TRISH				by: Jem Aura (c) 2006


Chapter 1


	My name is Scott Burwell, or Coach Burwell if  you like.  I 
coached my sons soccer teams and baseball teams for several years. 
Inevitably, you become friends with the parents and siblings of the 
team. You get to take a leadership role when discussing a child's 
behavior, accomplishments, and challenges. They almost blindly trust 
my judgment prescribing discipline for their own children. Being on 
the sidelines constantly created situations where team mothers, 
fathers, sons and daughters all interacted with me. Familiarity 
inevitably instills trust and confidence, which in turn creates endless 
opportunities to do people "favors".  Not that I didn't like it. It's just 
that each family thought they were the only ones requesting favors of 
me.
	My truck is so obvious at the games. Many of the favors were 
requests to help move or tow something. More times than I can count, 
I've been asked to bring children home with me after games and 
practices, to be picked up later. 
	On the other hand, I did pile up an awful lot of credit, which was 
damned convenient when It did make me much more comfortable 
delegating duties to the mothers and fathers regarding the games. 
Rotation of who brings drinks and snacks, Who coordinates team 
photos, who carpools on road trips, etc. So it did go both ways. 
	During one of the practices, a mother got a call on her cell 
phone. I could hear the tone of the conversation and I knew it wasn't 
good. Afterward, she was looking around in a panic trying to decide 
what to do. It was a hot day and most of the parents just drop the 
kids off, so she was the only parent that stayed for the practice. I 
dreaded doing so, but I went over to her. 
	"What's wrong Julie?" I asked. 
	Tears welled up in her eyes and she went on a tirade of cry-
talking that I couldn't understand. "Sister" was the only word that I 
caught. 
	"Take it easy, tell me slowly what has happened."
	She took a few deep breaths and swallowed a couple of times 
while she dug in her pack for some Kleenex. "My sister, Jackie, she 
collapsed at work and they found out she has a brain tumor." She 
started sobbing again. 
	"It's okay, just go and I'll take Josh home with me." 	
	"Thank you Scott, but you don't understand, she lives in 
England." She stared at me with puffy eyes while this sunk in. 
	"Where's Josh's dad?"  I asked. They were divorced but they all 
lived close to each other. 
	"He's in Canada on a fishing trip. He left day before yesterday 
and he won't be back for another week. They take a float plane in, I 
can't reach him."
	She calmed a little and stared at her feet. 
	"Well, you have to go. Don't you?"
	"Yes, we are very close." She choked up again. "It's just that I 
have a busy week planned. It's Trish's birthday and she's having a 
slumber party Friday, I don't know what to do."  She sniffed and blew 
her nose. 
	"Look, it's okay, you have lots of friends with the team and we 
will look after everything. Just get on the phone right now and buy a 
ticket." 
	So I went back to coaching while she frantically punched 
numbers on the phone and dug in her pack for credit cards. 

?

	She insisted on paying me, since I was the only one actually 
doing anything. I didn't bother calling the other families. We lived 
fairly close to each other. She had pets to be fed (fish, hamsters, cats 
and a dog). She said the older sister would be no trouble, and would 
help out if I needed her to.   I agreed, needing a break from the 
monotony of my home life.
	I approached my wife very carefully. She had a reputation for 
trying her best to pussy whip me. Many of my friends just cringed 
when she was around - and would make themselves scarce. I had 
never given away the secret I had kept so close for so long. Ever since 
I started suffering emotionally at the hands of my wife, I became 
interested in young girls, in the budding stages of their sexuality. As 
time went on, I gained much arousal and gratification from it. 
	It is strange how the changes in me occurred. Really, I never 
gave much thought to girls that young. And if it were due to ill treatment
at the hands of my wife, it had been nearly twenty years, so that really
didn't explain it. 
	My wife was pretty, at least I thought so. 
And I loved her - no doubt. But family and friends would ask me how I 
could put up with her treating me the way she did. But I was resigned 
to being her husband and the father of our sons - and for my part I 
was happy with that. It was when she confessed that she was having 
an affair that the changes in my attractions occurred. From that point 
on, I was acutely interested in every nuance of femininity that turned 
me on or off. And as the picture began to clarify - the ideal, perfect 
object of my desires, it became obvious that I was now a pervert, at
least in the eyes of out puritan and hypocrytical society. I 
was not a pedophile. The media calls someone a pedophile if they 
stare too long at a 17 year old. Technically, a pedophile is sexually 
attracted to pre-pubescent children. That means no signs of physical 
maturity. Chest, arms, butt, legs, all indistinguishable between boys 
and girls. I actually have fairly normal sexual attractions. I like 
breasts, pubic hair, hourglass hips and a round ass. These are traits 
of physically mature women. But there is a big difference between 
physical maturity and social maturity. Social maturity in the US is 18 
years. Not 17 years 355 days, that is a child. You're a pedophile if you 
think otherwise.  In studying my attractions, I like small, pert breasts 
(Some adult women fit this bill), I like tight, pale colored pussies, 
small pussy lips, small clitoris, not too hairy (many women have 
these), I like a petite body (many women have these), and I like a 
cherub like face with youngish features (many young women have 
these).   Similarly, most 12-15 year old girls also have these traits, 
and they have them in spades. Even girls as young as... well, age really
doesn't matter - I have seen girls as young as 8 years old with nearly
fully developed breasts, and as old as 13 years with nothing at all.
I don't know if you've noticed, but the wealthiest, highest ranking
males in our society almost exclusively find those rare females that 
exhibit adolescent traits even into their 20's. It is the norm. It is
not the norm, however, for a lower ranking male to possess such a 
creature - they are labeled as perverts - and therin lies the 
hypocracy of human behavior. 
	I have resolved, however, that I will never have any contact 
with a girl that could be construed as molesting. I am convinced that if 
you enter into a secret agreement with a young girl, there is a 98% 
chance she will tell someone. Women, and especially girls, have an 
instinctive need to gossip. This is not good for someone who likes his 
freedom. So the trick is to give them all the freedom they want and sit 
back and watch. That way, the only secrets you enter into are the 
ones they think they are keeping to protect themselves.  To do this, 
simply create an environment where they test your boundaries, and 
your permission for them to continue doing whatever it is they are 
doing takes the form of "Well, I don't mind, but if your parents would 
mind then you need to either not do it any more, or you better keep 
quiet about it. Okay?"  That way, they believe that everything that 
happens was their own idea, and their own peril if they should be 
found out.
	Any time I am in charge, I don't set rules. If they are being 
obnoxious or destroying things, I get mad and yell - but I use it as an 
opportunity to convey my philosophy to them, "Hey, knock it off!" my 
booming voice freezes them into statues, "Look, I don't care what you 
do. You can run around naked and eat your boogers for all I care.  I 
just don't like a lot of obnoxious noise or violence. If you want to keep 
me happy, you'll play games that are about kindness, love and 
tenderness towards each other, rather than...   If you gotta play blood 
and guts, go outside!" 
	That sort of ambiguous set of rules brings a whole new world to 
light for them.  It encourages testing of limits in a different direction. 
Children will always test the limits of the adult in charge. After I 
blow-up at them, a young girl in the throws of puberty will eventually 
test me with flirting and some round-about sex talk. All you have to 
do is not protest - and the behavior will increase exponentially. 
However you should protest every behavior that is not in line with the 
type of behaviors that turn you on (or give you peace). This is done 
with indifference. The kids are testing to see what angers you, and 
what pleases you. If you don't get angry, just show indifference, it's 
boring and they move on. If they touch you in an affectionate way, or 
wear something sexy, you reinforce that behavior with appropriate 
praise. 

?

	
It took 14 hours before Julie left for the airport. I spent that time 
dwelling on Trisha and the party. We would be in the same house - 
during showers, bedtime, jammies, getting dressed, everthing. It was 
incredibly enticing. So when I approached my wife, I suggested that 
she use this as an opportunity to take a break. I could take all the 
kids and manage the whole bunch without her. She would be able to 
get all the things done that she had been complaining about never 
having the time to do (and a few she couldn't with me around, if you 
know what I mean). Needless to say, I was pushed out the door with 
the boys, suitcases, and her blessings. 
	As I helped Julie to her car with her suitcases, She apologized 
profusely and said, "They are all very well behaved girls and should 
give you no trouble. There's $500 on the table for whatever you need. 
I'll be in touch every day. Bye."  

