Author: JojoMojo
Title: A Chance to Explore
Part: 1
Universe: A Chance to Explore
Summary: A Man befriends a little girl (or is it the other way around?).  Her natural curiosity awakens a repressed desire and he surprises himself by acting upon it.  
Keywords: Mg, pedo, cons, anal


A Chance To Explore
   by JojoMojo  
     
(Mg, ped, cons, anal?)


The following is completely and without a doubt a fictional account, 100 percent fantasy.  That said, as I write, I reflect on the things that I experienced as a child, what felt good and what did not.  Those experiences had a profound effect, and for the most part, I look back on them fondly.

Caring, fun, ecstasy is what I'm interested in, for all involved, or it's not worth doing or writing about.  

Copyright ©2008 by the author


My life changed when I moved to Atlanta.  Little did I know how many ways it would change as the years went by.  

The first difference was that in the years since graduating from college, Atlanta was the first place that I did well enough to buy a place of my own.  Not an apartment, but a real, honest to goodness house.  Nothing big, mind you, and it was in an older neighborhood.  But I preferred the neighborhood as I could afford more house than in the new subdivisions; and the lots were larger with mature trees.  

The first thing about the house that attracted me was that it was on a corner, a double lot.  The house stood a long way back from the street(it was there before they developed the area, back in the 1950s) and had very large front and side yards.  Being that I was single (and it seemed that it would be that way for the foreseeable future) I immersed myself in flower gardening (not a manly pursuit, I will admit).  I turned most of the front and side yards into an extensive, English-style flower garden.  

A little about my profession (another change realized upon my move to Atlanta, my reason for moving actually).  I am in medical sales.  I call on small to mid-sized doctor offices and clinics.  I provide everything from cotton swabs to examination tables.  

In my job, as long as I was meeting my quota, my boss didn't really care how many hours I worked.  I lucked into a territory that was well taken care of by the last sales rep (recently retired), who took me to every office and clinic and introduced me personally.  Let's just say that I had it made.  All that was required was to make sure I paid a visit to each customer once a month to take their orders.  

I kept a fairly extensive stock of the most commonly used items (at the suggestion of my mentor) to be distributed at a moment's notice in case of emergency.  You'd be surprised how often they'd forget to place an order and call in a panic.  "No problem, I'll drop by with a case right away," was a great way to keep their loyalty.  So, I made a reasonable living working three to four days a week; which left plenty of time during the other days to garden.  

Not to say that gardening was all I did.  The nights, evenings (and I admit a few daytime hours) were spent surfing the web and groups for photos, video clips and stories that fed my fantasy life.  Little did I know that my daylight and night-time "hobbies" would intersect.  That they did a little over three years after I moved in.  

As the first years passed, I was able to create quite a wonderful garden; a truly whimsical place.  There were paths winding through the flower beds and I had fun placing little "surprises" throughout the garden.  As you walked, you would come upon ceramic figures, from medium sized to very small -- gnomes, dragonflies, frogs, turtles, plaques etc.  After two years, I found I was spending more and more time building this magical place.  

The side benefit to all my work was that as it grew and I spent many daylight hours during the long growing season, the neighborhood kids began to stop by to look, wander the paths, ask questions.  I didn't mind the intrusion, I actually enjoyed it.  Their questions were simple, straight forward.  Some even began to help with small chores, carrying water, etc.  Eventually, some of my helpers began to take a sense of ownership.  I appreciated this as it meant less chance of vandalism.  Interestingly in hindsight, up to that point my nighttime fantasies never intruded on my daytime activities.  

My favorite visitor by far was Rebecca.  She began spending a lot of time in the garden the spring of my third year.  She mostly played in her own fantasy world along the paths, talking to the "creatures" (especially a little ceramic frog).  Rebecca was eight going on nine, in that magical world between little girl and big girl (but not a teen or even a tween with all the mood swings yet), switching between them when it was convenient for her.  She had long brown hair that hit the middle of her back when she didn't have it in a pony tail.  When it was down, it was full and wavy.  She had brown eyes that twinkled in an oval face and surprisingly full lips for her age.  Her skin was a pale olive.  It darkened as spring turned to summer and she spent time at the local pool.  

