "I doubt if you could get a job at your
age," he said gently.
   "I'd tell them I was fifteen," she answered confidently.
   "That would be stretching it," he chuckled.
   They fell silent for a few minutes.
   "Morag...when we came in...you stopped and looked around the station. 
Who were you looking for?" Dennis asked staring at her.
   She was picking up the salt from the paper parcel with her fingertips
and licking it.  Ensuring every skerrick of food and condiment was consumed
and not wasted.  She squirmed a little uneasily.
   "The police," she said not looking at him.
   He grinned as she pronounced police as `poliss'.
   "So they're looking for you?" he said.
   "No...not really...they look for any kids," she said quickly.  "It's not
me only," she continued, trying to make him see she wasn't being singled
out.
   "You're right," he said and looked around.  "They do random checks," he
admitted.
   He knew the police and education authorities regularly trolled London's
larger rail and tube stations looking for kids on the wag, or runaways like
Morag.  He was vaguely aware of a police unit dealing specifically with
runaways that were at risk at being drawn into prostitution by predatory
adults.
   "You've been seen before then?" he asked.
   She nodded; fidgeting with her hands now the food was gone.
   "Ever get picked up?" he asked.
   She shook her head and gave a wan smile; clearly pleased she'd avoided
being caught.
   "How long have you been down here...in London?" he asked.
   "About six, seven weeks," she answered.
   "And has anyone befriended you before," he said thinking about the
traffic in runaways he'd recalled seeing on a Panorama programme some years
back.
   She hung her head and said nothing.  He stared at her sensing he'd
struck a nerve with her on this topic.
   "You have haven't you...Morag...you have been befriended by someone.  A
woman most likely," he said softly and touched her shoulder.
   She sat motionless for a few minutes; her head bowed.
   "You were befriended and it backfired," he said gently.  "I think I
understand."
   He couldn't say `you were befriended and pushed into to prostitution'
but he was convinced that was why she was now sitting here somewhat ashamed
of what he was getting at without him actually saying it.
   "But you got away," he said gently.
   She nodded and she lifted her head and looked at him; her eyes filled
with tears.
   "Oh Morag I'm sorry for being such an arse...interrogating you like
this," he said and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her.
   She recoiled at his advance and he quickly released her and she stood up
and backed away from him; and Dennis looked around to see if anyone had
been watching who might misconstrue his actions.
   "Sorry...sorry...Morag, really...I'm sorry," he said quickly and stood
up.  "I was just trying to comfort you...please...it was stupid...after
what I think you've been through...I'm sorry, believe me," he said pleading
with her to understand.
   She turned and stared at him, and wiped her eyes.  He could see her
attitude softening and she eventually nodded she realised he was trying to
be a friend.
   "Come...sit down," he said.  "I won't touch you again."
   "It's OK," she sniffed and sat beside him.  "I know you were just being
kind.  You shared you fish and chips with me...I know you're kind," she
said.
   They sat looking a little foolish over the incident.
   "My train is due," he said flatly looking at her.  "What are you going
to do?"
   "I dunno, just hang around here.  Maybe find a place to kip," she said
looking around the stark building.
   "You have nowhere to go...obviously," he said realising if she was
destitute she was homeless.
   "I'll find somewhere," she said bravely.
   "I doubt it," he said.  "At least not somewhere safe and warm," he
added.
   She looked grimly ahead, knowing he was right.  The last few nights had
been cold and she'd slept in doorways.  Having to move if anyone took too
much notice of her; or a police car cruised by causing her to run.
   "Come home with me...just for tonight...or longer if you wish," he said
slowly.
   She turned and looked at him; trying to read his face.  He was nice. 
He'd been nice but then the woman Maisey had been nice and it had turned
out badly.  How could she be sure this guy wasn't just like Maisey's friend
Bob?  On the other hand, he seemed genuine and he wasn't all over her at
the start, trying to pick her up.  She actually pushed herself on him to
scrounge some food.  Perhaps he was genuine.
   "OK..." she said with a wan smile.  "Just for tonight...until I get my
bearings," she said believing she could still sort herself out and maybe
find Tam.