?

	Well, alot of bonding occurred during the three days leading up 
to the slumber party - for all of us. I really didn't have a chance to 
scold them about anything, opening the door to my philosophy, but I 
did catch Trish and my younger son (only 7) playing "I'll show you if 
you show me" in the closet under the stairs in the basement. 
	The girl was mortified. When I opened the door, my son was 
standing in front of her with his small, erect penis sticking straight 
out, and she was touching it and examining it very closely. My son and 
I exchanged a quick smile. He knew I wouldn't be mad. Trish on the 
other hand was very ashamed, and was bracing for punishment. The 
blood had drained from her face and that long look of dread and 
anticipation was carved like stone. 
	I sent my son upstairs and took Trisha by the arm and led her to 
an over-stuffed chair across the room. I sat down and turned her to 
face me. I looked in her eyes for a few seconds to assess her 
emotions. She was about to cry. "Trisha sweetheart, you haven't done 
anything wrong." She was taken aback by this and did a double take. 
Her eyes refocused and bored into mine - reading me, but she said 
nothing. "Angel, every kid in the entire world plays those games. it's 
perfectly natural. In our society there are a lot of people who try to 
make those kinds of games seem dirty, while at the same time they 
let their kids watch movies of people killing each other. I don't think 
that way. I believe children should be free to show that kind of 
tenderness for each other. Don't you? "  
	She was standing in that submissive posture, hands behind her 
back, tummy sticking out, head down. She nodded. 
	"What would your parents think? do you think they would be 
angry with you?" 
	She shrugged. 
	"Well if you're not sure, then we better keep this our little 
secret. Okay?"  
	She nodded much more emphatically, and managed a smile.  I 
opened my arms for a hug and she fell forward. 
	I reclined the chair and she curled up in the crook of my arm. I 
pushed the hair from her face and stroked her head softly. The 
moment stretched into several minutes. We didn't speak at all.   
Eventually, she fell asleep, and so did my arm. I moved her to the 
other arm. I studied her as she slept and caressed her hair. She was 
perfect in every way. When my other arm went numb I picked her up 
and carried her to her room. As I laid her down, her eyes opened a slit 
and then closed. 
	"Are you faking?" I asked. 
	A smile glinted for a moment. 
	"A-hah!, you are faking it, you little turkey." 
	Now she giggled. 
	"How long have you been awake?" 
	She stretched and sat up. "I never was asleep. I just like 
pretending. My dad does the same thing - playing with my hair. I like 
it. It really feels good and I fake like I'm asleep." 
	I sat down on her bed. "Well I was getting ready to put your 
jammies on and tuck you in. It's only 8:30. Are you tired?"  
	With a quizzical look she said,  "You were going to dress me in 
my nighty?"
	"Oh, your nighty, I only have boys and we call them jammies. 
Where do you keep your nighties?" 
	She pointed. "They're hanging in the closet, on the left side" 
	I opened the closet and saw about two dozen nighties ranging 
from Barbie prints, pastel terrycloth, to see through with ruffled 
sleeves and ribbons. "Hmmm..., Which one do you like?"
	She just shrugged and said, "I don't care."
	While I thumbed through the collection, I said, "My boys fake 
sleep all the time just so they can lay there while I get them ready for 
bed. I guess I thought all parents did that." 
	"They used to, but not so much any more."  Her tone was happy. 
I got the sense that she believed I would have done it with good 
natured intent. 
	"Well, they love to fake asleep. It's a game with us. You see, 
while I kiss them good night, I rub my whiskers  into their neck. I mean, 
we all know they're faking it, but we play the game until that point when 
they know it's coming and they start squirming. Every time, right after 
I pull the covers up, I really rub them in so they have to scrunch all up." 
	I chose a modest white cotton nighty that looked like it might 
be a little too small for her. "You probably wouldn't like that I guess, 
being a girl?" 
	She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. As she 
thought about the scene I had described, a smile broke out on her face, 
along with a deep blush. I know kids, and there's not one on the 
planet who wouldn't like that little game, if it was with someone they 
liked and trusted. She was pulled out of her fantasy when I threw a 
white cotton nightie on the bed. She stared at it, then looked up at 
me wondering if I was actually going to try and dress her in it myself. 
Finally I spoke again. "Well, it doesn't matter now anyway. One of the 
rules of the game is that if I catch you faking, you have to get yourself 
ready for bed,  and then I'll tuck you in."
	She performed a perfect "Aghast" look and said "That's not fair, 
I didn't know that rule!"  
	"Hmm, well, sorry - you blew it." I said, mercilessly.
	As I left the room I stated, "Well, now you know. Besides, the 
only reason I would dress you is because you are supposedly in a deep
sleep, right?" 
	She stared blankly, her face still flushed as this little fact sunk 
in.  I closed the door. 

?

