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From: Kain <KCain_Author@hotmail.com>
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 21 Jul 2005 10:18:03 EDT
Subject: {ASSM} "Reggie" M/f/cons/oral/ped
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Date: Fri, 22 Jul 2005 03:10:02 -0400
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Reggie
By Kyle Cain

	Beautiful.  That's the only way I can describe her.  And to think, 
when I first laid eyes on her, I didn't give her a second thought, or a 
first one for that matter.  I was eating lunch at the park, like I do every 
weekday.  All the pretty girls, in their shorty shorts and their fluffy 
skirts, playing on the slides and the swing sets, it's enough to make a 
timid pedophile's blood boil.

	That's me, if I need to say that.  A meek, timid pedophile.  Oh sure, 
we all hear about the nasty ones.  The men who are unshaven, unkempt, ugly 
bastards who have already spent time in jail for fucking a girl and decide 
to kill the girl when he's done with her rather than be caught.  Me, I 
touched one when I was about nineteen, and though she seemed to enjoy it, I 
was constantly worried I'd be caught and put in prison.  Here I am fifteen 
years later, and I only enjoy the show a lot of these girls put on.

	Touch one?  I jump three feet every time I hear a siren, so I just 
stay there and eat my sandwich, pretend to read my paper, and eyeball every 
soft bit of skin in sight behind my shades.  The rare occasion that a girl 
walks up to me and says something, I keep things brief and pretend to be 
more interested in the stock quotes.

	Boys?  Nah, I'm not into boys.  The idea of a little boy sucking my 
crank, or letting nub on his little peepee isn't appealing at all.  Nope, 
give me a girly girl wearing a princess dress, glitter eyeshadow, 
strawberry lipstick, and a flirty attitude any day.  When I saw Reggie the 
first time, I thought she was a boy.  She was out playing baseball with the 
boys.  Wearing boyish clothes and dirty like all the boys.  Nope, she never 
crossed my mind as a wet fantasy I'd be beating off to that night.

	She might have seemed boyish at first glance, but she walked like a 
kitten wearing slippers.  Only reason I turned my head to look at her was 
because she plopped down on the opposite end of the bench I was sitting on.  
The bench wasn't bolted down totally on my side.

	"Hi!"  She said that like she knew me or something.  I only grunted 
back.  What I was thinking was, "This boy sure has a high-pitched voice."  
She arched her back and pulled off her ball cap.  The tiny lumps under her 
shirt only barely resembled a girlish figure, but the long ebony hair would 
be something you'd see on a boy.  She twirled it up, put a hair band on it, 
then pulled the makeshift ponytail through the band in her cap.  I took a 
long hard look at her, and decided she wasn't a boy after all.

	She scooted up closer to me.  "Got any comics?"  I would have ignored 
her, but I figured she'd make a scene if I didn't respond.  "Young lady, 
this is the Wall Street Journal.  They don't put comics in it."  When she 
didn't say anything, and I felt the bench shift again, I figured she'd 
taken off.  A moment later, her hand pulled the front of my paper down and 
her sharp green eyes tried to look through my sunglasses.  She had a pretty 
face, despite the dirt and all the freckles.  I cocked an eyebrow and tried 
to regain control of my newspaper.  The young girl had other ideas in mind.
	"You're here every day, arencha?"  I just grunted.  The girl got a 
strange grin on her face.  "I see you here every day."  With a sinister 
tone she added, "You must be a hard-up old bastard." I gave her a stern 
look, "I'm just here for the fresh air and the sunshine.  I sit in a 
cubicle all day selling stocks, so I need to get away from the office."  
She just rolled her eyes and said, "Suuure you are."

	Again, she sat down on the bench, this time pressed up right against 
me.  "Sally, over there," she pointed to a girl in a frilly blue dress, 
"she's not your type."  I just shot her a confused look.  "Lucy," she said, 
pointing at a girl in a red pair of short overalls with lacy pink trim, 
"she'd suck your cock for a nickel."

