'Elise'
(Mg, pedo, cons)



Written by and copyright 2000 Admiral Cartwright, a pseudonym. It 
is intended solely for the entertainment of its audience. Any 
publication, reproduction, retransmission or other use of the 
descriptions and accounts herein without the express written 
consent of Major League Baseball is prohibited.

Unless, of course, you ask the author first (Email address 
provided below).

Distribution of this material or of any predecessor(s) for profit 
and/or with this information abridged shall constitute a 
violation of copyright law and may result in some serious shit.

IMPORTANT LEGAL NOTICE: Possession of written, fictional depictions of
sexual activity among "minors" (persons yet to achieve the arbitrary age
limit chosen by their governments, irrespective of individual abilities)
may be illegal in your country of origin. Further, agencies in countries
where said depictions are legal have demonstrated a new willingness to
test the threshold of what is or is not "obscene". PLEASE BE ADVISED: The
material contained within these pages is provided solely for the
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Archived at
   http://www.asstr.org/~Cartwright
   http://www.storiesonline.net








Author's note: 'Elise' was a subplot of 'My Neighbor', dropped when it 
served instead to detract from the story. I had in fact deleted it, and 
only recently felt compelled to rewrite from memory what I'd done and 
flesh it out into its own story. It's short, but stands on its own.




















Elise had never spent the night here by herself before. In fact, 
she'd only joined Jennifer on two previous occasions when her 
half-sister stayed over with our daughter.

So, when Elise showed up alone last night, I'd been surprised.

A couple of months older than Jennifer, Elise was a few days away 
from celebrating her 11th birthday. She looked nothing like Jen, 
since the girls were not truly related. Their respective parents 
had had a long relationship, but had never married; still, the 
pair spoke of each other as sisters.

Elise, about an inch shorter and probably ten pounds lighter, was 
not quite as developed as was Jennifer; nipples that had just 
begun to show their future, arms I could put my whole hand 
around, thin legs that were not quite gawky. Yet, she was 
beautiful, with a grown-beyond-her-years face that presented 
itself well under long, heavy dark hair. It was easy to imagine 
her right now as the adult she will become.

Like many young girls, Elise loves to be tickled, and last night 
was no exception. After dinner, she played her favorite game of 
calling me names, hoping to rile me up enough to leave the couch 
and the television alone to chase her through the house instead. 
We ended up on the couch anyway; with me sitting gently on her 
belly, tickling her all over as she pretended - shrieking all the 
while - to try worming her way out from underneath.

Looking behind me, I noticed that Elise's nightshirt had ridden 
well up above her baby-blue panties, presenting quite a view. My 
wife, who had to work early the following morning, already was in 
bed, so I made no effort to cover back up the squealing child 
under me. Instead, I pointed toward the bedroom door and held a 
finger to my lips, urging quieter play.

Conversely, my tickling became more gentle, brushing her ribs, 
her neck, her legs and just about everything else with almost an 
erotic undertone. My cock, in fact, had begun to respond 
slightly, stirring just enough to make its presence known. Elise 
pretended to not notice, but her hands brushed across my member 
more than once as they moved to wherever I was tickling her.

Is that intentional? I wondered. Should I get more bold?

As if by answer, I let my hands brush a couple of times across 
her awakening nipples; she made no move of disapproval. Reaching 
behind me, I tickled her inner thighs, once brushing quite 
intentionally across her panty-clad pussy.

Her legs opened wider.

Naturally, having just received the universal sign of sexual 
acceptance, I was ready to continue until I heard the bedroom 
door open. My bleary-eyed wife just stood there, irritated. For 
appearance's sake, I continued tickling Elise a bit more 
innocently as I apologized for the noise.

And that was that.


I awoke this morning to a sight I'll never forget: Elise lying on 
her back next to me, the bedcovers just above her ribs. My wife 
evidently had found a ride to work and had let me sleep in, and 
now this still-little girl was taking advantage of the situation.

No, I didn't wake her; instead, I found myself silently wondering 
how far she was willing to go. Better still, how far was I 
willing to go?

