Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: JojoMojo
Title: A Chance to Explore - 3 Sleepover
Part: 3
Universe: A Chance to Explore
Summary: The relationship continues to grow in unexpected ways.  What
might happen if the planets align and Rebecca gets to spend the night?
Keywords: Mg, pedo, anal, oral, cons
   The following is completely and without a doubt a fictional account, 100
percent fantasy.  That said, as I write, I reflect on the things that I
experienced as a child, what felt good and what did not.  Those experiences
had a profound effect, and for the most part, I look back on us fondly.
   Caring, fun, ecstasy is what I'm interested in, for all involved, or
it's not worth doing or writing about.
   Copyright (C)2015 by the author
   Note to the reader: This is the third story in a series and while I
think it stands pretty well on its own, you may want to read the first
stories.  Check my webpage: https://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/JojoMojo/www/
   A CHANCE TO EXPLORE - 3 Sleepover
   by JojoMojo
   (Mg, pedo, anal, oral, cons)
   After the initial misunderstanding with Rebecca's mother, things
smoothed out considerably.  Rebecca began to spend more time at the house.
When we were together, I worked hard to help with Rebecca's behavior as
best as I could.  Yet, in doing so, I found that I was conflicted.  When it
came to what we were doing together, it required her to lie by omission and
her problem, as described by her mom was lying.
   It wasn't long before her mother stopped by to thank me for my support
and positive influence.  She was cautiously optimistic that things had
turned around.  Since the beginning of the summer, the stealing and lying
behavior had mostly been resolved.
   I had to wonder if my talks with Rebecca had any real impact or if the
reason for the stealing was really much simpler.  Could it be that Rebecca
was trying to gain the attention of the only adult in her life, a very busy
single mother?  It made sense that once she began to spend more time with
me, I filled that need, so the behavior disappeared.
   Whatever the reason, I was happy to take credit for it, as I gained
credibility in her mother's eyes.  With that credibility came a certain
amount of trust.  There was never any question when Rebecca spent time with
me, except, "Is she a bother?" which of course she was not.
   Rebecca's ninth birthday came and went.  We had a special celebration,
just the two of us.  I presented her with a mega box of crayons, noting
that it was for her artwork when she was at my house.  She gladly agreed
observing that if she took the crayons home her brothers would want to use
them and soon they'd all be broken or lost.
   As I reflected on my time with Rebecca I realized an important truth:
"Reality differs from fantasy, yet reality is often infinitely better."
   In my fantasies, access to someone like Rebecca would translate to the
whole of our relationship being sexual.  In reality, it was nothing like
that and actually much better that I could have imagined.
   The majority of our time together was spent in somewhat mundane everyday
tasks, "working" together in the garden, helping her with homework (yes she
started bringing it over once school started, so she could spend more time
with me), preparing meals "together", coloring, watching TV and the like. I
spent a lot of time just listening, enjoying the sound of her voice as she
related whatever was on her mind; marveling at being able to experience the
world through her eyes.
   In fact, many times when Rebecca visited we did not engage in any sexual
activities.  At times it was hard for me not to pressure; the sight of her
caused my heart do flips and other parts to throb.  But early on I decided
to take things at her pace; never push her to do things she wasn't ready
for or didn't want to do.
   In truth, this approach just made the times that we "did stuff," as she
called it, all that much better because they were the exception rather than
the rule and were totally her idea.  The fact that she was the instigator,
that she wanted it, made what we did that much more arousing.  To be
honest, if it was any other way, if she was an unwilling participant or I
believed that I had forced her into something, that would have removed any
enjoyment for me.
   When we "did stuff," Rebecca's favorite activity was sitting in my lap
and watching TV.  Often we started without any words.  She would climb into
my lap, then put my hands where she wanted them.  From there things would
progress until often times she ended up sitting with pants around her
ankles or crumpled on the floor.
   This greatly reduced my ability to look at her as I touched her, but it
was wonderful to feel her move as my fingers worked their magic. 
Sometimes, she seemed to stay suspended in a low level of erotic pleasure.
Other times, I enjoyed the sensations as she allowed the feelings to build
to an orgasm (or two).
   Those times were especially nice.  Her tendency was to turn on her side
in my lap, wrap her arms around her knees and curl up against me for a
while after her orgasm.  She never worried about pulling her pants up.  So,
I got to hold her and caress those soft buns while she lay against me.  The
feeling was one of intense tenderness for me.
   One element that she often seemed to crave was some kind of anal
stimulation.  Again, I let her control what we did and when, waiting for
her cue.  Sometimes she would ask me to "rub my bottom." That came to mean
that I was to rub around her rosebud, circling it with my fingers as I
rubbed her clit.  Other times she would whisper, "push inside a little" and
I would use a little saliva for lube and press the tip of my little finger
just inside her pucker.  Whatever she desired, I was happy to deliver.