	Stammering, and nearly dropping my paper, I said, "Why on Earth would 
you say something like that.  You're an eight-year-old girl, you shouldn't 
be saying things like that."  With an incredulous look, she chimed in, "I'm 
nine, and it's because she would."  Turning back to my paper, desperately 
trying to become interested in the quarterly reports, I muttered under my 
breath, "and what would you know about sucking dick."  Honestly, I didn't 
realize I said that out loud.

	She elbowed me in the ribs a few times, giggling like I'd just said 
the world's funniest joke, and said, "Is that an invitation?"  After a 
long, awkward silence, she piped up, "I know where you live.  You're the 
one with the blue house on the end of the street."  She had my attention at 
that point.  It then hit me that I had seen her before, playing on the same 
street I live on.  All this time, I thought she was a boy.  She always wore 
boyish clothes and that dirty red ball cap with her hair tucked under it.

	She offered me her hand, "I'm Reggie."  I shook her hand, "I'm Zach."  
Tittering like a rabid chipmunk, she said, "So, is eight o'clock tonight 
all right?"  Thinking she was trying to make a fool out of me, I said, "Oh, 
sure."  Well, about three past eight, I heard a tapping at my back window.  
It was her.  She had jumped my back fence and was waiting for me to let her 
in.  Paranoid, I opened the patio door and looked around.  Not that any 
prying eyes would have spotted us, because of the high privacy fence I 
have.

	Whispering, "What are you doing here!?," I pulled her inside.  "Tsk!  
Duh!  You wanted me to show you what I knew about I know about sucking 
dick."  She made it seem like it was nothing big, like she and every other 
girl did that every day.  She was wearing a different pair of jeans, still 
tattered in the knees and very well worn.  She had on a plain blue shirt 
that showed the barest outline of her training bra, and that dirty red ball 
cap.  She looked like the biggest tomboy around.  All she needed was a 
mouthful of chewing tobacco and she'd look like a backwoods hick.

	I wasn't even remotely interested in her.  Yet, here she was, at my 
feet, fumbling with my pants.  Why I let her open my trousers is beyond me, 
but she had my limp cock in her hands, trying to get me up.  Even with a 
hot tongue teasing my crank, I wasn't getting aroused.  "What'sa matter?  
Is it broken?"  Sighing heavily, I said, "I'm not really that interested."  
She stood up and put her hands on her hips, in a very girlish way.
	Sounding fake hurt, she said, "Aw!  Doncha think I'm sexy?"  Trying 
to defuse the situation, I said, "You said that girl, what's her name?  
Sally?  You said she wasn't my type.  I'd rather have someone like her 
here.  You just look to boyish."  She looked thoughtful for a moment.  "I 
see, you like sissy girls."  With an evil grin, she stripped down to her 
underwear.  It was like night and day with her.  Dirty, boyish clothes on 
the outside, and the most elegant, silky, sexy, feminine panties and bra 
I'd ever seen.

	I just stood there, slowly drinking in the divine sight that stood 
before me.  Without the ball cap and dirty boy clothes she had on, she 
looked like a goddess.  Her bra was little more than a pair of triangles 
held together with frail lace and shimmering ribbon.  Her panties were baby 
pink with a very intricate floral pattern and the same lace and shimmering 
ribbon.  Both were semi-transparent, showing off her puffy nipples and 
gorgeous pink slit.

	She was already getting wet, and a heavenly scent filled the air.  
"Am I sissy enough for you, lover-boy?"  My tented shorts were the only 
answer I could give her.  My hand reached up and cradled the soft mound of 
flesh between her legs.  She answered my advance with a sly look and a 
grin.  The wet satin was magnificent.  She was very hot, and dripping juice 
with every stroke of my fingers.  She protested a little. "My, aren't you a 
light touch.  Come on, push it!"  I was too busy fondling her softly to 
take her suggestion.  It didn't matter anyway, she started to shake, 
grabbed my shoulders, and came hard in my hand.