	I went back to the recliner in the basement and put in a DVD. 
Earlier in the day, while I was out running errands, I stopped by the 
video store and carefully chose a few DVD's. Pretty soon I had a room 
full of kids watching a feature length anime movie with lots of young 
girls in skimpy animated clothes doing magic and Karate. Guess who 
curled up in the chair with me and (apparently) fell asleep. 
	After the movie I looked around the room. The large sectional 
had three boys sound asleep. My oldest went to bed earlier. Trish was 
actually asleep now, even if she was faking at first. She was purring 
and drooling in a most sleep-like way, and was sweating around her 
neck. In any case, I struggled to my feet with her hanging in front of 
me, propped her butt up with my forearm and headed off to her room. 
It was dark. I placed her on her bed and turned on her desk lamp. 
	Standing over her I brushed the hair off of her face. She showed 
no signs of wakefulness, but I strongly suspect she woke up during the 
trip to her room. She was wearing blue jeans with embroidered 
flowers and shining studs. They were bell-bottoms, the kind that are 
so short that the tops of her socks showed. She had on blue tennis 
shoes and a tan T-shirt. On her bed, sticking out from underneath her, 
was a nighty, different from the one I had picked out. I rolled her 
toward me by pulling her arm across her chest then rolling her over. 
The nighty was pink with lacey edges. The fabric was sheer. Having 
freed the nighty, I let her roll back. Despite my apparent calm, I was 
extremely aroused and excited. 
	I began, rather roughly, to take her shoes and socks off. I figure 
if she is faking, no amount of roughness will cause any stir because 
she is focusing on not moving, and I don't want it to seem to her as if I 
am trying to be sneaky in any way. However, if she is asleep, some 
roughness will cause her to wake up, and hopefully start faking it.  
	She was as limp as a rag doll. I felt confident that she was 
awake, and loving the thrill of the titillating attention she was getting 
- she knew what I was about to do. 
	I sat beside her and slowly unbuckled her belt, unsnapped her 
jeans, and unzipped the zipper as far as it would go. I knew the 
panties would be clinging to the jeans. I hooked a few fingers in the 
waist and began working them down. Sure enough, the panties were 
slipping off with the jeans. Trisha surely could feel that the panties 
slipping down, and would probably stop me. 
	her hand twitched slightly and raised an inch off the bed. I 
stopped.  I removed my fingers from the waist of her jeans. Her hand 
settled back onto the bed. Stalemate. An inch of her mound was 
visible. Thin,  soft,  delicate blonde hair peaked out.
	I mumbled out loud as if talking to myself. "Shit, sorry 'bout 
that... Let's see... "  Rolling her back toward me as I had before, I 
fished the elastic of her panties out of her jeans and pulled them up. 
Rolling her back, I carefully fished them out of the front. 
	Her jeans were still holding on to her hips. I went to the foot of 
the bed and grabbed on to her bell bottoms. Yanking them down in 
one pull, I fished her legs out and tossed them by the door. Unknown 
to Trisha, her panties had slid back down. I think the quick motion 
masked the sense of sliding down. I was staring at the whole of her 
wonderful girlness. Shit, I just realized that had I been paying 
attention while fishing her legs out of her jeans, I would have had a 
full view. 
	I gotta pull them back up. I mumbled out loud some more, "Oh 
man !  I didn't mean to... ", I started pulling them back up, "...do that.    
I am sooo sorry."  Her legs raised and lowered one at a time, 
nervousely. I felt the need to say something to her, knowing she 
knows I just saw her in all her glory.  "Well, that was a happy little 
accident, What a beautiful girl."   A million other things I could have 
said would have been better. What an idiot I am sometimes. I know 
my seeing her made her uncomfortable. I wasted no time getting 
them back up. I tried to force them up with her laying on her back. 
She helped a little by raising her ass, but the elastic got stuck on her 
butt. I managed to cover most of her mound 
	This scene was making me incredibly aroused. Trisha moved, 
rolling away from me on her side. She must have felt how her panties 
were askew. But now her bare butt was facing me so I took the 
opportunity to fix her panties over her butt. The good news is, if she 
felt too uncomfortable, she would stop pretending to be asleep. Even 
fully exposed like she was, she still wanted to continue. After fixing 
her panties in the back, I rolled her back to lying on her back. Now her 
panties were sagging in front again, with two thirds of her soft  
mound visible, and a hint of her slit at the elastic. If I didn't keep 
moving, I would have sat there staring, tipping her off. I needed to 
keep moving.
	She was incredibly beautiful. One of those perfectly 
proportioned bodies with silky perfect skin, narrow hips. A little heft 
was forming in her butt, heavy peach fuzz peeking out from the elastic 
of her panties, and small round breasts. 
	I started narrating again, out loud while I worked. In a low 
voice I mumbled to myself, "How am I going to get this shirt off?" 
Sitting beside her I pulled her arms until she was sitting up. 
Suspiciously, her head did not fall back as I pulled. I continued to 
mumble, "Okay, now if she would just stay right there..." I balanced 
her and slowly let go. Predictably, she dramatically plopped back onto 
her pillow.  oh, what a performance. mumbling some more I said, 
"Hmmm... Maybe I can do it like this..."  I worked her t-shirt up to 
expose her whole tummy. Then I pulled on her feet to slide her away 
from the headboard: This ooched her shirt up in the back. I placed her 
arms over her head in the space I just created between her head and 
the headboard, and with much anticipation, I slid the shirt up 
exposing her breasts and covering her face. I made a big deal of 
carefully extracting her arms from the sleeves of the shirt, the whole 
time drinking in the wonderful view. A lot of 11 year olds only show a 
tiny sign of breast development. Trish was above average. No 
question that they were breasts, even though they were still very 
small. While I fussed with her arms, my forearm brushed her nipples 
several times. They stiffened and I catalogued that image 
permanently into my mind. Finally I freed her head from the shirt and 
threw it across the room. Standing and fussing with the nightie again I 
stared down at Trish's beautiful, mostly naked body. Her arms still 
stretched over her head and her panties barely doing their job...  
	Sitting down on the bed beside her, I laid the nighty over her, 
covering her breasts. I grabbed her right leg and right shoulder (I  was 
sitting on her left side) and rolled her toward me to fix her panties 
one last time. I also wanted to see her butt again. I've never seen 
such perfectly smooth skin. She was leaning against me as I 
straightened her panties and (like the gentleman I am) I made sure 
they were covering all the important parts. Before rolling her back, I 
gently carressed her back with my rough fingers. I mumbled "My boys 
get lots of back scratches....  too bad you're not awake..." after a few 
seconds of carressing I tried pushing her back over - but she resisted. 
	There was nothing left for me to see. This little game had paid 
off and I didn't mind sabotaging it to have some fun with her. So,  with 
my mission accomplished, I was ready to move on to something new. 
"Uhmmm - you're awake... " I pushed again and she resisted. With her 
face somewhat buried in the bed, she signaled with a waving hand for 
me to continue the back scratch (and to hell with your rules).  So I 
pulled the nighty away from her and said, "Okay, move over....  all the 
way over." She ooched to the far side of the bed and I layed down 
beside her. I draped my left leg over her the back of her thighs and 
settled in for a long, arm-aching back massage. She was in heaven. 
Looking at me periodically and smiling, making little cooing sounds. 
Finally, I got up and threw her nighty at her. "I think you can handle 
this now."
	As the nighty and my words hit her, she started to flop like a 
fish in protest, still lying on her stomach. I wonder why she didn't just 
talk. 
	"Hey, you know the rules." I watched her carefully to see what 
she would do. 
	Now she spoke, "C'mon. Please?" She said, pleading. 
	I don't like breaking the rules. It seemed important to maintain 
the illusion of her being asleep - to benefit her perspective. So she 
can't say "He knew I was awake.",  but I'm not sure why, or what 
good it would do. In any case, I just stood there for a while, watching 
her. 	She sensed me still standing there. With one movement, she 
flipped over onto her back and held the nighty out to me with a stiff 
arm. She was not taking no for an answer. I laughed, sat down beside 
her, and kissed her forehead. 
	Even in an erotically charged situation like this, I firmly believe 
that this little girl is simply playing a juvenile titillating game. She 
hasn't even had an adult sexual thought. They can sense bad intent, 
and the dominoes of this wonderful event would not have fallen the 
way they did if I intended to take advantage of her overtly.  On 
another note, I wondered for a moment why she was so willing to 
expose her breasts to me. She was developed enough to be conscious 
of them. I tend to believe that males and females have some 
instinctive things going on that we are not even aware of. In this case, 
males typically are aroused visually, while females are not. I think 
females are instinctively aware of males being visually aroused, and 
will flaunt their stuff (at this age it's purely a subconscious thing). 
	I gave in, but not completely. Instead of slowly and erotically 
slipping her into her nighty, I instructed her to sit up, hold her arms 
over her head, (while I fumble with the nighty, glancing at her 
breasts), I managed her hands through the arm holes, and finally, and 
sadly, covered her body. She laid back and I leaned over to kiss her 
goodnight - she scrunched up anticipating the whiskers. I didn't 
disappoint her. Rubbing my whiskers on her soft neck and feeling her 
body shiver and convulse, giggling. This was more than I could take.  
Having the images of her body fresh in my mind,  I left her room and 
went off to masturbate. 



