Author: Pervitron
Title: Beach Balls
Summary:  Femdom fans will love this one. I don't want 
to tell you what this one's about. Just start reading. 
When you reach the end, you'll need a shower!! 
Keywords: Mf, femdom, ped, interr, exhib, viol, humil, nosex

--
  WARNING: The following story contains graphic descrip- 
 tions of a sexual nature. It is intended for mature 
 persons only. Any persons not old enough to legally 
 receive adult materials or who are offended by them 
 should read no farther. Further distribution of this 
 story--and all others of this nature by this author--is 
 permissible only to appropriate persons and only if the 
 contents and author credit are unchanged. 

 NOTES: 

 1. Copyright (c) April 2000 - 2008. 

 2. The persons and situations depicted in this story 
 are entirely fictitious. Any similarities to actual 
 persons or situations are completely unintentional and 
 coincidental. 

 3. Reader comments and feedback are always encouraged; 
 send to Pervitron@Hotmail.com 
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Pervitron/

 4. This story may be copied for free distribution, 
 provided the author credit is retained. 

 5.  This is a FANTASY.  People do not act like this in real 
life, nor should they. 
  
                     Beach Balls 
                     by Pervitron 

  

Michelle Johnson liked what she was seeing. 

Her daughter Keesha was getting lots of attention. Now that Michelle 
was laying face down on the towel, the attention of the men on the beach 
had shifted from Michelle to the curvy little twelve-year-old who was 
standing in the sand next to her, undressing. 

Michelle had chosen this spot because of all the men that were nearby - 
Michelle loved to be watched. When she and Keesha got out of the car, 
Michelle stripped to her bikini right away, so she could fox her way 
through the parking lot. She loved showing off her body; she loved the 
stares she got, the second looks. She was a dancer in an adult video 
store; for four hours a day she shook her black ass every which way, 
working the men behind the glass. She knew how to read their faces, 
she knew from their eyes what they wanted. Some men liked her to 
spread her pussy lips, they loved the sight of wet pink flesh against 
black skin. Some got off on the sound she made slapping her tight little 
ass. And then there were the other men, the ones she liked best - the 
ones that needed a good talking to. She'd see it in their eyes, that 
secret hunger they didn't even know they had. She'd lean close to the 
glass, and say the sorts of things nice girls wouldn't say: "C'mon, 
gimmie $10. . .Whatcha want, white boy?" Then, depending on their 
reaction: ". . .Wanna kiss my ass?" There was a certain type of man 
that liked to be spoken to like that. Michelle would spit the words out 
and she'd watch their eyes glaze over. Their face would go slack for a 
moment, lost in some little-boy feeling. And then she knew. She knew 
just how to work a "man" like this. The music would be pulsing, she'd 
hear the girls in the adjacent booths dancing around, but Michelle would 
get real quiet. She'd lean down from her raised dance area and put her 
face near the little window that they looked through. She'd speak 
softly to him, looking deeply into his eyes. "Whatsa matta wit you? Yo 
thing not workin' no mo?" She didn't even have to get undressed for 
them; she didn't even have to dance. No, once she started talking like 
that it was all they wanted, all they'd dreamed of. She'd smirk at them 
as they started masturbating in the darkness below the window. "You 
rubbin' that dirty little thing?" And they'd be so ashamed! So flushed, 
as if masturbating in a place like that was something wrong! "You wanna 
do that you betta push some bills through!" And the bills would start 
coming, and she'd glare at them with contempt. "Dat all you got?" 
They'd push some more through, and if it was enough she'd do her thing. 
She'd push her ass up against the glass, she'd bend way over and look at 
him from underneath. "I need a good lickin' down there. Yeah, you be 
good for that." By now they'd  really be going at it, not trying to 
hide what they were doing down there in the dark. Michelle knew her 
boys well; she made sure they emptied their wallets before they 
spilled their stuff. 

They were good customers, those boys. Boys like that would come almost 
every day, and they'd come only for her. 

Today, though, they'd be disappointed - it was Michelle's day off. 
Summer was ending too quickly, there wouldn't too many more days like 
this, days when she and Keesha could stretch out in the sand and feel 
the sun reach all the way down inside them. The spot Michelle chose was 
littered with white trash families that were visiting from up north. 
The couples sat near the shore so the mothers could watch their kids dig 
in the wet sand. The men pretended to watch, but whenever a nice piece 
of ass walked by they would forget all about the kids. And Michelle was 
the nicest piece on the beach. 