	Breathing heavily, and still trembling, she whispered, "That was 
different."  Before she hit the floor, I scooped her up and held her 
against me.  Reggie sounded like a sleeping kitten.  I dared to kiss her.  
The girl was obviously no stranger to making out.  She eagerly sucked my 
tongue into her mouth and plied it with her own.

	I had to sit down.  The way she tongue fucked my mouth, I was dizzy 
and about to fall over.  My hands found their way under the fabric of her 
panties to her soft, fleshy bum.  She squeaked, surprised by my bold hands, 
but soon relaxed, keeping her tongue busy dancing with mine.  I had to push 
her away, remembering that I still had to breathe.  When she sat back, my 
impatient prick pushed into her soft parts.  If her panties weren't on, I'd 
have sunk half way into her preteen womb.

	Reggie bounced slightly, working the delicate satin back and forth 
across her already wet cunt.  Her mouth formed a puffy lipped "O."  Then 
she pushed me back, and rode my slippery penis back and forth, wet pantied 
slit cupping me eagerly.  I'm not sure if that's something she did before, 
or if these circumstances made her learn a new trick, but I wasn't 
complaining.  It's the most action my dong has had in weeks.  Soap and my 
own hands aren't nearly this gratifying.  Her twat was gushing sweet-
smelling juice at an alarming rate.  Either she was cumming, or she had the 
juiciest cunt I've ever seen.  The way she arched her back and let out 
muffled screeches, I bet on the first.  Well, the second was also very 
true.

	Her head laid on my chest, and her arms dangled limply where her 
hands clutched my tee-shirt.  I stroked my little sex-kitten's hair and 
kissed the top of her head.  Even though that was the most sexually 
exciting thing I'd ever done, my prick was still unsatisfied.
	Still desperate to release the large wad of cum that had been 
building up all day, my crank stood up in protest.  Lifting Reggie's chin 
and looking in her heavenly green eyes, I asked, "Now, what was that you 
wanted to show me?"  Giggling, and with giddy glee, she hopped off my lap 
and took my hard member in her dainty fingers.  

	With obvious expertise, she sucked the head of my prick into her soft 
mouth.  Her tongue danced around my crank, poking my piss-hole every so 
often.  The fact that she was doing this after it was soaked with her own 
cunt honey was all the more exciting.  Slowly, patiently, she slid herself 
down my shaft, sucking off the nectar she'd squirted on me.  I wanted to 
hold out as long as I could.  I clenched myself as tight as I could, 
desperate to keep from cumming too soon.

	Oblivious to my restraint, she continued to suck, and let the tip of 
my dick hit the back of her mouth.  Speeding up a little, but still taking 
her time, she bobbed her head back and forth, letting me brush the back of 
her throat each time.  Moaning, and trying to hold myself steady, I 
couldn't warn her that I was going to cum.  I tried to pull myself free, 
but she had an iron grip on my member.  Wave after thick hot wave shot into 
her mouth.

	"Gulp, gulp, gulp!  Mmm!  Tasty!!"  She had a wad still dripping from 
her lips.  I put my finger up to wipe it off, but she sucked it off my 
finger.  There was no way for me to know if she truly enjoyed that, or was 
trained to do that.  I suddenly felt extremely horrible.  After all that 
time, and all those fantasies involving sweet, willing little girls doing 
what she just did, I felt very ill.  Dreams were one thing.  Fantasies 
don't hurt, and they don't go to the police.  What was going to happen if 
Reggie decided I wasn't as nice as she was pretending I was now?

	So, I asked her a lot of questions.  How did she learn how to do 
this?  Was she raped by someone when she was younger?  Was she someone's 
slave?  But she assured me, she wasn't ever forced to have sex, nor was she 
anyone's slave.  In fact, besides one of her mom's former boyfriends, she'd 
only played around with girls her age.

	Reggie put her hands on my face, trying to look consoling, "I loved 
it.  You weren't anything like Harry.  He was nice, but he was grabby."  
Harry, I took it, was her mom's former boyfriend.  "He never forced me.  I 
wanted to suck him off.  I just wish he licked me out more often."  I took 
that as a hint and sat her on the couch next to me.