   Overall, I was content, totally enjoying the whole of our special
friendship.
   Towards the end of October my earnest efforts to gain her mother's
confidence paid off in an unexpected way.  I was working late when a knock
at the door interrupted my thoughts.  I was long past the crazy guilt that
had plagued me after our first encounter, so this time was pleasantly
surprised to find Rebecca's mom at the door.
   I invited her in and she made herself at home on the couch.  I sat
across from her and could see that she was visibly uncomfortable which
raised my anxiety level a bit.  After some beating around the bush, she
finally admitted she was in a fix and needed my assistance.  Rebecca's
brother, Ricky, was scheduled for routine surgery that required a night at
the hospital and she felt she needed to stay with him until he came home.
   She had planned to have the kids stay with their father but he had
backed out at the last minute (his unreliability with the kids being one of
the reasons they were no longer together, she noted).  She had no problem
getting the older ones settled with friends, but Rebecca was more of a
loner at school and didn't have any close friends.  The only other option
was her sister, Rebecca's aunt, who lived hours away.  So, she was hoping
that I could keep Rebecca overnight.
   I was dumbstruck at first, then had to work earnestly to keep from
sounding overly excited at the prospect.  With a little restraint on my
part, I found myself letting her "convince" me that it was ok, that the
neighbors wouldn't wonder, me being a single man and all.
   Her brother had to be at the hospital early on Friday morning, so her
mom asked if Rebecca could spend the night prior.  That way, she would only
have to deal with getting Ricky up and ready on the day of the surgery.  If
all went well, he would be in the hospital overnight and come home
mid-afternoon on Saturday.  That meant we would be together two nights and
almost two days.
   She had scheduled the surgery for Friday as it was a school holiday, so
the kids would not miss any school.  But now, she was worried about
interrupting my work schedule.  I assured her I could take the day off
without any trouble.  Fridays were usually spent on the computer entering
the week's activities, so I could postpone that until after Rebecca headed
for home on Saturday afternoon.
   She left seeming much relieved and I spent the rest of the week on pins
and needles, anticipating Rebecca's arrival.
   The days crawled by, fueled by the fantasies.  It was hard to
concentrate on work, hard to think of anything but Rebecca.  When I did
allow her to creep into my thoughts, my anticipation was so profound I felt
almost electrified, the excitement running through me, chasing me to the
internet in search of the perfect picture, trying in vain to find a girl
who looked like Rebecca, dreaming about what we would do with hours of
guaranteed uninterrupted time together.
   As I searched, I found myself wishing I had taken photos of Rebecca when
we were "doing stuff," something I had considered once or twice, but
decided would be a breach of the trust she placed in me.  With my desires
in full swing, I was contemplating breaking that rule, thinking that two
days and nights filled with sex would be the perfect time to introduce her
to the camera.  Each time I arrived at that conclusion, a pang of guilt
returned me to my original commitment, that to ask her to let me take
photos of her would be a breach of trust.
   Again, reality proved to be much different and far better than I could
have imagined.
   The day finally arrived.  A knock at the door announced their arrival. I
opened it to find Rebecca and her mother standing on the porch, the sun low
in the sky behind them.  This time was very different from the first time
that found us together on my porch, but I have to admit that there was a
still part of me that was sure her mother would see through to my true
intentions at any minute and march her daughter home.
   After a quick hug goodbye, an admonishment to be a good girl and to mind
me; followed by a heartfelt "thank you" her mother headed back home.
   Rebecca walked in, carrying a Barbie backpack jammed full of clothes and
a few important items, including, I would find out later, a familiar little
ceramic frog.  There was something so innocent about the way she looked
that it was erotic.
   She was excited, embarking on a new adventure and it showed.  As she
danced around the living room, I found myself thinking excitedly about the
contents of her back-pack.  It occurred to me that she would have a couple
of pairs of panties packed and picturing them clean, folded and ready to be
put on intrigued me.
   Since my house only had two bedrooms, with what would have been the
guest room taken up by my office, my plan was for Rebecca to sleep on the
couch.  I showed her where I had cleared a shelf in the bathroom linen
cabinet for her to keep her clothes and she made a big deal of carefully
arranging them as she emptied the back-pack.
   It seemed that she had packed for a week as she had several pairs of
pants and multiple tops.  When she pulled out her underwear, she suddenly
became shy and made me turn away as she placed them on the shelf, behind
her jeans and tops, far at the back of the cabinet.  The ceramic frog took
a position at the front of the cabinet, on guard as it were.
