This story is entirely fiction. These people don't exist except in my imagination. While I enjoy reading and writing about older men with young girls 10-20, I have never actually done anything remotely similar -- not that I wouldn't like to.

Needless to say, this story belongs to me. You can share it with friends but don't rip it off for any kind of personal gain without my written authorization.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Waif (Mg10)

I had been to San Miguel de Allende once before, some years ago. It was just as it had been then, except that there were now more american-run restaurants and jewelry stores. The magnificent colonial buildings were unchanged, however and I drowned myself in past memories with every familiar sight.

I was walking past St Paul's church, on my way home, one afternoon when a young girl walking the other direction said something to me; I have no idea what. I speak just a little spanish and she spoke almost in a whisper, very shyly. I thought at first that she must be begging but she was not holding her hand out.

"Como?" I asked.  She spoke again, still very softly. The traffic and construction noise made her words still undecipherable.  "No puedo entendarle (I can't understand you)," I said. "Mas fuerte (Louder)," I continued.
But even bending down to her four-and-a-half foot height to listen didn't help much, either. It took me three more  tries before I figured out that she was, indeed, asking for money.

I took a moment to look at her. She was quite pretty actually, once you discounted her shabby clothes and dirty face. Her shoes were the soft, flat ballerina-style slippers that are so common among the flower and balloon sellers around the town's monuments. They must be cheap but I can't imagine that they would be comfortable for someone on her feet all day. And I doubt they last long.

She was wearing a lightweight wool, long-sleeved sweater that buttoned down the front and which sported two small bumps, probably just a few months since they had begun to grow. I doubted that she had a bra on. My mind began to wander and I had trouble looking at her face instead of those half-plum-sized titties.

She was still pleading with me for whatever it was.. Other than the new vestigial breasts, she had no figure -- slim boyish hips not much bigger than her waist, sort but very slim legs with just a little shape -- straight black hair chopped off at the shoulders.  But, all in all, I was taken with how pretty she was. 

Then the idea hit me. "I will give you money if I can take some photos of you," I told her in my rudimentary spanish. Her eyes opened wide. "I will pay you money if I can take some photos of you at my house," I repeated.

"How much?" she asked.

"Fifty pesos," I replied, knowing this was half a day's work for her.

She thought for a while. "Ok," she said, finally.

"Come with me," I told her. I held out my hand and she held it for a few seconds as we walked toward my rental house. I was elated. Providence had just dropped an almost perfect girl into my lap. Perfect would have been a girl who spoke english and washed herself regularly. She looked about 12 but girls seem to mature earlier in Mexico so I guessed 11. Other than the language and the hygiene she was my wet-dream fantasy, just too good to let pass.

The house had a sofa that faced a large window with indirect light. I sat her there and took a couple of shots. I had her remove her shoes and draw her legs up on the sofa. Her feet were dirty, so I asked her (with some difficulty) to tuck them under her skirt. Also, if there's one thing the camera shows, it's dirty hair and my first photos showed her very dirty hair. I needed her to wash it -- and her feet.

Then my mind raced ahead.  I was thinking, "What would this girl look like naked? What would those incipient breasts look like uncovered? What would she look like with legs spread? Any hair down there? Could I photograph her fully aroused, glassy-eyed and with vaginal petals open and glistening?"

"Your hair needs to be washed," I told her. It will look better in photos. Also," I continued, "I will pay you another 100 pesos to take pictures of you naked."

"One hundred fifty total?" she asked, eyes flashing greedily.

"Yes, One hundred fifty if you shower and wash your hair and let me take photos of you with no clothes on."

"Ok," she said. I was sure this was more money than she had ever seen at one time. I was thrilled.

I showed her the bathroom and left her there, closing the door. I listened to the water running for seemed like forever. She was getting every bit of pleasure possible out of my plentiful hot water and beautiful bathroom. She came out wearing a towel but with her hair soggy wet. I showed her the hair dryer and how to use it and waqtched as she struggled with it and a hairbrush until her hair was straight and silky. She still had the towel wrapped around her but her face and legs were beautiful. A little makeup would do wonders but, alas, there was none in the house.

I nodded my approval, telling her, "Que linda (How pretty!). Then she wore the towel all the way back to the sofa, where she showed her shyness by being reluctant to drop it in front of me, so we did a series of her in the towel, dropping it little by little to show more and more of her cute body. Finally, the towel was on the floor.

My spanish is limited, so I struggled to describe things to her and she frequently had to repeat what she was saying in several different ways before I understood her. So, what follows is a tidied-up version of the often tortured spanish we were forced to use. It was awkward, but it worked.

. I demonstrated how I wanted  her to lie stretched out on the sofa, facing away from the camera. She was relieved that I didn't want full-frontal -- yet. I had her twist her body so that right shoulder uncovered a breast and I could see her face. Ohhhh, she was yummy!

I took a number of shots, checking exposure and pose from time to time and gesturing how I wanted her to turn more and more towrd the camera. She built her confidence as time went by and soon I was getting some very erotic poses of her on her back with one leg up and bent at the knee and the close leg splayed open to show some of her little pussy with the tiny smudge of fine black hair topping it. But the unaroused pussy was still lacking something.

I asked her to sit up and face me and to open her legs. She sat up but covered her pussy with her hands and said someting -- I'm not sure what -- very shyly.

"Open," I said in spanish. She shook her head. This was a s far as I was going to get her to go. I realized I'd have to go more slowly. "Are you hungry?" I asked. Her face brightened and she nodded her head emphatically. "Would you like something to eat?" Another nod and a faint, "Si."