	I kissed her lips and worked my way down.  Her tender neck was sweet 
smelling, and she got goose bumps when I kissed her there.  I worked my way 
down her chest until I got to her bra.  It was front closing, so I popped 
the snap and nibbled her tiny, puffy nubbins.  She was too young to develop 
titties, but the soft, barley rounded mounds were delightful nonetheless.  
Her body was lean and tight, athletically muscular.  Her stomach muscles 
tightened as I kissed down them to her navel.  Most girls had little divets 
in their stomachs that they called navels.  Reggie had a soft little 
"outie" button.  She continued to moan and tense as I worked my way to her 
lap.

	Where does a nine-year-old tomboy get such lovely panties?  I 
couldn't help wonder.  These things looked more like "fuck-me" panties that 
you'd see in Victoria's Secret.  I doubt they have a preteen outlet.  But, 
with Abecrombie & Fitch selling preteen thongs, I wasn't all that 
surprised.  The shimmering ribbons that held her panties' front and back 
together slipped apart easily.  Even untied, the wet, semi-transparent 
satin clung to her pink little slit.  When I pulled them off with my teeth, 
she giggled, then added, "Eat me, big boy."

	I had absolutely no problem with that.  Her already wet pussy had the 
most intoxicating scent.  There aren't words enough to describe it.  
Heavenly falls inadequately short.  I lapped and lapped until her cunt was 
wet with my saliva instead of her own nectar.  Her lips were pulsating and 
very hot.  The vulva petals crept out and were ripe for nibbling.

	Reggie had good instincts.  When she tried to shriek out, she covered 
her mouth and gasped.  Only allowing herself small squeaks and throaty 
moans, I continued orally pleasing her.  Her hands gripped my head, and her 
hips thrust forward with each tender lick.  There was no surprise when I 
found her cherry missing.  Though, whether she popped it herself, or if 
"Harry" did it, I don't know.  As tight as she was, and as hard as her cunt 
gripped my finger and tongue, I doubt a man had ever been inside that 
lovely little orifice.

	With wet, sloshing sounds, I fingered her all the way up to my 
knuckle.  Her clitty was fully engorged and throbbing against my tongue.  
To get to it all the way, I had her spread herself open and pull back the 
fleshy hood that protected the little red jewel.  When I looked up, she had 
my throw-pillow clenched between her teeth.  "You okay, luv?"  Muffled from 
the pillow, she said, "More, more!  Please!  More!!!"  I didn't need to be 
told twice.

	Reggie lifted her rump, pulling her lips apart again, and silently 
begged for my attention.  I squeezed her bum and my tongue slid as deep as 
it could fit inside that tiny, wet hole.  Almost instantly, I was rewarded 
with gush after gush of warm wetness.  As much fluid as she gave me, I 
thought she was peeing.  But, it was sweet and smelled like her velvety 
pussy.  So, that's what little girl cum juice tasted like.

	I continued to lick until she breathlessly asked me to quit.  She was 
pink all over, gasping for air.  I was exhausted too.  She cradled my head 
as I laid it on her flat tummy.  My heart sank when I heard her sniffling.  
Oh, God!  I did hurt her!  No, she told me she never felt that good before.  
Not even her most eager and sexually curious friends could make her feel as 
good as I just had.

	She gave me her panties and bra as a gift.  Though, she still comes 
over for my tender touch, I treasure these precious bits of satin and lace.  
Sometimes, she even puts them on so she can soak them in her intoxicating 
honey and keep them smelling as fragrant and sweet as that first day.  She 
even brings frilly, girly clothes to parade her true femininity in front of 
me.  No wonder she wore boyish clothes and that dirty red cap.  She wanted 
to save herself for a gentleman like me.  One who treats her like the 
goddess she is.

	I know she won't be here for me forever, and she'll grow up someday.  
So, in the meantime, I'll just enjoy what little Regina is willing to share 
with me.  Who knows?  She might decide to keep me.  Well, a man can dream, 
can't he?

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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