   ***
   He paid for her fare on the train, copping an extra five pound penalty
because she didn't have a ticket when they got on.  The train had arrived
virtually as she agreed to come with him so he would have missed it if he'd
gone to the self-service ticket machine.  She sat opposite him and looked
pleased with herself.  They travelled the near hour's journey in relative
silence.  He asked her about how she had got out to the suburb where he met
her, and how much money she had when she left Glasgow which is apparently
where she lived.  She was evasive with her answers so he decided he'd
interrogated her enough.  He studied her as she gazed out the window into
the night; the English countryside beyond the blackness.  She was pretty in
a farm girl kind of way; freckles on her nose and the blond hair was more
straw coloured.  She'd opened her anorak and he saw the brown knitted
sweater she wore; her small boobs pushing at the woolen fabric.  She's
clearly rugged up warm; probably to sleep out rough.  As the journey
progressed she was clearly getting hot and at one point she seemed to splay
out on the seat as if to relax from the heat she was feeling.  Dennis
glanced at her crotch and felt ashamed.  The swell of her sex in her tight
jeans was obvious.  It was hardly a demure pose she had assumed but it was
clear she did not see him as a threat.  He finally looked away out the
window, in some embarrassment he had checked her out; and to his horror,
saw her reflection in the large window and realised she had been watching
his reflection.  She'd been watching him stare at her crotch and had made
no effort to sit a bit more lady-like.  His face must have registered shock
she had seen him as he saw an impish grin come to her lips.  She wasn't at
all perturbed he had been ogling her that way.  He turned to look directly
at her, shamefaced.  Her blue eyes met his and held his gaze; the knowing
smile on her lips.  He grinned weakly and turned and looked back out the
window; noting her reflection clearly in the glass.  She was still watching
him seemingly unabashed at her posture.
   They traveled on in silence and eventually the train slowed and drew
into the station for the small village he lived in.  Going to his
grandparent's cottage where he had chosen to live despite the daily grind
of commuting.  He'd found it hard to save when he flatted in London.  He
wanted a car and couldn't save the deposit.  So he'd negotiated his
mother's parent's country cottage for zero rent and he just had to meet the
electricity and county rates bills.  It was working and he'd salted away
about three and half thousand pounds this past fourteen months.  It wasn't
just any car he was after.  He had his eye on a small second hand BMW.
   "We have a walk," he said ruefully looking at the steady drizzle as they
walked out of the small station building.  "About a mile unfortunately.
   She nodded and zipped up her anorak and pulled the hood up.  She was OK.
He would get his head wet as he had no hat.
   "Is there no taxis?" she asked.
   "There is one but he stops at eight o'clock week nights," he said with a
laugh.  "Country hours out here...not like the big city"
   The hurried the near mile to the cottage and he noted he was breathing
quite heavily when they got there, but she hardly seemed to need to catch
her breath as he did.  He opened the door of the tiny cottage and they
stepped into the room.  He turned the light on and she gazed around the
single living room that was over furnished; dominated by an over-sized
couch with garish floral covering.  None of the furniture seemed matched
but she liked the feel.  Dennis went through to the only bedroom and took
his top coat and put it on a hanger; hooking it up on the top of the open
bedroom door to dry.  He wore a suit and he was taking the jacket off as
she came to the door.
   "What do you do?"" she asked noting the suit.
   "Accountant," he said.  "I should say a junior accountant...a boring
beano," and he laughed at his self deprecation; the world's view of
accountants.
   He undid the tie and hung it on a tie rack behind the door.  He stood
looking at her, conscious he wanted to continue undressing to change into
jeans and tee shirt but she was watching.  She made no effort to move.
   "Look you'd best get that jacket off," he said.  "Let's hang it in the
kitchen so it can dry."
   She took the jacket off, still standing in the doorway and he moved her
along the short hall to the kitchen which took up most of the back of the
small building.  She looked around and liked what she saw.  The kitchen had
clearly been remodeled and looked clean and functional.  He hung her anorak
on the back of a sturdy upright wooden chair at the table.  Morag saw he
was a fussy man.  She wondered how old he was and how he'd got to be so
neat.
   "Do you have a girlfriend?" she blurted out suddenly.
   "No," he laughed.  "Well no one special anyway," he said feeling a
little hollow being reminded his one and only serious relationship had
foundered over a year ago and he'd not found anyone since.
   "You live here alone?" she asked.
   "Yes...just me.  My grandparents place.  Live here to save money I'd be
spending on flats in London," he said and made to walk back to the bedroom.
"I'll just get changed.  Go into the living room and relax," he said.
   She smirked to herself as she ghosted past the bedroom door he'd pulled
closed to change his clothes in private.  He was clearly a little nervous
her being here.  She liked that and she went and sat down as he suggested.
She looked around the room.  There was dresser with a myriad of photographs
in various sizes of frames.  Most likely all of the grandchildren through
the years.  She got up and peered at the photos and found a clearly younger
Dennis in two photographs.  It occurred to her then that he hadn't told her
his name.
   "What's your name," she called.
   "Oh...right...it's Dennis," he laughed.  "With all my questions to you,
I never told you my name," he said coming into the room.
   She stood with her arms folded across her front and studied him.  He
looked very handsome in his jeans and a polo shirt.  The suit and top coat
had hidden how lean and fit he looked; tallish with short dark hair.  She
saw his arms were quite hairy and there was a tuft of chest hair at his
polo neck which gave him a virile appearance.  She decided he was very
attractive.
   "I can do some cheese toasties," he said.  "I'm afraid there's not much
in the fridge.  I need to go shopping Saturday," he explained.