Rolling toward her - this porcelain doll sharing my bed - I 
rested my hand on her belly. Her nightshirt had ridden up again, 
so that my thumb found cotton at her ribs, and my palm and 
fingers felt the heat of her bare belly. Elise began breathing a 
bit more rapidly; the rise and fall of my hand becoming more 
apparent. She rolled her head slowly to one side and glanced at 
me, not seeing my one eye partially opened and hidden by the 
pillow.

She smiled, and looked back toward the ceiling.

Taking my cue, I allowed my hand a slow, gentle motion across her 
belly and up toward her chest, then down to the edge of her 
underwear. As I'd hoped, my thumb now could slide under her shirt 
to feel only skin as it traveled once more past her ribs. Slowly, 
very slowly, my hand slid up her breastbone toward her neck, 
making no overt effort yet to find her tiny breasts.

Several times, I made the same move. I wanted her to think I was 
asleep.

Elise was breathing quite ragged by now, the anticipation perhaps 
building within her young breast as my hand slid not quite 
innocently up and down her silken belly and chest. Finally, I 
found the nipple nearest me and felt its tiny center, hard as a 
pebble. Slowly, my hand traced circles around the aureola, and I 
had to fight to keep my breathing even as my loins began to stir.

My hand soon found the girl's other nipple, and I was surprised 
to feel that it was noticeably bigger than its twin. Somehow, in 
my testosterone-induced haze, I'd forgotten that was normal.

It seemed I'd gotten lucky; if Elise noticed my sudden 
hesitation, she made no move of acknowledgement.

I resumed the gentle ministration of hand to breast, reveling in 
its coarse softness for several more minutes. There was more to 
caress, but I could not very well appear too rushed.

Elise was breathing through an open mouth now, halting and raspy. 
My hand obliged her seeming impatience, sliding down her belly to 
the edge of her panties. The girl's back arched slightly. I 
rubbed lightly back and forth, closer to her immature mound each 
time, her body responding as if it could push my hand farther 
without actually pushing. Finally, my hand hit home.

An audible gasp was the result.

Smiling to myself now, I rubbed the length of her young pussy 
with a bit more insistence. Her hips began bucking slightly under 
the gentle pressure, betraying her youth and inexperience, or so 
I supposed.

That was the moment another thought occurred to me: should I get 
her off; or roll over, perhaps frustrating her to the point that 
she'd come to me to finish? If I find her orgasm now, will she 
just leave, or would she show her appreciation?

Ultimately, I couldn't bring myself to make her suffer, even if 
only briefly. My finger ticked her little clit until her body 
stiffened, a near-silent squeal escaping her lips.

I smiled in spite of myself. I had made this ten-year-old girl 
come.

Her breathing slowly returned to normal, and I rolled to my back, 
my goal fulfilled. Just as I was about to nod off, I felt a hand 
on my belly. Thank you, I thought.

Elise, to my surprise, was just as slow and methodical; working 
her hand over my belly and chest, and finally to my own nipples, 
with every bit as much patience as she'd received. When her hand 
finally reached my cock, it was fairly throbbing with 
anticipation.

Yet, I didn't get the hand job I was expecting.

It took everything I had not to jump out of my skin when I felt 
her hot little tongue slide up the shaft of my penis, standing 
almost painfully erect. It was harder still to maintain the 
façade of sleep when her hot little pussy began rubbing up and 
down my shin.

Her lips by now had wrapped around my cock and I could feel the 
warmth of her mouth sliding over about half its modest length. 
Elise hardly was an expert, but she made up for it in seemingly 
honest desire to give as she'd received. Her head bobbed, her 
pussy rubbed. She was going to get a mouthful, and I wasn't going 
to stop her.

My hands gripped the sheets as orgasm began, each spurt from my 
jerking cock pulling me further from consciousness until finally 
I collapsed, fully spent.


I opened my eyes, all pretense of sleep gone, only to find myself 
alone and fully covered. I blinked. Still alone; in fact, a 
little giggle came from outside my room. Pulling on shorts and a 
t-shirt, I soon found Elise and my daughter had poured themselves 
some cereal and were eating away happily. Both greeted me as they 
always had; nothing from Elise to betray what I thought had 
happened.

Perhaps it was just a dream, I reasoned. If so, that was a hell 
of a dream. In more than 40 years, I'd never had a wet dream 
quite like...

Wet dream? Wait just a damned minute! I was clean and dry...



The End




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