   From the bottom of the backpack she pulled what seemed like a disordered
bunch of blue satin and tulle.  As she shook it out a dress took shape, a
picture of Cinderella on the bodice.  She said, somewhat breathlessly, that
it was her favorite dress and explained that she brought it in case we had
dinner "someplace special."
   At her command, "so it won't get wrinkled," I rummaged in my closet,
found a hanger and hung the dress reverently on the robe hook on back of
the bathroom door.  Thanks to the magic of modern fabric, it soon looked no
worse for wear after being stuffed in her backpack.
   As dinner time had already passed and bedtime was not too far away, I
had designs on an evening of television or a movie with several hours of
our usual "activity" uninterrupted by Rebecca having to go home, followed
by some naked time in bed.  I had even considered getting naked with her,
which to date I had resisted.  However, reality interceded and Rebecca
announced that it was a perfect time for us to play cards.
   As it turned out, playing cards with a nine year old is good fun.  There
were lots of giggles as we played War and Go-fish.  After a few rounds, she
announced that she wanted to learn a "grown-up game." Of course my mind
went to poker, then to strip poker, but I decided not to ruin the mood and
suggested we learn to play Solitaire.  This meant she ended up sitting on
my lap as we played hand after hand.  Just having her soft body close was
heaven.
   I was pleasantly surprised to find that she took to the game quickly and
was soon seeing moves that I didn't see at first, so decided to up the
ante. I figured that since she knew the cards, suits, etc.  she would enjoy
learning a game I had played as a boy, Egyptian Ratscrew.  Of course, the
name alone elicited loads of giggles.  I reluctantly let her slip off my
lap to take a seat across from me.
   Once we started (it is fast paced) she quickly mastered the game and
after a few hands, proceeded to beat me soundly, squealing loudly every
time she won a hand.  We became so engrossed in the game that all thoughts
of sexual things were pushed from my mind (really).  I was wrapped in a
world of giggles, name calling, trash talk, hands slapping at cards, all
out laughter and flashing brown eyes.
   When we finally stopped for a break and ice cream, it was already past
ten, well past the nine o'clock bed time her mother had suggested.  As we
sat at the table eating our ice cream, Rebecca talked about school, her
likes and dislikes, her teachers, art (her favorite subject); legs swinging
the whole time.
   When we had scraped the last remnants of ice cream from our bowls I told
her it was time for bed.  She complied after only a little.  When I
remained firm, she hopped down from the chair and put our bowls and spoons
into the sink, obviously a practice learned at home, then skipped down the
hall and closed the bathroom door.
   While she was in the bathroom, I busied myself with making her "bed" on
the couch, amazingly almost oblivious to the fact that a little girl was
undressing a few feet from me.  As I tucked in the blanket, I was struck by
how wonderful the night had been.  I had gotten a chance to see a new side
of Rebecca that I would have missed if things had gone "as planned".  My
thoughts were interrupted as Rebecca waltzed into the room smelling of soap
and toothpaste, dressed in a light green sleep shirt that hung to her
knees, Belle, of Beauty and the Beast, emblazoned on the front.
   I tucked her into the makeshift bed and turned to head for the kitchen
and wash our dishes when I was reminded rather curtly that she expected a
kiss goodnight.  Fantasies of a session French kissing came rolling into my
head.  Instead, I was rewarded with reality; a long hug and a giggly little
girl kiss on the lips followed by "you're scratchy." At her request, I
ignored the dishes, flipped the TV to a channel of her choosing and sat
reading in my chair while she fell asleep, which didn't take long.
   When I was sure she was fully asleep, I turned off the TV, started to
turn out the lights and head to my room.  One long look, an angel lying on
her back, dark curly hair shiny on the pillow drew me to her.  Before I
knew it I was on my knees next to her, drinking in how beautiful she
looked, serene in her sleep, lips slightly parted.  I ran the back of my
hand across her cheek, then let my knuckles trace her lips, chin and down
her throat enjoying the softness of her skin, the feeling of her breath on
the back of my hand.
   I was tempted to continue my exploration beneath the blanket, but
thought better of it.  After all, Rebecca had always been a willing
participant in our play.  Why steal something that was willingly given?  I
felt a pang of guilt at the thoughts that had run through my mind and the
spark of arousal that I was feeling.  To assuage my guilt, I bent and
kissed her tenderly on the cheek, whispered, "goodnight princess," and
walked quickly to my room before I could change my mind.
   I awoke early the next morning to a full bladder and a wonderful
surprise.  As I transited the fuzzy world from sleep to fully awake, I
became aware of a soft bundle cocooned in my arms.  The cotton clearing
slowly from my head, I thought I was holding a pillow (sadly, not an
uncommon occurrence in my decidedly single life).  As my head cleared more,
I realized that I could feel the "pillow" breathing.