   "Cheese toasties will be fine," she said with a smile.
   "Right...well...ah...look if you'd like to freshen up...have a bath
even..." he began.
   "You think I need a bath?" she said looking a little annoyed.
   "Um...well...you've been sleeping rough and..." and he tapered off.
   He had noted she was a bit feral when he had got close to her getting on
and off the train.  She laughed seeing he was clearly reluctant to say what
she herself already knew.  She hadn't had a proper bath for some time;
relying on quick wipes and washes with a wetted handkerchief in public
lavatories.
   "Actually I could do with a bath," she said with a grin, and he heaved a
sigh of relief realising she was teasing him with her apparently being
offended at his suggestion.
   "This way," he said and he showed her to the kitchen and then to a door
off the kitchen at one end.
   Behind it was a tiny bathroom dominated by the bath along the side wall
of the cottage, and a basic stand-alone pedestal wash basin.  The bath
would have been better replaced with a shower.  With a full size bath,
there was barely room to turn around unless the door was closed.  She
squeezed past and sat on the edge and turned on the hot tap.  She held her
hand under it and waited until it began to warm up and then pushed the plug
in the waste hole.  He stood watching her and she turned to him.
   "Do you have a washing machine?" she asked.
   "Yes...out the back in the wash house," he said.  There's a dryer of
sorts to...it's not very good," he added.
   "All my clothes are dirty," she explained.  "What I'm wearing is the
last of my clean clothes."
   "Right...OK...got it," he said.  "Well...look we can wash your
clothes...a set to wear tomorrow at least," he began.  "The rest we can do
at the launderette on Saturday because I find its better there than using
the old appliances here."
   She stood looking at him.  The suggestion was she'd only be her a night.
Already he was looking beyond today which was Thursday, to Saturday.  She
wasn't perturbed.  In fact she felt comfortable here.  She'd stay until
then at least.
   "I can give you a bathrobe to wear while we wash whatever clothes you
need to," he said quickly and disappeared; returning with a large white
terry toweling robe.
   She looked at it and grinned.
   "It'll swamp me," she laughed holding it up.
   "I've got an old rugby shirt," he said disappearing again, returning
with a red and black hooped rugby shirt.
   "You can use this as a nightie," he said offering it to her.
   She laughed and looked at the number on the back.
   "Fifteen," she laughed.  "How many in a rugby team?"
   "Fifteen," he said with a grin.  "You'll be the fullback."
   She laughed.
   "Better than number two," he said.
   "Why?" she asked still grinning.
   "That's the number the hooker wears" he said, and then caught himself as
he saw her face go serious.
   "I'm sorry Morag.  I didn't think," he said solemnly; mortified he'd
made the age old hooker joke for woman rugby players.
   She forced a smile and held the jersey against her.
   "It comes down to my shins," she said trying to make light of his gaffe.
"It'll be brilliant.
   He smiled at her pronunciation of the word brilliant.
   "What?" she said looking at him.
   "Brilliant...you Scots use that word a lot," he grinned.  "I love the
way you say it."
   She grinned and poked her tongue cheekily at him.
   "Well, best let you have your bath.  Put your clothes out here and I'll
put them in the washing machine," he offered.
   "Oh no...I'll wash some from my backpack," she said.  "We can do these
I'm wearing and the rest on Saturday like you said."
   She went back into the bathroom and he turned away somewhat embarrassed
knowing she was about to strip to get into the bath.  He walked to the end
of the kitchen and took some bread from a bread bin on the bench and turned
to retrieve the block of cheese from the fridge.  There were a couple of
rashers of bacon he had saved for Saturday brunch but decided to cut the
bacon and put it on the cheese for grilling.  He turned to glance at the
bathroom and stood stunned.  Morag had not closed the door.  She had
stripped her upper clothing so she wore only a bra and she was now stepping
out of her jeans with her back to him.  He swallowed hard and saw the she
had on a pair of tiny red panties.  He was stunned she wore such exotic
underwear.  She seemed oblivious to his being in the kitchen.  Perhaps she
thought he'd gone to the lounge.  What should he do?  Should he cough or
make a noise so she'd realise and close the door.  He dropped the knife he
was holding and it clattered on the floor.  She casually looked back, and
apparently unperturbed he was watching, leaned forward over the tub to feel
the rising water's temperature.  He stood transfixed, knowing he should
look away.  She was a kid about to strip naked.  He swallowed and continued
to stare.  Morag shimmied the tiny panties off and stepped delicately into
the bath.  He saw her right breast in profile; small yet clearly pronounced
with the nipple obvious, jutting forward.  She did not look his way as she
slowly lowered herself into the water.  Finally sitting on the bottom and
leaning back against the end of the bath.  Only then did she slowly turn
her head and look at him.  He felt ashamed spying on her but it was the
small smile on her lips that made him continue to stare at her.  She had no
embarrassment so why should he.  She sat up and started to soap herself. 
