Message-ID: <23274asstr$953766612@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: "Potboiler" X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V5.00.2314.1300 X-Original-Message-ID: <38d922cc.0@news2.cluster1.telinco.net> NNTP-Posting-Date: Wed, 22 Mar 2000 19:44:50 GMT Subject: {ASSM} First story A schoolboy fantasy fulfilled (Mf, cons) Date: Wed, 22 Mar 2000 18:10:12 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, english This is a work of fiction. All acts are purely fantasy. All people in the story are created in my imagination. This story contains descriptions of sex between an adult male and an underage girl. If such material offends you, then don't read on. Underage sex is illegal, so please stick to reading and writing about it. Bit of a long one this, for which I apologise for the time it'll take to download. A fantasy fulfilled, a few years late. 1 My brother rang on Friday afternoon. "Can you do me a favour?" I was instantly on my guard. I asked cautiously, "what is it?" "I'm in a meeting with my boss, and it's gonna overrun. Thing is, he has a daughter who needs meeting from school, and looking after `til someone gets home." "Babysitting? Oh come on," I replied. "You know me and kids don't get on." "Please, mate. I'm in a real bind here. You're the only person I can trust. I'll, I'll let you borrow the car over the weekend." That caught my attention. My brother drives a beautiful convertible that I'd do anything to get behind the wheel of. He must be serious if he's prepared to go that far. "O.K, O.K, O.K, I'll do it," I said. "Where, who and when?" "She'll know you'll be there, " he said, rattling off the name of the best girls school in the area. "Just don't miss her." 2 It was wet. I wasn't happy. Standing outside a posh girl's secondary school in my jeans and leather jacket, while Ferraris and Porsches, their drivers sneering at my decade old Peugeot, roared past me. The precious darlings inside safe from the weirdo teen hanging around their school gates. I looked at my watch again. Twenty minutes since the final bell. Had I missed her? My brother would be pissed at me if I had. Maybe she'd slunk past rather than get in my old wreck. I swore under my breath, and determined to give her five more minutes. After four, I heard running footsteps, and three girls suddenly appeared behind me. One of them introduced herself as Clarissa, the girl I was waiting for. "D'you mind if we give my friends a lift home? It'll keep them dry, you see." "Of course not," I replied. "So long as they don't mind riding in my old car..." They grinned, and piled in. As we drove around, the girls started chatting about boys. They were 13-14 years old, and I soon gathered, none of them had so much as gone on a date with a guy before. I was able to clue them in on what a guy really liked in a girl. Dress, attitude, appearance etc. If nothing else, I'd save them from some of the fashion disasters I'd seen friends make. The girls soon reached a consensus: I was cool, definitely the coolest of Clarissa's sitter's so far. I grinned inwardly. At 19, I was making an impression on the pubescent age range. By the time I hit 30, I might be able to impress girls of legal age. 3 After dropping Clarissa's friends off, we headed towards her father's place. A virtual mansion on the outskirts of the city, it was well known that Clarissa's dad was something of an eccentric. He never employed anyone, preferring to tend the huge gardens and grounds himself. Few had seen inside, but those who had implied that Clarissa would surely have a lot of household chores. I asked her about it as we made our way towards her home. "Yeah, daddy's a little weird. He likes to do his own stuff, but sometimes gets an out of town firm in to help." And the cleaning? "We only use about five rooms, the rest is, like, a museum. I kinda tidy up at the weekends." No staff, I guessed. When we got into the house, there was a message on the answer phone. Clarissas dad wouldn't be returning home that night, too much work to do. Would I be able to stay? Well, fuck, what choice did I have? No way I could leave the girl alone for the night. Anyway, I had no plans for the night, so there were no problems looking after Clarissa. Speaking of whom... She emerged from the cloakroom, having shed her heavy overcoat. I did a double take: I couldn't believe her uniform. It looked straight out of that Britney Spears video. Her hem was somewhere up round her backside, her shirt lay open and tied in a knot across her chest. She was either wearing a push up bra, or was well endowed for her age. All this I took in with a glance. I gasped, and she looked down. "Oh, shit!" she