Rebecca was not skinny, but not chubby either, I guess you could call her a medium built.  She was, of course, built like most little girls her age, no development to speak of and as such, no real curves.  She was inclined to wear terrycloth shorts, tight around the waist but loose at the legs; and usually a tank top rather than a t-shirt.  You know the type, a ribbed affair, with a little lace or ribbon at the neck and arms, with flowers or polka dots.  I thought she was overall a totally cute, totally normal little girl.  

As she spent a fair amount of time in the garden with me, I eventually met her mother as a matter of course.  I found out that Rebecca was the youngest of four and that her single mom was happy to have a few hours without her underfoot, "as long as she isn't a bother for you" of course.  It seems that her brother and sisters were often involved in extra-curricular sporting activities which being the "artsy" type, Rebecca was not in the least bit interested in.  That left her at home, underfoot and bored.  I assured her mom that as long as I was outside working in the garden, Rebecca was welcome to drop by anytime.  When I wasn't in the garden, it usually meant that I was either visiting clients or working inside on paperwork, inventory, etc.  

On that day, the day that everything changed, it was early in the kid's summer vacation, far enough in that the kids had grown bored of TV and inside activities.  Rebecca, in particular seemed to watch for me and most days, not long after I came out and started working in the garden, she would appear and ask if she could help.  I loved watching her play and listening to her pretend conversations; it took me back to my childhood and reminded me of the hours I spent in my own made-up world.  

I'm not sure why I changed our procedure that day, maybe I was a little lonely and didn't realize it.  But when it was time to go in for a bite of lunch, I asked Rebecca if she'd like a sandwich (PB&J, of course).  She said "yes" and that she'd really like to see if the inside of my house was as neat as the outside.  

So, I told her to go home and ask permission before we had lunch.  Her mom called a short time later and after a brief conversation, she admitted that my timing was perfect.  The other children were all visiting friends' homes, and she needed to run errands and knew that Rebecca would hate having to accompany her.  She'd be gone two hours, three at the most.  I reassured her that it was not an intrusion and told her to send Rebecca over and promised to put her to work as soon as we finished lunch.  

Rebecca arrived and rang the doorbell.  As I opened the door, she was shuffling from one foot to the other, filled with anticipation.  So I welcomed her with much pomp then showed her around my house; a quick trip actually since it was just two large bedrooms (one converted to an office for work), kitchen, dining and living room.  We ended up at the kitchen table where I had two plates, sandwiches and milk ready to go.  

She was delighted to see that I already had our lunch set at the dinette.  When she asked for more chips part way through lunch, I obliged and opened the walk-in butler's pantry (large for that vintage house).  She was enthralled with the boxes of samples I had stacked on the shelves (how much pantry does a committed bachelor really need?).  The pantry was more my "warehouse" than pantry.  I guess the different shapes, sizes and colors caught her eye.  She of course asked what I had stored in there and I told her they were samples for my work.  
 
When she asked what I did, I explained and walked to the "warehouse" and picked out a few samples that I figured she'd recognize: cotton swabs, tongue depressors, alcohol wipes and a thermometer.  I let her pick up each item and we talked about them.  When we got to the thermometer, she said, "Yuck, I don't like to get my temperature taken." Then she continued, "I don't like the feeling under my tongue, it makes me feel like I'm gonna throw up." 

I innocently told her that there were other places where the temperature could be taken that wouldn't make her gag, thinking of under the arm or the new thermometers that were made for the ear canal.  She asked, "Like where?" 

I'm not sure why, but her question and the way she put it, brought to mind a long forgotten memory of playing doctor with a friend who had just gotten a "real" doctor's bag with a plastic thermometer.  I could distinctly remember how erotic it was when during a "doctor" session in his attic he let me "take his temperature" anally and asked that I reach under him as he lay on his stomach and "make him feel good." I could vividly remember the sensations I felt while watching as the thermometer bobbed up and down while he pumping against my hand.  At the same moment, I also had a distinct picture of Rebecca in a similar position.  

I was jolted out of my daydream with "Well, where else could you take my temperature?"

