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A Little Old For Dolls
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
A Little Old For Dolls
It did my heart good to see her little face light up. She was ten, two days
ago, and though my present was a little late she responded to it with the
kind of excitement I haven't seen for a birthday gift in 25 years.
"Wow, this is beautiful!" she cried, the shreds of bright wrapping paper
still fluttering to the carpet. "A complete dollhouse set! It's just what I
wanted!"
Of course I knew that. Not only had Rita mentioned it, oh, five or six
thousand times in recent weeks, but her Dad had told me specifically it was
the one gift the girl really wanted and wasn't getting from her folks. They
had saved it for me, since I wanted to give a very special gift this year.
Two steps and a jump later I had a lap full of grinning ten-year-old.
"It's a really excellent set, too!" she continued to gush. "I was saving up
for a doll house like this, but it would have taken me all year."
"Well now you don't have to," I said, giving her an all too brief hug and
basking in her happiness. "Now you can blow your money on something
frivolous, like college." I'm not sure she knew what "frivolous" meant, but
she laughed anyway. She was sitting astride my legs facing me, her little
butt so skinny I could see most of my knees on either side of it. There was
almost no padding on her small boyish ass, and if she had any weight to
her,
her sharp bones might have been uncomfortable for me. I'd lugged home
Sunday
papers that seemed heavier than Rita.
"You didn't have to give me a present, you know." The mock admonition was
betrayed by her smiling eyes.
"Yeah, I know," I said, enjoying the fireworks in those sparkling
gray-green
orbs. "You came through for me when nobody else could be bothered, young
lady. That deserved a reward."
She flushed a light shade of red and looked down at one of the miniature
furniture pieces that came with the set. "I just helped you set up some
tables and chairs. It was no big deal."
"Three adults who were supposed to help didn't show up, and I had 35 people
coming over for a barbecue," I said. "If it wasn't for you I was up Shit
Creek."
She giggled as she always did at the use of the s-word, which is of course
why I made a point of using it. Shit Creek, shit list, shit from
Shinola...it always got a laugh from Rita.
"Besides, you did a lot more than that," I continued, embarrassing her even
further. "You helped me set the tables and you helped me get 15 bags of ice
and you helped carry out the food, and even after the other kids got there
you didn't wander off to play until all the work was done. You were
amazing,
Rita, and I'm very grateful and very proud of you."
Her angelic little face was bright crimson by then, and I wondered why it
was that she was so uncomfortable being praised. It wasn't really that hard
to figure out, I guess. Rita lived in the dark, cool shadow of her sister
Farah, older by two short years but clearly the Prima Donna of their house.
The older girl was beautiful, in a 'hollywood' sort of way, with looks that
would soon have all the boys panting at her feet. At only twelve years old,
her body was beginning to mature, and already she was eagerly talking with
some of the older boys at her school, who had begun to notice her budding
young tits. Farah was bold and outgoing, too, never shy about casting a wry
smile at a cute boy.
Rita was none of those things. She was skinny, looking like she'd blow away
in a stiff wind. Her arms and legs were so spindly they made her look
mal-nourished, which I knew she wasn't, because I always saw plenty of food
at their house when I visited, and Rita ate well whenever she was with me.
I
don't want to give the impression that she was ugly, because she wasn't.
She
was just plain and gangly, made all the more obvious by her shy and
retreating demeanor. She was quiet and shy, playing by herself or reading
alone more often than not. In fact, that's how she got started coming over
to my house in the first place.
I'd had her family over to get acquainted when I first moved in next door
and saw immediately the polar opposites of the two girls. Farah went
straight to the coffee table and all the magazines laying there, and Rita
went straight to the bookcases full of leather-bound classics.
Both girls were frequent visitors for a few weeks, but usually one at a
time
since they rarely played together. Farah came to talk about school and
boys,
and whether she should be allowed to go out on dates. I simply demoured to
her parents' decision on that subject, not wanting to interfere and cause a
rift between her parents and myself. Normally I would have welcomed Farah's
coming to me and talking about adolescent matters, but I sensed in Farah, a
rebellious spirit, one that would just as soon use me against her parents
to
gain what she wanted, leaving me the possible fall-guy. When she saw that I
wouldn't support her on that, her visits petered out and then stopped
altogether. But Rita continued to visit, working her way through Dickens
and
Twain and Louisa May Alcott, devouring everything I deemed appropriate for
a
smart, inquisitive little girl and bugging me constantly for more.