cried. "I, uh, I..." "Need to go get changed?" I asked, a shade distractedly. "Uh, yeah. Uh, I'll ...just...uh..." And with that, the typically articulate teen turned and ran for her room. 4 Fifteen minutes later, she came out. She's changed into a sweatshirt and pleated skirt. Again, I smelled a Britney influence. "I guess I owe you an explanation," she said nervously. "Not really," I said. "You and your friends do a Britney act after school, right?" "Uh, yeah. How'd you know?" "It's not that long ago I was your age. I remember the girls at my school doing the same when Eternal and En Vogue were popular. They wore a little more than Britney does though. That always annoyed me, back then," I said with a grin. "Do you let guys watch?" "No," she replied. "No-one watches. We'd be too embarrassed. The gym teacher lets us use the gym for twenty minutes after school. She thinks we're exercising, which I kinda guess we are." This last was said with a giggle. I looked at Clarissa closely. She was, as I've mentioned, 13 or 14 years old. Tall for her age, and slim, she had clear skin, dark blond hair, and was well tanned. In short, she was beautiful, and I was all too aware of it. My brief glimpse of her body had been enough to rise my dick to a state of semi-awareness, and it was only now beginning to subside. We moved into the sitting room, and I spied the drinks cabinet. I mixed myself a drink, and asked Clarissa if she wanted anything. "Whisky and coke, please," she replied. I turned and looked questioningly at her. She turned a look of utter innocence on me, and smiled a `who, me?' smile. "Daddy always lets me," she said. "No he doesn't," I thought, and poured a glass full of coke, with a couple of drops of whisky in it. I handed it to her, and she took a long draught. She sputtered half of it up again, and set the drink down with a cough. "That's strong," she gasped. I began to suspect she had never had alcohol before, but didn't want to embarrass her by mentioning it. She looked down at her sweater, and snorted at the stains from her drink. She began to pull it over head, and I realised she had only a bra on underneath. "Um, you wanna go to your room and do that?" I asked. "Why?" She asked "Well, you don't have a whole hell of a lot on underneath, and I wouldn't feel right seeing you like that." "Oh, okay. Sorry," she said. She sounded disappointed, I thought, then shook it off. I must have been wrong "Hey, no problem," I managed. As she wandered off in search of clean clothes, I tried manfully to take my mind off her. I looked at the photos scattered around the room, but they mainly involved Clarissa in various skimpy outfits: shorts, bikinis, mini skirts, and so on. Her dad was obviously proud of Clarissa's beauty. I wondered to myself how proud he'd be when she started dating, and he had to put up with horny guys showing up at his house and trying to get into her pants. Just then, I heard Clarissa came back in to the room. 5 "You like my pictures?" she asked from somewhere behind me. "You look very pretty in them," I replied truthfully. "Daddy does photography as a hobby. He's always snapping pics of nature, and all that stuff. Sometimes he takes pics of me. I want to be a model, and need them for my portfolio." "What sort of model? " I asked as I turned around. She's changed her sweatshirt for a skin-tight top that clung to her well-developed breasts. Now I could see that her bra was not a push up one: her nipples were poking against the material of the top very obviously. What was this girl playing at? "I'd do anything. Everyone starts at the bottom. Kate and Eva both started modelling for catalogues. Other's did glamour modelling." "Glamour modelling, you mean like Page 3?" (Note for non Brits: Page 3 is a British institution, with some newspapers brightening the morning of millions of men by printing topless pictures, generally on... page 3) "Kinda, but I'd go all the way. Anything to get into modelling." I felt stupid. What did she mean by all the way? I asked her. "You know, porno modelling," she said, staring at me intently. This young girl, barely a teen, had just told me she was prepared to pose nude to get into modelling. Jesus. "You really think you could do that?" I asked incredulously "Sure. It'd only be a few pics. More for my portfolio. I think I'd enjoy it" "How do you know? Have you tried it?" "Of course not, silly," she replied. "I'm far too young to turn men on yet. But I know in a few year's that'll be different." She really didn't seem to know how horny she was. All this talk was turning me on, big time. I had to keep reminding myself that she was so young. "Does your father know?" "He knows I want to be a model," she