   With sleep filled eyes in the darkened room, I could just make out
tousled brown curls tucked under my chin.  I was spooned around her little
body, my arms wrapped around the slender torso, her arms intertwined with
mine, holding me tightly.
   I slowly untangled myself, slipping my arms out from under her and
finally crawled quietly out of bed.  After a visit to the john and a quick
once over with the toothbrush, I made my way back into the room and slid
back under the sheets, trying not to disturb her.  As I spooned back around
her, she sighed, pressed back against my chest and pulled my arms around
her, murmuring something that I couldn't quite make out.
   I was in absolute heaven for the next hour, warm and comfortable under
the covers, drifting in and out of sleep, feeling her next to me; small
enough that I felt I could completely surround her with my arms and legs.
As she slept, she slowly worked her feet between my legs until we had
formed a puppy pile of sorts, completely intertwined.  Her legs, bare
against mine felt soft and silky.
   Finally, as the room began to lighten, she started to stir.  It began
with little movements: a sigh, pulling my arm tighter around her, shifting
her legs against mine, pressing back to spoon.  The movements, her buns
against my crotch, brought on the response you might expect.
   Still half asleep, I put my hand on her hips and pulled her back against
me, pressing myself against cotton covered buns, enjoying the feeling of my
growing hardness against the softness of her buns through my briefs.  I
slipped my hand down and began to rub the top of her mons through her
panties.  Without opening her eyes, she pulled her leg out from the tangle
and put it on top of mine, giving me better access.
   I kissed her neck as I slipped my fingers under the waistband, sliding
them down across her mons and between the slightly opened lips, pressing
lightly against the bump of her clit.  She began to move her hips as I
rubbed her, pressing first into my fingers and then back against my
hardness.  As I kissed her neck again, she turned her face up towards me
and sighed.
   Her breath could have stopped a train.
   "I, uhhh," she started, "I really have to pee," she said with a sense of
urgency.  I pulled my hand out of her panties and held the covers open for
her.
   "Run down the hall then and pee, I'll be right here when you get back,"
I whispered good naturedly.  As she sleepily made her way to the door, I
added hopefully, "Go ahead and brush your teeth while you're at it."
   Her bare feet padded down the hall and I heard the bathroom door close
followed by the muffled sounds of the toilet and water running in the sink.
I hoped that she had taken my hint and brushed her teeth; I loved her with
all my heart, but couldn't bear that morning breath.  It was a woody
killer.
   It seemed to be hours but was only a couple of minutes before she
reappeared next to the bed.  I opened the covers and she climbed in,
spooning back against me, head under my chin on the pillow.
   "I hope you aren't mad that I got into bed with you" she said after a
minute or two.  "It's just, well; I woke up in the middle of the night and
heard some noises.  After I got brave enough, I came in here to get you to
come tuck me back in, but you wouldn't wake up.  So, I just got in with you
so I wouldn't be scared."
   "Waking up with you all snuggled against me was great," I allowed. 
"But, I'm not sure your Mom would think it was such a good thing,
especially since I sleep in my underwear."
   She giggled and flopped over to face me, knees pressed into my stomach.
With an impish grin on her face she put a hand on each cheek and pressed
her nose against mine.  "My mom isn't here," she whispered conspiratorially
with pleasantly minty breath.  Sometimes her sense of humor caught me by
surprise, seemingly more mature than her nine years.
   She pulled away a little bit, looking thoughtful.  After a moment she
asked, "Can we snuggle together like before I had to go pee?" adding, "That
was feeling really good."
   It was my turn to cup her face in my hands and pull her to me until we
were again nose to nose, looking into each other's eyes.  "Sure," I said
with a grin, "if you want to.  I was liking it too."
   She extracted her face from between my hands, flipped over and pushed
back to spoon into me again, throwing a leg over mine.  I slipped my hand
up her leg and under her night shirt.  As I gathered the hem, sliding it up
her hip, my fingers met with a surprise, along with brushing her teeth (a
good thing to be sure) she'd left her panties in the bathroom!  Knowing she
desired and even planned for some intimate touching always made my heart
pound.  I pushed her night shirt even higher, enjoying the softness of her
bare back against my stomach.
   I slid my hand down her stomach, past her navel and over her pubis.  I
began rubbing the outside of her labia, teasing her into greater arousal,
before bringing it up to my lips for a little saliva, then sliding into the
cleft between.  She tensed and released, pressing into my fingers as she
let out a ragged sigh.