"As a matter of fact," I replied making a spur of the moment decision, "that thermometer is one of a new kind that is supposed to be much more comfortable and accurate.  I'm supposed to be conducting patient tests to report back to the company that makes it.  If you are willing, it would be easier to show you than to tell you.  And you'll be part of the official test!" 

She thought for a minute.  "Will it hurt?" she asked, in a voice that belied a little apprehension.  

"No of course not, silly," I replied with a smile, adding, "I could even pay you for your work.  You can pick out one of the animals from the garden for payment." 

"Even the frog?" she asked, eyes growing wide, referring to her favorite, a small green ceramic frog that "hid" under the plants on side of the house.  

"Yes, of course!" I replied, improvising, "But, we'll have to go back to my office for the test; that's where I have the instructions and the paper where I record the results." 

"OK, I'm done eating anyway," she said, taking one last gulp of milk before pushing back from the table.  As we walked down the hall, she slipped her hand into mine.  When her fingers touched mine, small in my hand, my heart started pounding and I'm sure my face turned red.  I was walking down the hall and into uncharted territory, not sure where it would lead.  

My office was in the larger of the two bedrooms, with an attached bath done in the requisite 1950s pink tile.  There were windows all along two sides of the office looking into the back and side yards.  Because of the sunlight, I kept the blinds closed most of the time, suffusing the room with a soft light.  My desk was in the center of the room with book cases on the wall to one side.  A recent addition stood to the left of the desk, a sample massage table I had set up earlier in the week.  I had assembled it as I wanted to test how easy it was to set up and how sturdy it was once up.  It proved to be serendipitous that I had been too lazy to take it down the same day.  As we entered the office, I glanced at the desk clock, 12:15 pm.  

I patted the table and said, "Why don't you sit right here.  I have to get a few things ready." Rebecca hopped up, pony tail bobbing, and without prompting, kicked off her sandals which hit the hardwood floor with twin clunks.  She swung her legs with nervous energy while she waited, looking around the office.  I pulled on a sample lab coat that I had placed on the back of my desk chair, and then sat at the desk.  I picked up some official looking literature (the instructions for the massage table to be exact), and pretended to read.  Closing the "test instructions", I picked up my leather bound ledger and a pen.  

"OK Rebecca, are you ready to start?" I asked.  

"Yes, do you need my name and stuff?" she asked, voice a little shaky.  

"No, I can't put your name down because the test is supposed to be anonymous, the names of the patients are kept secret as are the results.  They just need your age and gender; you are still eight and still a girl right?" I said with a smile.  

"I'll be nine before school starts and YES, I am a girl!" she said with a giggle.  

"Well, the first test, you probably won't like very much.  I need to take your temperature in your mouth." I said, as I turned the thermometer on, it beeped in reply.  "I'll be interested to see if you find this thermometer any better than the others.  Just take slow deep breaths through your nose and you'll do just fine," I said as I stood in front of her and slipped it into her mouth and under her tongue.  

"It shouldn't take too long," I finished as she closed her mouth around the thermometer.  She leaned forward and pressed her forehead into my chest.  I found my hand on her shoulder, stroking her hair and down her back until a minute or so later when the thermometer beeped again signaling that it was ready to be read.  With as much professionalism as I could muster, I pulled it out, read it, turned to the desk and recorded the temperature on my pad.  I reset the thermometer as I cleaned it with an alcohol wipe.  

"How was it in your mouth?" I asked.  

"Well, not much better than the time at the doctor's, really.  I'm sorry," she apologized.  

"That's exactly what they want; honest feedback," I said over my shoulder.  "I do need you to keep this confidential, like a secret, because the thermometer company doesn't want other companies to know about their new product." 

"OK, I won't say anything, but I don't know anybody who makes thermometers anyway," she said, swinging her legs as she shared in the straightforward way that kids do.  

I flipped the "instruction book" open again and consulted it for a second with my back to her, then placing the book back on the desk, I turned to face her.  "The next test will be much more comfortable," I said with a reassuring smile as I turned to face her again, "Have you ever heard of taking your temperature under your arm?" 

"No," she giggled, "that sounds silly.  Will it tickle?" 

