Author: JojoMojo
Title: A Long Awaited Visit
Part: 1
Universe: A Long Awaited Visit
Summary: A five year old girl's acceptance "rescues" a man from despair.  On the way to visit her, now 10, he reminisces on their "special" relationship when she was five and wonders if she remembers as well.  
Keywords: Mg, pedo, cons

   A Long Awaited Visit

   by JojoMojo

   (Mg, ped, 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.  Ecstasy is what I'm interested in, ecstasy for all involved.

   Copyright (C)2008 by the author.


It was truly a visit that had been long in coming and now that I was on my way, I found I was a bit anxious.  It had been almost five years since I had been back and while the news that I would be in town was met with enthusiasm, I began to have doubts if coming back was a good idea.  Tom and Carol had welcomed me with open arms five years ago when I was reeling from the loss of a job and eventual loss of my house to events beyond my control (a long story not worth getting into).  They both agreed that some time at their old farm house, set in the middle of over 40 acres of woods was in order.  I agreed that it would be the perfect place to provide a retreat; a place for me to get back on my feet; but was worried about intruding.  They insisted I take them up on their offer. 

They had been right, of course, and after a warm summer with them, I felt both ready to face the world and forever indebted to them.  Our relationship however, was not what was causing my anxiety, well not directly.  I wondered about Hannah, their ten year old daughter, just five during the time of my stay.

I believe that Hannah was the real reason for my ability to bounce back.  I can still see her thin frame, flashing blue eyes; "to die for" curly blond hair that framed her face and fell past her shoulders; and that melt your heart smile that said, "I know we're going to be great friends, just you wait and see."  She went from hiding behind Carol's leg, painfully shy, to my best friend in less than an hour.  In her innocent way, she seemed to intuitively know that I had lost my way in the world.  When I would get wrapped in my thoughts, she would grab my hand and lead me out across the porch.  She included me on many adventures and since I had nothing better to do, I gladly let her lead me. 

There were wonderful romps through the woods, watching while she discovered the world.  I reveled in her willingness to include me in her make believe world: tea parties on the back deck; the kingdom of the fairy princess out in the forest under a large pine tree.  For me it was a true return to the innocent pleasures of childhood.  With Tom and Carol's largess, I didn't have to worry about rent or where my next meal came from.   So I could completely lose myself in Hannah's world and they seemed glad to let me.  Thanks to her acceptance and my dip back into childhood, I finished the summer there feeling rejuvenated, ready to take on the world and jumped right into a successful second career with vigor.

At first, the miles between us were hard, harder on me than on Hannah, I thought.  My new job was demanding, with lots of things to study and learn in my off hours.  In addition, my travel took me even farther from from their house than the distant city where I had made my new home.  With no vacation time to speak of, the thousand or so miles between us might just as well have been a million.  I stayed in touch with Tom and Carol via phone and letters, but children are so in the moment. 

For a while Hannah was glad to get on the phone and even sent pictures she had drawn especially for me (they are still on my refrigerator), but after a while, her attention turned to other things.  I began to wonder if she missed me or even remembered me.  Except for one time when Carol mentioned in an off-handed way a couple of weeks after I left that Hannah seemed to have trouble falling asleep and must be missing me, there wasn't any mention.  

But then, how much could we really talk or write about, her being five and me 30?  When I jumped back into the corporate world, I left behind the child that she had brought out in me and found I was tongue tied on the rare occasion she got on the phone.  So, I convinced myself that my expectations were unrealistic and focused myself on work.  Even so, five years later, I knew there was still a big hole yet to be filled, where Hannah had captured my heart. 

So, it was with great joy that I found myself with a business trip that took me to within a hundred miles of that sanctuary in the woods.  A call to Tom and Carol and it was all set.  I'd stay the weekend with them and drive back to the city Sunday evening for business the next week.  The company was glad to pick up my weekend car rental as the weekend stay made everything cheaper.  

I was on cloud nine as I boarded the plane.  I could barely stand the three hour flight, time seemed to crawl by.  But as I started the two hour drive out of town, thoughts came flooding back and with them, the worry.  Would Hannah be glad to see me?  Would she remember the time we spent together?  How much would she remember?  What would she remember?  My thoughts spun back to that time when Hannah rescued me...