   I ran my hand all the way up her torso, rubbing her flat chest circling
each tiny nipple, then down again to dip my fingers once more into her
cleft and run as far around as I could reach, feeling the pucker of her
anus before bringing them back up to give her clit some attention.
   The second time I ran my hand up to her chest she pushed up on her elbow
and whispered, "Can you help me get my t-shirt off?  It's choking me."
   I happily obliged.  The t-shirt was dispatched to the floor and I
reveled in the feel of her now naked body as she settled back into my arms.
I realized that this was the first time she was fully naked with me.  The
thought of it turbocharged my arousal.  She pressed her buns back against
my half erect member.  But, as I pressed forward to meet her, she pulled
away.  For a moment, I was afraid she didn't like the feeling of my
hardness.  I couldn't have been more wrong.
   "I think you should be naked too," she said coyly, with that directness
that makes kids so refreshing.
   I gladly took her cue and dragged my briefs down, pushing them off and
to the bottom of the bed with my toes.
   She settled back into my arms, slipped a leg over mine and pressed back
into my hardness again.  The sensation of her buns against the underside of
my prick was intoxicating.  I ran my hand up and down her body, enjoying
every sensation as I slowly pressed against her buns.  My fingers finally
returned to their duty, working between her lips.  As I slid down her cleft
I moved all the way to her pucker, brushing the bottom of my shaft, sending
jolts of increased arousal from my pelvis to my chest.
   We worked into a rhythm, me rubbing her, my hardened member dripping
pre-cum and sliding up and down between her increasingly slippery buns.  I
was well on my way to the point of no return, enjoying the sensations and
the sound of her ragged breathing when she suddenly stopped and pulled
away, turning so that she was on her back.
   I opened my eyes to see her looking at me, a quizzical look on her face.
I started to ask what was wrong, when I felt a hand slip down under the
sheets and wrap around my hardness.  Her touch would have pushed me over
the edge, if she had not released me almost immediately.  In a moment or
two, her fingers returned, this time tracing, exploring, up, then down my
shaft to cup my balls.  Her touch sent shivers of arousal radiating from
her fingers.
   "You're a lot bigger than Ricky (her 10 year old brother).  We play
doctor sometimes you know," she reminded me.  "Can I look at it?"
   I nodded and rolled onto my back.  She sat up, pushed the covers down
and knelt by my side, intent on my dick.  She lifted it up, then dropped it
giggling as it thumped against my stomach.  She touched the head with the
tip of her finger and a drop of pre-cum formed.  Seemingly curious, she
touched her finger to the drop and rubbed it against her thumb.
   "Slippery." she said, almost to herself.
   Worried about what she might be thinking it was, I said, "It's not pee."
Continuing, I explained the workings of the male anatomy in general terms.
I covered arousal and an orgasm (calling it "getting sweaty" careful to use
her term) ending with "and then stuff shoots out the end."
   Without looking up, she said, "I know," and went back to her
explorations, poking and stroking just enough to keep me extremely hard. 
As she made her investigation, I enjoyed the view of her naked body, the
shape of curves suggested, the contrast between tan and pale growing less
distinct with the onset of fall and school taking time away from the blow
up pool in her back yard.
   Without warning she stopped poking, wrapped her hand around my dick and
began to slowly stroke in earnest.  If I didn't know better (and I didn't
at the time) I would have sworn that she knew what she was doing.  I
stared, first at the hand wrapped around my member, small enough that I
looked huge (I am at best average) then at the shape of those lovely buns,
resting on top of her feet as she knelt beside me.
   As she began to gain momentum, she reached down with her other hand,
again with seemingly expert knowledge, and gently cupped my balls.  I
closed my eyes and arched my back pushing up as she increased her speed.  I
was approaching the point of no return for the second time that morning
when I felt warmth and silky wetness surround my glans.
   I opened my eyes to find my little innocent angel with her lips around
the head of my dick.  The sensation was electric as she swirled her tongue
around my glans, bobbing her head up and down.  I couldn't help myself and
squeezed my buns pushing upwards.  She matched my motion by slipping her
lips part way down my shaft, all the time stroking and rubbing my balls. 
For a moment, I wondered where she might have learned to do what she was
doing, but the sensations overrode my ability to think.  I lost all
control. With a groan I arched even higher towards her as I unloaded what
felt like gallons of cum into her mouth.
   My heart thundering in my ears, I swear I saw stars for a moment, the
orgasm was so strong.  I collapsed back onto the bed, panting, trying to
slow my heart, engulfed in waves of pleasure.  I felt her release my dick
and lay down next to me, lay her head on my chest; felt her arms wrap
around my torso and the softness of her breath as she lay there.  We stayed
wrapped together for a couple of minutes before I felt her stir.
   "Did I do it right?" she asked with a little uncertainty.
