Message-ID: <46341asstr$1074852603@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Originating-Email: [gauismarius@hotmail.com] From: "Gaius Marius" Mime-Version: 1.0 X-Original-Message-ID: X-OriginalArrivalTime: 22 Jan 2004 09:40:09.0915 (UTC) FILETIME=[B9F240B0:01C3E0CB] X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Thu, 22 Jan 2004 09:40:09 +0000 Subject: {ASSM} PETE and CINDY (Mf inc) Lines: 286 Date: Fri, 23 Jan 2004 05:10:03 -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: dennyw, RuiJorge Disclaimer: The following story is entirely a work of fantasy. All characters and events represented herein are completely fictional. PETE & CINDY (Mf inc) By GM PART 1. It was one of those fine, blustery days towards the end of summer, when the sun sets early and the winds begin to sharpen to a knife point. Peter Hopkins shouldered his back pack and headed down Domain Road, brown hair whipping around his face. His young cousin Cindy Connors trotted along beside him, her long blond pigtails flying in the slipstream. Pete glanced down at her in quiet amusement. She was a pretty little girl with pale blue eyes and lips the color of rose petals, chattering way in fluent childspeak. Her bright red sun-frock lifted in the rising gale, the hem flickering above her knees. It was Friday afternoon; Pete had picked her up from school and was walking her home through the Domain. "Can we stop and play on the swings?" the nine year-old twittered in her high canary voice. Doug shook his head, glancing at his watch. "No, not this time, Honey-girl. Your Mom's working tonight, so she's expecting you home straight after school. We're running late as it is." Cindy's mother was Pete's Aunt Julie. She'd phoned him up last night asking if he could do some babysitting over the weekend. This was a comfortable arrangement for both of them; Julie was night editor at The Messenger, Pete was an Arts major without a nickel to his name (and even less to his account). Most weekdays, she had no trouble finding a sitter, but the weekends were slightly more problematic. Given his tenuous economic circumstances, Peter could be most accommodating. Julie Connors paid well and allowed him unlimited access to her refrigerator. Of course, there was another reason why he was willing to forego Friday night drinking sessions at the Uni Bar - but it wasn't something he could explain to any of his friends. Cindy skipped along the footpath, singing some nonsense song she'd picked up in the playground. Her face beamed with simple, childish joy. Pete was a beloved constant in her life, a kind of walking, human playground who could keep her entertained for hours at a stretch. She always looked forward to their Friday night snuggle-sessions; Pete usually let her stay up and watch TV, nestled in his arms until she fell asleep. Sometimes, drifting away on the slow tides of slumber, she would feel his fingers stroking her cheek so gently she could barely feel his touch. Times like that, she'd imagine ... "This way, Kiddo," Pete directed, inclining his head towards a jogging path lading off to the right. They turned off Domain Road and cut through Memorial Park, following a trail composed of woodchips and pine needles. A wild, green scent engulfed them as they descended into the woodlands. Cindy curled her fingers around Pete's wide palm, listening to the bellbirds chiming in the branches. This was her favorite part of the Domain; walking down these sunlit corridors, she could almost believe the woods were populated with all manner of elves and hobbits and faeries. "Know what I can do?" Cindy asked entirely out of the blue. "No," Pete replied absently, "what can you do?" "I can do handstands!" she declared proudly, swinging his hand back and forth. Pete looked down at her, raising his eyebrows. "Get outta here," he said in a carefully disbelieving tone, "where'd you learn to do handstands?" "At school," she told him, eyes glittering with excitement, "one of my friends showed me how." Cindy paused, bit her lip, then added shyly, "Wanna see me do one?" Pete grinned his reply, making her pulse jump a beat. "Sure, I would," he nodded, releasing her tiny hand. An exuberant giggle escaped Cindy's lips as she scampered a few yards up the path and swung back to face him. Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure, her heart was hammering in her chest. She'd been practicing all week, preparing for this moment. She had just reached that age where boys were starting to matter, and Pete's good opinion meant everything to her. Raising her arms straight over her head, she flipped over onto her hands, kicking up her legs in mid-air. Her dress immediately fell inside out, revealing her white cotton panties to the open sky. Her thighs gleamed in the hazy sunlight, soft and lush and crystal smooth. Her pudgy round bottom bulged through her tightly stretched underpants, the cleavage plainly visible. Cindy had never completely lost the puppy fat around her hips and tummy. Arching her spine slightly, she pointed her feet towards the heaven, teetering on the fine edge of balance. Her skirt inched down several inches, exhibiting a generous sweep of milky-white torso. The hem was practically trailing on the ground. Cindy held her stance for nearly ten seconds, wavering on