replied. "Not how far I'll go." God. How did I get the conversation to this point? I decided to make another drink, to steady my nerves. This time, I was too distracted to do anything but mix Clarissa a full strength whisky and Coke. 6 This time, she kept it down well. She even finished her drink before me, and hopped up to get another. Halfway down the second drink, her words began to run together some, and I tactfully moved the glass away from her. "Got a problem," she said. "What's that?" I asked. "Need bathroom." Oh Christ. All of a sudden, I was tending a thirteen-year-old body with a four-year-old mind in it. "Where is it?" I asked. "Upstairs," she mumbled Muttering a curse against the designer for not putting downstairs toilets in a house this size, I picked her up, and headed out of the room. As we moved towards the stairs, she clasped her arms around my neck, and hauled her head level with mine, and started to blow into my ear. In another time, another place, another participant, I'd have enjoyed this immensely. Right here, now, and with Clarissa, I wanted nothing more than to put her to bed, and run like hell. I helped her into the bathroom, and shut the door on her. I heard her splashing, and the taps running, and eventually, she called for me to come in. I opened the door, and beheld Clarissa, standing as still as she could, with a small towel wrapped around her, and nothing else. "You've been really good to me tonight," she slurred. "Now I want to be good to you." "Clarissa... Get dressed honey." I managed after a lifetime of indecision. "You're drunk, I'm too old, and your dad would kill us." Tears welled in her eyes. Oh God, I thought. "You don't like me?" She sniffed "It's not that, it would be wrong for me to take advantage of you. That's all." "You wouldn't be though. I want to. I'm sick of not having done anything with a guy before now. I want to have you." "Oh Christ," I whispered. "Clarissa, honey, you're very attractive, but I'm not right for you." "I want yooooou," she wailed, and threw herself into my arms. As she did, her towel slipped, and her naked form pressed against me. "NO, Clarissa. Get dressed now," I snapped as I turned away. I averted my gaze as she snuffled her way to the clothes she'd left on the floor. I tried to stop thinking of the tantalising glimpse I'd seen as the towel dropped. I needed to think how wrong it would be to take advantage of this girl, especially in the state she was in. She sniffed loudly as she staggered past me, obviously still drunk. Inwardly, I applauded her for her self-control when trying to seduce me. She hadn't swayed at all. But the effort had clearly drained her, and she nearly collapsed before I managed to catch her. Sort of. Off balance, I staggered as badly as she had, and fell over. I felt a stab of pain in my shoulder as I went down, and as we lay in a heap, I felt blood trickling down my back. Hauling Clarissa into a sitting position, I moved into the bathroom and investigated. A slight cut on the shoulder was easily bandaged but my shirt was ruined. I sighed, and tended the cut. On my way out of the bathroom, I picked up Clarissa, and carried her to what she said was her dad's room. I needed a clean shirt, and that seemed the only likely place to find one. Walking in, I dumped Clarissa on the bed, and wandered over to the wardrobe. I rifled through the shirts, and when I found one I liked, I turned to ask Clarissa's opinion. I figured it would be a good way to make up some of the ground we'd lost in the embarrassing incident minutes before. It was a bad choice. Clarissa was flat on her back, her legs far apart. I could see right up her skirt, and her silky panties left little to the imagination. I spun around as quick as I could and quickly pulled the shirt on. "Why don't you like me?" she asked. "What do you mean? "I replied, glad to hear a note of sobriety returning to her voice. "I threw myself at you, and you turned me down. Now you could have had me here, and you turn away. What's wrong with me?" "Clarissa, you're six years younger than me. It's wrong for anything to happen between a 19 year old and a 13 year old," I replied. "There's a girl in my school who's only 12, and she's slept with seven guys, two of them over 20." "That's wrong Clarissa. She shouldn't do that, and the guys should know better. It doesn't make what you want to do right." "But who'd know? I wouldn't tell anyone," she asked. Good point. Very, very good point. As time passed, I could think of fewer and fewer reasons not to take this beautiful girl. She wanted it. I wanted it. What could possibly be wrong with that? I shook my head. The jury I'd end up before would know exactly what was wrong with that. Word would get out. I walked out of the room, only looking at Clarissa to tell her I was going to sleep in a spare room. I closed the door, and lent against it. I wondered how much longer I could hold out if she tried again. 