   I opened my eyes to see her looking up at me.  I kissed her forehead and
could only murmur, "Oh yes, that was wonderful." I managed to reach down
and pull the sheet up and around us before closing them again and sinking
into the pillows.
   My answer seemed to be what she was seeking as she put her head back
against my chest and held me while I regained my composure.  To be honest,
along with the bliss that follows an amazing cum, I was in shock.  I
finally swam out of the swirling emotions and opened my eyes again.  I knew
this wasn't her first time but wasn't sure how to ask.  "How did you learn;
uh, what, uh, who?" I stammered trying to find the right words.
   She stayed where she was, head on my chest, arms around my waist and
began to tell me how her brother Robby, who was 13, had invited a friend
over earlier that year.  Her mother had to run an errand and left her with
the boys.  They lured her into Robby's room, locked the door and the friend
had essentially forced her to give him a blow job.  During the process, he
gave very explicit instructions, insisting she "do it right" even demanding
that she swallow "every drop."
   Robby watched intently as she serviced his friend.  From the corner of
her eye, she saw him unzip his jeans and pull his dick out, stroking and
even pushing it towards her face when she stopped to take a breath.
   When it was his turn, her brother seemed to have a change of heart,
pushed his dick into his pants and said he wasn't sure about taking part.
But his friend insisted, reminding him that they had "made a deal." So
Robby reluctantly dropped his pants and she gave the second blow job in her
life to her brother.  As soon as she finished, the friend insisted she do
him again.  His friend was in the middle of coercing Robby to do it a
second time when they heard her mother's car in the driveway.  Both boys
admonished her to keep it a secret "or else" as they unlocked the door and
pushed her out of the room.
   Robby apologized later that day and promised it wouldn't happen again,
begging her to keep their secret.  However, a few days later the friend
stopped over when her mom was at work and they forced her to blow them each
twice.  Again, the friend gave explicit instructions, even as she was
sucking Robby, telling her where and how to touch him.  This time Robby did
not apologize afterwards.
   The next week Robby and the friend showed up with another boy and they
forced her to do him too.  The whole time she was telling me the story her
voice was soft and steady, only quavering a bit when she shared details. 
The boys never touched her, just lined up for blow jobs, stroking
themselves as they waited their turn and watched her work.  She paused,
then with a stronger voice ended the story, "I told my mom and Robby and
his friends got in big trouble," drawing out the word BIG, for emphasis.
   My head was spinning.  On one hand I was slightly aroused by the story
and images that played in my mind as she told it.  I had seen Robby and
some of his friends so could picture the whole thing.  I knew from reading
the news that this kind of stuff was happening all the time, but something
about actually knowing the young teenage boys and the girl involved was
arousing.
   However, I mostly felt pissed and protective, I could feel my adrenaline
pumping, wanting to go kick some ass on her account.  An undercurrent of
fear rounded out my feelings," If she told on them, why not me?"
   I probed a little and found out that the incident had occurred at the
school year, just a little before our first time with the thermometer.  A
chill ran through me.  At the time, I had no idea how big a chance I was
taking.  In light of this new knowledge, my original paranoia seemed
rational.
   When I asked her why she told her mom on Robby and his friends but not
on me, she answered matter of factly, "They were mean and made me do stuff
I didn't like.  You are nice and you never make me do stuff if I don't want
to.  You just want to make me feel good."
   "So, why did you just do that to me if you don't like it?" I whispered,
heart hammering.
   She toyed a bit with my softened dick while she answered, "Well, I could
tell that Robby and those guys liked it.  So, I decided to try it with you,
'cause you're a boy and you're nice to me.  But I'm still not sure I like
that stuff in my mouth and it is kinda hard to swallow it all." She paused
for a moment thinking, still toying with my dick, "It wasn't too bad, it
just seemed like there was a lot to swallow," she said her voice pensive,
"but, I like making you feel good."
   I pulled her up to me and wrapped my arms around her, "You know you
don't have to do anything if you don't want to.  But, you're right; it did
feel real, real good." I gave her an extra squeeze and a kiss on the
forehead, "You know, I can warn you before it happens and you can move your
mouth away, or you can just rub me like you did at first without doing the
stuff with your mouth.  Then you can watch it shoot," I mentioned as an
afterthought.
   She giggled at the thought, "That would be fun!"
   We lay together for a while, basking in each other's warmth, each
wrapped in private thoughts.  After a bit, she took my hand and slid it
down her side.  I rubbed a bit on her buns and outer thigh, enjoying the
softness of her skin.  She lifted a bit, pulling away from me and moved my
hand beneath her.  I realized that while I'd had an awesome release, she
had not had any.