One of the things that took me by surprise when I arrived, shell shocked and weary those five years ago, was that they did not have a guest room.  The house was an old farm house with a master suite that had been added to the first floor.  The rest of the layout was pretty standard, four large rooms downstairs, kitchen, dining, family, and a sun porch added on the back.  Upstairs there were just two fairly small bedrooms with ceilings that followed the roof line and a large bath up a flight of creaky wooden stairs.  

One bedroom was Hannah's and the other was filled with Tom's home office.  Tom's office did not have a couch and Carol was adamant that sleeping on the couch downstairs was not an option.  They both insisted that I sleep in Hannah's room on her double bed.  They had placed a futon at the foot of the bed for Hannah and assured me that if she became a problem, they would move her downstairs to their room.  

They had considered just moving her down before I arrived, but Hannah had informed  them with typical five year old bravado that she needed to be upstairs with me because I would probably be scared my first night there and she was brave enough for both of us.

The first night, Hannah had "all hands on deck" to tuck her in, Tom, Carol and a shell shocked "Uncle".  Sometime during the night she climbed into bed with me and I awoke the next morning to find her curled up, head next to mine on the pillow.  

When I mentioned it over breakfast, Carol was appalled, apologizing for Hannah's intruding on my privacy.  I thought it was cute and just laughed.  Hannah was coy and said something about me being scared during the night.  The second night, after spending the day introducing me to her world, Hannah announced that I was the one elected to read to her and tuck her in, Mommy and Daddy "need not apply."  The following morning found her in my bed again.

After much discussion, Carol decided that as long as I didn't mind the intrusion, she would be ok with it.  I decided I needed to start wearing shorts and a T-shirt to bed rather than my usual, boxers only.  By the end of the week we had given up all pretense, and after we climbed the stairs for the evening, Hannah just jumped into the bed and I tucked her in, climbing in beside her later after spending some time with Tom and Carol downstairs.  

It was not long until the futon just disappeared.  I assumed Carol put it away, I never asked.  There were many nights that I still felt overwhelmed with the bad deal life had handed me, so went to bed when Hannah did.  Tom and Carol seemed to appreciate the alone time and never commented, giving me my space as well.  As gracious as they were, I think having another adult (a moody one at that) in the house was more of an intrusion than they had assumed it would be, even though they wouldn't admit it.  So many evenings Hannah and I were left to ourselves after we climbed the stairs.

As the days progressed, Hannah and I fell into a pattern, we'd both get ready for bed; she would climb in beside me and lie on her back next to me while I read her a story; then turn onto her tummy, curl up facing me, a hand on my arm or chest and fall asleep.  Sometimes as she lay curled up, she would talk about the day; sometimes she would lie quietly, drifting off while I lay reading my own book.  It was during one of our talking times that things began to change.

As she lay next to me talking, I absent mindedly rubbed her back.  She was wearing her favorite night gown, a long flannel affair that ended in a lace frill around her ankles.  Carol insisted it was too hot for the summer and Hannah defiantly insisted it was "just perfect."  With the windows open, it did cool off quickly after the sun went down, so I must say I agreed with Hannah.  

As I rubbed her back, the nightgown began to ride up a little and I found myself smoothing out the wrinkles as I rubbed.  After a little while of this, without saying a word, Hannah reached down and pulled her nightgown up, exposing her bare back for me to rub; still under the covers.  

I complied and after she fell asleep, pulled her nightgown down and straightened it.  The next night, after her story, she just pulled her nightgown up and turned onto her tummy, implying that I was to rub her back.  This continued for a while, sometimes we would talk a little, sometimes she just lay quietly until she fell asleep.  I always kept rubbing that little back, up under the nightgown to her shoulders and neck and back down again until she fell asleep.  It all fit naturally into our growing friendship.

As time went on, Hannah's back rubs grew to include her panty clad buns and thighs.  No evil intent on my part, an absent minded progression as I read my book.  Then one evening as I was massaging, she threw her leg over my waist, and scooted over pressing her pelvis against my hip.  I didn't think anything of it as I had woken in the middle of the night with her similarly positioned before and sometimes had to extract myself for a trip down the hall.  