7 The door clicked behind me, and my weight made it fly open. I toppled backwards, and landed with a bang on the hardwood floor. All my breath left me with a jolt, and I shook my head muzzily, having hit it on the floor. My vision cleared, to reveal Clarissa standing by the door, her hand at her mouth in shock. Then she slowly moved so as to be standing astride me. She eased the front of her skirt up, until it was just covering her panties. "I hoped you'd come back. I didn't expect you to throw yourself at my feet," she giggled. The alcohol had clearly loosened her inhibitions, and I struggled to sit upright. She stopped me short by squatting down, and kissing me, hard and clumsily. Now, I hadn't suddenly forgotten all my principles. I still knew that what I was doing was wrong. But I had a nine stone girl pinning me to the floor, and in my bruised and dizzy condition, I could no more throw her off than stop the blood flowing into my groin. Which it was, quickly, and noticeably. Eventually she broke the kiss. It hadn't been great. She hadn't known about French kissing, and her lips had stayed closed throughout. It ranked nowhere on my great kisser list. In terms of what it did to my befuddled mind, however, it was sheer dynamite. It was one hundred proof eroticism in a golden brown body. But, still, I protested. "No, we mustn't..." I managed. "Shh," she breathed, and put a finger to my lips. "It's okay. Everything's okay. We both want this. There's nothing wrong with it. It's right. We both want it. I want you. I think you want me. What could be wrong?" "No... It's wrong... You're so young... We'll get in trouble. It's wrong..." All the time I wondered when she'd taken control of the situation, and why she was acting so clear headed suddenly. "I won't tell anyone, you won't tell anyone. It'll be fine. No one need ever know. I want this so much. I've always wanted to have my first time with an older guy. Ever since I learned about sex, I wanted my first time to be with a guy who knows what he's doing. I want to give you my most precious gift, the one I can only give just once. Please don't turn me down again. I think my heart would break if you did." With that I was lost. I could no more stop myself than I could stop a speeding train, or outrun an aeroplane. I reached up with my good arm, and took her head in my hand. I pulled her lips to mine, and kissed her, properly, sliding my tongue into her mouth. At first she flinched, but as my tongue slipped into her mouth, and explored, she gave herself over to me, and even began to move her own tongue against mine. Never before had a kiss seemed so sweet, so passionate. At that moment, I knew that this girl had me in her power. I could deny her nothing. I was lost. We stood up and move to the bed. She walked ahead of me, and I watched her body move as she walked. This girl certainly had the grace to be a catwalk queen. We lay down on the bed, and paused as the enormity of what we were about to do hit us. "Are you sure?" I asked. "I've been sure since I first saw you," she said. "I think you being so cool and understanding about everything just made me even more sure." A thought occurred to me. "I don't have any protection, we shouldn't..." "I'm on the pill. I have really heavy periods, and it's easier to take the pill than put up with it. I'm trusting you to be clean." Which I was. My last girlfriend and I had had tests done before we slept together. I reached over and stroked her cheek. "You're so beautiful," I said. "You'll make it as a model, no problem." She grinned, "thanks." I pulled her into my arms, and we kissed. All the passion we felt flowed into our lips, and exploded as we touched. Our nervous hands exploring one another's bodies, her hands moving over my chest, and fumbling with the button's of her father's shirt. My hands slid over her back, lazily dragging the fingertips up and down her spine, making her shiver slightly. I wanted her first time to be so special, she'd always treasure the memory. Where to begin? I hadn't the faintest idea. I decided to let her set the pace, as she seemed fairly certain about what she wanted. After about ten minutes, in which time I had removed my shirt, she seemed to grow a little impatient, so I moved my ministrations to her front. My hands moved gently over her stomach, my eyes always locked on hers. I kissed her gently as I moved my hands on to her breasts, slowly caressing the undersides in slowly increasing circles. When I reached her nipples, I flicked across them with my thumb, making her gasp at the sudden pleasure. I moved my hands to her waistband, and pulled at the material of her top. Slowly, I eased it over her head, and then kissed her, firmly and passionately. 