"Ok. Put your clothes on," I said. "No, wait," I continued when I saw her pick up those filthy rags again. "Wait. I have some clothes for you." I didn't, really, but I figured she could wear an old T-shirt of mine while we ate. "Wait here," I repeated before I dashed to my bedroom and retrieved a white dress shirt. I unbuttoned it as I returned to the living room and handed it to her. She quickly put it on and stood in front of the sofa for me to admire. "Mui bonita," I told her. She smiled and did a shy little turn for me.

"Let's have lunch," I told her, to which she smiled, "and then I'll go buy you some new clothes. You stay here while I'm gone and I'll bring back some nice new clothes for you." She smiled.

I fixed some tuna salad and made sanwiches. She sat at my kitchen table and wolfed down the food. She must have been famished. "How long since you ate?" I asked.

"Dos dias (two days)," she answered.

"I have milk or Coca Cola," I offered. "Do you want some?"

"Coca," she said. I poured her a glass, which she giulped down; I poured her another. While she ate, I checked her clothes to see what sizes she wore. Nothing. I asked her. She didn't know, either. She explained how all her clothes had been hand-me-downs and that these clothes were second -hand, from her older sister.  Her name was Graciela.

There were seven children in her family, five boys and two girls, she said.

"Where is your family?" I asked. She didn't answer.  I asked again.

"They don't live here," she answered. "I don't live with my family."

"Whom do you live with?" Again, no answer. "Where do you sleep?" Nothing. "Do you sleep in someone else's house?" Nothing. "Do you sleep outside -- on the street?"  A faint, "Si," with embarassed downcast eyes.

"That's terrible," I said, touching her arm gently. He eyes welled up. "What happened? Why did you leave home?"

"My father," she said through tears.

"What did he do?"

"He did bad things."

"To you?" She nodded. "Did he hurt you?" Another affirmative nod. I didn't need to ask any more. We sat silently at the table for a minute or more.

She continued, speaking very softly and with tears streaming down her face. "He did things to my sister, too, and she said I should let him do those things to me but I didn't want him to. I wanted to be a virgin for my husband but now it's too late and no one will want me as his wife."

"Chica, how old are you?"

"10," she stammered, eyes and nose running.

"Well, it's a long time before you need to worry about a husband and besides, a good man will not care if you are a virgin or not. A man who loves you will love you no matter what." I put my hand on hers and pressed it gently. "You are a beautiful girl with a good heart. You will find a man." I couldn't believe she was only ten but I knew she had no reason to lie about that. Like a lot of mexican girls, she was a very physically advanced ten. She would be stunning at 12! I thought of Brooke Shields when she was ten. With some nakeup and styled hair, she looked 20 -- and absolutely luscious. But my mind was way ahead of me.

She sniffled and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her (my) shirt.

"So, will you wait here for me while I go find you some nice clothes?" She nodded. I rummaged through the kitchen drawers and found a cloth tape measure, which I used to get her measurements -- chest, waist, hips, inseam. "Ok, sweetie, stay right here," I told her as I walked toward the garage.

I went to the MEGA store just south of town and rummaged through the children's clothes without much success. Finally, a salesgirl noticed me and offered to help. "I have a granddaughter coming to visit tomorrow and I want to buy her a complete outfit -- everything," I told her. She took the measurements, which she translated into mexican sizes and led me through the department. Skirt, blouse and socks  we found in the children's department but I wanted nylon panties for her. The salesgirl raised her eyebrows but nonetheless led me to the women's department to look for adult panties. I couldn't help but notice the sleepwear -- mostly pajamas and cotton flannel nightgowns but, on one rack, delicious little babydolls and long, sheer nightgowns..

While the salesgirl picked through the panties, I looked at the nighties and found a wonderful sheer babydoll in a small size. "Oh, that may be a little too adult for your granddaughter," the clerk had said, so I had her pick something a 10-year-old ought to wear. I knew I'd be back later when this particular salesgirl was at lunch or had a day off. Shoes were a problem, so I just figured we'd go to a shoe store with her wearing her old, crummy shoes and the new clothes I was buying. I couldn't trust the idea of eyeballing a pair of shoes.

"Will she need a bra?" the salesgirl asked. I hadn't thought about that. My preference, as you might expect, was not to hide those pretty little knobs behind anything at all, most particularly a bra. They weren't big enough to need one and she hadn't been wearing one when we met.  "I don't think so," I answered. Fortunately, the salesgirl let it drop

Graciela was thrilled to have new clothes. I was thrilled that she was still in my house. I pulled the panties from the bag first; three pairs of low-rise, boy-cut panties in white and pastels. The salesgirl had thought they might be a little too brief for a 10 year-old but I thought they were just right. She wanted to wear the yellow ones right away, so we cut off the tags and she stepped right into them under the shirt she was wearing. I asked her if I could see and she pulled the shirt up to show me, grinning. MMMmmm. How I loved the sight of those slim legs, just beginning to take shape, supporting her boyish hips, which were now wrapped in pale yellow with lace trim to cover her little treasure box. The salesgirl was right; these were too sexy for a 10 year-old. Perfect!

Next I fished out the white cotton blouse and pleated skirt. She loved them and shed my man's shirt to put them on.  She didn't have enough for her boobs to show much while wearing a blouse. I made a note to buy her some T-shirts and sweaters, too tight, of course, if I could get her to stay with me. 

I had already seen that she had a pretty face. Now I could see how deliciously sexy she could be when she dressed right.  Finally, I showed her the cotton nightshirt the salesgirl had selected for her.

"Why did you buy me sleep things?" she asked, holding it up?

"Because I'd like you to stay here."

"That wouldn't be right," she said.

"Sure it would. You have nowhere else to sleep and I have a warm house and a sofa you can use at night. Besides, you will have food here and you will not have to beg."

"What will I do all day?"

I hadn't thought of that. Rather, I had been thinking of what she and I might be doing at night. "You will go to school. What grade were you in at home?"

"I don't go to school," she said quietly.

"So what grade were you in before you quit going?"