Chapter 2

	The next day (Friday) I had all the boys and Trish working 
around the house to get ready for the birthday party. Really I just 
wanted them out of my hair so I could put my plan into action. Over 
the past few days I had been dwelling on the fact that all those girls 
will be downstairs, doing who knows what, dressed in who knows 
what...., and slowly an idea had formed. The basement TV room, 
where we watched the movie the night before, was where the girls 
would be partying. It was a very large room with no windows, and 
only one way in or out - the stairs. At the top of the stairs the door 
knob had a lock, but the latch didn't even catch so the lock was 
useless. Then I noticed there was a hook to lock the door from below, 
- so the girls could keep the boys out. This was important, because 
when girls feel they have achieved complete privacy in a slumber 
party atmosphere, you know what usually happens. My job was to 
encourage that behavior any way I could. 
	Back to my plan: The TV was a large big screen projection 
model with DVD, VCR, Surround Sound, Stereo music system, etc. I 
went out and rented a Karaoke system and picked up my video 
camera, tripod, and VCR from the house. I went by Wal-Mart and 
bought a 100 foot coaxial cable. 
	Above the recreation room was the master bedroom. It had a 
nice TV with a cable box and a new VCR/DVD combo. I drilled a hole 
in the floor above the entertainment center and ran the coaxial cable 
up to the master bedroom. I set up the Karaoke system with video 
cam on tripod and tested it all out. Now the girls could sing the songs 
while watching themselves on the big screen (and of course I would 
be monitoring everything from above.)
	Later on Trish and the boys started messing with the camera. 
They didn't turn on the karaoke. They just wanted to act goofy and 
see themselves on the big screen. I could hear them from the kitchen. 
Apparently one of Trish's brothers shot the moon and they all laughed 
like crazy. 
	Trish came up the stairs and asked, "How do you get that to 
record? We want to do some stuff and then play it back." 
	"I'm sorry sweetie, I didn't bring any tapes for the camera. It's 
just for the karaoke. Maybe there's one in it already." I went down 
and they all watched as I opened up the camera and showed them 
that the tape compartment was empty. (I felt it was important for 
them to know there was no way the camera could record anything, If 
you know what I mean.)
	"What about your VCR?" I asked, knowing the answer already.
	Trisha stomped her foot and said "no, no, that thing doesn't 
work." 
	I said I was sorry and went back upstairs. 
	When I set everything up downstairs, I didn't plug the camera 
straight to the TV. I hooked it to the input of the old VCR, and hooked 
the cable from my room to the output.  I had the old VCR feeding the 
camera signal to the big-screen using one of those three color RCA 
cables. This way, no matter what they choose to watch on the big 
screen, I will be watching (and recording) whatever the camera sees 
and/or hears all night long.  
	Back in my room I locked the door and turned on the VCR and 
TV.  Isn't technology wonderful?  The video camera was expensive 
when I bought it, even though it's a little dated now. It still has a 
fantastic picture quality. The kids were taking turns acting silly in 
front of it and doing some things they probably wouldn't want me to 
see. I was a little disturbed to hear how their language changed when 
I wasn't around. Sailor mouths. F this and MF that. Really it was just 
the boys though. I know I was that way - but not quite at that age. 
	Well, the girls started arriving, each with their backpacks, 
pillows, sleeping bags and presents. I got a few of the parents to stay 
for cake and ice cream and then politely ushered them out. Earlier in 
the day I had emphatically urged the boys to get themselves invited 
to sleep over at one of their friends houses - which wasn't hard to do 
considering I told them to tell the story of their aunt having a brain 
tumor, etc. As luck would have it, they were picked up by one of the 
mom's dropping a girl off. So from that time on, I only had the girls to 
worry about. I sat downstairs and supervised some party games, and 
tried to get them doing  karaoke but it wasn't catching on. Except for 
one girl who couldn't sing very well, and of course she wore it out. 
	I went upstairs, turned the thermostat up a few notches then 
came back down and put in one of the DVD's I rented for the occasion.  
Just before turning out the lights to leave them and go upstairs, I said 
what I had rehearsed in my mind all day: "Hey girls, I want you to 
have fun tonight. I don't mind if you stay up all night. There are no 
rules except don't destroy the house, don't hurt each other, and don't 
go outside,  You can make all the noise you want, but try to limit the 
screaming a little. I have a sister, and I know what goes on at slumber 
parties. All I ask is if you come upstairs, please put some clothes on. I 
don't want to explain to the neighbors why there were naked girls 
running around the house."  I winked and started heading up the 
stairs.
	"Thank you Mr. Burwell,"  came a chorus of voices behind me. 
	I turned and waved, then remembered, "By the way, you don't 
have to watch that movie, There's a stack of DVD's on the speaker 
over there," I pointed, "so take your pick or do something else if you 
want. I heard a few giggles as I ascended the stairs.
	In my subtle (and admittedly clever) way, I just told them it is 
perfectly alright (and expected) for them to get naked. 	
	The stack of DVD's I pointed out to them contained several 
normal titles for that age group - almost certainly already seen by 
every kid down there, and very boring. But I spiced up the selection 
with a few I know they have never seen, like: "Cruel Intentions",  
"Boarding School", and especially, "Beau P?re".    These I left in the 
bag, as if I forgot to take them upstairs with me, and set the others 
on top. 
	Back in my room, I sat and watched the girls for a while. The 
camera was still pointed where I had left it, at the large sofa 
sectional. I turned up the volume to hear what they were saying. The 
movie was a little too loud. 
	"I heard about your aunt, God that really sucks.", said one of the 
girls.
	"Are you close to her? I mean since she lives in Europe." Asked 
another. 
	"Not really, I haven't seen her for a few years, and then usually 
only at Christmas.", replied Trisha.  "My mom and I were supposed to 
go see her next summer, but maybe not now."
	They paused and turned their attention to the big screen. 
	"This is stupid, why would Scott pick such a lame movie. He 
seems so cool. Hey Gillie, go see what else is over there." I recognized 
this voice as Lindy, even though I couldn't see her. She is a bit of a 
bossy bitch, but I've never seen such a pair of legs in my life. 
	"I like this movie, but I've seen it three times already." Said 
Trish, hopefully just defending my honor. 
	"Hey Trish, have you seen him in his underwear?" asked Lindy,  
followed by a lot of snickering. 
	"Yeah, I wish I had a babysitter like that. He is so gorgeous. Tell 
us, C'mon, what have you been doing?", another girl was asking. 
	My heart flittered and my ears perked up. Shit, I hope Trisha 
doesn't decide to brag about "pretending to be asleep" 
	"Nothing really. You're right, he is so cute, and he's so nice, He 
doesn't treat us like kids." 
	This started a chorus of "oooooo's and ahhhhhhh's"      "What do 
you mean?" 
	"Not like that. I mean..., not like that." Trisha said emphatically.  
He's just really nice." 
	"So nothing happened? You didn't see anything?  Nothing?"
	"I only saw him with his shirt off..."  Trisha got up from the floor 
and squeezed between two girls on the sofa. "... but he saw me." 
	"He did?  What? How?" they said together, now excited.
	"What difference does it make, I really don't think he's 
interested in girls our age." Said Trisha.
	Lindy got up and squeezed in next to Trisha. "Maybe, but tell us 
anyway. What happened?"
	She paused, thinking how to explain. Skipping the part about my 
son under the stairs, she described the whole event.  To my 
astonishment, Trisha narrated the entire story from the perspective 
that she was the one manipulating me into dressing her for bed.  
	She ended by saying, "I was tingling all over. It was sooo cool.  
He is just such a nice guy, he never gets mad really, I mean sometimes 
he yells but he's really not mad. It makes us laugh when he does it. 
He's so nice, you can get him to do anything you want. You just have 
to know how he thinks."
	Lindy was still leaning forward, listening carefully. "And he 
never touched you?, I mean other than the back rub?" 
	"No! Really Lindy, not everybody thinks like you do.",  that got 
some big laughs from the other girls.  "His arms touched my breasts 
when he was leaning over me, trying to get my shirt off, but he wasn't 
meaning to." 
	"I can't believe you let him look at your breasts." Gillie piped in.
	"He did exactly what he always did with his sons. That's all. He 
was just being a dad."
	"Hey look guys, I think he didn't mean to leave these down 
here."  Gillie was holding the bag of DVD's out for the other girls to 
look at. 
	Score one for the coach. 

	They settled in to watching 'Boarding School', so I opted to 
watch a 'Star Trek' re-run since not much was happening, but I kept 
switching back and forth just in case. After about twenty minutes I 
noticed it was suspiciously quiet. I felt a surge of excitement as I 
realized what I might be missing. I quickly fingered the remote and 
focused in on the scene in the basement. 	One of the girls was 
fiddling with the camera while the others were moving pieces of the 
sectional into a circle. What were they doing? She's pointing the 
camera away from everyone !  "Awe Shit!"  I yelled out loud.    I'll 
have to go down and try to..,  "God damned, crap a monkey !".   But 
how? Well, shit! it was a nice try. It would be too suspicious to go 
down there and try to fix it. I flipped back to the Trek flick. The night 
was still young. I had the VCR recording whatever was on the big 
screen anyway - regardless of what I was watching on the tube.  

?