I figured she was already asleep and looked down from my book to check.  I was surprised to see that she was awake, eyes half open and dreamy.  Then she did something that surprised me enough that I stopped rubbing altogether, she began to gently press her pubis into my hip.  When I stopped rubbing, surprised, her eyes fluttered full open and she said matter-of-factly, "Don't stop, I'm not asleep yet." 

Rather than argue or explain, I just started rubbing again, but only on her back.  "Do my legs too," she whispered.  As soon as I rubbed across her buns and down the leg that was across mine, she began to press again.  After a little while, I was embarrassed to find that I was getting mildly aroused.  I kept rubbing though, and with my other hand tried to conceal the evidence.  

Soon her motion slowed and she did fall asleep.  I lay awake for a long time examining my motives, but could honestly find nothing except a strong love for her and maybe a little naiveté in letting her sleep in my bed.  However, I wasn't willing to make her go back to the futon, even if I could find it.  How would I explain to Carol?

The following night was pretty much a repeat, except that I found my hand straying a little farther down her buns, tracing down the cleft, towards the inside of her thighs.  This continued until a few nights later.  After pressing against me rhythmically for a little while, she rolled onto her back, and seemingly without any modesty, spread her legs placing one over my waist, then looked up at me.  

I wish I could have seen my face, as I was surprised and a bit flustered and I'm sure it showed.  When I hesitated, she took my hand and placed in on her bare stomach and closed her eyes.  So I rubbed her tummy, keeping well above the waistband of her panties, wondering how I was going to get out of this new development, afraid that I was already in too deep.  After a little while she hurmphed a sigh, sounding exhasperated with me, put her hand on mine and guided it down across her panties, over her mons and down the leg she had thrown over mine.  

After guiding me through a couple of strokes, she sighed again, rested her hand at her side and turned her head into my neck, breathing softly.  I continued as she had shown me.  Every once in a while she would press up into my hand as I crossed her mons.   

It really never progressed much farther than that during my stay.  It became a fixture of putting her to bed, something that was part of our routine.  Sometimes she would stay on her tummy and when she was ready would guide my hand under her, pressing down onto my fingers as I fondled.  Sometimes I would use both hands to rub her buns and vulva at the same time. 
   
Occasionally, she pulled her panties to one side, never down, and I would rub on her bare skin, enjoying the feel of her tiny lips and the bump of her clitoris.  

Once or twice she seemed to notice my arousal and climbed on top of me, dry humping (as we called it in high school) for a little while before sliding next to me and guiding my hand where she wanted it.  I never initiated (beyond rubbing her back) and never pushed my agenda (although there were nights I gave it serious thought). 

It was always on her terms.  In looking back, I never saw her naked, never tried to look at her during our `snuggling' sessions or after she fell asleep.  There were nights where I had to slip out of bed to the bath and relieve myself after she was sound asleep.  However, that would have been a necessity even without the stimulation she provided.  

I never gave her a bath, never even thought of it, as that was Carol and Tom's territory. On bath evenings she would run from the bathroom to the bed wearing her favorite nightgown and jump in, smelling of soap and shampoo, ready for a story.  Tom or Carol would poke their head in to say goodnight and head downstairs.  So the beginning, middle and end of the touching was a part of our bed time ritual only.  Looking back, I didn't think it was sexual to her, how could it be for a five year old?  It just felt good and I was her special friend. 

However, there must have been something that put it in a special category.  She never tried to initiate anything anywhere else; only when I had finished her story and it was time for her to go to sleep.  We never did talk about it, no admonishments about keeping secrets.  

Somehow, I was certain that this was something special that only we shared, just like the imaginary world that we shared during the day.  And like that world, it would have been just as surprising for her to tell anyone about our going to bed activities as it would have been to hear her tell Carol about the elves and fairies that peopled the woods during our shared daytime adventures.

So, as I drove I remembered and wondered.  Did she remember?  As she grew up and went to school with all the talk of `inappropriate touching' and `no touch zones', would she suddenly feel a need to report our activities?  

After all, by the time she had gotten to fifth grade I was sure she'd been inundated with the safety talks, especially with the current level of hysteria surrounding the subject.  I certainly didn't hear anything that caused me alarm in either Carol's or Tom's voices when I called to ask if I could visit, just genuine excitement at my pending arrival.  But still, I couldn't help but wonder and worry a little bit...


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