"I never went to school."

"Never?"

"No."

Mexico has free schools up to the sixth grade. "Why didn't you go to school?"

"My family lives on a farm and we were too poor to hire anyone to help us so we all worked."

"So you worked instead of going to school."

"Si," she said, head bowed in embarassment."

"Well, I'll teach you. Can you read?"

"No."

"Can you read anything at all? Signs, posters, menus?"

"No."
 

Ouch! This was serious. Jobs are scarce in Mexico and almost nonexistent for an illiterate, for whom there were only menial jobs, farming or, for a woman, marriage or prostitution. There was no chance of marriage for a street urchin. I explained this to her and told her I would teach her to read, feed her, buy her clothes and give her a place to sleep if she stayed with me. I told her she would be like my granddaughter but I would want her to be a model for my camera and maybe help me cook. This idea didn't seem to scare her off.

But this was all  creating a huge change of plans for me. I had rented this place for two months with a little over a month to go. This girl had arrived in my life by fate and I wasn't about to mess with fate. On the other hand, I had no guarantee that Graciela would stay, so I didn't want to commit to long-term rental or purchase.

I was already retired, so income and employment were not a problem. I was widowed and had no real attachments to my home in the States. Besides, I really liked San Miguel and it wouldn't take much to get me to move here permanently. Now, every little step I made in trying to keep Graciela in my home was another step closer to chucking the whole stateside thing and embarking on a late-in-life adventure. The big negative, the key point, was whether Graciela would be comfortable living with someone the same age as her grandfather. Was the attraction of clothes, friendship (and more, I hoped), warm food and bed and a rudimentary education enough to keep her in my home and bed?

"Thank you for the beautiful clothes," she said as she stood on tiptoe to hug me. Her bony body against mine and the two soft breasts pressing against my chest brought chills to me and a stirring in my loins.  Whether she would stay or not was still up in the air. I figured I'd just leave it that way while I did everything I could to give her more than she could ever have imagined. Yes, it was purely a matter of buying her attention but I wasn't in a position to quibble about methods as long as the results were in my favor.

This had been a full day. I made some dinner for us and we sat in the living room where I read to her from a book in spanish left in the house by a previous occupant. She giggled and corrected me whenever I stumbled on the pronunciation of a word. I didn't understand half of what I was reading, but she did. "When you learn how to read you will be able to pick up a book or magazine and have it take you any place in the world you want to go." Then I picked up an english-language travel magazine and showed the pictures with the best translation into spanish I could manage. She was fascinated.

Finally, I told her it was time for bed. I brought out a blanket and a sheet we could double over as both top and bottom for her on the sofa. I explained that I usually showered in the evening before bed and that she could shower in either the evening or the morning but that I wanted her to do so every day. She said she would shower in the morning.

I lay awake most of the night plotting, planning and imagining the most wonderful life for Graciela and me. But first things first. Tomorrow we would get shoes for her and find a hairdresser who could make something of her beautiful but chopped-off hair. With the right cut, even just a ribbon would help. We would also stop by the library and find a children's first reader in spanish. She and I would learn to read spanish together.

We got all that done the first day. She came out of the hairdresser's shop looking like a preteen catalogue model, with her hair in bangs and a pony tail. The hairdresser also suggested that she try a little makeup -- eye liner and lipstick. I was a little reluctant about that, feeling that many if not most mexican girls tend to use too much eye liner and end up with what I call "Tammy Faye Eyes.". We agreed that she -- the hairdresser -- would show Graciela how to apply makeup and I would supervise. I wasn't convinced that Graciela needed anything at all, except nice clothes and a clean face; her complexion was flawless. How that happened on the diet she must have had for the past month or so was beyond me. I said we would return in a few days for the makeup lesson.

We found two  spanish-language "Fun With Dick And Jane" equivalents at the biblioteca and spent an hour that afternoon reading -- or beginning to read. I discovered that she didn't know the sounds of the letters, so I made up a long sheet by taping several sheets of computer paper together and writing out the alphabet in large block letters. We practiced phonetics that first day until Graciela was tired. As a reward, we went out to a neighborhood restaurant for dinner. Mexicans love flans -- caramel custards -- and so it was a big night for her to have one for dessert.

It was after dinner when she thanked me that she called me "Papi" -- daddy. I almost cried. She saw how touched I was and held my hand as we walked home. 

She changed into her nightgown while I showered. I found her nicely bundled in the blanket on the sofa. I couldn't resist leaning down to kiss her on the forehead but, as I did, she took my head in her hands and moved my lips to hers for a soft quick kiss. "Gracias, Papi," she said before she turned over. 

We busied ourselves for the next few days, reading, talking, wandering the streets of San Miguel. Time flew. We also went back to MEGA and bought a couple of T-shuirts and a pair of jeans for her. She was ecstatic to have a new "wardrobe" and not just whatever clothes she had on her back. Now that I knew her sizes I knew what size sexy nightgown I wanted to buy her. But I figured it would be more discreet if I waited until I was alone and could intimate to the salesgirl that it was for my very petite wife.  When we were back home, I asked Graciela if she would pose for me again and she didn't hesitate before saying yes and gave me a nice hug.

I asked her to put on a T-shirt and the jeans for the photos. I was surprised when she unbuttoned her blouse right in front of me to change into the T. Now the picture was complete: clean face, pretty hair, preteen boobs poking out the front of her T-shirt.

The house had an east-facing window that looked onto a narrow garden and a wall. The light reminded me of a Vermeer painting, soft and diffused. I took 40 or so pictures of her side-lit by that window, with the last few using the bed sheet from the sofa draped over a chair as fill. We looked at the results together on the computer and Graciela was very happy with how she looked. I told her about the babydoll nightie and asked her if she would pose for me in that. She happily agreed. More than happily. She threw her arms around my neck and kissed me full on the mouth. "You always make me look so pretty in the pictures you take," she said. "You can take pictures anytime you want." I knew I was going to buy that nightie for her that same afternoon -- which I did.