At least until Keesha started undressing. 

She did it just like Michelle told her. Slow, like she was going to take 
all day. Catch their attention early. Give them time to notice. Keesha 
was a little dark Cleopatra, her black face was hidden beneath the droop 
of her thick Jamaican braids. Her skin was the color of coffee, and 
Michelle and her daddy had combined to give her body the most perfect 
shape. Michelle was a little heavy around her thighs, and her legs were 
a bit too short, but Keesha got the lower part of her body from her 
daddy, and so she was perfect. First she pulled her white T-shirt over 
her head, exposing her shapely black torso. Every stomach muscle was 
tight and defined, and yet her overall shape still had the grace of a 
child. Every man on the beach was looking her way. 

There was one man that took particular notice. A middle aged man, in 
his early forties. Michelle could see that his wife was talking to him, 
saying something about the toddler that was sitting in the surf a few 
yards away. He wasn't paying the slightest attention--his interest was 
elsewhere. He wasn't staring. No, he knew Keesha was a child, and he 
shouldn't. Still, his eyes would never wander far from her, every 
second or so they would flit back, to catch another quick look at 
Keesha's latest move. 

The best part was now. Keesha shimmied out of her shorts. She had her 
back to the man, and his mouth dropped when he saw her. The little 
girl was wearing the thong that Michelle bought for her. It was just a 
thin green strip pulled invisibly up between her cheeks. His eyes 
locked on her, and this time they didn't look away. Bingo. He couldn't 
look away now. Keesha had the sort of butt men dream of. Even at twelve 
she had the full shape, the full moonlike crescents that invite dark 
wishes. 

Keesha kicked her shorts aside, and bent down to lay face down in the 
sand, hesitating slightly to give the man a nice underside peek as she 
did so. Michelle sat up and started rubbing lotion on her daughter. It 
was noon, the heat of the sun had burned away the morning haze. She 
rubbed the lotion into her hands, and then applied it gently all around 
her back. Michelle untied the bow string of Keesha's top, so she could 
draw her open hands freely along the length of her shoulders. She 
slowed down as she proceeded, taking her time down the valley of her 
lower back, until she got where she wanted to go. It was nice to care 
for Keesha like this. Loving, intimate attention. She slowed down, 
spreading the lotion all over Keesha's ass while she talked about the 
way she undressed. Michelle told Keesha how beautiful she was, and she 
told her about all the men on the beach. How closely they all watched 
her, and how each one seemed to find one particular part of her body to 
focus on. Keesha had her eyes closed. Michelle knew she was listening 
closely to everything she said. She continued rubbing her ass gently, 
softly, feeling the slight brush of the tiny light hairs that were lit 
by the sun. Michelle told her she was so beautiful, so perfect, that 
there were men that would see her for a brief moment, and then never 
forget her. She'd be the model of all they wanted, and no other woman 
would ever do. She told her about the nearby man, the one that looked 
the hardest. The way his mouth dropped when she pulled her shorts down. 

Even now he was watching, even with her back turned Michelle could feel 
his attention. He was studying her while his wife continued to drone 
on. He ignored her chatter while he watched, riveted by the sight of 
what Michelle was doing to Keesha. 

Michelle spotted it the first time he looked at her little girl. 

It was that look -- the look of one of her boys. 

                  ============ 

Rick Williams couldn't stop thinking of the little black girl. He was 
shuffling through the hot sand, heading towards the high dunes that 
stood between the beach and the parking lot. The concession stand was 
on the other side of the dunes. He told his wife that he needed to buy 
some cigarettes. But what he really needed was to be by himself, to 
get away from that girl, it was like she was teasing him. There was 
something about her, some precocious seductiveness that stirred him up 
inside. 

Some time ago, Rick had started to take an interest in young girls. 
The older he got, the more attractive they seemed. Sex with his wife 
had become routine. He'd be on top of her, frantically pushing into that 
old pussy, hunting within himself for some blend of sensation and inner 
fantasy that would set him off. So he'd be done. Sex with her had an 
almost desperate quality now. He was afraid that he was becoming 
impotent; It seemed to take longer and longer to get hard. And he was 
never sure of himself. Just the slightest look of impatience, or worse 
boredom, on his wife's part, and he'd lose it. And God, did he hate the 
moments after that. Silence so heavy he could barely breathe, she 
wouldn't even look at him. 