   I began rubbing her in earnest, enjoying the sensation of my hand
trapped between our bodies, feeling her desire as she ground into my
fingers.  In spite of having just cum, the feeling of her hips moving
against me brought on renewed arousal and with it the desire to see as well
as touch.
   I held her to me and rolled over so that she was on her back. 
Continuing with my fingers between her lips, I slid down her body, kissing
my way down across her chest, enjoying the thin layer of baby fat that made
her stomach so soft, making my way past her navel and to her pelvis.  As I
kissed around her pubic mound, I used my tongue, leaving little wet spots
on her silky skin.
   I used my fingers to gently spread her lips and kissed the top of her
vulva, sliding my tongue down to circle the clit hidden inside its wrinkled
hood.  I felt her shiver as I continued down, pressing the tip of my tongue
against her opening.  She arched against me and I felt the tip of my tongue
enter, bringing a surge of renewed arousal coursing through my body.
   As my tongue continued to explore, I was struck by how small she was. 
With my thumbs extended, my hands spanned from her hips across her upper
thighs to hold her lips open; my mouth easily covered her sex.  I reveled
in her taste as something new and unique, reminiscent of a woman but
lighter, with a hint of sweetness.  I could smell her excitement, the scent
lightly musky with a hint of pee.  I chuckled to myself, reminded that
little girls were not the best at hygiene, often in a hurry to get back to
whatever they were doing before nature called.
   The new sensations had the expected effect and my dick hardened, a dull
ache mixed familiar excitement, letting me know I had not given myself
enough time to fully recharge.  I ignored the ache, intent on the purpose
at hand.  As I began to kiss and lick, I felt a hunger rise from somewhere
deep inside, something that I hadn't felt for a long time.  An animal urge
to mount her as I would have done with an adult lover, was almost
overwhelming.
   However, I remained firmly pressed against the bed and carefully slid my
arms under her back, lifted her, then slowly slid up the bed until her head
was on the pillows.  As I pulled my arms from underneath her, I caught her
thighs in my hands and lifted them, pressing her legs apart and back
against her belly, exposing her wrinkled pucker.
   I looked up at her, concerned that the new position might make her
uncomfortable.  Her face was serene, her eyes focused on me languidly. 
"You ok?" I asked, to be sure.
   "Mmmm, hmmm," she murmured, a smile playing across her lips, giving me
the permission I sought.
   Somewhere deep in my mind the thought that she had been forced to do
things before made its way to the surface, pushing my animal hunger aside.
"You know, I'll stop if you don't like something I'm doing.  You just have
to say so.  Right?" I finished, leaving the question hanging in the air.
   She nodded, this time reaching down to grab her knees and hold her legs
open for me; her action again giving me permission.
   I slipped one hand under her buns, helping to support her and moved back
between her legs to begin licking in earnest.  It didn't take long before I
could feel her starting to tense and release in time with the ministrations
of my tongue.  After concentrating on her clit for a while, I slowly moved
down.  As I spread her lips with my free hand, I pressed my tongue into the
small opening.  It was really too small for much, but I enjoyed the feeling
of her hips rising to meet the pressure of my tongue, allowing the tip to
enter.
   I worked even lower, pushing my tongue against the wrinkled pucker, and
was rewarded with a bitter but not unpleasant taste.  I began licking and
teasing it as my free hand worked circles around her clit.  I glanced up,
wondering how she would react to this new development.
   Her eyes were half closed, her pink lips parted as she drew a ragged
breath, her curly brown hair arrayed around her, spilling off the pillow. I
stopped for a moment, thinking how innocent she looked.  Her eyes opened
and he met my gaze and smiled sheepishly.
   "You're kissing my bottom," she said calmly.
   I nodded.  "Does it feel good?" I asked, my voice a husky whisper.
   She nodded.  "It feels kind of tingly all over down there."
   "Do you want me to stop doing it?" I asked, heart in my throat.
   She blushed a little and shook her head, "Don't stop." she whispered
before closing her eyes.
   I started again at the top, concentrating on her clit and worked slowly
down.  As I moved lower, she reached in with both hands to spread herself
open, her legs now supported by her forearms.  I spent some extra time
working my tongue around her vagina, pressing in and receiving a sigh and a
shudder in return.
   I felt her hips rise as she began to move, positioning herself against
my tongue.  I worked my way down, pressing again at the small opening of
her vagina, then slid past to push once again against the dark pucker.  I
was rewarded with a shudder and a little squeak as she pushed up against my
tongue.
   I moved back to her clit and spent time just circling it before slipping
down for another taste of her nether region.  As I pushed against the
pucker, she released her legs, pressing her feet against my shoulders.  Her
hands slipped down her thighs and her finger began rapidly rubbing her clit
as she moved up and down against my tongue.  With each thrust, my tongue
entered a little more.  I was pushing so hard against her my tongue and jaw
began to ache, but I wasn't willing to stop.