the brink, then dropped lightly onto her feet. The frock returned to a more modest position, skittering about her knees. "How did I look?" she asked in her warbling, girlie soprano, "did I do OK?" A faint crimson blush had suffused her features: despite her exhilaration, she was almost fainting with embarrassment. She'd wanted to impress him, wanted to bask in his admiration. Most of all, she'd wanted to show him her underwear, which she knew was something boys liked to see. Now that she'd actually done it, she could barely meet his gaze. She suddenly placed both hands over her mouth, as if she'd been caught out telling a great big fib. "Pretty good, Kitten" Peter answered, flashing his devastating, two hundred and fifty volt smile, "any chance of a repeat performance?" Cindy's heart soared in innocent rapture. He hadn't laughed at her, hadn't made fun of her efforts (as she'd half expected him to do). He wanted her to do it again. She ran over to him, swirling her skirt up to her calves, unable to hide her enthusiasm. "OK!" she giggled, feeling almost unspeakably naughty, "I can walk on my hands, too, Petey! You want to see me walk on my hands?" "You can walk on your hands too?" Peter raised his eyebrows in mock skepticism. "Yes, I can!" she exclaimed, still holding her dress up around her thighs, "watch this, Petey! I'll show you." She backed up a few paces, giving herself some extra space. Pete leaned back against the trunk of a nearby pine tree, smiling at his cousin's endearing precocity. It was obvious how excited she was, how much she enjoyed displaying her fresh, white underpants to his indulgent gaze. He gestured for her to proceed, his expression betraying nothing of what he was really feeling. Cindy lifted her hands over her head and stepped over into a perfectly controlled handstand. Her dress fell way once more, fluttering down over her face and upper body. The frock crept down to her ribcage, exposing an impudent young belly button. She weaved precariously back and forth for several seconds, then started hand-walking around in a rough circle, showing off her panties from a variety of angles. They were sheer full briefs, the kind with elastic trims around the legs and waistband. They rippled like liquid silver in the late afternoon sun. Peter shifted his weight to one foot, tilting his head for a closer look. His breath came in quick, shallow spurts; he felt a familiar tugging at the base of his stomach. Cindy called out to him from behind the sweeping red curtain. "See Petey?! I told you I could!" she chirruped in her sweet, giggly voice, "am I doing it right?" "You're doing great, Kiddo," Peter nodded, glancing over her lusciously contoured body. Her dress had slipped so far down it was practically dropping off her body. Her plump, curvaceous tummy was humming with gooseflesh; her tiny, pink nipples poked from her chest like crimson dart-points. They seemed to pulse in time to the girl's racing heart beat. Pete moistened his lips, his eyes devouring her small, voluptuous figure. He drew in a deep, calming breath, willing his temperature back to normal parameters. Electric fire streaked through his nervous system. Cindy was hand-stepping in his direction now, her legs splayed out like a pair of half-opened scissors. The gusset of her panties was stretched taut between her thighs, the shadowy outline of her love-rose was visible through the thin cotton. Pete could actually make out the complex folds of her vulva, framed by a rim of white lace. High, girlish laughter tinkled through the pine trees. She kicked her legs several times, frilly white girl-socks glinting in the evening sky, then dropped gracefully back onto her shoes. Her dress was still hiked up over her back, so that her ripe, pantied bottom stuck out in rude display. She looked cute and funny and sexy at all the same time. Pete remembered to breath again. He looked back down the trail, listening for approaching footsteps. Anyone could come rambling down the path at this time of day, just cutting through the woods or roaming about the Domain. How would he explain what he was doing here, a grown man watching a nine-year old girl turning handstands in the middle of a pine grove? The show had been entertaining in the extreme - spectacular, as a matter of fact - but he had to get her home. Where the show could continue. "Did I do it OK, Petey?" Cindy trilled, naively struggling with the rebellious sun-frock, "you want me to show you again?" "No, I think you've shown enough panty for one day, young lady," he answered in vaguely amused tones. Cindy's rosebud mouth popped open in surprise; her tummy tingled with simple, childish delight. She stared up at him, blushing more in pleasure than embarrassment. He'd actually noticed, just as she'd secretly hoped he would. He'd even decided to tease her about it, making her feel unbelievably wayward. Of course, she didn't want him thinking she'd shown off her panties on purpose (even if it was true). Despite her age, she'd learnt the value of playing hard to get. "Peter!" she exclaimed indignantly, folding her arms and looking away with a stereotypically feminine toss of her head. Pete chuckled good-naturedly, leaning down to scoop her up in his arms, and subjected her to the torture of a thousand tickles. Cindy