"Not at all," I said, slipping the thermometer into her armpit, and pressing her arm against her side to keep it from slipping, "I can even take your temperature in your ear with the right instrument.  This one is not made for that, though." Again, she leaned against me, this time placing her cheek on my chest.  I stroked her hair as we waited, enjoying the closeness.  Too soon, the beep came and I again recorded the temperature on my pad, reset and cleaned the thermometer.  

I picked up the "instruction book" and read for a moment, put it down and cleared my throat.  "Here goes," I thought.  "Umm, well I guess that's all, unless..., well, uh...," I let my voice trail off as I turned to her trying to look flustered.  

"What?" she said, "that can't be all the tests; you are only half way through that instruction book." 

"Well," I paused a little doing my best to look uncomfortable.  "I hadn't read it all before I asked you and I don't think it is appropriate to continue with the next test.  I don't really want to ask you, and anyway I think you're a little too young." 

"I'm almost nine, I'm not a little girl!" she exclaimed.  

"No, that's OK," I stated, "You can have the frog anyways.  I'm sorry I didn't think this all the way through.  I don't think your Mom would want you to do the next test." 

"But, that wouldn't be fair," she said defiantly.  "I want to finish the test." 

"Well, the problem is..." I let the thought linger.  "If we start the next part, I really need for you to finish the remaining tests and I'm afraid once I explain it, you won't want to do it and you'll be mad at me for even asking," I said, placing my hand on her arm.  "I don't want to ruin our friendship over a stupid thermometer test.  Let's just go back to the kitchen and have some ice cream." 

I waited for what seemed like an eternity.  She looked up at me and said in a soft voice, "I won't be mad and I don't think you're stupid." 

"Well, OK then," I said trying to sound reluctant.  "The next place I'm supposed to test the thermometer," I paused, lowering my voice, "is, umm, in your bottom." I let my voice fall off, sounding embarrased.  I stole a look at her face.  I could see that she was processing things.  "See?" I continued, "I told you it was stupid." 

She sat for a moment or two longer then looked down and said in a soft voice, "I'm not supposed to pull my pants down for anybody.  I got in trouble before school was out because Mom caught Ricky (her 10-year-old brother) and me looking at each other with our pants down." With this she paused and looked up at me then quickly back down, her lip quivering a little.  "She gave me a really hard spanking and grounded me for a whole week, no TV or anything." I reached down and lifted her chin so I could look into her eyes.  
 
"I don't want you to get in trouble," I said gently, "That's why I stopped after I read the last instructions."  I paused, then put my hand on her shoulder and looked her straight in the eye, "But, as I told you I have to keep these tests confidential, or secret, so if it helps at all you can be sure that I won't tell anyone." I left the last sentence hanging.  

She sighed, looked at the floor and with a small voice said, "Well then, I guess you can do it."  Looking up quickly, she asked, "It won't hurt will it?" 

I breathed a small sigh of relief and told her, "No, of course not, this is supposed to be a comfortable thermometer.  If any of the tests hurt, you're supposed to let me know and we will stop that test."

"So, are you really sure?" I asked.  She just nodded.  I patted the head of the table and said, "Lay down on your tummy, and then scoot all the way up so your feet are on the table." She slowly turned to lay down, moved up the table and placed her cheek on her crossed arms facing me, waiting.  I walked to the bathroom and got a tube of lubricant, and placed it in the pocket of my coat.  

Back at the desk, I picked up the "instruction book" and pretended to read while I looked down at her.  She was lying with her legs relaxed and slightly parted.  Her lime green terry shorts outlined her bottom perfectly, flaring slightly at the legs.  Her legs were beginning to tan as were her arms and neck.  I could even see up her legs to where a little flash of white panties with flowers were hiding.  

She took a deep breath and said, "Well, are you going to start?" 

I suddenly had the desire to make time move more slowly.  "I'm going to take this in steps, I don't want you to be too nervous," I said as I hooked my fingers under the waistband of her shorts and pulled gently.  

She lifted her hips slightly as I continued, "I'm just going to start by pulling down your shorts.  I won't pull them down any further than I need to.  You can tell me when you feel ready for the next step." I gently slid her shorts down to just above her knees revealing her panty clad bottom.  Her panties were white cotton, and the pink flowers I had glimpsed were scattered across her round buns.  I placed my hand on the small of her back, just above the two dimples that I had hoped would be there, pushing her top up a little and rubbed gently.  