I was fond of both girls, but Farah didn't need me and this little wisp of
a
girl sitting on my knees did. She wasn't beautiful, but she was a terrific
kid and a sweet girl, with never an unkind word for anyone. She didn't
deserve the internal torture she sometimes had to endure, mostly from her
sister. So what if she was still into dolls and little girl things and
didn't care about talking about boys yet. None of that made Rita deserving
of abuse. My heart really went out to this child.
"OK," I said, "If you really like your present then I get one more, really
good hug."
She grinned broadly, forgetting her embarrassment, and threw both arms
around my neck and squeezed until I thought my carotid artery would stand
out like a relief map of the Appalachians. The sensation of soft young girl
flesh against me had its usual effect, and suddenly I found myself thinking
of Rita not just as the lonely little girl from next door, but as a warm
and
sensual lonely little girl from next door.
I wrapped my arms around her little frame and held her to me. The doll she
had clutched fell softly to the carpet.
Her warmth was nice. She wore only a T-shirt and shorts, and I could feel
her heat almost as if nothing were between us. I found my hand slipping to
her bare thigh, petting it gently, hoping it seemed casual. The skin was as
smooth as any I'd ever felt, and the thigh was so skinny I could
practically
touch my fingers around it. She didn't tense at all as I touched her, not
even when I slid my hand further along her thigh, even an inch or so under
the thin material of her shorts. She just hugged me.
Before I even consciously thought about it I found my lips pressed against
her forehead, planting a soft kiss just above her brow. She didn't shrink
away. I kissed her again, and this time she leaned her head back and
regarded me questioningly, but she never let go of my neck. Then, a look of
decision coming into her eyes, she suddenly leaned forward and kissed me
lightly on the lips.
I was very surprised but did my best not to show it. I wracked my brain to
remember if I had seen how her family kissed. Maybe mouth kissing was
something this girl would do with, say, an uncle or a grandfather; the
usual
thing for her family. But I couldn't remember ever seeing a kiss between
any
of them, or even a hug for that matter. I didn't think she'd learned that
at
home.
"What's the matter?" she finally asked, a look of uncertainty in her eyes
but still clinging to my neck.
"Nothing," I replied, smiling as calmly as I could. "You kissed me. It was
nice." We looked at each other in silence for a moment, until I said, "As a
matter of fact, it was very nice. Would you do it again?"
"You want me to?" she asked softly, not sure what to make of it.
"Yes, it's very nice," I repeated.
A tentative smile spread slowly across her face; she wasn't sure if she was
being teased. I made a point of looking into her eyes as reassuringly as I
could, and after a moment I saw the realization blossom there that I was
serious. Her smile broadened, and she leaned forward slowly and pressed her
lips once again to mine.
It wasn't a quick peck this time. I didn't let it stop at that. I shifted
one hand from her narrow shoulder to the back of her head, gently holding
her to me as we kissed. I felt her start to pull away after five or six
seconds, but the gentle pressure of my hand was all it took to stop her.
She
kissed with eagerness if not passion, and with a trust that struck me
straight to the heart.
My excitement increased rapidly as we kissed. After perhaps a minute I
found
myself moaning softly around her small lips and moving my mouth against
hers. She seemed to take this in stride, and though she made no sound I
felt
her pressing back against me with greater desire. With her little chest
crushed against mine I fancied I could feel our hearts pounding in rhythm.
I
was getting caught up in her, and losing control.
Without thinking I opened my mouth and pushed my tongue against her lips.
She pulled back in surprise, and I let her.
"What did you just do?" she asked, without a hint of fear or anger. She was
merely curious.
"It's a special kind of kissing," I said, smiling warmly and pressing
forward to nibble at her lips again. She allowed that, but clearly wanted
further explanation. "It's a kind of kissing that I think is really fun," I
continued. "It's called French kissing."
"I've heard of that," she said ponderingly, as if trying to remember where
she had read about such things.
"It's where two people kiss with their mouths open and touch their tongues
together," I elaborated, hoping I had aroused her curiosity if nothing
else.
I leaned in to kiss her again, and this time when my tongue pushed forward
her lips parted with only a little uncertainty and my tongue slid easily
between them.