Some of my favorite photographs are by David Hamilton usually of french girls about Graciela's age; girls showing the first signs of womanhood -- little breasts with puffy nipples, slim bodies just developing hips and curves. They're absolutely stunning and erotic. And the light he uses is precisely what I had at that east window. So I posed Graciela in her new nightie there the next day. It took a while to get the same sort of relaxed, pensive pose that he does so well but by the end of an hour or so, Graciela knew just what I wanted and modeled like a pro. We both absolutely loved the results. "Can we do more?" she asked excitedly.

"Of course." I had her remove the panties for the second set to show her slim hips and the delta area below her tummy and between her legs. We lost the light after about a half hour but we were both pleased at the results. She sat beside me, making comments about her body, as I worked on the best shot in Photoshop. This shot was tastefully erotic, showing her face and most of her figure in the soft, diffused and very flattering light. "You could be a real model," I told her.

"Really?"

"Sure. We need to make up a portfolio of you in every possible pose and then choose a dozen or so to send out to model agencies." What I had in mind, of course, was those "model" websites that show young girls, some as young and five or six, others as old as 18, in sexy little poses. Some sites had clothed "models" only, others showed everything. I wanted to do photo sets suitable for both. I pulled up one of the clothed sites that fetured girls about Graciela's age in bikinis or shorts and tank tops. "Would you like to see your picture here?" I asked.

"Oh, Papi, yes!" she gushed, hugging me again. 

"And we can make some money from this site," I told her as I pulled up one of the all-nude sites.

"How much money?"

"Maybe a thousand pesos for a set of 50 pictures. Maybe two thousand."

"Ohhhh. We could buy stuff, couldn't we?"

"Yes, we could. What would you like to buy?"

"I'd like some shoes with high heels," she said quickly. I didn't know the word for 'high heels' so it took a while for her to explain what she meant.

"Of course," I said. "But heels are very difficult to walk in on the cobblestone streets of San Miguel."

"But we could walk around El Jardin," she answered. "I'd like to dress up and walk with you in El Jardin and have the mariachi sing to us."

"To us?"

"Si, Papi. To you and me. You are so nice to me. You give me a home and food and you buy me clothes and make me pretty. I want to do things for you."

"What would you do for me?"

"What do you want me to do?"

It was now or never, I thought. I would either spook her completely of find myself a 10 year-old 'playmate.' "I would like you to sleep with me at night," I told her.  Her eyes went big.

"But that is not nice," she said quietly and slowly.

"I won't do anything you don't want me to do," I said. "But I love it when you hug me and kiss me and it's been a long time since I had someone next to me at night. I want to feel you next to me."

"Maybe," was all she said. I decided not to press the subject. My immediate goal was to get her comfortable posing naked for me in positions that started innocently but became more and more erotic. The going rate from the pay websites was $500 to $1,000 for a set of 50 or more sexy kid shots, considerably more than I had told Graciela.

"You think about it," I said. "But tomorrow we will start to make sexy photos of you to sell to the internet."

"Yes," she said. "Today we need to buy a bikini for me to pose in."

"Right." So we did.

We bought three, actually. One was quite demure, with large swatches of black cloth covering everything. The next was plain yellow, with a bandeau-style top. The third was white and had the tiniest possible triangles covering no more than her aureoles and the little slit between her legs and made a terrific contrast against her permanently-tanned mexican skin. This was far and away the best choice for her small titties, which pretty much disapeared under the other two tops. I knew the photo set would progress in this order -- black, yellow, white.

Parque Juarez has a children's playground where we could start with shorts and T and then, when the mothers took their children home for lunch, we could shoot her on the play equipment in the black bikini. We would likely need a more private location for the other two bikinis. One of the people I had met in San Miguel had a small pool in his garden. I would ask to use his pool. We would shoot in Parque Juarez tomorrow. Meanwhile, we had a reading lesson to do.

That night, I stepped out of the shower to find Graciela in her cotton nightie snuggled in my bed. I sleep nude and my little guy immediately started to harden, but Graciela was facing away from me and didn't see my arousal as I slipped into bed beside her, my heart beating wildly with excitement. She lay very still, apparently wanting to make me happy without compromising herself. Yet there was hope!

In the morning, Graciela turned toward me and cuddled, throwing her leg over me. I suppose she was relieved that I hadn't tried anything during the night. I pretended to continue to sleep and just enjoyed the closeness of her warm little body and the smell of her hair. It had been a long time!

Her leg was lying right on top of my dick and, once I was awake, there was no way I could prevent it from stiffening. She felt it, of course, and quietly removed her leg and just lay next to me with her arm across my chest. I pretended to awaken, turning my head toward hers and trying to focus on her face, mere inches from mine.

"Hola, corazon," I whispered.

"Hola, Papi," she replied softly. We didn't speak for several minutes but just lay there looking into each other's eyes and each listening to the other breathe. "You didn't do anything in the night," she said, finally.

"No. I told you I wouldn't do anything you didn't want to do. I will always wait for you."

She stretched up to kiss me, this time a long, soft -- definitely not a daughter -- kiss. Then she told me she loved me.

"I love you, too, chica, and I will never do anything to hurt you or allow anyone else to hurt you. I think of you as my daughter -- but differently."

"What do you mean, 'differently.'"

"I have never slept with my daughter -- not since she was five, anyway. I love you as a daughter but also as a lover. It's difficult to describe."

"I understand," she said. "I love you like a father or grandfather -- but differently, too." She paused for a while and then continued. "My father didn't love me; he hurt me. You are kind and gentle. You can love me if you want."