Only then did Dennis feel he should look away.  Seeing her soaking or
relaxing was one thing.  But now she was washing, her ablutions seemed
intimate and his watching was a breach of that intimacy.
   He turned to the task of grating cheese on the bread.  Four slices laid
out on a chopping board.  He was conscious of her gently splashing in the
bath as she washed and he made a point of not looking back her way.  He cut
the bacon into small pieces with kitchen scissors and placed it on the
cheese on each slice, putting the uncooked toasties on a baking dish to put
into the small griller oven on the bench top.  There was no full size
cooker in the kitchen; only the small oven and a twin electric hot plate
for cooking in pots.  He was about to turn the grill on when she called.
   "Will you do my back," she called looking his way.
   He stood flat footed feeling stupid.  She had no qualms about him seeing
her in the bath so why did he feel so nervous?  He looked at the toasties
sitting behind the glass door and pondered turning the oven on.  He decided
not to.  He might get distracted to the point they would burn.  He wiped
his hands on a tea towel and slowly walked towards her.  Coming up beside
the bath he was astonished she made no effort to cover her small breasts,
instead holding up a soaking wash cloth she'd been using.  He swallowed
hard and sat on the side of the bath slightly behind her.
   "I haven't been able to reach back properly," she said and she then bent
forward and wrapped her arms around her raised knees.  He felt better she
was trying to be more modest and he started to wash her back.
   "Oh that's brilliant," she groaned in enjoyment as he began washing her
back.
   "There's a little dark ring around the base of your neck," he said.
   "Yeah I could never get there," she said.
   He soaped the cloth and applied greater pressure to the obvious grime on
her skin.  She chatted idly about how she went from public toilet to public
toilet in malls and railway stations; often being chased away by pushy
attendants.  She admitted most people worked out she was a vagrant although
she never used the word vagrant.  Shopkeepers watched her like a hawk and
security staff at one mall chased her off as soon they saw her.
   "Did the police ever catch you?" he asked.
   "Nah...but there was a women who got nosy at Euston not long after I got
here.  I think she was social services or something," she added.
   Dennis cleaned her neck and noted the even colour of her skin now the
grime had been removed.
   "All clean," he said with a nervous chuckle.
   "Do you have a pot or jug?" she asked.
   "What for?" he said somewhat surprised at the question.
   "So I can douse my hair to wash it," she replied as if it was obvious
why she needed it.
   He grinned at her practicality and went to the kitchen and found a small
pot he used to boil eggs.  He returned and handed it to her; eying her
perfect little breasts as she took it from him.  Morag with the smile on
her lips knowing he had checked her tits out.  She was quite proud of them.
She scooped bathwater up and dumped it over her head, and laughed as the
water cascaded off her shoulders.  He stood grinning at her, trying to look
at the breasts.  He glanced down between her legs but the water had already
gone cloudy and he couldn't see anything.  She poured several loads of
water over her head and then handed him the pot.
   "Hold it until I need to rinse," she said."
   She reached for a blue shampoo bottle she had placed on the edge of the
bath in preparation; she must have had in her backpack.  She squirted some
into the palm of her hand and handed him the bottle.  He took it and
watched her suds her hair with the shampoo.  Now she held her arms up to
massage her scalp, he saw the breasts easily and he licked his lips
involuntarily at the sight of the preteen's perfect breasts and perky
little nipples.  When she was finished she reached for the pot; squinting
through the suds over her eyebrows to stop them getting into her eyes. 
Leaning forward, she ran some hot water into the pot and then some cold,
testing the temperature before pouring the warm clean water over her head.
She did this three times until satisfied her shoulder length hair was
rinsed of all the soap.
   "Clear?' she asked looking up at him.
   "Yep...clear," he said taking the pot.
   She shifted back in the bath and leaned against the sloped end, making
sure her hair didn't trail in the water now muddied by her body grime.
   "You can do my front if you like," she said and stared at him with her
blue eyes.
   His jaw dropped at her brazen offer and he saw her breasts clearly as
she draped one arm over the side of the bath.
   "Well..." she said as he stood dumbfounded.  "Are you going to get me
clean or not?"
   He slowly kneeled on the bath mat and found the wash cloth floating in
the water.  He tentatively began washing her chest.  Feeling somewhat
mawkish about what he was doing.  But after a few moments of her watching
him with a small smile on her lips, she closed her eyes and lay back,
apparently enjoying his help with her bathing.  He relaxed and made no
effort to avoid the breasts as he had done and after a few minutes he
became quite blatant at dragging his hand over them.  She opened her eyes a
little and watched him; seeing his embarrassment slowly evaporate.  As his
hand came lower with each gentle stroke, she moved her buttocks on the bath
and he caught the subtle insinuation.  He let the hand stray lower down her
stomach to her lower abdomen; eventually letting the cloth float free and
openly caressing her bare stomach and lower abdomen with his bare hand. 