But young girls! He was always watching. He'd be at the mall, and spot 
some little cupcake. At first it was just a curiosity, he liked their 
cuteness, their fresh faces, the way their eyes sparkled over their 
little turned up noses. That's how it started. But soon darker 
feelings rose up in him, his body began to react to the way they walked, 
the way their butts moved in their shorts. He thought of them when he 
masturbated, he imagined rubbing his cock along their soft inner 
crevices. No, there would be no problem getting hard with one of them; 
there was magic in those tight, blossoming petals, and eyes that looked 
to you without expectations, without demands. Especially if you were 
the first man to get inside. 

And he was hard now, thinking of that little black one. She was 
probably no more than thirteen. Imagine, wearing a thong at that age! 
What was her mother thinking letting her wear something like that? 
Especially with an ass like that! Back on the beach he saw a few other 
men look at her, they'd be walking along the edge of the water, and 
they'd see that perfect black ass shimmering in the sun. They'd slow 
their pace, they would settle in for a good long look, and then they'd 
realize how old she was. But then instead of staring, leering, they'd 
take these quick looks. After a minute they'd notice Rick, they'd 
realize they were both looking at the same thing. They'd exchange a 
silent glance, a secret understanding. Yeah, I like that stuff too. 
Yeah, imagine the way that your dick would feel inside that little 
honey. 

Rick was at the concession stand now; he took a place in line behind a 
couple of nine year old girls. They were both strawberry blondes, and 
a full summer in the sun had given their small bodies the color of wet 
sand. They were both wearing bikinis, one was white with a pattern of 
blood-red cherries, and the other was bright blue, and both the top and 
bottom were just thin panels held together with strings and a few large 
bows. Christ, what was with the world today? Nine-year-olds putting 
it out there right in front of you. They were fooling around; they were 
giggling and pushing each other. Rick wondered if one of them would 
get pushed against him. Against his hardon. He was thinking of this 
when he felt an inner shiver. 

That little black girl was walking this way. 

He turned and watched her, coming through the gap in the sand dunes. 
Her hips rocked with a graceful sway. He looked down and admired the 
shape of her legs, the bends and the curves of them as she strode his 
way. Strange, but now that his wife wasn't around and he could stare 
directly, something came alive in him that he hadn't felt in years. 
Boldness. Daring. He knew he was as hard as a rock in his shorts, and 
it felt so good! So fuckin' good! He felt like a kid again. Loaded, 
like he was 17, and could hammer away at pussy all night long. He felt 
so alive! Especially when he looked at her mound, the neon green of her 
thong pulled tight against it, showing the fullness of her black snatch. 
He felt like a young buck. 

He was still looking back towards her, and he smiled at her as she 
approached. "What the hell," he thought, "I'll be two hundred miles 
away tomorrow." His vacation was over, tomorrow morning he'd be back in 
the van with his wife, back to a life that had already chrushed him. 
She got on line behind him, she seemed to smile back at him ever so 
slightly, and then look down. A firefly moment. But maybe it was it his 
imagination. He looked closely at her -- her eyes were hidden the by 
long thick braids that fell around her face. 

"What's your name?" The words just came out of him. So strange, like it 
was another person speaking. . . 

"Keesha." Now she looked at him, there was a brief flash of white 
within her dreadlocks before she looked down again. 

Finger lickin' good. 

The nine year olds in front of him picked up some sodas and walked away. 
Rick looked at the woman at the counter. "Pack of Kools." She looked 
at the two of them a minute. He realized that she probably heard him say 
hello to the little girl and she was watching, wondering what was going 
down. He stared coldly at her, until she turned and got the cigarettes. 
"Fuckin' busybody," he thought to himself. He turned back to Keesha, 
glancing down at her little tits. They were tiny, but her nipples were 
huge, poking through the microthin green top like birthday candles. 
The woman got his cigarettes and gave them to him with a quick, 
irritated toss. 

"Hey mista, can I have one of them?" 

She was staring at him with bright, knowing eyes. Rick's heart started 
slamming in his chest. He looked back at her, he saw the light in her 
unblinking eyes, and everything changed. Yes, she was a little minx. 
There was no way he could turn his back on something this fine. He'd 
never forget her. 

"Sure." He took the pack out of his pocket, and took one out. He held 
it in his hand, not offering it, hesitating, because a thought rose in 
him. He could feel the stare of the woman in the stand behind him, but 
he didn't care. "I mean, you're kind of young to be smoking. Maybe 
we. . ." - he started shaking - ". . .can go. . ." - he could feel the 
pulse in his temples - ". . .s-s-somewhere?" 

