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From: Admiral Cartwright <admcartwright@my-deja.com>
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X-Original-Subject: {ASSM} ANNIV-PARTY <*> 'Elise' by Admiral Cartwright (Mg, pedo, cons) [1/1]
Subject: {ASSM} Anniv-Party: <*> 'Elise' by Admiral Cartwright (Mg, pedo, cons) [1/1]
Date: Fri, 10 Nov 2000 19:10:03 -0500
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THE FOLLOWING IS A NEW SUBMISSION FOR THE ANNIVERSARY PARTY ONLY!
`Elise'
(Mg, pedo, cons)
Written by and copyright 2000 Admiral Cartwright, a pseudonym. It is
intended solely for the entertainment of its audience. Any publication,
reproduction, retransmission or other use of the descriptions and
accounts herein without the express written consent of Major League
Baseball is prohibited.
Unless, of course, you ask the author first (Email address provided
below).
Distribution of this material or of any predecessor(s) for profit
and/or with this information abridged shall constitute a violation of
copyright law and may result in some serious shit.
(Warning: the following explicitly depicts sexual activity which may be
frowned upon and/or illegal. Reading further constitutes your assertion
that you are mature enough to understand and accept the nature of the
material hereinafter, and the author assumes no responsibility for your
repressions.)
Archived at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Cartwright/www
Author's note: `Elise' was a subplot of `My neighbor', dropped when it
served instead to detract from the story. I had in fact deleted it, and
only recently felt compelled to rewrite from memory what I'd done and
flesh it out into its own story. It's short, but stands on its own.
Elise had never spent the night here by herself before. In fact, she'd
only joined Jennifer on two previous occasions when her half-sister
stayed over with our daughter.
So, when Elise showed up alone last night, I'd been surprised.
A couple of months older than Jennifer, Elise was a few days away from
celebrating her 11th birthday. She looked nothing like Jen, since the
girls were not truly related. Their respective parents had had a long
relationship, but had never married; still, the pair spoke of each
other as sisters.
Elise, about an inch shorter and probably ten pounds lighter, was not
quite as developed as was Jennifer; nipples that had just begun to show
their future, arms I could put my whole hand around, thin legs that
were not quite gawky. Yet, she was beautiful, with a grown-beyond-her-
years face that presented itself well under long, heavy dark hair. It
was easy to imagine her right now as the adult she will become.
Like many young girls, she loves to be tickled, and last night was no
exception. After dinner, she played her favorite game of calling me
names, hoping to rile me up enough to leave the couch and the
television alone to chase her through the house instead. We ended up on
the couch anyway; with me sitting gently on her belly, tickling her all
over as she pretended - shrieking all the while - to try worming her
way out from underneath.
Looking behind me, I noticed that Elise's nightshirt had ridden well up
above her baby-blue panties, presenting quite a view. My wife, who had
to work early the following morning, already was in bed, so I made no
effort to cover back up the squealing child under me. Instead, I
pointed toward the bedroom door and held a finger to my lips, urging
quieter play.
Conversely, my tickling became more gentle, brushing her ribs, her
neck, her legs and just about everything else with almost an erotic
undertone. My cock, in fact, had begun to respond slightly, stirring
just enough to make its presence known. Elise pretended to not notice,
but her hands brushed across my member more than once as they moved to
wherever I was tickling her.
Is that intentional? I wondered. Should I get more bold?
As if by answer, I let my hands brush a couple of times across her
awakening nipples; she made no move of disapproval. Reaching behind me,
I tickled her inner thighs, once brushing quite intentionally across
her panty-clad pussy.
Her legs opened wider.
Naturally, having just received the universal sign of sexual
acceptance, I was ready to continue until I heard the bedroom door
open. My bleary-eyed wife just stood there, irritated. For appearance's
sake, I continued tickling Elise a bit more innocently as I apologized
for the noise.
And that was that.
I awoke this morning to a sight I'll never forget: Elise lying on her
back next to me, the covers just above her ribs. My wife evidently had
found a ride to work and had let me sleep in, and now this still-little
girl was taking advantage of the situation.
No, I didn't wake her; instead, I found myself silently wondering how
far she was willing to go. Better still, how far was I willing to go?