I had to work hard at not breathing too heavily, just looking at her in her panties.  She looked so perfect, her skin smooth and lightly tan; her buns clearly defined under the cotton panties were nicely rounded; the extra cloth of her panties bunched a little in her crotch.  I was sure at that moment that I had never seen anything so pretty.  

She sighed again and said, "That feels good where you're rubbing my back.  I guess I'm ready." 

That was all I needed.  I slipped my fingers under the elastic of her panties and pulled down.  She lifted again and as they came down, she seemed to become suddenly shy and pressed her legs together.  The panties stuck for a moment, then came the rest of the way down, inside out, to rest on top of her shorts.  Her buns were perfectly rounded, white against the tan skin.  Those tan lines at her legs and back made her bottom seem off limits.  I felt awed to be seeing what I assumed very few had seen.  

"I need to check you first," I said, improvising, I just had to touch her.  I placed one hand on each cheek, next to the cleft made by her buns and she tensed a little at my touch.  Her skin was soft and warm, "Try to relax a little bit, I know this is kind of embarrassing." 

She let her legs relax and I could see between them to the hint of her vulva.  I gently pulled her buns apart and was greeted by a beautiful view of her anus.  It was slightly darker than the surrounding skin, puckered with little creases surrounding her tightly closed opening.  I let go, rubbing her buns and back to calm her.  I picked up a throw pillow from my desk chair, put my hand under her hip and pulled up gently; she anticipated my intent and lifted her hips.  As I slipped the pillow under her hips I looked at her again.  As she settled on the pillow her legs fell open a little farther.  With her hips raised resting on the pillow, her cheeks were now held slightly open giving me a clear view of her anus down to the lips and cleft of her vulva.  

Without thinking, I bent close and breathed in.  Her aroma, made up of the slight musk of her vulva, the smell of her bottom and that of her clean skin and panties, transported me back to times long ago when as a child I played doctor with the neighbor girls.  I had to resist reaching under her hips to stroke her vulva.  

"OK, everything looks fine," I finally said, "are you comfortable?" 

She just nodded, looking a little apprehensive.  I picked up the thermometer and placed a little lube on it.  I took another dab and said, "This may be a little cold," as I rubbed it around her anus pushing gently and feeling the resistance.  She took a quick breath, but remained silent.  "Now this may feel a little uncomfortable," I said as I pushed the thermometer against her pucker.  My heart pounded as the tip entered her.  I pushed gently, slipping the thermometer in a little further.  

"Keep taking nice slow deep breaths, while I get it set," I said as soothingly as I could.  I had to work hard to keep a tremor of excitement out of my voice.  I continued to slowly push the thermometer deeper, rubbing her buns and lower back with my free hand.  It was all I could do to keep from pumping it slowly in and out.  I didn't want things to end too soon, so I turned the thermometer off as I pushed it in a little further.  

It was almost half way in before she jerked a little and said, "That's hurting my bottom a little." 

"Sorry, honey," I replied as I pulled it back out a little bit.  "The directions say to put it in as deep as possible.  Does it feel OK now?" 

"It's OK but it feels a little funny," she said in a wispy voice.  

I looked down at her bottom and began to stroke with one hand, from her panties up her thigh, across her bun to her back, down the other side to her panties, then across to her thigh again, letting my fingers trail at the base of her bottom, almost touching her vulva.  She lay there for a while and I kept rubbing round and round, hypnotized by the scene, her bottom and the thermometer framed by her shirt and panties, enjoying the feel of her skin and buns, drinking it all in.  

After a few minutes, she spoke up, "Isn't it supposed to be done by now?" 

"Hmmm," I stalled, "the batteries may not be as good as I thought.  But, they are brand new." I slipped my hand onto the thermometer and pressed the button.  It beeped and I exclaimed, "well, you have perfect timing, it is done," as I slipped the thermometer slowly out.  

She started to reach for her pants.  "Is that the last test?" 