	I dosed off. When I woke up it was about two in the morning, 
and I could hear music. Rap music. I switched the inputs to the camera 
and... to my astonishment, There was Lindy, the gorgeous long legged 
brunette almost twelve years old, completely naked and dancing to 
the rap music - arms up high and gyrating, and spinning around and 
jiggling her ass and pussy at the camera. My dick almost got whiplash 
from snapping to attention so quickly. The other girls were hooting 
and egging her on. The big screen was visible in the camera angle and 
she was watching herself dance. That's why they turned the camera 
around. They wanted to see their backsides when facing the TV. I 
guess that makes sense. You are used to seeing yourself in the mirror 
- frontal, but not from the back. Wow she was really getting into it.          
	Suddenly, I heard footsteps and hushed voices in the hall. I 
quickly switched back to the SCI-FI channel and went to see what was 
up. As I opened the door a crack, there was small gathering of girls 
outside the hall bathroom.  I heard them whispering, "What did you 
find?"  "Nothing - I told you it's in my mom and dad's bathroom. In the 
back of the drawer under the sink."  
	That was obviously Trisha speaking. I closed the door and went 
in the bathroom to investigate. I guess my mind wasn't fully awake 
yet. I really had no idea what I was expecting to find, but as I opened 
the drawer and fished in the back, I found two vibrators and a variety 
of things like diaphragms, KY jelly, and a snowstorm of loose tampons. 
All of them hiding behind an impressive collection of hair ties and 
barrettes.     What should I do?
	I purposely made some noise in the room. The girls heard me 
and went padding away down the hall.  I headed for the kitchen. I 
knocked around in the fridge, made a sandwich, ate it, was hunking 
pieces of birthday cake with a fork when Trisha emerged from the 
basement. To my surprise, she was wearing the see-thru nighty with 
puffy sleeves that I saw hanging in her closet. I didn't realize how 
see-thru it actually was. Wow.       
   	"Well how's the birthday girl?"    
	"Fine.  Um excuse me I have to go to the bathroom." 
	Such a polite girl, I thought to myself as I watched her little butt 
careen around the corner.   
	While guzzling a glass of milk, she emerged carrying a crumpled 
up towel. She quickly headed for the stairs while I tried to clear my 
throat of milk so I could speak.  
	"Hey !"  I almost choked.  
	She had the door knob in her hand, pulling the door closed and 
cradling the towel like a baby. "yeah?"   She said.  
	"What are you girls up to?" I asked.  
	"Oh nothing" she said as she pulled the door closed, latched it, 
and ran down to her friends. 
	I put my ear to the door. There were excited squeaks and some 
ooh's and ahh's, and then a buzzing noise followed by louder laughs, 
"C'mon, let me see".
	Needless to say I was back at control central in warp speed. All I 
was getting was a clear view of the entertainment center. I waited a 
while and then went back to the basement door to listen. 
	They were up to something. I could hear furniture being slid 
across the floor, and a lot of orders being issued by too many chiefs at 
the same time. 
	"NO, put it right here so we can see!" 
	"There's not enough light over there. Put it here."  
	Things calmed down a little and all I could hear were the chiefs 
dictating rules to a game, I guess. It was sounding a lot like truth or 
dare, but not exactly. Oh well. I headed back to the bedroom. 
	After brushing my teeth and getting comfortably propped up to 
watch a movie, I was just about to switch to the TV-guide channel 
when the camera moved.  It turned and bounced around a while until 
it finally settled in on a well lit piece of sofa sectional. The air had 
caught in my throat and my heart stopped beating. What was going 
on? I turned the volume up...  

	"Why do we have to do it that way? Why don't we just do 
rock scissors paper or something?"  
	"Because it's too quick. It's the mystery and anticipation 
that makes it fun."  
	"Not for me. I think we've wasted too much time. Look, 
Stacey is already asleep." 
	"No I'm not".  
	"See!"  
	There was a pause in the discussion.   "Okay, Is it like, we 
DON'T want to be it, or is it like, we DO want to be it?"  
	"You don't want to be it."  
	"Why not?"  
	"because it's embarrassing."  
	"But it feels good."  
	"Okay..., I got an idea.  Who does NOT want to be it, raise 
your hand." 
	"Nobody wants to be it except me, so I'll be it."
  	"Okay - fine." 
	"What about Trisha, it's her birthday, shouldn't we make 
her be it?"
	Lindy's voice rang out, "Her story got us thinking about 
this. She got to be it with Mr. Burwell, and you all are chickening 
out. After me you can fight over who's next."

	Onto the sectional came Lindy. She already proved she isn't shy 
with her dancing. She just sat there watching the other girls off 
screen. Three of the other girls appeared (two of them were topless).  
(By the way, by now you should have an idea about how I plan things 
out. What do you imagine the temperature is in that basement? 
Exactly the right temperature so that excited little girls will want to 
take their clothes off to be comfortable.)
	They knelt down beside her like handmaidens and began doting 
over her. One was brushing her hair, one was massaging her feet, and 
one was laying out items on the floor beside her like a surgeon 
getting ready to operate. Lindy was really into it. She had her eyes 
closed and her head tilted forward. Once Gilly had all the items 
arranged properly, she said, "Okay, I'm ready" and signaled to the 
other two topless girls (I guess they were in uniform as the 
"assistants" to the grand mistress) They moved with an air of 
formality, like it was a ritual. They pulled Lindy to her feet and 
ceremoniously removed her T-shirt and panties. Then they positioned 
her on the sectional, on her back with her feet pointing toward the 
camera. 
	Gilly arose and began slowly walking around Lindy dripping 
something onto her from a squeeze bottle. The assistants began 
rubbing the liquid all over her body. It made her glisten. It must have 
been baby oil or something. Supervising everything, Gilly added some 
oil here and there and they dutifully massaged it in.  
	Gilly spoke, "It's time to spread her legs open.....    All the way". 
Gilly was standing in the way.  I could see Lindy's feet sticking out on 
either side of her. I yelled at the TV,  "MOVE OUT OF THE WAY !!" 
	Almost immediately after I shouted that at the TV, a chorus of 
girls shouted "GILLY, MOVE !  YOU ARE BLOCKING THE CAMERA" 
Apparently the other girls were watching the action on the big screen. 
Gilly turned and looked, "Oops, sorry" and she moved out of the way. 
	Wow, what an angle. Straight on. I checked the VCR to make 
absolutely certain it was recording......    Looks okay.    The camera 
was shaking,... someone is messing with it.....    Zooming in....  too 
close...  no wait, she moved the tripod and zoomed back. Now the 
camera was closer, looking down on Lindy more that before. Much 
better to see her body from this angle. 
	Gilly handed each of the assistants a vibrator. "Now remember 
Lindy, you have to talk about what you feel so we will all know. When 
the orgasm comes, you have to say "now", or "yes", or something like 
that."  Okay?"
	Lindy nodded. She was getting sore from having her legs spread 
so wide off the sides of the sectional, so she held her knees with her 
hands and kept them spread. No one seemed to object. I didn't either. 
	Assistant number one started up her vibrator and moved slowly 
toward Lindy's clit. 


?


