Tonya
My cabin is deep in the woods, in the middle of the 1,000 acres I own in
northern Michigan near Cadillac. It is as rustic as those cabins of the
pioneers 150 years ago. I'm rich. I could afford a mansion, but I like my
cabin. It reminds me of my youth, when I would come to my
father's cabin
in Wisconsin. My brother, my father and I would fish and hunt and exalt
in being free in the wild. When I found myself, after so many years of
constant work, with more money than I could ever spend, I bought this
property and built this simple cabin. My sons are grown; successful
professionals with their own families. My wife died five years ago. I
relish the solitude of my cabin in the forest. In the suburbs north of
Detroit I have, in fact, a mansion. But I am happiest here in the woods.
On a late Spring day, after having surveyed the developing dogwoods with my
dog Toby, I returned to the cabin, eagerly looking forward to a lunch of
Cambell's pork and beans and a glass of Stolichnaia. When I entered, I
immediately saw another person in the small, single room of the cabin. A
small figure, dirty and ragged. It was a girl, between twelve and perhaps
fourteen years of age. She cowered in a corner, looking up at me. Toby
snarled menacingly. The girl cringed and wimpered. I calmed Toby and
pulled the girl to her feet. She stank! I knew better than to shout at her.
We had a serious problem here. I told her that if she would go outside and
bathe at the wash basin at the side of the house, I would fix lunch for
her. I admonisshed her to get the stink off of her. Toby accompanied her
outside, sniffing. As I fixed the pork and beans, another can added for
the company, I glanced out the window and saw the girl naked, washing
herself. I was pleased that she was at least intelligent enough to
understand my first concern. By the time she reentered the cabin, she and
Toby were life long friends. Her clothes smelled, but she was clean. We
would have to wash her clothes. We ate in silence and I sipped my vodka.
When I asked how she had come to be in my cabin, it was as if I had pushed a
button. She spewed out her tale of woe and would not stop. She had run away
from a girl's home, where she had been placed after a series of foster homes.
She was an orphan. She had been too unruly in foster care, and so she was
placed, as it were, in a child's prison without bars. She did not fit in and
the other girls taunted and persecuted her. The nine to five employees
could not have cared less, however much she pleaded. She ran away. She was
thirteen. Her name is Tonya. She first hitch hiked north. But when a man,
who had given her a ride, began to fondle her thigh and seemed to be
menacing, she ceased asking others for rides and walked this far, over one
hundred miles. After lunch I gave her a long, plaid wool shirt and told
her to take her clothes down to the nearby stream and wash them, because
they smelled so bad. To my surprise she disrobed in front of me, put on the
shirt and took her clothes in a bundle down to the stream, a bar of soap in
her hand. I noticed her naked body, but tried not to stare. She
returned and hung her wet clothes on tree limbs to dry in the afternoon
sun.
She came over and stood before me, as if she were awaiting further
instructions. She was a cute kid, especially in that shirt, which hung down
only to her upper thighs. We talked, sitting on a bench near the cabin
door. She was obviously intelligent. She did not speak kid shit, but full
sentences, usually grammatically. Toby sniffed under her shirt. The girl
and the dog played together the rest of the afternoon and into the evening,
when her clothes were finally dry. The world darkened and it became time
for bed. The cabin had just one bed, so we shared it.
The bed was a bit tight for two persons, but we adjusted and soon we fell
asleep. In the middle of the night I half awoke; the girl's arm was around
me, her body pressed against mine. I slept again. In the morning Tonya
jumped out of bed, full of life. I lay abed and watched her play with
Toby. She was clad just in her shorts. She was gorgeous, and my penis began
to rise. I had a strange feeling, looking at her girlish beauty. I
wondered why I felt this way, sexually attracted to a girl her age. Tonya,
seeing that I was awake, jumped onto the bed and rough housed with me. I
was distracted by my feelings for her, although I entered into the play, in
the course of which I found my hands on her soft body. I was troubled.
Tonya did not make things easier, when she snuggled me and kissed me on the
lips. It was an innocent child's kiss. Almost unthinking, I fondled her
chest and then her soft thighs; my cock was engorged. The more I touched
her, the more deeply she kissed me. I was soon kissing her body and she was
sighing. My mouth surveyed her from forehead to toes, and back up the
insides of her legs. She squirmed in pleasure. I was in quite a state,
impassioned. I tore down her shorts and plunged my tongue into her
pussy and sucked. She soon came, her juices flowing into my
mouth. I do not know what came over me. I mounted her, plunging
my raging cock into her, and fucked her to an explosive orgasm.
As I lay on the bed, spent, confused and appalled at what I had just done,
Tonya caressed my body and kissed me deeply. She stroked my troubled head
and murmured into my ear. I came to love this girl, although we never had
sex again, even remotely. I sponsored her through school, university and
graduate school. She now has her own family, and I am always welcome at her
table.