I touched her hand to stop her, "No, there is a little more.  Just lay still while I write this down." I cleaned the thermometer with an alcohol wipe and put it into the pocket of the lab coat.  

I turned back to her, "You did great on that test.  Are you getting cold?" 
"No," she said her cheek still resting on her arms, "I feel fine." 

I rubbed her back for a minute or two, purposely keeping my hands to the small and middle of her back, kneading gently.  I think she knew what was coming next, maybe it was from playing doctor with her brother.  Nevertheless, when I put my hand under her hip and lifted to pull the pillow out, she rolled onto her back.  I could feel her legs press tightly together again, so I fought the urge to look down between her legs and instead looked directly into her eyes, leaving my hand on her hip, fingers pointing toward but not touching her vulva.  

"This next part might be a little embarrassing, I'm afraid.  Are you still OK doing it?" She nodded, her eyes seemed to grow deeper and darker as I looked into them.  

"I need to ask you another question, before we do any more tests." I paused, and then went on.  "Have you ever rubbed yourself down here?" I asked brushing across her vulva.  She jumped a little, pursed her lips and looked away, her face coloring.  "You can tell me, remember, these tests are confidential." She looked back at me and I could see her struggling.  I rubbed gently on her thigh, making sure I used enough pressure to keep it from tickling.  

She took a deep breath and said "sometimes," so quietly I almost missed it.  Then a little louder, "But you have to promise not to tell my mom, she caught me once and spanked me and told me only bad girls touch there." I said a silent thanks to Mom as I knew now that what happened here would not be shared.  

"Don't worry about that," I said as I continued to look in her eyes, my hand stroking her thigh, "Tell you what, I'll share a secret with you if you promise not to tell.  She nodded and I continued, "When I was your age, I liked to rub myself there too!" 

"Really?" she looked incredulous.  

"Yes, and it felt real, real good.  But promise you won't tell." 

"I won't," she said seriously.  

"So, when you rub down there does it feel good to you, too?" I asked conspiratorially.  She just nodded.  "Does it feel better and better until you feel like it will explode, or does it just feel good, then get softer, then good again, then softer, kind of up and down?" 

"It feels better and better, then it feels almost too good, then I feel kind of tired and sweaty," she said softly, a little embarrassed, "I like to do it before I fall asleep when no one else is around.  But it makes my fingers smell funny and I'm always afraid my mom will figure out what I've been doing." 

As she shared her secret, I could feel her legs relax a little.  I moved my rubbing to her inner thigh, going almost to her vulva, down to her panties, then back up again.  She relaxed more, and her legs fell a little farther apart, in the universal sign that she was ready for more direct touching.  I rubbed up around and across her stomach, still not looking down at her, and felt her raise up into my hand.  I slid my finger down the cleft of her vulva and back to her thigh.  

"It feels good when you touch my vava," she said softly with a little tremor in her voice.  

"So that's what you call it, your vava?" I asked.  She nodded.  "Then that's what I'll call it too," I said, smiling slightly, "that's a good name."

"Let's do the next test, are you ready?" I asked softly, moving my hands to her pants and panties.  She nodded.  "I'll need to pull your pants down a little farther for this one.  I hope that is OK," I said, pulling them down to her ankles without waiting for permission.  It was only then that I allowed myself to look at her.  I continued stroking up her inner thighs, then from her anus up the cleft, across her vulva, onto her stomach and back down; every so often, she would raise into my stroke slightly.  

As I rubbed, I pushed her tank top up until I could just see her sternum.  Her stomach was starting to tan, it was flat and smooth with a thin layer of baby fat.  Her navel was a cute innie.  My eyes swept down, taking in her beauty.  The tan lines on her stomach and front of her legs were not as pronounced as those on her back, but still gave enough contrast to make her vulva look creamy white.  She had a pronounced mons, the cleft of her vulva ended with a small dimple at the top; her clitoral hood, wrinkled and deep pink, peeked out of the middle of her cleft.  