Taking the invitation, I rolled toward her and kissed her. What started softly and tentatively soon became deep, wet, erotic and passionate as we opened our mouths and sucked each other's faces, breathing heavily. My hand went naturally to her little boobs and, when she felt it, she turned on her back, giving me full access to them. I lifted myself up on one elbow and looked into her eyes as my hand gently caressed her breasts.

The little nipples soon hardened and she gasped when I rolled one between thumb and forefinger but she made no move to stop me. Soon I felt her small hand roaming under the covers as she searched for my erection. When she found it, she looked down, trying to see it. But it was under the covers. So she relaxed and fondled it, not knowing what to do with it, while I continued to massage her titties. "Move your hand up and down slowly," I told her. She wrapped her small hand around it and started a slow stroking motion. I can't tell you how good that felt.

It couldn't have been a minute before I felt that familiar churning in my loins that presaged an eruption. I threw the sheet off so as not to soil it with the sticky fluid that was about to spew forth. "Watch," I told her. She sat up and continued her stroking until..."Aaaaahhhhhh"... I came in great gobs. She shrieked and pulled her hand back.

"Que pasa (What's happening)?" she cried out in great fear.

"Not to worry, chica," I said. "This is what happens when a girl makes a man feel very, very good. This is what makes babies."

"Is that the stuff my father put in me when he....,"  her voice trailed off.

"Yes," I answered.

"But I didn't have a baby."

"No. You weren't old enough or perhaps it was the wrong time."

"What is the wrong time?"

My God! This girl was 10 and knew absolutely nothing about sex, except that her father hurt her with his hard prick and squirted sticky stuff into her. It was time for a serious talk.

So, the talk began with an anatomy lesson. I described both my package and hers. She was fascinated. Then I explained a little Darwinian theory about how sex feels good because those people for whom sex didn't feel good had fewer babies and eventually died off. I told her how making lots of babies made sense in the past when most babies died in their early years and families needed lots of kids to help with the farm chores. Now, in the cities, large families are a burden instead of a blessing and so making babies isn't a good thing any more. But sex still feels good so people do it now for recreation instead of procreation.

Graciela said that sex didn't feel good to her; it hurt.

"When someone who loves you has sex with you, it doesn't hurt," I told her. "Loving people want to give pleasure to their partners. Your father just wanted to take pleasure from you and didn't care that what he was doing and the way he did it would give you pain instead of pleasure." I didn't mention that the first time is frequently painful.

"So, where does the pleasure come from?" she asked.

"There are many places on your body that are very sensitive to touch. Also, certain smells and sounds and tastes give pleasure. Think about the taste of chocolate.  Even the smell of chocolate gives pleasure. Kissing gives pleasure, if it's something you want. Kissing when you don't want to be kissed does not. Touching certain places on your body can give immense pleasure."

"Where?"

"Your breasts are a good example but there is a  place that gives even greater pleasure." 

"Where is that?"

"Between your legs."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you ever touch yourself there?"

"No, except after I use the bathroom or when I wash."

"You don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"About giving pleasure."

"No."

"Well, first you need to know where the pleasure centers are," this, of course and all this conversation in my limited spanish. ('Pleasure Centers' became Centros de Disfrutar, which she initially thought meant playgrounds. Well, it does, in a way.)  I told her that I would need to demonstrate because of my inability to describe it well in spanish. I asked her if she would let me touch her anywhere I wanted. She demurred for a bit until I could assure her that she would feel only pleasure and no pain.

"Ok," she said at last.

"Take your nightgown off," I told her. She hesitated for a moment before drawing the garment up and over her head, leaving her completely naked beside me. "Lie back down." She did as I told her. "Now relax and just watch and feel what's happening."  I leaned forward and kissed one nipple, causing her to flinch. "Did that hurt?"

"No. It felt good but I was surprised."

I leaned forward again and sucked the nipple in between my lips. I flicked the tip with the tip of my tongue a few times and then sucked the whole breast into my wide-open mouth.

"Ohhhhhh," she sighed.

"Do you agree that this gives you pleasure?"

"Yes, she groaned."

"Would you like more?"

"Yes, please."

I sat up and turned over, straddling her. Then I ran the tips of my fingers very lightly down her ribs and across her hips and around her navel, touching her as gently as possible. I scooted down and moved her legs apart so that I could kneel between them. She instinctively covered her sex with her hands. "Remember, I said 'anywhere,' right?"

She said "Yes," as she took her hands away. I had seen her pussy several days earlier as I was taking the first photos but now I was closer and had a good look and could see the fine hairs beginning to sprout just above her slit. Her lips were puffy and just slightly separated to show a little moist pink -- striking against her dark brown skin.

"You are beautiful here, too, chica," I told her as I trailed my hands down the outsides of her hips and thighs and then back up again along the insides to a point just below her sex. She shivered.

"That tickles," is what I think she said. I don't know the spanish word for 'tickles.'

"But it feels good, right?"

"Yes."

"Good. But we haven't reached the very, very best place for pleasure yet. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

I reached between her legs and drew my thumb up the entire length of her slit. She jumped like she had been shot. "Was I right?" I asked.

"Y-Yes," she stammered as her body relaxed again. "What did you do?"

"I lust showed you your..." I said 'button,' because I didn't know the word for clitoris. That's the single best pleasure place on your body. There are many others but that one gives the most pleasure -- and it's even better if your lover uses his mouth instead of his finger."

"Ai, Papi. You would do that?"

"Si, corazon."

"Down there?"

"Yes."

Show me," she said excitedly.

I was happy to oblige. It was easier to open her legs, now that she had an idea what I was about to do. I hunkered down between her knees, used my thumbs to open the petals of her outer labia and drew my tongue upward along her slit with a great slurping sound. Her body doubled, with her knees drawn upward and her shoulders off the bed and her thighs as tight against my head as she could manage. Her hands grabbed fistfuls of my hair.