When the show was finally over, Lindy left the sectional and the 
camera just sat there, staring at an empty piece of furniture. I had 
been masturbating while watching, but now I was quickly losing 
interest, not having sexy Lindy spread open on the TV screen, gyrating 
to the throws of passion and the fantasy playing out behind her closed 
eyes. 
	All was quiet. Some low voices indicated they were getting 
ready for bed. Then Lindy and Trish sat on the sectional in front of the 
camera. Lindy glancing over her shoulder to make sure none of the 
other girls were listening. 
	"I wish I was you." Lindy said, opening the conversation. 
	"Why?"  asked Trish. 
	"Because I know what to do with a man like Scott." 
	"You really think you could get him to do something?" Trish 
asked. Implied in her question was a desire to know her method. 
	"I know I could.  Men that age just act like they aren't 
interested. They don't want anyone to think they like young girls. But 
secretly they do. Sometimes I go to the mall dressed in really sexy 
clothes. I wear my sunglasses and watch men look at me in the 
reflection of store windows. They all do it."
	"Lindy, you always act like you know so much, like a nympho. 
And I always thought you were just pretending. But now I think you 
really are...  Have you actually done it? Or is this just an act?"  Trish's 
tone implied some genuine interest. She was not being mean spirited 
and Lindy could tell.
	Lindy sat thinking. The long pause told Trish she had stumbled 
on something. 
	"C'mon Lindy, you can trust me." With brightening eyes Trish 
conveyed that she was not wanting to judge her, just share in the 
excitement.  "Tell me who...  what did you...  how did it happen?" 
	Lindy told Trish how she and her older brother had talked 
openly about their sexual desires, but being brother and sister, had 
not really been interested in each other. Instead, he would have his 
friends sleep over and they would team up to manipulate them into 
sex play. Eventually, she had learned how to manipulate any man into 
bed. She had dozens of victims. 
	But Lindy was ripping through the telling of it at a blinding pace. 
She was trying to get through it so she could get back to the subject 
at hand:  Scott Burwell.  
	"Trish, you like Scott don't you?"
	Trish nodded.
	"Wouldn't you like to make love with him?" 
	Trish blushed and looked at her hands, not answering.
	"What? wouldn't you?"
	"Not all-the-way love. I can't..."
	"But you think about it don't you?" Lindy asked.
	Again Trish sat thinking, picking at her fingers.
	"It doesn't matter anyway, you get to do what ever you want. 
The secret is to let him think you are only interested in playing games, 
like an innocent kid. But sexy games. Then you just keep doing more 
and more and more. He will play, and he won't stop until you do. I 
promise. But you have to know what to do."
	Lindy described a game called "Simon Says Kiss Me Here" and 
explained the rules. Then she told Trish how to behave during the 
game to get what she wanted. Mainly, she wanted Trish to not be shy 
when it was her turn. "You need to let him know that you are willing 
to do anything. So you need to point to your breasts, between your 
legs, and even if he says no, you have to lift your shirt or pull down 
your panties and say "you have to, it's the rules." 
	"I can see you doing that, but not me." Trish said.
	"Trust me Trish, even if he doesn't do it right away, he wants to 
- really really bad. And knowing you want him to, he will eventually do 
it. and you will love it. It is so cool."
	 They were speaking so quietly I had to turn the volume all the 
way up. I was hard as a rock listening to this. What a fucking thing to 
be able to spy on young girls plotting to have sex with me. I was in 
the drivers seat now. Even so, I still doubted I would do anything. 
When they finished talking, I went back out to the kitchen to lock the 
back door and turn some lights out. I knocked around loudly so the 
girls would hear me. I got Trish's attention because she emerged from 
below and leaned against me by the sink. Kind of like - I wish I didn't 
have to stay down there with my friends. Well, she is the birthday girl. 
Which can be taken two ways: 1) the birthday girl should honor her 
friends with her presence, or 2) the birthday girl can do what she 
wants because it's her birthday.  I opt for the latter. 
	"What is it sweetie?" 
	She kinda growled a little, scratched her itchy nose on my shirt, 
then leaned harder against me. Translated: "I'm tired, I don't want to 
sleep downstairs, please put me to bed." But I knew it was an act, 
knowing how energized she was just a minute ago talking to Lindy. 
	 "Don't you want to sleep downstairs with your friends?" 
	Her face still pressed against my side, she shook her head no, 
which rocked her body in the opposite direction. "Where then?" 
	She shrugged and then mumbled something.  
	"What did you say?" I asked.  
	"Would you tuck me in like you did last night?" She looked up at 
me pleading - "Pleeeeeeease?"        
	"Well angel, you are already in your nighty. Only thing left is a 
kiss and whiskers." 
	She pooched out her bottom lip and continued looking up at me, 
thinking.  She was reading me. Burying her face in my shirt again, she 
mumbled something.  
	I recognized the rise and fall of the tone of whatever she said. It 
was something she was embarrassed to say, which made me really 
want to know what it was. "What was that?"  I asked softly.
	She didn't say anything. 
	"Trisha, sweetheart, you can trust me. It's your birthday - tell 
me what you want." 
	After a thoughtful pause she spoke. "Can we play another 
game?"  
	Yikes...  what next....    "Uhmm...."   I stumbled on...   "Well, it's 
kind of late. Like what?"
	She looked up at me with her chin on my chest, "like pretend 
sleep, but different." 
	Feigning that it must be an innocent game, I replied "Well, 
whatever it is I'll play as long as we can do it on my bed. Okay?" 
	Trisha nodded and raised her arms up. "Carry me." 	I hefted 
her into my arms and marched off to my room. 

?