She seemed to nestle comfortably and so he let the hand drop lower and saw
her knees come up a little and splay out to the sides of the bath.  He got
the message.  It was an open invitation.  His had pushed down and dragged
lightly over her pubis.  He could feel a light covering of early pubic
hair. He stared at her face knowing she was watching him through half
closed lids.  He let the fingers extend and they grazed her labia.  Morag
sighed in encouragement and he became bolder and soon any pretense at
washing was overtaken as he let the cloth float away and began to gently
finger her.  She lay back with a satisfied smile on her lips; smug she had
seduced him into fondling her sex.
   To Morag this was acceptable and necessary.  She genuinely liked Dennis.
She decided he wasn't just some Joe Blow who'd shared his chips with her.
She had learned from an early age what men wanted from her.  Not including
her pig of a father who had raped her before she turned nine.  But
following the almost two years of incestuous sexual abuse, she'd been
compromised by other men as well.  Some in the foster families she'd been
placed with when her father went to prison.  Three different "fathers" had
used her.  Men who should have protected her and treat her as their own
child.  She'd left a trail of three broken families out of six she stayed
with, when it had been discovered she'd been abused by the husbands; Morag
getting blamed by the wives for what happened.  She learned over those
latter months how to get what she wanted by appearing willing and
available. Three men had weakened and she'd fallen on her back for them. 
Then there was the children's home after she became harder to place, given
her rather amoral behavior.  She's hated it there.  It was from there she
had run away.  Not to find a brother, but the son of one of the families
she had not ruined with her promiscuous ways.  Not that the foster parents
knew she'd been having sex with their son Tam.  It was him she'd run to
London to find.  He'd supposedly come down to study at some polytechnic or
college.
   Dennis was in bliss stroking the young girl's sex.  He was hard in his
jeans and his cock was feeling uncomfortable.  He moved to ease the
pressure on his cramped organ and Morag opened her eyes and studied him.
   "I'm a bit cramped," he said sheepishly.
   "Is yer Willy hard?" she said with a teasing smile on her lips.
   "Yes...yes it is," he said with an embarrassed chuckle.
   "Bring him here," she said in a dreamy voice.
   Dennis stared at her a little confused as to what she meant.
   "Get him out...I can talk to him," she said with an impish grin.
   Dennis didn't need to be asked twice.  He quickly opened his flies and
fished his cock out.  She leaned over the side of the bath and stared at
it.
   "It's big," she said almost breathlessly.
   They were all big to her.  Dennis' was no different in size to the
others she'd handled; or taken.  But she knew men liked being told they
were bigger than the rest.  She took it in her damp hand and began to wank
him.  Dennis gasped and sighed and stared at her small hand dwarfed by his
erection.  She was pretty familiar with it and he reminded himself that his
was unlikely to be the first she'd handled.  He was sure she had a brief
exposure to prostitution judging by her reaction to his questions at the
station in London.  He was highly aroused as her hand wanked him expertly.
She leaned over the side of the bath and he knew she was trying to get it
to her lips.  He shuffled forward on his knees and she took it into her
mouth.  She turned around square onto the side of the bath and held it as
she sucked, and she gave him and exquisite blow job and hand job.  Dennis
cumming hard as Morag struggled to keep her mouth over the head of the cock
as it spurted into her mouth and throat.  She'd been taught by her father
to take it in her mouth.  Suffering hard slaps and ringing in her ears when
she had tried avoiding the cum.  By ten she was expert; beaten into
obedience by her father's crude teaching.  It was a revelation to her when
she recently learned men also liked spraying the stuff over her face; and
paid for the privilege to do so.
   She swallowed the cum and eased off his cock, pushing a small dribble of
semen back into her mouth with her finger as she sat back in the bath. 
Dennis kneeled on the bath mat looking down at his still hard cock hanging
from his jeans.
   "That was brilliant," he said with a satisfied chuckle.
   "You liked it?" she said wiping her mouth.
   "Loved it," he said with a laugh.
   "I'm glad," she said.  "You've been brilliant to."
   He reached a hand in and tenderly stroked her breasts.  She lay back and
let him play with them.  He slid the hand down and felt her sex and she
splayed her legs and watched him seemingly in awe of her burgeoning nubile
body.  Morag felt good.  She'd only ever really willingly given herself to
Tam.  She had been happy for this to happen.  It had come to her on the
train.  Dennis would be her short term savior until she could work out how
to find Tam.  And she genuinely liked him even if he was a bit nerdy.  And
seeing him in casual clothes, she realised he was really quite hunky.
   "The water's getting cold," Dennis said feeling the bath water cool on
the wrist of his submerged hand gently fingering her sex.
   "Yeah it is," she said and she shivered to emphasise his point.