"Ooofff! 

"You like that?"

"Oh, si, Papi."

She relaxed some as I started to work on her little clit with my tongue and mouth, alternately tugging at it with my lips and flicking it rapidly with the tip of my tongue. Within ni more than a minute or so I felt her body stiffening and heard her breathing turn to panting. Her hands grabbed at the sheets and then she thrust her hips upward against my face with a loud groan, "Aaaaahhhhhheeeeee."

I stopped for a moment and she collapsed onto the bed, a light sheen of perspiration on her forehead, wetting her bangs. "Oh, Papi," she wheezeed. "That was the best. Que bueno!"

I laid back beside her and enveloped her in my arms. She was exhausted, her body limp and sated, still breathing heavily as she came down from her orgasm. I'm sure it was her first. Soon she turned toward me and kissed me softly. "Thank you, Papi," she whispered. We laid there for several minutes until I noticed that she was asleep and completely relaxed, the hint of a smile on her face. Soon I drifted off as well.

We woke about an hour later -- late morning by that time. "Will you take photos of me in my bikinis today?" she asked. 

"We need a swimming pool for those photos and I haven't asked my friend yet."

"When will you ask him?"

"I suppose I can call him today."

"Call him now, Papi. I want to wear my bikinis for you and make many photos."

I did call him and, when I explained what we wanted to do, he readily agreed. He said he wasn't doing anything this same afternoon if we wanted to start today. Graciela was ecstatic when I told her. She showered and washed her hair, drying it and brushing it until it was perfect. She had beautiful hair. She had beautiful eyes, mouth, nose and, of course, pussy. I had butterflies in my stomach (and pangs in my crotch) every time I thought of her, every time I heard her voice, every time I looked at her.

My friend Dan's jaw dropped when he first saw Graciela. "My God, how can a girl that age be so sexy?" he stammered when she put her bikini on. She was sexy. I knew that. But she was an instant hard-on for any red-blooded man when she had that little white bikini on -- and she knew it. She didn't walk, she strutted. She didn't just smile at you, her eyes beckoned you. She sometimes licked her lips but it was more than that; she looked like she was contemplating a meal. And when she did that, I imagined her gobbling my cock.

"You sly dog," Dan said to me.

"What's a 'sly-dog?" Graciela asked.

"A man who likes to eat young girls," I told her. She giggled, understanding the metaphore completely, and then made it known she was anxious to start the photo session.

"Come, Papi. I want to pose for you."

I must have shot 200 pictures in the next two hours. We started with demure little shots of her from that back, wiggling her little butt and turning her head to look at the camera. We did shots of her knee-deep in the water, holding onto the stair rail. She stood spread-eagle, stretching the fabric covering her pussy so that the shadow of her cleft was visible. She turned away and bent over, looking at the camera through her legs. She sat on a chaise longue in fifty different poses, most showing her crotch... The girl was a natural tease and I was getting really good stuff. Dan was as blown away as I was by this young vixen. He winked at me as I thanked him and shook his hand before leaving with Graciela. I think he guessed there was more than just photography going on.

At home, we went through the photos from that afternoon. They were great! I have an expensive digital camera with automatic exposure and a flash unit that automatically balances fill-in light, which allows me to think only about the scene. They were worth every penny this afternoon; only a dozen or so of the 200-plus exposures were just plain bad and those were blinks or sneezes or squinty eyes from the bright sun. Graciela loved them, too.

"Can we sell these, Papi?" she gushed.

"Let's find out," I said. I roamed around the internet, Googling 'teen models' and 'young models,' and found a half-dozen sites that looked promising. A few of those noted that they would buy photo sets, so I added watermarks across the middle of the three best shots and sent inquiries. 

Graciela was just plain giddy. When I had emailed the last of the web sites, she said, "Can we play some more like we did this morning?" Who was I to deny her anything?

It was already late. I fixed a quickie packaged dinner and then suggested we both shower, together, before heading to bed. We tore off our clothes, hopped into the warm spray and immediately embraced, water cascading down off my head as I stooped to kiss her. My cock was already hard in anticipation and it was pressed against her, just below and between her sweet little titties. I soaped up a wash cloth and scrubbed her body clean, paying particular attention to the area between her legs. Her breasts I washed with my soapy hands.

Graciela did the same for me, using her bare hands to gently clean my cock and balls, even stroking my erection a few times. It was wonderful. She washed my hair and I washed hers. After drying ourselves, we both remained naked while I dried and brushed her hair before the mirror, all her initial modesty replaced by a singular pride in showing off her body. It had been apparent this afternoon as I photographed her.  We looked longingly at one another as I ran the brush through her long hair. The hair thing became a very erotic procedure and had us both ready and anxious for the games to come.  She decided when the brushing was over, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the bedroom.

"Do those things to me," she said as she flung herself on her back onto the bed. So I did. I kissed her on the lips, then on each puffy little nipple, stuck my tongue into her navel (which made her giggle) and, finally, dragged my tongue upwards the full length of her opening slit. She was wet and pink already. Her little-girl sexual scent was wafting up from her pussy as I stimulated it with my mouth and tongue; she held my head in her hands and guided my movements to wherever I was most effective. Her body writhed from side to side and her hips rose and fell as she enjoyed my attentions.

It couldn't have been more than two or three minutes before she grabbed my head and pulled me tightly to her pussy at the same time as she thrust upward against me. "Aaiiieeee," she wailed as her orgasm overtook her. Then, just as quickly, she fell backward onto the bed, limp and exhausted. I crawled up beside her and kissed her softly. She smiled and closed her eyes, drifting off to I don't know where in the afterglow as I gently brushed my hand across her forehead. It was late and we were both tired after a long day. I managed to extricate myself so I could go to sleep myself.