	This is dangerous territory. Damn. I don't know. I guess I'll play 
along until I can't play anymore. 
	We entered my room and she leapt from my arms onto the bed, 
bouncing on all fours across the tall king sized bed. How quickly she 
went from sleepy to fully alive again. Her face was animated and she 
said (as if directing her dolls at a tea party)  "You sit right heeeeere, 
and I'll sit right heeeeeere....,  now, here are the rules."
  	Before I got on the bed, I turned off the TV and the overhead 
light, and turned on the lamps on either side of the bed.  "You made 
up a game already?" 
	"No, Lindy told it to me tonight, but you can't play it without a 
boy." 
	"What's it called?" I asked. 
	"Simon Says."  
	"Oh, well I know that one."   
	"This is different.."   
	"Oh, so, what are the rules?"  
	She paused, then with a determined look she went on...  "Well 
it's really called 'Simon Says Kiss Me'. So when it's your turn, You say 
'simon says kiss me here.' and you point to the place you want to be 
kissed. If you don't say simon says and I kiss anyway, then you get 
three more. Okay?" I started to answer but, "Oh yeah, you can't point 
to your clothes only skin."  She watched me closely, wondering what I 
was going to do or say about this game.  
	"Sounds like I could get in a lot of trouble for..., "   
	 "It's okay, I won't tell anyone."    She broke in quickly, as if 
anticipating my answer.
	"This game is not for kissing arms and hands and elbows, is it?"  
I didn't let her answer. "It starts out innocent enough, but it ends up 
with me going to jail.  Do you know what would happen to me if 
anyone found out? I don't think you do.  I really would love to play but 
I just can't risk going to prison."
	She tried the bottom lip, then dramatically mouthed the word 
"Paleeeese..." ,  After a long pause thinking, she finally spoke again, 
"I don't get it. If I played this with a boy my age, nothing would 
happen, but they would send you to prison. It's not fair." She said, 
looking defeated.
	"It's the law Trish.   You know, I think a long, long time ago, this 
would have been fun and no one would have cared. But now that we 
have laws, and since the law says we can't..., It's really a shitty law.  
That law hurts the ones it's supposed to be protecting.  But I can't risk 
going to prison. Do you know what would happen to you if anyone 
found out? I mean, you can imagine that if we never got caught, that 
life would stay nice and we would remember and enjoy our memories, 
and that would be good. Right?"  
	She nodded, listening carefully.  
	"I mean, really no harm done. You agree with that right?"   
	Again she nodded confidently. 
	"Well, if we did get caught, they would pick me up and put me in 
jail, and you would be forced into a terrible situation. Do you know 
what I mean?"
	She kind of shrugged - unsure for sure.  
	"The police - probably the FBI - would take you to their offices. 
All the men there would watch you walk through, knowing what 
happened. They would sit you down with a tape recorder and video 
camera recording everything, and they would make you to tell them 
every single detail of everything we did. Then, When you get home, 
you turn on the TV and see my picture and hear the news person 
saying "Mr. Jones, molested Trisha Jackson in her own home while 
babysitting. Everyone in your school would know. Everyone would 
treat you differently. Your whole world would change. You would 
probably have to leave town just to get away from the reporters and 
your school." 
	I could see the fear and trauma forming in her eyes.  
	I said, "Do you think I'm making that up or do you think that is 
what would happen?"  
	She studied me.  "I know it would, because I've seen it on the 
news before.  But you're not like that. Those guys are like total 
weirdo creepazoids."   
	"How do you know they aren't like me? That it didn't happen 
like this?"  
	She shrugged. Her bottom lip was back out again.  I was 
regretting bursting her bubble like that because really I was hoping 
she had a less obvious game to play.
	I continued, "The other thing is, when I was in school, about 
your age, boys and girls who were my friends would promise me that 
if I did something, or told them something, that it would be a secret 
and nobody would ever know. They promised. It always amazed me 
how fast the entire school would know the secret.
	It's also amazing how many times someone has told me a secret 
that they promised never to tell, "God, he'll kill me if he finds out I 
told you. He made me promise not to tell."  I like you a lot Trish, and I 
think you are very beautiful, but I learned that I can't trust anyone to 
keep a secret like that- especially one that would ruin my life, and 
yours if it ever got out."  
	She pleaded once more. "I know you won't believe me but I can 
keep a secret. And we wouldn't get caught. It's like you said. As long 
as we don't get caught it will be fine."    
	I countered saying,  "How do I know you can keep a secret?  
What big secret did you ever keep?"   I couldn't very well use the 
"pretend sleeping" as an example.
	She thought a minute. "My uncle Ray put a dent in my dad's car 
and I saw it. He made me promise not to tell my dad."  She folded her 
arms like - Hah, top that!   
	"So you promised not to tell, and here you just told me. Do you 
see how easily it is to tell secrets?"   
	She didn't even blink. "No, I promised him that my dad would 
not find out and I know you won't tell him."
	Obviously I was in over my head with this girl.  The arms were 
still folded. 	I'm losing an argument with an 11 year old, oops, 
she's 12 today. "Okay, okay, so I trust you to keep it secret, but what 
about getting caught, anything could happen."   I was trying not to 
stare too long at her breasts through the nighty. The lamps where 
really penetrating the fabric. I'm weak, so weak.  
	"Like what?"  She asked.  
	"Like one of your friends could come in looking for you."   
	"Lock the door."  
	I took a breath getting ready to list all the other ways to get 
caught..., but all that came out was, "What if there's a hidden camera 
in here?"  
	She flopped face down on the bed and said "Oh please, give me 
a break."  
	I had to laugh at that. I reached out and stroked her hair. She 
reacted to the touch immediately and spooned herself against me, 
smiling up at me. I pointed to my neck "Kiss me here." 
	Reaching out she kissed my neck with an open mouth.  
	"Mmmm..... very nice, but now I get three more turns."   
	"Oops, you're right." She said still smiling.   
	"Tell me something, about you wanting to play this game..., If 
you only got to choose one or the other, would you rather be kissing 
me, or have me kissing you?"  
	"You kissing me."   She said, not having to think about it.     
	"I thought so.   Like how you like me dressing you for bed - you 
like the attention." Okay, I'll tell you what, since it's your birthday, I'll 
give you unlimited kisses. To hell with the game, just point.  
	She jumped up and sat on my thighs, pointing to her lips. I 
leaned forward and kissed her as if she were a woman.  Very nice. I 
drew back and expected some shyness or blushing, but her sparkling 
eyes were locked on mine. She pointed to her neck. Again, 5 seconds, 
which is longer than it sounds. Before I had even drawn back, she fell 
back, lifted her nighty above her stomach and pointed to her belly 
button. I know she didn't mean to, but my back wouldn't bend like 
that. 
	"I can't reach there." 
	She stood up from my lap, straddling me, which put her panties 
at eye level. Still too awkward. So I grabbed her playfully, threw her 
onto the bed, lifted her nighty, and began kissing and licking her belly 
button. She giggled wildly and thrashed about.
	My weight was heavy on one of her legs, so she worked it out 
from under me. Now her legs were spread apart and I was lying 
between them kissing her belly. Her mound was pressing just below 
my neck. I had a close up view of her breasts,  and I was losing my 
shyness about staring at them. My dick ached to be straight. I stopped 
kissing and looked at her for the next spot.  
	"You pick this time." She said.   
	Wow, a blank check. I got up on my knees between her legs, 
sitting on my feet. I grabbed her hips and lifted them high into my lap 
so that she was lying downhill. I lifted her nighty over her head. She 
could still see me through the fabric. As I bent over to kiss her, my 
folded erection pressed into her crotch. I leaned forward and began 
slowly caressing her nipples with my lips and tongue, while grinding 
my hard bent dick against her crotch. She was in complete surrender - 
meaning all shyness was completely gone. She trusted me completely, 
knowing that I worshipped her. 
	My paranoia was also gone. Her breasts were wonderful,  but I 
longed since the night before to be able to fondle them at length 
while my eyes recorded everything. So I sat back up and did just that. 
I massaged her breasts for a long time, rolling her small nipples 
between my fingers. The crotch of her panties were still staring up at 
me from her wide open legs. I slid my right hand down to her crotch 
and massaged her clit through her panties with my thumb. I could feel 
her wetness.  "Can I kiss you here next?" 
	She nodded. 
	I leaned forward and kissed her mouth soft and deep. "you're 
sure?"  
	She nodded again and said, "Then I get one turn to kiss you 
somewhere."   
	Wow, I got off the bed and adjusted my dick. She sat up. I lifted 
her from the bed so that she stood in front of me. She raised her arms 
as I lifted her nighty off,  then I slid her panties down. She stepped 
out of them.  
	"My God, Trish, you are so pretty."  I just stared at her standing 
there, naked. "I could look at you for hours." 
	Trish began a cheerleading routine and I laughed. 
	"You are so sexy, I can't stand it!" 
	She just soaked in the compliments while she mechanically went 
through the routine. Her playfulness was growing and she was feeling 
less inhibited. She seemed to know she had nothing to be shy about 
with me. She was calling the shots and I was a willing slave. 
	Slowly spinning on the floor like a ballerina, she asked, "Is there 
anything you want me to do?   I mean..., I don't know why, but I like 
to watch you looking at me." 
	"Trish, honey, there are all kinds of things I want you to do, but 
I feel strange even asking. I just can't...,  I'm a man and..., you don't 
know what...," 
	She moved in close and stood between my legs as I sat on the 
bed. "C'mon, I really want to do things for you, so I can watch your 
eyes.   When I was laying back on the bed you thought I had my eyes 
closed, but they were open just a little and I could see you looking at 
me. I can see how much...  like,  how you're hungry for it. You know? I 
really like that a lot. Please..." 
	"Do you realize you are making all my dreams come true?   No, 
this is better than anything I've ever dreamed about."  I paused and 
we looked each other in the eyes for a moment. "Do you know what 
men like to see?" 
	She gave a one shoulder shrug, "Maybe some, but teach me. It'll 
be so cool." 
	I sat her back on the bed and she laid back, ready and willing.  I 
laid down next to her to talk some more before we got started. 
	"Trish, part of the fun of getting to look at you is to pretend we 
are about to have real sex. Have you ever seen a man naked? Do you 
know what a penis looks like when it is hard?"  
	"I think I do. I can't remember where I..., maybe. Are you going 
to show me?" 
	"I have to." 
	"What do you mean?" She asked.
	"Well, it's fun for you to watch my eyes because you can see how 
much you excite me.  The fun for me is to pretend I am having sex 
with you. So I need to rub myself while I watch you...  you know, 
masturbate." 
	"Oh..., yeah, ...,   you mean I get to watch?"  She said excitedly. 
	"Yea, we watch each other, and we can touch each other 
whenever we want to. Okay?"
	"Okay, what should I do?" She was eager to get started.
	"Well, first you need to get acquainted with my friend here."   
	I stood up and turned to face her. She propped herself up on her 
elbows, her legs dangling off the foot of the bed. Slowly I extracted 
my dick and removed the rest of my clothes. I stroked it for her a few 
times and stuck it straight out to its full length.  Her eyes bulged a 
little and she sat forward, examining me closely (exactly as she had 
my son the day before).  
	Slowly she reached her hand out and began feeling me, rubbing 
it softly with her fingertips. The look of amazement and wonderous 
delight on her face made it stiffen. 
	"Okay, lie back on the bed and open up your legs for me." 
	She moved back a little and complied, lifting her knees first then 
letting them fall open, her feet still close to her butt. 
	"Wow, very nice, but put your legs flat on the bed and then 
spread them open as far as you can." 
	Again, she understood and did as I asked.  
	How incredible. This was exactly how I had fantasized about 
her. Her mound puffing out above her hips, her clit puffing out from 
the top of her slit, and the small lips of her opening, wet, and closed, 
but clearly visible. 
	"Now put your arms out to the side, with your hands above your 
head." 
	I began to stare hard at her body, stroking my dick slowly. I 
moaned a little, involuntarily. 
	I noticed her face change as I began to imagine myself sliding in 
and out of her. It excited her greatly to see me so excited at the sight 
of her.  Her hips rocked. She instinctively knew the moves. She was 
staring at my dick and actually imagining it going inside of her.  I 
reached out and rubbed my thumb on her clit. 
	She raised her hips in the air, not knowing why. After a few 
moments of rubbing her, I stood back up and stroked myself for her 
some more, teasing her. I watched as her pleading pussy and face 
begged me to stimulate her some more. 
	Again I leaned over the bed. She lifted her hips at my face, 
begging for it. Gently I rubbed my thumb from side to side across her 
puffed up button, pressing just hard enough so that it popped under, 
from side to side. Rubbing up and down I pressed my thumb inside her 
and moved it in and out several times. Trish moaned. 
	I stood back up and stroked myself some more - I was teasing 
her, and it was driving her crazy. 
	"Please don't stop, do that some more.." 
	I smiled down at her, her face totally serious and desperate. 
"It's okay sweetheart, I will. But you have to learn to make these 
good feelings last a long time, because once you have your orgasm, 
It's over for a while and the second one is never as good as the first."
	At this she relaxed a little and started zoning in on my erection 
again. She watched my face just as much as my dick, and I could see 
her face and posture change as I began to enjoy myself more. She fed 
off of me - loving the affect she had. 
	"Trish?... "
	"yes?" 
	"Can you imagine me putting this inside you?  I mean with you 
lying there like that?"
	"That's what I've been doing. I can almost feel it."
	"There is another position that works,  if you turn over and put 
your butt up in the air, and your knees apart -  Do you know what I 
mean?"  
	She had to process that for a second or two.  She rolled herself 
over, and from her hands and knees, looked around at me for 
approval. 
	Her ass was exquisite. I could see her small breasts hanging 
down from her chest. "Mmmmm...." I moaned as I reached out and ran 
my hands all around her back, ass, and thighs. "Try putting your cheek 
down on the bed."  
	She did but her back was still arched up. I gently pushed her 
back down to invert the arch, rolling her hips forward and pointing her 
anus toward the ceiling. That was it. 
	"Now, that is nice. People have sex like this a lot." 
	After staring at her and stoking my member a little, again the 
urge hit me and  I reached out and slipped my thumb in and out of her 
vagina several times, rubbing her clit with her juices.  Leaning in, I 
examined her vagina and anus closely as I masturbated her gently, 
and myself not so gently.  
	Trisha spoke, "I never knew it would be like this. I thought it 
would be like...  you know embarrassing, and hating it. This is so much 
fun I can't believe it.  I thought Lindy was so weird,  'cause she acts 
so..., I dunno, like that's all she thinks about."
	"I think Lindy has probably done some of this before."
	"I think it's her older brother.  He's always touching her butt and 
stuff when I'm over there, and she looks at him funny - like never mad 
at all. I'm gonna find out..."
	"Hey, you be careful talking about this stuff with your friends. 
Remember what we talked about. If she tells you about her brother, 
then you will want to tell her about me real bad. You can't do that, 
right?"
	"Right.  I won't, I promise."
	I was sitting on the edge of the bed still softly masturbating her 
as we talked.  "Are you ready for an orgasm?"
	"I think so.  You gonna try putting it inside me?"  She sounded 
slightly hopeful and worried at the same time. 
	"No, I don't need to. I can give you a wonderful orgasm without 
doing that.   Turn back over the way you were before."
	Not needing to worry any more, Trish eagerly complied.  I 
helped her get her legs open a little wider.  Standing up, I showed her 
my dick again and said. "Now, imagine that I am sliding this inside 
you..."  I moved closer and pointed it at her pussy, "Look how hard 
you made me. Just by looking at you I am hard as a rock."  Her hips 
gyrated slowly, spontaneously. 
	I purposely was not touching her any more. She was building 
inside, staring at my dick and getting very wet. I leaned over her, my 
arms straddling her, and rubbed my dick on her leg, in a mock 
humping motion. The contact made her gasp.  I rubbed it on the other 
leg. I climbed over top of her, with it hovering above her mound, and 
kissed her mouth long and soft, and wet, touching nothing but her 
mouth. I nibbled her ear, then her neck. I stood back up and repeated 
the whole thing again, rubbing the head of my dick on her legs, etc.  
	By now, she was in a very agitated state. Every nerve was on 
high alert. Now was the time. Climbing over her once more, I kissed 
her mouth. Then I locked on to her eyes, stuck out my tongue, and she 
watched as I slowly went down between her legs.  
	She propped on her elbows to see better, my tongue hovering 
very close between her legs, I paused for a moment, both of us 
holding our breath, then in one motion, I licked upward, ever so 
slowly, but pressing firmly. The flat of my tongue wiped upward, taste 
buds sliding slowly over the full length of her slit and button.
	Her whole body convulsed. "Ahhhhh ooowwww eeeee" she 
howled. 
	I raised my head "Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?
	"Oh my God!" She said, gasping and shaking her head 
vigorousely. 
	Smiling, I began thumb fucking her in earnest while sucking and 
licking and rubbing her clitoris. 
	It took less than a minute and she was in full orgasmic delight, 
pressing her pussy into my face with her back arched. 
	Finally she collapsed onto the bed. I continued softly licking her 
mound and suckling her clit until the post-orgasm-ultra-sensitivity set 
in and forced her to push my face away. 
	I was in pain. My dick was throbbing wildly.  I pulled her toward 
the foot of the very tall pedestal bed. I stroked myself and rubbed the 
head of my dick on her smooth mound.  I fondled her breasts with one 
hand, stroking with the other. I took her hand and had her stroke me 
some while I stared and felt her pussy and small perfect breasts. 
	I came in long spurts that hit her chin and chest several times. I 
rubbed the rest of the sperm across her pussy with the head of my 
dick until I was spent. 
	Stepping back from the bed, I catalogued the image of her 
spread open to me and covered in my sperm. 	I washed her with a 
warm washcloth, pulled the blankets down, laid down, pulled her on 
top of me, and pulled the covers up over us. 
	After all of that, this was the first time we actually had our 
naked bodies pressed together. It was wonderful, and we fell asleep, 
reveling in the feeling. 


