Message-ID: <20878eli$9903310433@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: sweets1140@aol.com (Sweets1140) Subject: Sweets at School, part sixteen (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: <19990330162412.28813.00000185@ng119.aol.com> Sweets at School, part sixteen Sweets followed Paul to his bathroom. Take a seat, love. He gestured to the toilet. She plopped down over the opening and her legs splayed. He lifted her white cotton slip to expose her thighs while she watched his hands move the laced edged slip higher. He asked that she take one tiny cheek between her fingers as he was doing to open her wide. She finally understood what he wanted her to do. She placed one forefinger and thumb upon each in a light pinch hold. She waited for his next instruction as he knelt down between her spread legs not quite touching the floor. She heard his breath grow short, observed his placing his great wide plump middle finger, nail side down, in the space between where her fingers held her open to his eyes. As his finger went under, it disappeared from her view--then she felt it resting gently, gently in the middle. Sweets, pee for me? Pretty one, will you pee for me now? It took several seconds from the bubble she felt at his words for the stream to start. At first it sprayed every which way and splashed on his hand, then under the seat through the space to his chest. Her oops! caused them both to laugh. He reseated his middle finger; they smiled at each other and she restarted the trickle to flow. Now and then, he pressed such that her pushing down stopped. God, she loved the feeling of him starting and stopping her flow like that. She wondered how he did it. She needed to rock on his finger when he did that. He leaned forward to kiss her hair. She listened to his breath as it whooshed on her head. She felt so happy doing this for him. She wished it would never end--that she would pour; he would press; she would stop and he would start her pouring again. They moved in unison to music only they could hear. They were so close. She could smell salted air, his hair, his beard, his sweat; he could smell her and hear the soft splashing onto the porcelain, at the water beneath her bottom. When her stream stopped, neither moved. She was the first to speak. I wish I had more for you, Paul. More and more and more... She felt her eyes fill with tears. They connected in their eyes beyond the connection of fingers and noses. She loved him. He knew she loved him. He loved her. His--don't move, just yet, Sweets, don't move, please... made perfect sense to her. She wanted to let go of the puss cheeks and put her arms around him, but would not move until she was sure it was all right with him who she adored with all her heart.. She would sit motionless forever if he asked her to--she felt safe and enclosed within his eyes and hands such that she could not speak. She felt his finger move toward the back of her and settle between the area of her vagina and anus. His fingertip stroked ever so carefully. Her arms became goose-bumped. When he spoke, she could barely hear what he said. Tender, tender, he said. Easy does it, sweet girl. She felt muscles tighten, relax, then a few drop escaped with a loud plink into the water. Oh, Paul, she cried in a voice as cracked and soft as his sounded in her ear, Oh, Paul, please let me touch your tender? Please let me touch your tender, too? He hesitated as her entreaty was repeated. Did she know what she was saying? Did he dare? He withdrew his finger slowly and put it into his mouth. She grinned. He grinned with his mouth full. Together they grinned as he sucked his finger nearly dry--finishing with the loud smacking sound she liked. You taste so good to me, fair Sweets. You are honey, nectar, mead, food--for my soul and my body. Do you know that? Her response included placing her hands on his ears and looking into his eyes. For a moment, Paul felt like a boy whose mother was holding his face in her hands. She seemed so much older than he felt then for some reason. Her--I know, I know, I know, Paul-- touched him to the quick. Could this be so? She was just a child. He was a man. He must be dreaming. How could this be happening? Her voice came again. Please let me do tender on you? Pretty please? He whole body ached with pain he barely remembered from nursing when hungry or being bathed by his mother or holding his new born son. Of course, he managed to say, of course, my darlin' whatever you want. Whatever pleases you, pleases me. He rose from her holding his face to his full height before her then turned to struggle with belt buckles, buttons, zippers, clothes to pull down. He bent forward as if to touch his toes with his knees apart. He said, it will be easier for you this way. He wanted to hide his swollen member from her child's eyes for now as a boy might hide from his mother who had unwittingly called it up. He felt her kiss on his backside and noticed he was leaking from the exquisite touch of her mouth, so small, so gentle in her smack of lips on each cheek. He heard her giggle. Ha, ha, ha! Gotcha back! She gave him another pair of smack kisses, saying, one for you and one for you because you are a good boy! He needed to laugh aloud at that--she was so playful--but his pain in proximity made him groan instead. She kept chattering as her hands, so small, touched him here and there--now where is your boo boo? Show me where it hurts? Let me kiss it and make it all better, she chattered. He felt her rest her head against him. Her hand went between his parted thighs. Her middle finger came to rest behind his testicles as she called them in her serious mirthful manner. She moved her short middle finger as gently as he had. Like this, she asked, like this? Am I doing it right? Oh, yes, he murmured over and over, as if chanting. Her finger advanced. He felt her touch one and then the other as gently as rain drops would do. His knees buckled, he could stand no more. Please, please, he said, please, wait, wait... She paused. They listened to each other breathing. It seemed so loud a sound with an echo in this small room. His legs were wet. He could not move. He felt each squirt trickle. They held still together for an hour it seemed in those minutes. Then her finger retreated along the path back to where she began... He heard her from a long distance say, tender, tender, I love you, Paul. Pulling himself upright and redoing his clothes was the most difficult decision he recalled of this time together. She had captured him utterly, absolutely and ever more. He wanted to be her best boy, her only boy--he forgot he was the grown-up here, the one who adored her. The reversal astounded him. He would spend days after this wondering how it happened. Sweets at School, part sixteen swe3/99n.txt -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----