   Her nipples were hard from the cooler bath water, not through arousal of
having her sex and clitoris fondled; even if that was nice.  Her skin was
developing goose bumps.
   "Get out and dry off and we can have some supper," he said slowly
standing; resigned to the fact the sex play had finished.
   She lay watching him tuck his deflated cock back in his pants and then
she made to stand.  He helped her up and caught a glimpse of her sex for
the first time.  The sparse light coloured pubic hair nestled on her plump
pubis and the dark broad slit between her reddened labia.  For the first
time since they had been intimate, she blushed and looked embarrassed.  She
stood, wanting to step out of the bath but he was blocking her.  He pushed
his hand lightly between her legs and blatantly fondled her once more.  He
lifted his gaze and they stood staring at each other as he gently prodded
and stroked her.  His last vestige of awkwardness had gone now he could
look her in the eye while he touched her intimately.  Eventually he stepped
back and let her step out of the bath.
   "Get dried off and dressed," he said turning from the open bathroom
door. "I'll fire up the oven and make supper," and he retreated down the
kitchen.
   She took a towel from a hanger and dried herself; turning away when
drying between her legs in case he looked up.  There were still a few
things she thought were personal.  She pulled the Rugby shirt on and stood
bemused how big it seemed on her small frame.
   "I'm the fullback," she called as he looked up to see her coming from
the bathroom with her clothes in her arm.
   "Yes you are," he said as she twirled so he could see the number on the
back.  "You could play for Scotland."
   "Does Scotland play rugby?" she asked.
   "Of course they do," he said surprised she had no idea.  "One of the
four Home Unions," he said.  "There have been some very famous Scottish
rugby players."
   "It's all football, bevies and fighting from where I come from," she
said wryly.
   "That's Glasgow.  Rangers and Celtics at war," he laughed.  "Go up to
Edinburgh to Murrayfield.  It's a bit more gentile up there."
   "I've heard of Murrayfield," she said.  "I think they have rock concerts
there."
   He laughed.
   "It's one of the most famous rugby grounds in the world," he grinned.
   "In Scotland...famous?" she said a little incredulous.
   "Yes...equally as famous as Twickenham or Cardiff Arms Park," he
laughed.
   "You played rugby?" she said standing holding her clothes.
   "Yes I did," he said with a smile.  "Gave it up after college when I
started work." Here...give me those and I'll take them out to the wash
house," he said walking towards her.
   "No I can do it," she said quickly and turned to the back door of the
kitchen; presuming the wash house was out through the door.
   "You can't go out all warm and wrinkled from the bath," he said trying
to take her clothes.  "You'll catch your death."
   "I can do it," she repeated.
   "OK...but I'll show you where everything is," he said.
   She had slipped her bare feet into her trainers in the bathroom and
walked to the door.  Dennis opened it and switched the outside light on and
she followed him out into the chilly night air and into the dilapidated
wash house.  There was a rickety washer and dryer stacked one on the other
and he opened the front of the washer.  He left her to sort her clothes
into the washing machine, having showed her the soap powder, before leaving
her alone.  She returned to the kitchen and came up to him and peered at
the cheese toasties grilling in the oven.
   "Smells great," she said with a grin.
   "Nearly ready," he said.  "Put the kettle on, we'll have a brew.
   Morag found the kettle and tea bags together on the bench and filled the
kettle and turned it on.  She looked around for cups and saw a wooden cup
tree with four mugs and took two and placed them beside the teabag
container.  The food prepared, they sat in the living room and munched
cheese toasties and sipped hot sweet tea.  Dennis looked at his watch and
was surprised it was nearly ten thirty.
   "Geez it's late," he said.
   "You have to work tomorrow?" she said finishing off her tea.
   "Yep.  Catch the train at six thirty," he said.
   "Wha' about me?" she asked bluntly, staring into the empty cup; fearing
what he might say.
   "You can stay hear if you want," he said candidly.  "There's not much to
do.  Just stay here and rest until I get home," he said.  "If you want to
that is."
   It sounded a good idea to Morag.  She'd had too many days cooling her
heels on the streets.  Always wondering who might recognise she was a
runaway and call the police.  Sheltering here in the country was a good
alternative for a few days.
   "Thanks," she said simply.
   "I get home about eight usually.  The train before the one we got
tonight.  An hour earlier," he explained.
   He finished his tea and gathered up the plates and cups.  Morag watched
him leave the room and nestled back on the couch.  She felt safe here; no
one to question who she was and where she came from.  Dennis came back in
carrying a blanket and a pillow.
   "You can be warm here," he said coming up to her.  "The couch is a bit
old but it's comfy.  I've slept on it before."
   "I want to sleep with you," she said standing up and taking one of his
hands.
   He stared at her.  She looked very fetching in his rugby shirt.  Her
small breasts just visible in the too large garment.
   "Are you sure?" he asked quietly.
   "I'm sure," she said staring at him.