Rolling toward her - this porcelain doll sharing my bed - I rested my
hand on her belly. Her nightshirt had ridden up again, so that my thumb
found cotton at her ribs, and my palm and fingers felt the heat of her
bare belly. Elise began breathing a bit more rapidly; the rise and fall
of my hand becoming more apparent. She rolled her head slowly to one
side and glanced at me, not seeing my one eye partially opened and
hidden by the pillow.
She smiled, and looked back toward the ceiling.
Taking my cue, I allowed my hand a slow, gentle motion across her belly
and up toward her chest, then down to the edge of her underwear. As I'd
hoped, my thumb now could slide under her shirt to feel only skin as it
traveled once more past her ribs. Slowly, very slowly, my hand slid up
her breastbone toward her neck, making no overt effort yet to find her
tiny breasts.
Several times, I made the same move. I wanted her to think I was asleep.
Elise was breathing quite ragged by now, the anticipation perhaps
building within her young breast as my hand slid not quite innocently
up and down her silken belly and chest. Finally, I found the nipple
nearest me and felt its tiny center, hard as a pebble. Slowly, my hand
traced circles around the areola, and I had to fight to keep my
breathing even as my loins began to stir.
My hand soon found the girl's other nipple, and I was surprised to feel
that it was noticably bigger than its twin. Somehow, in my testosterone-
induced haze, I'd forgotten that was normal.
It seemed I'd gotten lucky; if Elise noticed my sudden hesitation, she
made no move of acknowledgement.
I resumed the gentle ministration of hand to breast, reveling in its
coarse softness for several more minutes. There was more to caress, but
I could not very well appear too rushed.
Elise was breathing through an open mouth now, halting and raspy. My
hand obliged her seeming impatience, sliding down her belly to the edge
of her panties. The girl's back arched slightly. I rubbed lightly back
and forth, closer to her immature mound each time, her body responding
as if it could push my hand farther without actually pushing. Finally,
my hand hit home.
An audible gasp was the result.
Smiling to myself now, I rubbed the length of her young pussy with a
bit more insistence. Her hips began bucking slightly under the gentle
pressure, betraying her youth and inexperience, or so I supposed.
That was the moment another thought occurred to me: should I get her
off; or roll over, perhaps frustrating her to the point that she'd come
to me to finish? If I find her orgasm now, will she just leave, or
would she show her appreciation?
Ultimately, I couldn't bring myself to make her suffer, even if only
briefly. My finger ticked her little clit until her body stiffened, a
near-silent squeal escaping her lips.
I smiled in spite of myself. I had made this ten-year-old girl come.
Her breathing slowly returned to normal, and I rolled to my back, my
goal fulfilled. Just as I was about to nod off, I felt a hand on my
belly. Thank you, I thought.
Elise, to my surprise, was just as slow and methodical; working her
hand over my belly and chest, and finally to my own nipples, with every
bit as much patience as she'd received. When her hand finally reached
my cock, it was fairly throbbing with anticipation.
Yet, I didn't get the hand job I was expecting.
It took everything I had not to jump out of my skin when I felt her hot
little tongue slide up the shaft of my penis, standing almost painfully
erect. It was harder still to maintain the facade of sleep when her hot
little pussy began rubbing up and down my shin.
Her lips by now had wrapped around my cock and I could feel the warmth
of her mouth sliding over about half its modest length. Elise hardly
was an expert, but she made up for it in seemingly honest desire to
give as she'd received. Her head bobbed, her pussy rubbed. She was
going to get a mouthful, and I wasn't going to stop her.
My hands gripped the sheets as orgasm began, each spurt from my jerking
cock pulling me further from consciousness until finally I collapsed,
fully spent.
I opened my eyes, all pretense of sleep gone, only to find myself alone
and fully covered. I blinked. Still alone; in fact, a little giggle
came from outside my room. Pulling on shorts and a t-shirt, I soon
found Elise and my daughter had poured themselves some cereal and were
eating away happily. Both greeted me as they always had; nothing from
Elise to betray what I thought had happened.
Perhaps it was just a dream, I reasoned. If so, that was a hell of a
dream. In more than 40 years, I'd never had a wet dream quite like...
Wet dream? Wait just a damned minute! I was clean and dry...
The end
Like? Dislike? TELL ME! <admcartwright@hotmail.com>
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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