I could see a little reddening on her vulva, the beginning of her heightened state of excitement.  "I need you to spread your legs wide apart," I said as I slipped my hands down her bare legs and pulled out on the inside of her knees.  She spread her legs apart until the soles of her feet were pressed together, held there by the shorts around her ankles.  As she spread her legs, her vulva opened and I could see the pink opening of her vagina.  Her clitoral hood stood out, giving way to tiny labia minor, her inner lips still waiting to be awakened by puberty, framing her vaginal opening.  It was moist but not wet by any means.  

"Do you need to check me there too?" she asked quietly.  I rubbed my hand over and around her vagina, pausing at the opening and applying a gentle pressure with my little finger.  "Does this hurt at all?" I asked.  

"It feels funny, like it might hurt if you push harder," she answered, her voice a little more confident.  

"OK, that's how it is supposed to feel, so I think we can start the next test," I said, releasing her and picking up the thermometer, "Are you ready?" 

She her lips and took a breath, "Ricky poked his finger in my vava once and it hurt.  I don't want this to hurt." 

"Don't worry," I said trying to sound authoritative, "He probably pushed his finger straight into your vava.  To do it right, so it doesn't hurt, you have to go down a little rather than straight in.  I'll go real slow and stop if you tell me it hurts.  Okay?" 

She nodded and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in preparation.  I pulled the thermometer out of my pocket, made sure it was off, and then applied a little lubricant, covering the tip and about half way up the shaft.  


"OK, here we go," I said placing my hand on her vulva, fingers on each side of her vagina pulling it open a little more.  I rested the tip of the thermometer on the opening of her vagina, "Are you okay so far?" She let out her breath slowly and nodded slightly.  

I pointed the tip slightly down, following the canal carefully, and began to slide it in, little by little.  She shifted a little and I stopped pushing, "Is it still okay?" I asked.  

She nodded again.  "We're almost there, just a little further," I soothed and pushed the thermometer in until I came to the point where it flared out for the display.  "There we go," I said as I slid my fingers off her vulva and onto her inner labia, massaging slightly, bringing them up and down inside her lips, "It says in the instructions that this may take a little longer than the last test; does it feel okay?" 

She nodded, "It feels different, but it doesn't hurt like I was afraid it would." 

I rubbed up and over her mons, then took both hands and rubbed her sides and belly, all the way up to her shoulders, finally pushing her top up far enough to expose her chest.  I continued to rub up and down, massaging gently, but firmly enough to keep from tickling.  Her eyes were completely closed, her lips slightly parted.  She seemed to be enjoying the sensations.  The skin on her chest was creamy white.  The tan lines made her look particularly cute where the top had covered her non-existent breasts.  The dime sized areolas were just slightly darker than her skin, almost translucent with almost invisible tiny nipples in the middle.  

I pulled my hands away completely and just looked at her.  I could feel a lump rise in my throat as I took it all in: her chest rising and falling with her breath, her legs spread wide, feet together, panties and shorts bunched up around her ankles.  The thermometer looked almost obscene sticking out of her vagina, the lips held open around it by her spread legs.  The creamy white of her vulva was slightly reddened from my rubbing, contrasting with the deeper pink of her inner lips and vagina.  Her clitoris seemed larger, hardened slightly by the stimulation, the hood still folded around it, hiding it from view.  I alternated between stroking between her lips and rubbing gently on her anus and perineum.  

After a little while, she said, "it feels best when you go up and down inside my vava," in a little voice as she moved her hips.  

"OK," I said, going back to her vagina with my fingers, "we should be almost done with this part of the test." 

As I rubbed, she began to move her hips a little more, "That's okay if it takes longer, this feels nice." I rubbed for a few more minutes, and then pushed the button.  I figured that she was ready for the last part of the "test." The thermometer beeped obligingly and I pulled it out slowly, placing it in my pocket again.  

Her eyes fluttered open, looking a little dreamy, "We aren't done yet, are we?" she asked, sounding disappointed.  

"No, we have one more test to do," I answered, looking straight into her eyes, "you need to be really relaxed for this one, I think it will feel better than the rest from what the instructions say." I continued softly, "Honey, I need you to roll over onto your tummy again." 