   ***
   There was little foreplay when they snuggled together in his bed; Morag
immediately taking his cock and wanking him expertly.  He fondled her
breasts and rolled her on her back and kissed and nibbled at the breasts
and nipples.  Pushing his hand between her legs, she opened wide to give
him access.  Despite the abuse the girl had suffered, she had developed a
fundamental enjoyment of sex with Tam.  The teen boy and preteen girl had
explored each other with genuine affection.  Now she had Dennis' adult cock
firmly in her hand as he kissed and caressed her.  She led the coupling and
dragged him over her by his cock; positioning it between her open legs as
he arranged himself carefully over her; slowly sinking into the little girl
as she steadied his hips as he slowly eased into her tightness.  She sighed
in genuine enjoyment as he bottomed out inside of her; groaning gently as
she got used to the fullness in her.  Dennis fucked her slowly; enjoying
the tightness of her young sex.  Morag lying passive and holding him around
his shoulders; her knees up and pressed against his side.  He fucked her
for ten or twelve minutes.  Pausing when he got too close and waiting until
the urge to cum subsided.  She waited patiently for him to resume the
in-out fucking.  Feeling his cock spread her open and then the slight
nagging discomfort as he hit her insides when he went a little deeper. 
Dennis finally lost control and began shoving frantically and groaning and
gasping as he flooded her.  His nose filled with the scent of her hair
freshly washed and dried; the scent of the soap on her neck and body.  He
lay soaking in her as Morag hugged him to her.
   The girl from the Glasgow slums had endured considerable over the latter
years of her young life.  She'd lain this way for a number of different men
in recent times.  She had thought she would never lie this way for any man
again, after being abused by caregivers, and briefly being tricked into
prostitution.  It seemed somehow incongruous that here she was in this
quaint country cottage being held tenderly after being well fucked by a
stranger she met in a railway station in London.  They slept until she
roused him by gently pushing at his shoulder.
   "Where's the loo," she whispered, as Dennis raised his head to look at
her in the gloom.
   "Out by the wash house," he said sleepily.
   "Oh fuck," she said.  "It's cold out of there."
   She slipped from the bed and found the Rugby shirt and pulled it on.  He
lay listening to her stumble out to the kitchen and then heard the back
door opening.  He strained his ears listening for some minutes,
anticipating her return.  Then he heard the unmistakable sound of the old
clothes dryer rumble into life.  He grinned to himself.  She was a
practical little cow.  Not wasting the opportunity of having to get up to
pee, by taking her wet clothes they had forgotten about in the washer in
their haste to get to bed; she had now put them in the rickety clothes
dryer.  She returned, and shucking the shirt once more, slid into bed and
huddled against him for warmth.  They were awake again.  He initiated
another bout of sex.  Morag going along with it obediently and she reached
for his cock as he lay over her and fingered her while they kissed.  She
twisted around and sucked him for a few minutes.  He slipped his hand
between her legs and played with her sex; still somewhat funky from the sex
they had earlier.  She sucked diligently and with a good deal of expertise
as he toyed with her slit and pushed his fingers into her as she kneeled
facing down his body as she sucked.  This went on for some minutes and
Dennis was conscious he had to get up to catch the train; and despite his
desire to indulge himself leisurely with the willing little Scots girl, he
needed to move on and get to sleep.  He gently stopped her sucking his cock
and had her turned around to face the headboard still on her knees; and he
kneeled behind her and slowly slid his cock deep into the tight hole of the
little preteen.  Morag lowered her forehead to the pillow and hugged it as
Dennis started to fuck her slowly.  Eventually building up pace until he
fucked her vigorously.  Morag gasped and grunted at the force with which he
ploughed into her; crushing the pillow to her as he rutted deep inside. 
Dennis was lost in a feeling of euphoria at having this girl here like
this; unashamed she was under aged.  The extraordinary events of the night
and her unabashed willingness spurred him on.  He came hard a second time;
holding her hips as he buried himself deep inside.  Morag's body was
shuddering with the impact of his final thrusts deep inside of her as he
filled her a second time that night.  Fatigue flooded through them both as
Dennis rolled off her back and over onto his side.  Morag wearily dragged
herself onto her side facing him and he pulled her back into the crook of
his arm and the two passed out with fatigue.
   ***
   He slept in.  He should have been away from the cottage to catch the
seven ten train, but woke about eight o'clock and leapt from bed in a
panic; more a reflex at sleeping in than being able to do anything quickly
about his lateness.  The next train he could have caught to get to work
near time, had also come and gone.  The schedule dropped back to every
three hours now the commuter rush had passed.  The next train he could
catch was eleven thirty-five.  Dennis phoned his boss and pulled a sickie.
He'd never missed a day sick in this job before.  That fact made it so much
easier for his boss to trust his word that he had a twenty four hour flu
bug.  His boss insisting he stay at home despite Dennis offering to come in
anyway.  It was the first ever sickie Dennis had thrown.  Feeling a little
guilty, he crawled back in bed beside her.  She nestled into his arm and
tilted her head up to look at him.