?

	In the wee hours of the morning I awoke sweating from Trish's 
warm body on top of me. I caressed her backside, hoping to arouse 
her from her sleep, sliding my hands wherever they could reach - but 
to no avail. I suppose she could have been faking again. I got up and 
carried her to her bed, both of us still naked,  tucked her in (no 
whiskers), and went back to bed.
	The next morning I awoke alone with the sun shining in the 
through the window. From the angle, it looked like it was about 9:30. 
I put on some boxers, checked on the girls downstairs (still asleep), 
checked on Trish (still asleep), went back to my room and started 
picking up clothes and straightening up a little. 
	As I stood in the bathroom with the shower warming up, I heard 
the bedroom door close. It was Trish. With sleepy eyes and wild hair, 
she leaned against me, still naked. 
	"Good morning, sweet stuff."
	"Hmmm..., 'morning"
	I pushed her into the shower ahead of me and proceeded to 
soap-up and wash every square inch of her with my bare hands. (a few 
of the square inches got washed longer than others, and more than 
once). 
	The slippery sensations quickly revived her. 
	I asked her to wash my back. Taking my example, she washed 
my entire backside just like I had her, and then she turned me around. 
Washing her gave me a full erection, but now it was drooping. 
Standing on her tiptoes, soaped my shoulders and chest. She avoided 
my penis and washed my legs and feet. I rinsed off. 
	Being quite a bit shorter than I, the mist from the shower hitting 
me kept fouling her eyes, so I picked up all eighty pounds of her and 
held her like a child, straddling my hip.
	I felt the need for us to talk, to put things into perspective, 
considering we would not ever be doing this again. 
	"Trisha?"
	"Hmm?"
	"We need to talk about some things."
	"I know, don't tell anyone..." she said rather mockingly. 
	"Yes, but we already promised each other about that."
	"What then?"
	"I am going to be really sad for a long time not being able to be 
with you any more."
	"me too."
	"I just want you to know that if I don't talk to you very much at 
the games, and if it makes you feel like I don't like you, just 
remember this: I will always love you and even though we can't act 
like it anymore, I will always be thinking about you." 
	Trisha sniffed... Sniffed again..., then, resting her head on my 
shoulder, slowly began crying.  Her emotions infected me and tears 
streamed down my face. Between increasing sobs she managed to 
say: "I don't want to.  We can still see each other sometimes. Right?  
We can..."
	"No way. This is our only chance. If we keep seeing each other 
we will get caught. I have no doubt."
	Her crying softened as she processed what I was trying to tell 
her, coughing, snot hanging from her nose. 
	I took the time to explain to her that she will probably go 
through a period of being mad at me, or even hating me, and that that 
it is a normal human reaction when you feel like you've been 
abandoned by someone you care about. She said she would never feel 
that way, but I knew different.  I pulled her snot and made a rope 
from her nose about 2 feet long. We laughed until it hurt - completely 
forgetting about the basement full of girls right under us.  Yes, we 
would definitely get caught if we didn't stop. 


If you would like to show your support, all I ask is that you write to me using the link below. Tell me about your reading experience, ideas, or what we might have in common. Thank You.

http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Jem_Aura/www/mainpage/fbtrish.html