I awoke to the bright light of day and to Graciela's hands fondling my privates. "Buenos dias, Papi," she whispered when she realized I was awake. I just replied, "Mmmmm," and turned to give her full access to me. She crawled over between my legs and began to use two hands to pleasure me.

"Some girls use their mouths," I told her.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I mean they use their mouths to suck me like I use my mouth to suck you." She slowed her hand job while she considered what I had just said.

"I don't know how."

"It doesn't matter. Try it and I will direct you. Kiss it first, then taste it, then put it in your mouth but be careful of your teeth -- they hurt."

She followed my directions carefully and to the letter. In seconds she was sucking me like a pro, her eyes looking up at mine expectantly from time to time. She worked diligently, using both hands on the shaft and bobbing her head up and down so that her tongue rubbed along my glans. This was heaven.

She alternately watched me and concentrated on her task; she worked hard. "The white stuff (I didn't know the spanish word for 'cum') will come out soon. I'll tell you when and you can either let it shoot out onto my stomach or you can let it come into your mouth and swallow it."

She stopped sucking for a moment. "Will it make a baby if I swallow it?"

"No, sweetie."

"Do you want me to swallow it?"

"It feels better for me if you do."

"Ok," she said, and resumed her attack on my cock. God, she was wonderful!"

Within a minute I said, "Here comes," as I felt my toes curl and the familiar pulsing in my crotch. I stiffened as I shot the first load of cum into her mouth, evoking a wide-eyed look of surprise as it filled her mouth. She choked and coughed but valiantly stuck my spurting cock back into her mouth and sucked and swallowed greddily.

She continued to suck on me long after I had emptied myself into her mouth. But now I was super-sensitive and asked her to go easy and slow on me. I didn't want her to stop, though,; it felt too good. Luckily, she found a way to gently caress my cock with her mouth, moving slowly and lightly tonguing it, making love to it, until I softened.

"What happened?" she asked as she held the limp remains of what was once a magnificent erection. She seemed oblivious to the fact that her face was covered with a combination of saliva and cum, with a long string hanging from her chin.

"That's what happens," I said.

"It's all soft," she said.

"Yes -- for a while."

"Will it get hard again?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"When we want to play again."

"I want to play more now," she said, wiping the cum from her face with a corner of the sheet

"I can't right now, sweetie. But we should check to see if anyone answered our offer for pictures."

Oh, si," she said excitedly, raising upright on her knees above me. She grabbed my hand, tugged me out of the bed and ran naked ahead of me to my office. What a beautiful site it was to watch her little butt wiggling and her hair waving in disarray as she ran. "Show me, Papi, show me."

I logged onto my email. I had opened a new account with the name "Chica" to use for our nascent kiddee porn business. Well, it wasn't porn yet but I hoped it could be soon. "Yes, there's one response so far," I told her. I opened it. A site was in fact interested. Based on the samples I had sent, they said they w ould buy the  whole set of 50 for $10 per high resolution image. That was $500! Jackpot! 

They wanted exclusive rights. That would be the only time I could sell these photos. I quickly wrote back that they could have non-exclusive rights for $10 each but exclusive rights would be double that. I didn't want to try to explain all this to Graciela so I just told her I was asking them about payment. She was thrilled, however, that we were going to get money for something she enjoyed doing.

She threw her arms around me and cried, "Oh, Papi. This is so good. Until I met you I had no clothes. no food and no place to sleep. Now I have all those things. You are so good to me."

"You will have money, too," I said as she hugged me. The more pictures we take the more money we will have. "There's more, corazon. They also said they'd pay twice that much for pictures of you naked."

"You mean like we took that first day?"

"Yes, but maybe showing more. They'll want to see your pussy, too."

"I'm embarassed. I want you to see it but I don't think it's pretty."

"I think it's pretty. ALL MEN will think it's pretty. When we take pictures, just think of me seeing you. Show it for me. There's no one else in the room. Just you and me. Can you do that?"

"Maybe."

"It's a lot of money."

"Yes. But what if my family sees these pictures?"

"Does your family go on the internet?"

"No."

"Do they buy men's magazines?"

"No."

"Then you have nothing to worry about. Besides, these photos will buy you a lot of new clothes."

"And shoes?"

"Lots of shoes."

"Ok. I will try it.... for you. "Can we play some more now and take pictures this afternoon?" she asked. She gave me a very tight-lipped, closed-mouth kiss, like a 5-year-old would. Nobody ever taught her how to kiss, I thought to myself. I'm teaching her everything else, why not kissing?

"Of course," I said when we broke the kiss. I'm not sure which she was enjoying more, the playtime or the modeling. We had come so far in such a short time -- from sexually-abused beggar girl to pleasure-seeking bikini model. We still had a ways to go, however, in my mind. I lusted after this sweet little girl as if she were an adult -- or a teen, at least. When things were quiet, which wasn't often, I imagined Graciela on her back under me as I fucked her silly. But she had been through a trauma with her father, so I wasn't keen on bringing back that memory by moving too quickly.

I was curious. "Why do you call me 'Papi'?" I asked her.

"Because I love you?"

"But didn't you call your father Papi?"

"No. I called him Papa. It's not the same. He was my Papa but not my Papi. You are my Papi."

"Is it because I make you feel good?"

"Yes. My papa beat me and did a bad thing to me. You are always nice to me. Papa never touched me nice, like you do. He was rough and he hurt me. I never had new clothes and we didn't eat much except beans and rice. When I ran away, I was cold at night and scared. Life is much better here. I'm not cold or scared. I eat good food, you buy me clothes and spend money to make me pretty. I was never pretty before."

"You were always pretty -- but it was hidden. I saw that you were pretty that first day we ment. That's why I asked to take photos of you."

"And you teach me about pleasure."