   "Is it OK?" she asked.
   "Yeah...a breeze," he answered and cuddled her, feeling a little guilty
for lying to his boss that way.
   "That's brilliant," she said softly and reached for his cock and stroked
it under the blankets.
   He sighed and flattened on his back so she could stroke him easier.  The
previous night had been an erotic journey for him.  Morag had been totally
willing and compliant the moment she shucked the Rugby shirt and slid under
the blankets.  Dennis had his share of girlfriends since his mid-teens; his
most recent two year relationship, not long ended.  It had been a sexual
tour de force with his amoral ex-girlfriend Emma.  It had taken him a few
months to get over her leaving him for somebody else, and reverting to
celibacy since he had not met anyone new.  He had been sexually frustrated
since Emma left.  Now having Morag pressed against him rhythmically
stroking his cock was bliss.  He held her and bent in and his lips ravished
her nipples and breasts as his fingers slid up and down her slit.  This
time Morag was more animated because Dennis was paying more attention to
fondling her, and his fingers in her slit and the suckling of her breasts
brought about a feeling she had only felt when she and her teen lover Tam
had found time alone.  Dennis' fingers were genuinely exciting her.  She
sighed and became less oriented to pleasing him and more attuned to his
fingers and mouth working her sex and breasts.  She sighed and laid more on
her back; Dennis now moving half over her.  His mouth was creating havoc on
her small breasts as he pinched and suckled her breasts and nipples; with
his fingers intimately stroking her between the legs.  She began to moan
quietly and made small cooing noises when his fingers hit a spot at the top
of her sex.  He recognised her slow arousal and concentrated more on her
sex; slowly slithering his tongue down her belly and over her pubis.  By
the time the tongue had insinuated itself between the girls labia, Morag
had involuntarily lifted her hips; pushing her crotch forward to encourage
the tongue to slide over her juvenile clitoris.  When he hit it she gasped
and her butt shoved forward harder.  He twisted his fingers down into her
hole and stabbed his pursed tongue hard at the clitoris.  Morag's hands
came to his head and held him in position as she gently humped herself
against the mouth and fingers causing her much enjoyment.  Somewhere in the
slavering of her clitoris and the fingers shoved as far as Dennis could get
them into her, she started trembling and gasping as she enjoyed a shallow
orgasm.  Whining and moaning in delight as the weird delicious feeling
emanating from her inner groin, flooded through her body; slowly seeping
like warm fog as she enjoyed the gentle release as she came on his mouth.
She quickly became too sensitive to his tongue which kept nagging at her
and she mumbled "oh God...no...too much," and tried to ease his head away
with her hands.  With the taste and aroma of her sex in his mouth and
nostrils, Dennis reared up over her and presented his cock to her sex;
shoving to the hilt in two quick thrusts which caused her to yelp in mild
discomfort at the rapid penetration.  He settled in to fuck her vigorously;
treating her as an adult woman as he gripped her under her buttocks and
lifted her up and against him as he fucked her hard.
   "Oh God...yes...yes..." he groaned as he came hard; pulling the girl
hard against him as he spewed into her a third time since taking her to
bed.
   Flooding her and collapsing over her as the delicious feeling flowed
through his body; the girl wrapping her arms around him and holding him to
her.  The two lovers slipping into another deep doze of sexual fatigue.
   ***
   Morag woke first and gently eased him off her as he was heavy.  She
cuddled closed to him and regarded her situation.  She'd had no intention
of prostituting herself to him for his sharing fish and chips.  The
situation that saw her board the train with him was born of pragmatism. 
She couldn't face another cold night on the streets of London.  As they
journeyed to his home, she had decided one nights respite from the cold
nights and the unfriendly days of London, were she was often hassled and
hounded from shops and malls, was insufficient time to regroup and to
fathom out how to find Tam.  For now Dennis would do and he'd already
hinted he expected her to stay longer than this one night.  She would do
whatever it took to remain here and be comparatively safe.  Too often in
her young life there had been men who had used her, leaving her feeling
despondent and cheapened.  But Dennis had recently touched something in her
she had only imagined possible.  For now he was the safe bet; a warm safe
port from the stormy sea.  She eased an arm under his neck and cuddled
closer.  This snug little cottage would be just fine for the meantime.  The
birth control pills the pimp Maisey had started her on would soon run out.
She'd figure out what to do when that happened.  For now she would be
Dennis' lover...just like a wife.  Whatever it took, to stay here until she
felt the time was right to move on and find Tam.
   The End
   (C) Romany 2010.  Protected by copyright law.
   Do not copy, edit, or post this on any website without the author's
permission.
   Read more stories by Romany at
https://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/gypsey/romany/
   
  
Girl at the Cottage