We played this game of tongue tag back and forth for several minutes. I
could feel the blood engorging my dick inside my shorts, and I knew I'd
have
to either press Rita for more or get rid of her so I could finish things
off
myself. Naturally with my cock in command of my brain I started in
immediately pressing the girl.
"Wow," I gasped, somewhat reluctantly pulling away from her eager mouth.
"You're sure good at this. Are you sure you never French kissed before?"
She grinned at me proudly. "Nope. This is my first time."
"You know what really good kissing like that always does to me?" I asked
conspiratorially. I looked around as if there might be someone to overhear
the secret, though of course we were alone in my house. "It makes me have
funny feelings.. in my pants. Near my you-know-what."
She looked at me questioningly at first, then looked down to my tented
pants. "What kind of 'funny feelings'?" she asked.
"Well, not funny to laugh at, but funny 'good', like it makes me feel real
good all over, but it starts down here," I replied, pointing at my cock.
"But maybe I shouldn't be talking to you about these things, because
there're kind of grown-up things, and.."
"That's what everybody says, that I'm still just a baby! I am not a baby,
and I want to know what you were talking about!" she responded, obviously
angry that she thought I was treating her just like everyone else did.
"Okay, Rita. But you can't tell anybody else about this. Not even Farah.
Okay?"
"Okay," she beamed, happy again.
"All right, first, do you know what this thing between my legs is called?"
I
asked tentatively.
"I think so. Is that your.. your dick?" she asked.
"Yes it is Rita. That's very good. And what do you call what is between
your
legs, do you know?"
This time she blushed before answering, "That's my vagina. But I heard
Farah
call it something else to one of her girlfriends on the phone. She called
it
her pussy. And I've heard other people call it that, too."
"That's right. Now, have you ever had those funny kind of feelings, down
between your legs, in your pussy?" I asked, a little nervously, using a
word
that I had never used in front of her before.
Her eyes grew wide and she immediately flushed bright red, but there was
something in her face that let her extreme excitement show through. She
glanced down her own skinny body and I suddenly knew the answer.
"Do you know what feelings I'm talking about?" I pressed. "You have had
those feelings, haven't you, Rita?" She swallowed and for the first time
looked a little scared. I smiled encouragingly.
"Yeah," she answered softly, finally showing me her patented embarrassed
smile. "I sometimes get funny feelings when I'm in the bathtub and mommy
washes me down there. Sometimes it tickles, but sometimes it just feels
good." She paused here, then resumed. "And I started to feel nice and
tingly
right after you put your tongue in my mouth just now," she finished,
looking
blushingly down to her lap.
"Oh, yeah?" I said, relaxing now that this all-important hurdle was past.
"That's about when I started feeling funny.. tingly in my dick, too." I
leaned forward and kissed her again, mouth open but no tongue. I felt her
relax in my arms, and resumed fondling her bare thigh without protest.
"You've had those feelings before today, right?" I finally asked, trying to
sound conversational.
She was still embarrassed, but answered without hesitation. "Yeah,
sometimes."
"In bed at night, right?" I said. "I'll bet you get them in bed, maybe just
after you've had one of those baths?"
"Yeah, a lot of nights," she said. She was watching my hand trace circles
on
her smooth thigh.
"I rub myself down there,.. and sometimes even stick my finger inside it,"
she said, her throat dry and sounding a little excited as she spoke her
dark
secrets. "Pretty much every night, now. It really feels good." The girl
looked at me for any sign of anger or rejection, but all she saw was
acceptance and encouragement.
"That's okay, Rita. I think all little girls do that sooner or later, but
not all little girls will admit it. I think it's very brave of you to share
that with me," I told her. Then, in little more than a whisper, "Does it
really feel better when you stick your finger inside?"
"Yes, but I think I might be doing it too much, 'cuz it starts to get kinda
wet down there when I do it for a long time," she whispered. Shy little
Rita
had been doing a little more exploring than I had thought.
"That's not why it gets wet, Rita. That just means that you are getting
older, almost old enough to really enjoy your body, the way grown-up girls
do," I replied quickly.
My hand was still on her thigh, moving higher, tracing up towards the
gaping
leg hole of her shorts. She didn't move. I pulled her gently to me and
placed three or four soft, nibbling kisses on her lips, and again her
little
body relaxed somewhat and she kissed me back. I scooted her hips closer to
me until she was sitting directly on the hard lump in my pants. I ground my
cock against her, and felt her react to it.