"Yes, because I want you to know that such a thing exists. You must know that not all men are like your father. One day you will meet a man who loves you and he will care for you and protect you and he will see your beauty and will treat your body with respect. He will want to give you pleasure, not take it from you, and you will want to give him every pleasure possible."

"I have already met such a man."

I was taken aback. Stunned, actually, and flattered, if I had understood her correctly. "Not this man. I am too old."

"What is too old?"

"I am like your grandfather."

"But you are kind and gentle and you protect me and give me pleasure. I don't care that you are old and your hair is turning gray. You have everything and you give it to me every day. I will be your wife."

I laughed. "Surely, you're kidding."

"No," she said. "I want to be your wife and do things for you. I can cook some things and I can clean your house and wash your clothes like my mama did for my father -- and I can have your babies, like mama. I want to make a baby with you."

"Sweetheart, that's a big step.  We have only known each other for a very short time. Besides, it's also probably illegal"

"We don't have to tell anyone. We can just live here and I will pretend to be your granddaughter but we will sleep together and play together and take lots of bikini pictures and grow rich. We can make a thousand pesos a day. Si?"

I had to admit she had a point. She had just offered everything I wanted -- except the babies. I just wanted to practice making babies, not actually make them. I had no rebuttal; none that I wanted to make, anyway. "Let's just take this one day at a time," I said.

"So, this morning we play?"

"Yes. This morning we play."

"Show me how you make a baby," she whispered conspiratorily into my ear.

This was sooner than i expected and I wasn't prepared for it. I had no condoms in the house. I thought frantically. "Have you had a period yet?"

"No. My sister has but I haven't.

"Okay. Soon you will start yours, too, and we will have to be very careful to avoid having a house full of babies. I will need to get some protection and we will need to find a way to get you protected when the time comes."

"But we can practice now, no?" She took my hand and pulled me toward the bedroom. We were both still naked. She fell backwards onto the bed and pulled me on top of her. We kissed hungrily.

"Relax your mouth," I told her. Let it open a little when we kiss. Let my tongue enter."

We practiced kissing for a few minutes, until she got the hang of it. Meanwhile, my hard cock was pressed against her stomach and her hands were on my butt pulling me tightly against her body. My feet were still on the floor. 

I started kissing southward -- her shoulders, then her titties, her navel and, finally, her pussy.  tugged her body to the edge of the bed and lifted her legs over my shoulders so I could have unfettered access to the sweet honey pot. She was already wet and her outer labia were open and inviting.

"Oh, Papi," she cooed as I began to run my tongue up and down through her slit. Her body would stiffen a little every time I touched her clit. Soon it was out from under it's little hood, pink and glistening, waiting for my tongue to stroke it. I wrapped my lips around it and sucked it, flicking it with the tip of my tongue. "Oooooohh," she would say and thrust her hips up, whenever I did that. She had her fists clenched in my hair and her head thrown back. 

It wasn't long before her body convulsed; she clamped her thighs against my head and, at the same time, pushed me away. She was too sensitive in the throes of her orgasm.

"Make a baby in me," she said as she pushed against my head with her hands. I was ready.

"Bring your feet up onto the bed." She adjusted herself so that her feet were beside her bottom. Her knees spread wide and her pussy, all wet and pink looked like a soft tunnel, inviting my cock. I stood, bent my knees and used one hand to guide my cock into her while supporting myself on the bed with the other. I slipped in easily; tight but without impediment. She was sloppy wet and the tunnel was soft and warm, enveloping my cock as it sank into her. We both drew in a sudden breath, almost in a whistle.

"Ay, Papi," she said simply as her pussy spasmed around my cock.

The sensation of her warm, slippery pussy surrounding my shaft and the grip that her internal muscles had on the head was starting the ejaculation process before I had made a single stroke. "Oh, sweetie," I groaned. "I can't help it. I'm cumming already." Sperm sluiced upwards from my balls and spurted into her.

"Si,Papi, si. Hace ninos. Mas, Papi, mas.

All I could do was to stand there, supported by my arms, my hips thrust forward, cock deeply imbedded in her, and feel the intense ecstacy of my orgasm. Again and again I felt the hopt liquid from my balls erupt into her depths. Had she been fertile there would certainly have been a child formed at this instant. God, this was great! How fortunate I was to have found her.

Finally, I collapsed on top of her. She crossed her legs over my back and just held me while I panted and descended from my orgasmic high. We didn't move for two or three minutes, during which time I could feel my cock shrinking both in length and girth. Cum was running down my leg. Graciela held me in her as long as she could. Finally, I felt myself pop out from some sphincter somewhere inside her vagina and she pushed me up.

"You're heavy, Papi," she said. "Am I your wife now?"

"Si, corazon, you are my wife now."

She rolled me off her and gave me a sweet, tender kiss. "Thank you, Papi. I will be your wife forever."

I brushed the hair back off her forehead. Our faces were just inches away, too close to focus, but we nonetheless stayed there side by side looking into one another's eyes for several minutes. This was the consummation of our 'marriage.' We were both relaxed, content and happy. There have only been a handful of moments like this in my life.

End of Chapter One... There may or may not be a Chapter Two. 

Let me know your thoughts.

Cyberguy


                                     -----------------------------

I have been writing for my own amusement for several years but have just begun to share my stories with others. I would appreciate your comments and constructive criticism.


If you liked the story or have comments and/or suggestions, email me at : cyrano162@yahoo.com. Come to think of it, email me anyway -- good bad or indifferent. If you're a girl, let me know if I have it right. 

I get about one comment for every 1,000 times my stories are read. Now, that's what I call "indifference." Surely SOME of you feel something -- good or bad -- after reading one. Help me out here by letting me know what you feel. I'll try to do more of something you like and less of something you don't like. Just say SOMETHING for chrissakes!

                              cyrano162@yahoo.com