   I finally moved back up to her clit and she stopped rubbing, and held
herself open for me again.  As I ran my tongue around her clit, she
whispered between ragged breaths, "I - want - your - finger." I was
immediately transported back to the time on the living room floor.  Her
words of desire and my memory of that time increased my arousal.
   I slipped my hand to her buns and she released her lips to grab her legs
and pull them to her chest, giving me full access.  I coated my little
finger with saliva before gently pushing it against the pucker and felt the
resistance give way.  As the tip entered her I stopped, remembering that
she didn't like it deep.
   "More," came her whispered plea.
   I complied and pushed the finger in to the first knuckle.  She bucked
against my finger and I felt the tight ring slip down until it was around
my second knuckle.  Another plea, and I slowly pushed it in all the way.
   She was panting from the exertion as I continued to caress her clit with
my aching tongue, slowly pumping the finger in and out of her bottom,
feeling the pulsing of the ring tighten occasionally as it contracted with
the waves of pleasure.  All of a sudden, she released her legs, pressing
down against my shoulders as she arched her back and shuddered.
   I pushed my finger all the way in as she grunted and closed her legs
around my ears, squeezing, then releasing several times in a row.  I slowly
pulled my finger out as I felt the contractions subside and she let her
legs fall open one last time.  I cupped her buns, supporting her hips as
she lowered them to the sheets.
   I kissed the top of her mons before slipping out from between her legs
to lay beside her.  She rolled into my arms as I gathered her to me,
holding her as she slowed her breathing.  Finally she drew a deep breath
and sighed, "That was the best one yet."
   I couldn't help myself and kissed her on the lips, lingering for just a
minute before pulling away.
   Her eyes popped open and she giggled, "You're scratchy!"
   "Scratchy?" I responded, and bent to blow a raspberry on her chest and
another on her tummy.  She pushed my head away, "Stop, stop, I'm too tired
to laugh," she managed to gasp out in a hoarse voice.
   I gathered her back into my arms and held her close, kissing the top of
her head.  We lay together for some time before my curiosity got the better
of me.  "Can I ask you a question?" I whispered.  "If you don't want to
answer you don't have to." I waited for her nod before continuing.  "You
told me you only like my finger a little way into your bottom but today was
different.  Why?"
   She colored a little and thought for a minute.  "Stop looking right at
me.  I can't answer if you're staring at me, it's too embarrassing," she
said with a giggle.  I lay down beside her and she turned toward me and
after a bit, started talking softly into my neck.
   "Sometimes when I am making myself feel good, I remember that first time
with you and want something in my bottom.  Well I tried using my finger,
but didn't like that cause it kinda smells bad after I'm done.  So one
morning I was brushing my teeth and realized that the handle of a
toothbrush would be just right."
   "Of course I didn't want to use mine.  So, after school, I took Robby's
and tried it.  It felt really good.  Now I borrow his toothbrush before he
gets home from school.  I pushed it a little farther each time I did it,"
she paused, then giggled.  "It makes it even better knowing he's brushing
his teeth with it every night before bed."
   I had to chuckle with her, thinking she was way smarter and more devious
than I originally thought.
   As we climbed out of bed, I glanced at the clock and noticed it was
already mid-morning.  With no real plans for the day, I considered
suggesting a joint shower.  I decided to be happy with what I had already
received and instead suggested she take a bath while I made pancakes.
   She had reclaimed her sleeping shirt and pulled it over her head as I
pulled on a pair of shorts.  At the mention of a bath, she exclaimed that
it was a "lovely idea", twisting her arms, cocking her head and turning her
foot in a perfect 'Betty Boop' pose (although I'm sure she had no idea who
she was emulating).  Batting her eyes for effect, she added, "as long as
there are lots of bubbles."
   I laughed out loud at her humor, noting that I had purchased bubble bath
"just in case" so was prepared.  I headed out the door, telling her to give
me a minute to pee before coming to the bathroom.
   I had the tub filling and was contemplating the pair of striped panties
in the corner when she walked into the bathroom.  She followed my eyes and
scooped up the panties with a quick admonishment, "Don't look at those!" I
was doubly surprised when I turned off the water and reached to help her
out of her sleeping shirt.  "I can do it myself, I don't want you to see me
naked," she said, waving me off.
   Chuckling to myself over her sudden modesty, I kissed her on the head
and slipped out of the bathroom closing the door behind me.  I headed for
the bedroom to dress before starting the pancakes.
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A_Chance_To_Explore_3