"Do you feel my hard dick, Rita?" I whispered, watching her excitement at
our intimate conversation. "Can you feel how big and hard it is?"
"Yeah," she answered, sounding a bit scared but not shrinking away at all.
"Well, that's what happens to a man when he gets excited about a pretty
girl
he sees, or thinks about. It's hard because of you, Rita," I whispered
between kisses. "You made it that way." Then, the next moment of truth.
"Are
you getting that feeling down there, in your pussy... because of me?"
She hesitated only a fraction of a second, but it was an eternity to me.
She
kissed my lips, then whispered, "Yeah, and I think it's getting wet
already!"
I crushed her against me, kissing her deeply and for the first time, I knew
that she was ready for whatever might happen. I knew she could feel the
insistent prod of my cock on her pre-pubescent furrow, and if she was
already getting wet, so was I. I was seeping pre-cum and it was staining
the
front of my pants. She was breathing heavier now and we both were grinding
ourselves against each other, making me harder than I had been in a long,
long time. We writhed there on the sofa a long time, our tongues darting
heatedly back and forth, first in her mouth then in mine, humping our
excited bodies against each other. She was lying on top of me now, and as
we
groped and gyrated I ran my hands up under her t-shirt to stroke her
smooth,
soft back and sides, and then around to her nearly flat little girl chest.
She had no breasts at all yet, but her little nipples were rock hard under
her t-shirt. I rubbed and tweaked those little nubs, then slid my hands
down
inside her small shorts and underpants to cup the two flat cheeks of her
butt. She was incredibly soft and warm, the skin smooth and supple,
literally like a baby's ass. I was anxious to get around to the front of
her
panties but I wanted to be sure she had time to process all these feelings
each step of the way. I didn't want to overpower her senses. I slowly but
steadily worked the shorts down, along with her underpants, until they
reached her bony knees.
She hadn't reacted at all, although I knew she must have realized her pussy
was about to be exposed to me. She still ground her now-bare pussy against
my dick, and it was only when I began rolling her off of me that she broke
her silence.
"What are you gonna do now?" she asked breathlessly.
"I want to make you feel better than you ever felt before," I said, kissing
her twice more as I maneuvered her onto her back. It was the first time I
had ever seen her body, and it seemed beautiful to me, at least in the
state
of mind I was in. She was incredibly thin, her chest perfectly flat, and
her
nipples looked almost out of place, sticking out so pointedly from her
frame. Her pelvic bones were clearly visible through the soft, smooth skin
of her hips, and they framed the beautiful triangle of her smooth, hairless
pussy mound. I gazed at her shiny delta, damp on the outside, with her legs
spread just enough to cause the outer folds of this tender new pussy to
blossom slightly before me. Her pussy was merely a slit, but it looked
beautiful to me and I longed to taste it. Her smooth hairless legs were
gaped inches apart from each other and I knew I could get my tongue in that
pussy without touching either thigh. She was trembling slightly, quivering
with excitement. I leaned down over her and started kissing her belly. With
my hand I continued to stroke the inside of her thighs, but never quite
touching her sweet spot.
"Are you gonna kiss me there?"
"Is that what you'd like me to do?" I asked, thinking yes yes YES in my
fevered brain, wishing I could transmit that answer into her head by
telepathy. I practically held my breath.
"You can if you want to," the girl said in her usual self-effacing way.
Even
now she couldn't ask for what she wanted, had to put my desires ahead of
her
own. But I knew that she wanted it as badly as I did. I didn't say
anything,
but smiled as I lowered my face between her little legs. Her little girl
smell hung sweet in the air, growing stronger as I drew closer. Her thighs
opened instinctively to accept me, and as my lips drew nearer I saw her
lift
her hips from the couch, pushing up to me in her eagerness.
"Ohhhh," she sighed as my greedy lips first kissed and caressed her tender
virgin pussy. I pushed my tongue in, gently at first, just enough to
unleash
a fresh pool of her juices. The warm fluid seeped around my lips, and just
then a shudder moved through her lean body, like a wave of pleasure that
seemed to start in her legs and ripple upwards through her gut and into her
chest. I deliberately avoided furhter penetration of her sensitive pussy
for
the first few moments, allowing her to get used to the idea of both of us
enjoying her pussy this way. When I felt her push up against my face again
I
knew she was ready.