8 Breaking the kiss, I moved into an upright position, pulling Clarissa with me. My hands wandered over her naked torso, sending quivers of delight up and down her spine. Being the one who would deflower this delightful young girl made me feel very responsible to her. I would not hurt her, of that I was certain. It would be her decision how far we went, and I would not do anything wrong. I kissed her lips, feeling the heat radiating from her. I slid down, pecking at her throat and neck, before eventually reaching her breasts. Slowly caressing them with my hands, stroking the undersides in gently increasing circles. I gradually moved my hands up and over her breasts. I closed them on her breasts, and brushed the nipples with the palm of each hand. Still locked together at the lips, I rolled onto my back, letting her lie flat on my body. She slipped her legs either side of mine, and sat back. She smiled as my hands slipped down from her breasts, and cradled her buttocks. As she raised herself on her knees, I slid up on the bed, and she slipped the shirt from my shoulders. My face was at the same level as her crotch, and I slid the zip of her skirt down, unclasping the catch holding it closed. I slid it down, and she slipped it off, before returning to straddling my stomach. I laid back, pausing in contemplation at the enormity of what I was about to do. All consideration of it being wrong had long since left my mind. This girl wanted it, and had offered herself to me. I smiled as she sat back further, and started to play with my jeans. She fumbled with the clasp on my belt buckle, and I took her hands in my mine, kissing the fingertips before releasing them and undoing the belt myself. I reached around her back again, caressing it gently, and drawing murmurs of pleasure from my young lover. She unbuttoned my fly, and began to slide them down my legs. 9 There we lay, reduced to our underwear. For the longest time, we lay kissing, cuddling and caressing. Eventually, I slid my hands down her back, and into the waistband of her panties. She flinched. "What's wrong?" "I'm not sure I'm ready to go all the way." With that, all my doubts came rushing back. She'd been drunk, and I'd gone too far. I cursed myself inwardly for my lack of self control. "It's okay," I said. "I'm not going to push you. You're not ready, and you probably don't want it to be with me now anyway." "Don't be silly," she smiled. "I want it to be you so badly. But I don't want to go all the way on our first time. I think we should wait, maybe next time I'll feel more comfortable. You being prepared to stop show's me how right I was to choose you in the first place." I smiled at her in return. I had been granted a reprieve in order to consider the subject rationally. As we lay there, and continued to kiss, though, I realised it would be no use. I was unlikely to change my mind about being the one for her. Sure there was an age difference, but I knew many couples with greater differences in age. If it came to it, I'd simply have to wait until she was sixteen, and I was 22 before we took it any further. The next morning, we dressed reluctantly. We didn't know how long it would be until we saw each other again, nor when we would have the chance to, uh, `test the waters' on her readiness to take the next steps. We spent the morning wandering around her palatial house, hand in hand, stopping frequently to enter into a clinch. Mid-afternoon, her father returned from his work, and she gave me a final kiss goodbye before we presented ourselves to him. He exited his car looking tired and haggard. This dropped away the instant he saw Clarissa, however. I began to see how deep the love was the two felt, and realised I had no idea where her mum was. A question for another time, I realised as I collected my belongings and prepared to go home. Burning a hole in my pocket was Clarissa's email address. I knew there'd be a message waiting my return, and that I'd read it and reply instantly. I felt like a kid again, far younger than 19. Lust wasn't the word. I knew not when I'd see her again, but I'd wait. I knew what was happening to me, and reflected hat 24v hours ago, I'd not known this glorious young girl waited. I was falling heavily in love, and if it had to be a platonic love affair for 3 years then so be it. I just knew that it would be worth it. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+