She looked up at him. She knew. 

Oh God! He felt like he was stepping off a cliff. 

"Yeah. . ." She pointed to a small building made of cinder blocks that 
sat within another row of dunes. It was a beach club; there were 
showers on  either side of the building, with rows of  windows along 
the top, way  above eye level. There was high beach grass all around 
the building that would hide them. ". . .Yeah, we be by ourselves 
over behind there." 

She started to walk, and he followed her.  Time seemed to stop for him, 
he could feel the heat of the sand on his bare feet. There was a slight 
salty breeze, a breeze that carried a part of him away. The world he 
knew, his wife and family and job seemed so distant now. He followed 
her, looking at the shiny globes of her ass. 

He knew he would cross a boundary here, something frightening. She was 
just a kid, but, Jesus, there was something devilish about her. He 
hadn't been this hard in years. He knew he'd be leaving tomorrow, 
there was no way the police could find him. This was his chance. He 
wanted to do it, really do it, just once more before he died. 

Every once in a while she'd turn and glance back at him. He'd look up 
from her ass, and see those eyes, and the shy little smile on her face. 

They walked down the right side of the building. He could hear the 
running water through the windows above his head. 

When she got around the back of it, she turned and faced him. He 
offered her the cigarette - he'd kept it in his hand all during their 
walk, and it was slightly bent from the unconscious tension in his hand. 
She leaned back against the wall. The early afternoon sun fell across 
her body like a spotlight, showing every bend, every curve. She put it 
in her mouth, and he struck a match, and lit it. She took a few slow 
puffs, looking not at him, but down at the sand. 

"What you want, mista?" Her eyes flew up at him; this was a look of 
boldness, she was leaning against the wall, waiting. Her lips were 
long and full, she licked her tongue along them quickly, and he knew 
what he wanted. Still, he was unsure of this. 

"E-E-Ever seen a guy's dick?" 

The moment was filled with faraway surf and the shrieks of distant 
children. 

"Lets see what you got." 

Christ! 

He reached his hands down by his hips, and started lowering his trunks. 
Slowly, watching the reaction on her face, listening to the faraway beach 
sounds, and the call of the seagulls circling above them. He exposed 
his hair, and then pulled his trunks down against the length of his 
cock, which sprang free when he pushed them down far enough. 

She was only as tall as his shoulder. He stood there showing himself, 
showing her what men are like down there, what men really wanted. He 
waited for the reaction in her face. Looking for the surprise, or the 
shock at the sight of something so big, so rude. Something she'd be 
dealing with for the rest of her life. 

The little black girl just looked down at it. She took a drag on her 
cigarette. 

And she started to smile. 

"Shit. That is one SORRY-ASSED LITTLE THING!" 

His mouth fell open in shock, he could feel the heat rise on his skin. 

"FUCK, I seen bigger dicks in fuckin' GRAMMER SCHOOL." 

He could feel the blood rush to his cheeks, the pulse he had been 
feeling in his cock was now up in his face, an open wound of shame. 
Little bitch! 

She looked up at him, still leaning back against the wall. Seeing his 
reaction, liking what she did to him. Flicking, snake-like eyes flashing 
contempt. 

"Man, get that USELESS PEICE OF SHIT outta my face!" 

Cunt! Fucking little black cunt! Her laughter cut into him like a 
razor, he looked down at himself, and saw he had gone soft. He drew 
the fingers of his right hand together in a fist. . . 

But she was way too quick. As he drew his fist back, she bent away and 
like a jaguar she kicked her leg out, driving her heel into the pelvic 
bone at the crest of his cock hair. His legs fell out from under him, 
and he dropped to the ground. He tried sitting up for a moment, but 
there was too much pain. Rivers of sharp fire rose through his body, and 
he slumped back on the ground. 

Now she was standing there, he looked up at her - just as she drew her 
leg back again. This time she got him good. Real good. It was like 
she was kicking a can, and wanted to launch it into the next county. She 
took a half step away and then she flew towards him, driving her foot 
full into his balls, using all the leverage of her small body. The 
pain was so intense that Rick thought he was going to black out, his 
ears were ringing, and his body curled up into a fetal position. He 
couldn't breathe, his head felt like it would explode. 

And she was laughing. For the first time since he was a small boy, Rick 
started to cry. He could feel a surge of tears in his eyes, and the 
first few breaths that his body managed had the painful feel of sobs. 

"P-P-P-Please. . ." He blinked the tears from his eyes and looked up at 
her. "P-P-P-Please. No more. . ." 