I pointed my tongue and stretched it and with the very tip of my tongue
darted in once again, this time pushing it in as far as I could, then
lapping her slit from bottom to top. Then when I knew the moment was
perfect, I flicked my tongue over her burning little clit-flesh and heard
her cry out in sudden pleasure. I went back to her pussy hole again, and
when I felt two small hands at the back of my head I knew she was
enraptured.
I don't know precisely how long Rita's first orgasm lasted, but it had
started quickly and continued for a good long time. I sucked her forcefully
at times, and other times pushed my finger into her as gently as I could,
not going past her tight little hymen. She seemed to appreciate finger and
mouth action, both. When I would moved to the insides of her thighs, she
brought her own hand to her pussy, and began stroking where I had left off.
I kept up this sex-play with Rita, for god knows how long, and it seemed
that there would be no end to it all. She was clearly enjoying it
immensely,
and these experiences were certainly new to her, but I don't think that she
was able to fully consumate this first complete orgasm. With no end in
sight
for her, and my cock raging hard in my pants, I pulled away from her
freshly-sucked pussy and tore my own pants down. Rita's eyes widened when
she saw my angry, blood engorged tool. It's not huge but it was to her, and
she gasped at it in wonder.
"Oh,Rita , I gotta get off!" I moaned, gripping my cock and beginning to
roughly stroke it.
"Get off of what?" she asked innocently, unable to tear her eyes from the
one-eyed monster before her.
"It's a special feeling a man gets," I panted, impatient with explaining
biology at a time like this. "It's a hundred times better than what I just
helped you feel. And I'm dyin' to feel it right now!"
"Nothing could be a hundred times better than that," she grinned, and while
I appreciated the compliment to my pussy-eating skills I was somewhat
preoccupied with my own need.
"Believe me," I grunted, my fist flying along my shaft and my balls
bouncing
like they were doing aerobics. "After a few more times of us doing this
together you'll know what I'm talking about. You will feel something even
better than what you felt this first time."
She watched me closely, and I was just starting to feel it building when
she
said the sweetest words I could have hoped for.
"Can I help you get that special feeling?"
"Oh,Rita," I moaned. "Oh, yes you can baby, yes you can." I motioned her
closer, and she scooted her half naked little body over until our legs
touched. "Just take it in your hand and do what I'm doing."
Gamely she reached for my cock. The touch of her soft hand was thrilling,
and after a few seconds she got a rhythm going that, while not as fast or
as
steady as mine, excited me by its very uniqueness. I grinned at her as she
pounded my cock, and she grinned back and threw herself into the task. Now
she was back in her element, doing something for someone else.
The picture of this hairless, skinny little girl with her shorts around her
ankles and her bald little vagina still dripping wet from the session I had
given her was almost enough to make me cum all by itself. I had been so hot
to get off, but now that I was getting this wonderful hand job I found
myself holding back, not ready for it to end. She stroked firmly, switching
hands when she got tired, and still grinning her sweet grin. After a few
minutes of this exquisite torture I couldn't hold back any longer. I
reached
over to touch between her legs and suddenly felt myself rush over the edge.
"Oh, Rita, it's happening!" I grunted. "Don't stop, no matter what happens!
Just please don't stop!"
The jizz erupted out of my cock with a force I'd thought I'd seen the last
of when I was 25. The first spurt went higher than Rita's head as she sat
on
her haunches next to me. Fortunately for her she wasn't in the flight path.
The girl stared wide-eyed with surprise, but much to her credit she didn't
stop stroking even as the second spurt blasted forth and painted my stomach
and navel with pearly white fluid. A few more strokes from the girl and I
pumped out another few drops, these running down across her small hand and
into my pubic hair. The look on her face said she was unsure about this
strange white stuff suddenly coating her tiny hand, but she never stopped
stroking my cock even after my convulsions subsided. I had to somewhat
forcefully push her hand away lest she pull my sensitive organ clean off.
She was quite intrigued when I held her fingers up for her to inspect. I
explained to her what it was, and what it is used for in the procreation of
the species, and she beamed at knowing something none of her friends - and
especially her sister - knew anything about. At least not as far as my
sperm
was concerned.
There were of course other days. Rita continued to visit, and I continued
to
lend her books, but I also continued her education in another direction, to
our mutual enjoyment.
Oh, and she never played with the dollhouse anymore.
The End
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