She complied languidly and settled onto the table, legs relaxed and a little apart.  I rubbed her back and sides, kneading slightly as I worked my way down to her bottom.  I worked on her buns a little, working them open, then closed, enjoying the view.  She closed her eyes and moved with the motion of my hands.  I worked down farther rubbing on the inside of her thighs letting my fingers caress her lips, then down her thighs and calves.  I repeated the process several times.  On the last time, as I rubbed between her legs she pushed up, exposing her clitoris to my waiting touch.  I rubbed her clitoris in little circles, watching her hips move to maximize the sensation.  

"I think you are ready now, keep your bottom up like that for a minute," I said as I pulled the thermometer out of my pocket and applied a little more lubricant.  I slipped it into her bottom again, moving a little faster than before, pushing gently until it was almost half way in.  

"Feel okay?" I asked softly.  
 
"Umm hmm," she replied, "it doesn't hurt at all, it feels kinda good."

I rubbed across the small of her back, down her buns to her thighs.  She rose to meet me as I slid one hand between her legs.  "This last test is a little different," I said as I went back to rub her buns and thighs, "It is supposed to test the comfort level as the thermometer goes in.  So I'm supposed to pull it almost out, and then push it back in again several times.  I'll go real slowly so it shouldn't hurt.  Are you ready to start?" 

She nodded, cheek on her arms, looking at me.  I was glad for the lab coat as without it, my arousal would have been prominent and right at eye level for her.  "I think it will be more comfortable if you spread your legs a little and use your knees to push your bottom in the air," I said, placing a hand under her hip.  She pulled her legs apart, placing her knees at opposite edges of the table and raising her bottom, while keeping her chest against the table.  I slid my hand from her hip under her stomach, across her mons and ran my fingers down the cleft of her vulva.  She pushed into my hand, obviously enjoying the sensation.  

With my other hand, I pulled the thermometer out until the tip was just inside the opening of her anus, then pushed it back in, starting a slow pumping motion.  I could feel my pulse thundering in my temples as I watched, eyes focusing first on the thermometer going in and out of her bottom, then at my fingers caressing her vulva.  Her hips started moving more rhythmically, matching the motion of the thermometer and my finger on her clitoris.  Her eyes were half closed and her breathing became more ragged.  I could tell she was building in arousal and found after a few minutes that I was changing my rubbing to match the increasing rhythm of her hips.  

She was humping my hand harder and harder, I was mostly holding the thermometer in place, making sure it was angled correctly as she moved up and down bringing it in and out of her anus as she moved.  Her half closed eyes looked glassy and I could tell she was focused inward, on the sensations that were starting to overcome her.  At the point where I felt she was reaching a climax, I slowly pulled the thermometer completely out.  This seemed to be what she needed as she squeezed her eyes shut, held her breath, grunted softly, then tensed, pulling her legs together and pushing her vulva hard into my hand.  

I dropped the thermometer into my pocket and began rubbing her back, buns and legs while murmuring, "Good, good, that's real good," over and over.  After what seemed a long time, she relaxed, let her breath out in a long sigh and opened her eyes dreamily.  I slowly withdrew my hand from her vulva and used both to rub her back as she sank down onto the table with a sigh.  

"Well, that's the end of the tests, do you feel okay?" I asked with a smile.  

"U-huh, that felt really, really good" she sighed, "I didn't think the test would feel so good.  Was I supposed to do that?" 

"Probably not," I confessed, "but that's okay.  You did a great job on the tests, thank you for trusting me." 

"Remember, you promised not to tell my mom," she said lifting her head to look up at me.  

"Don't worry," I said with a serious tone, "I wouldn't think of it.  I don't want to get either of us in trouble.  " I helped her to sit up on the table, swinging her feet over the edge and steadying her for a minute.  "Hey, I bet you're thirsty, want a glass of Kool-Aid?" 

"I am thirsty, but I think I want some ice cream, too, we never had dessert," she said, dropping off the table and nonchalantly bending over to pull up her pants.  

I marveled that in that short time on the table she had lost all modesty with me.  I took her hand in mine, "How about a root beer float?" I offered, "that would take care of your thirst and you'd get ice cream too.  Then we need to go find that frog!" 

As we walked out of the office, I glanced at the clock, 1:00 on the nose.  Just forty five minutes since we entered the office and I had entered a whole new world.  



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