And she was grinning. The little girl had the brightest smile; she was 
loving this. 

Rick was terrified, those huge teeth had such a full, satisfied grin 
that he was sure she'd kick him again. Just for fun. 

"Man, what a fuckin' PUSSY!" 

He was looking up at her, her face was backlit by the sun, and she 
glared down at him, hands on her hips. And to his horror, she drew her 
foot back again. . . 

But this time, all she did was kick some sand in his face. She bent 
down and took the pack of Kools that he had dropped in the sand and she 
started to walk away. But before she got to the corner of the 
building, she looked back at him smiling. She put one hand on each 
butt cheek, bent over a bit, and gave a little wiggle, a dirty little 
dance. "Closest you get to somethin' this nice!" and when she turned 
out of sight around the corner, he could still hear her, laughing. 

                        ============ 

Michelle Johnson had been watching the gap in the sand dunes for a long 
time. She wondered if she did the right thing. She had wanted to 
follow Keesha, but Keesha was adamant -- she wanted to go alone, and 
when she walked toward the dunes after the man Keesha had looked back to 
be sure Michelle wasn't following. Michelle was worried now. She sat up 
on the towel and told herself she'd wait one more minute, and then she'd 
go and find her. Then she saw Keesha emerge from the dunes. 

Michelle saw the way she was walking. Sauntering really, like she was 
up on a runway. Yes, she did fine, just fine. 

Keesha broke into a bright, joyful smile as she approached, and she 
started running. She couldn't wait to tell her, the words spilled out 
from her before she even got to the blanket. 

"Mama, it was great!" 

"I was right about him?" 

"Yeah, mama, he was just like you said." 

"He come on to you?" 

"Well, sorta. I mean, he just kept staring at me, checkin' me out. I 
didn't think he'd do nothin' though. So I asked him for a cigarette." 
Michelle smiled. She always was a bold one, even when she was little she 
always got what she wanted. 

"Look." Michelle pointed over to the dunes. The man was coming back, 
and he had an obvious limp. "Shit, Ki, you really messed him up." 
Keesha started laughing, and the two of them watched the man limp slowly 
back towards his wife. 

Michelle and her daughter looked at each other, but they said nothing. 
They both wanted to hear the exchange between the man and his wife. 
When he got back to their spot, he tried to straighten up and walk 
natural, but he was still in too much pain to pull it off. Michelle 
and Keesha strained to hear them over the surf. His wife started 
peppering him with questions. "What happened to you? You look funny." 
And he did, the paleness was evident even in the bright sun. 

"Nothing. I-I-I fell." 

When they heard that Keesha and Michelle started to giggle. 
Keesha started to tell her mother what she had done. "When I asked him 
for a smoke, he gets this funny look in his eyes, like, you know, I'm 
gonna do somethin' to get me a smoke." 

"Yeah, you do somethin' all right!" Michelle felt a rush of pride - 
Keesha obviously handled him with no problem. 

"So he says to me: 'You pretty young, maybe we should go somewhere to 
smoke.' So I said I know a place, I walked him back behind the 
showers. Every once in a while I looked back at him. He just be 
lookin' down at my booty." 

Michelle was sitting, glancing over at the man. He and his wife were 
silent now. He kept flicking his eyes at the two of them. Michelle 
knew he could hear traces of what they were saying. 

"So I take him back behind the showers. He lights my smoke, but then he 
just stands there, lookin'. Real quiet like. So I ask him what he 
wants. He asks me 'Ever see a guys dick?' Then he pulls his thing out, 
an he just stands there, holding hisself. Like his cock was this big 
hard-bone mutha." 

"Yeah, I know it. They all like that, once they get it up they be so 
proud of themselves, like they soooo bad." 

"Shit, yeah. I guess he thought I'd be all . . . shocked . . . or 
somethin'" 

Michelle's body stirred as she pictured the look on his face when he saw 
what Ki was really like. . . 

"So like, I start tellin' him, its just some sorry ass little thing. . ." 

Michelle felt an inner rush. Shit! She wished she had followed her, 
if only to listen. Ki has a such a mouth on her . . . 

". . .And you know, soon as I start talkin' like that, he start gettin' 
all soft. Thing started shrinkin' up, right in his hand! I see he's 
gettin' pissed, he starts lookin' like he's gonna hit me. So I just 
kicked him in the nuts. Shit, mama, that fucker, he just went down, one 
kick an he's layin' there on the ground." 

