Message-ID: <20465eli$9903100432@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: sweets1140@aol.com (Sweets1140) Subject: Sweets at School, part seven (M/f, ped, ws, mc) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19990309210219.00550.00000218@ng139.aol.com> Sweets at School, part seven One day became the next and the next. Sweets went often to the gardener's cottage for tea and laughing. She learned his name was Paul and his son's name was Theo-- the effect of his Greek mother who died young at age twenty-eight. Curiously, at the same age Sweets' mother died, but not so young that anyone forgot her warmth and gracious ways. Paul was patient. He sensed the blossom opening in front of his eyes and inhaled deeply and with great care. Days passed with no touching, just the tea and stories they told each other until the day Sweets came in sweating after soccer practice, her first. She mumbled about not liking that stuff, how everyone already knew how to play and she did not and certainly did not want to learn. It was too rough and the falling down parts were no fun. Paul explained that in the olden days, girls did not do such things, but now they could and ought to so they could become fit and strong. He said they should be no barriers to girls learning to run in marathons or whatever they wanted to do. Sweets said, I would rather be reading or be here with you! Her face grew red and she stomped around his kitchen saying, it's not fair, they make you, I hate it, I just hate it. He listened then went to get their tea and said, would you rather have lemonade today? You seem all hot and bothered about this soccer business. How about a cool pitcher of fresh lemonade, Sweets, we can take it out under the trees and I will teach you how to play cribbage, maybe? At the sound of cribbage, she paused her pacing. Well, maybe, but what I really need is a bath, I think I stink. Paul laughed loudly and slapped his knee. You don't stink, little one. You smell like grass and the sea; you smell just right to me. I do? Sweets asked, do I really or are you just saying that to be nice. I hate it when people say things just to be nice, I just hate it. He reached out as she passed by him and tugged her baggy shorts until she stopped and looked at him while he spoke. Sweets, you want a bath? Let me give you a bath. Sweets said, you? How can you give me a bath, I'm no baby, I can give me a bath. See, see, there you go, being nice and all that. I just hate it when... Paul placed his fingers on her lips and said, ssshhhh! Come with me and let me bathe you, little one. You will like it, I promise. Sweets thought about it and when he smiled, he had the yes he sought because his smile was so kind she just had to go along with it. Besides that, she was a good sport and she sensed his giving her a bath would make him happy, too. He had her sit and sip her tea while he ran the water and laid out his blue flannel pajama top beside a white turkish towel. He was humming and she recognized Finlandia, then knew, but could not name, the etude he whistled thereafter. The tea was tasty, just the way she liked it. He fixed it for her that way without asking now. His own tea was growing cold at his place on the table, so she nuked it in the microwave, took it out and went to look for him. She found him sitting on the edge of the tub swishing soap suds into great bubbles. In his hand was a shower thingme which sprayed hot water on the surface to make the bubbles pile up at the end of his large old-fashioned porcelain tub with claw feet. He said, it's ready. I will step out so you can undress and get into the water. Call me when you are ready for me to bathe you, okay? She handed him his large tea mug with her laughing okay! Paul stepped out and closed the door. Sweets peeled off the shorts and shirt which was stuck to her back, then her undershirt... She hated having to wear an undershirt, but the nuns required it for modesty sake even though she had nothing to be modest about, she groused to herself. She removed her white socks and underpants, left on her silver chain with the Blessed Virgin's medal around her neck, then changed her mind and removed that, too. Testing the water showed it was just right and she stepped in. She sat down with a large AAAhhhh! which Paul heard and responded to. Are you ready for me to come in, Sweets? She felt very excited all at once. Her favorite whiskered friend was coming inside this small room. Her legs scissored past each other making waves. She wished she had gone pee before getting in the tub. Things work out for the best, she thought--that is what her Grandmother always said anyway. She scooted down under the water until the bubbles reached her chin and called out, ready! He kneeled beside the tub and smiled and asked if she had found the washcloth under the water. She fished around and produced it. He took it from her hand, wrung it out tightly in those large dark strong hands and wiped off her face. He applied soap to the cloth and rubbed her back and arms then asked her to stand up. She did. He rubbed the soapy cloth down her legs to her knees, raised it to her chest, saying, I know, I know, I will be careful here. They chuckled together. He rubbed her stomach and asked her to turn around. She heard him gasp or something and looked back over her shoulder as he was stopped mid-motion gazing at her behind. Lovely, lovely, lovely, she heard him say before he resumed the gentle rubbing which took his hand between her cheeks and down the back of her thighs. Paul, Paul, wait, wait, I have to... I have to... you know. I know, he replied, it's okay, go ahead, it's okay, I will shower you off later, go now, Sweets, just open those legs and go now. She bent forward ever so slightly, hesitated almost imperceptibly which he noticed and smiled at, then moved her feet apart. The stream started and his fingers caught it between her knees while she watched him. The stream began to resemble a waterfall over his fingers and she pushed down to make more come out. When she stopped, she heard him sigh. That was good, sweetheart, that was so good, did you like doing that for me? Yes, she answered. It was fun, I always wanted to do that in the tub, but dared not, you know? I know... Paul said. I need to touch you right here, right here, okay? He put his fingers under the curve of her buttocks, traced a path up to the dimples atop each cheek beside her backbone then across in a straight line between her hips. It felt just grand, she thought, so slippery and so nice. It's okay, she said, I know you do. It's okay. It feels nice. I like it. His breath escaped with a near whistle sound. Paul took a deep breath and blew it out onto her buttocks which made her jump a little before he proceded further. They chuckled again. He began to stroke her in a new way which made her almost itchy or something. But, it felt good and she stood still, very still. Sweets at School, part seven Swe3/99e.txt -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----