Michelle hung on very word, loving the look in her eyes, and the hiss in 
her voice as she told her. She'd seen her in karate class, and one of 
her biggest thrills was watching Keesha take out some boy, sometimes 
even a boy older than her, one that would be flushed with shame, almost 
crying, as he walked back to his parents. 

Keesha opened her hand. "I took his cigarettes, too!" 

"Shit, Ki, you are some real badass." 

She offered her mother a cigarette, and the two of them sat there in the 
sea breeze, smoking Rick's cigarettes. They watched him, studying him 
like a specimen they had just dissected. 

"Know what I liked best, mamma?" 

"Bet it was kickin; those sorry balls." 

"Yeah, that was a hoot. What I really, really liked though was just 
runnin' my mouth. Tellin' him he just some sorry-ass little PUSSY. Just 
watchin' his thing just get all SOFT." 

Ki was giggling, her face was bright, and Michelle noticed that she was 
glaring over at the man, daring him to look at her. But they were 
leaving now, the man and his wife were folding up their chairs and 
shaking out their blankets. Quickly, like there was a storm coming. He 
had heard them, and he wanted to get out of there before his wife heard. 

Michelle knew then that she was ready, ready for what she had hoped for 
all along. She watched as the couple left, the man gave a quick last 
look back over at Ki, and she said goodbye with a big grin, and her 
middle finger. 

Yes, she was ready. One of Michelle's favorites was coming over 
tonight, a big construction worker, a gray-haired balding man in his 
early fifties. Michelle had been seeing him for almost two years, and 
her teasing, malicious mouth had ripped him a new soul. The guy was 
such a loser. Every time he'd come over, Michelle would make him kneel 
before her, and tell her about his wife. How he couldn't get it up for 
her anymore, he couldn't get hard for anyone but Michelle. All he wanted 
was to kneel there, and tell her his dirty little secrets. She'd make 
him paint her toes, and she'd make him lick her asshole. She'd get all 
hot and bothered, and she would spend the rest of the night riding his 
face, coming and coming until she had her fill of him. Then she'd send 
him packing off to his wife. 

"Know what, mama?" 

. . .Michelle was far away now, dripping, imagining him down there, lost 
in the thrills of being a woman. 

"Yes. . ." 

"Doin' that, seein' his face after I kicked his balls . . ." 

"Yes Ki. . ." 

". . .it got my PUSSY all wet." 

Michelle reached over and touched her little girl's cheek. Oh, she was 
ready! She had told her about men, the two of them had had long talks 
about what men were like, how weak they are inside, how needy. She 
wanted to see Keesha in action, she knew she was a born top girl. For 
some time now she knew that this construction worker would be perfect 
for her first time. Just the thought of it, the idea of him down there 
beneath Keesha set Michelle on fire. She wanted to watch when she took 
her first good ride on a man's face. Yes, she was ready now. She'd 
broken a man all by herself. 

"I know, baby. I know." Michelle reached over and stroked Keeshsa's 
hair. "Hold onto that feeling, Ki." She pulled Keesha close to her, 
and held her in her arms. The warmth between them, the heaven of the 
summer sun and the cool mist of the breaking surf filled Michelle with 
joy. She would remember this moment forever. "Save that feeling for 
tonight, Ki. Tonight." 

Ki nuzzled against Michelle and kissed her cheek. "Thanks, mama." She 
kissed Michelle again. "Is it that big bald guy tonight?" 

Michelle saw the wish. He was the one that Keesha wanted. Several weeks 
ago she started sending Keesha to answer the door when he rang - wearing 
just a little-girl nightie. Keesha would sit across from him in the 
waiting room, watching him take quick little peeks at her panties. By 
the time she brought him in to Michelle her he was ravenous. "Yeah. 
He's perfect for you, baby. . .just perfect." She kept her face close 
to Keesha's and whispered in her ear. "Tonight I'll answer the door 
princess. I'll get him good and ready for you, Ki." 

                ======================= 

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Here I combine my ideas about blacks, and my love of cruel, 
humiliating  women. The special ingredient of this story is the 
intimacy between the mother and daughter.

Who am I in this story? No one. I hover above the loving moments 
between the mother and daughter. And, if you notice, there is 
something strange and compelling about their intimacy. This is love 
and intimacy given as a reward for cruelty.

I'd love to here from you, no matter what you thought
 Of my story. Comments and story ideas are welcome at:
 Pervitron@Hotmail.com
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Pervitron/
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