screamed at the top of her lungs, writhing about in his grasp as his fingers sought out her ribs and belly with merciless accuracy. This was a liberty of the most insufferable proportions. Needless to say, there was absolutely no escape: Pete Hopkins was a world-class tickler, having had years to perfect his technique on Cindy's defenseless little body. The torment went on until she had tears running down her cheeks and she was certain she was going to explode with helpless mirth. When she'd finally caught her breath, Cindy peered around and realized they were emerging on the other side of Memorial Park. Peter had carried her all the way through the woodlands and she hadn't even noticed. They'd already passed through the playground; Domain Fountain was a circular white smudge in the distance. They were maybe five minutes from home. She looked back over his shoulder, lower lip pooching out in disappointment. "I wanted to play on the swings," she sulked, just a little. "Don't worry," he replied offhand, "I'll play with you tonight." The corner of his mouth twitched up into a lop-sided crescent, indicating he had something special in store for her. Cindy twined her arms around his neck, gazing into his face with that vast, pure love only a small child can feel. Peter was so tall and strong and handsome - handsomest boy in the whole world, she was absolutely certain. Sometimes, she wished she was all grown up, because then, Pete would be her boyfriend, just like Leo and Kate in Titanic. He could lie on her tummy and kiss her on the mouth and tell her how beautiful she was. And when they snuggled up on the sofa to watch Friends, she wouldn't be wearing her PJs. She wouldn't be wearing anything, not even her underpants. The very thought made her head spin with feelings she couldn't put a name to. "Are we gonna play hide `n' seek?" she asked, melting comfortably against his chest. "Nope." "We gonna play Twister?" "Nope." "Monopoly?" "Nope." "Well, what then?!" she demanded, literally squirming with curiosity. "You'll see," he told her enigmatically. The lop-sided crescent returned to his lips, as if he was savoring some strange, exotic fruit. A cold thrill of anticipation traveled the length of Cindy's spine. Whatever he intended for this evening, she honestly couldn't wait. Pete knew every game ever invented since the beginning of the universe, and whenever he came up with something new, it always left her trembling with exhilaration. Leaning in closer, she buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder, closing her eyes in a kind of drowsy bliss. She never saw the change come over his features. Pete shifted Cindy higher up on his hip, enjoying the way her thighs coiled around his waist. He loped along with the stride of a hungry predator, the blood pounding in his temples like a trip-hammer. His stomach was as tense as an over-tuned guitar. She wanted to play with him. The words flashed through his mind in huge neon letters, over and over again: she wanted to PLAY with him. Tonight. After dinner, after Aunt Julie had headed off to work. Then he'd teach her a few games she hadn't learned in school. They'd have all night to practice, up in her bedroom. He'd take her upstairs, stretch her out with her thighs spread apart and her ... No. Not now. Not yet. He couldn't afford to lose control. He had to stay focused, restrain his libido, even after they arrived home. He couldn't allow his Aunt to see what he had in mind, not by word or thought or careless gesture. She didn't suspect a thing at the moment; no one did. He'd spent years constructing his jovial, picket fence identity, hiding behind his easy-going manner and Apple-Pie good looks. It was all a question of control. In the three years since he'd grown aware of the feelings he had for Cindy (and other girls her age), he'd never once let the mask slip. He'd mastered his dark eros with a will of iron, affecting a facade of doting affection. This had been almost indescribably difficult: his cousin was breath-takingly beautiful, and the temptation to satisfy his rampant lusts was almost overpowering. Nonetheless, he'd managed to confine himself to sporadic, furtive touching, usually under the guise of "harmless" tickling and horseplay. Their Friday night cuddling sessions were a typical example. Once Julie was out of the house, he could take Cindy onto the sofa and spend the night caressing and fondling her sleek young body. Once she fell asleep he was free to stroke her small, tight vulva; carefully drawing his fingertips across her flimsy cotton gusset. So far, he'd never even seen her completely naked. Well, that all that was going to change tonight. He'd waited long enough, playing the devoted cousin and stealing the odd grope and fumble in the living room. He was ready to play. More importantly, she was ready to play - he'd seen that during her "impromptu" handstand exposition this afternoon. He closed his eyes momentarily, recalling her thighs, her navel, her virginal white underpants. Pete felt his manhood rising at the memory. In an hour, maybe less, he'd be taking those panties down in preparation for the evening's festivities. Yes, they were going to play tonight. Oh, how they were going to play. To be continued Email me for Part 2. gauismarius@hotmail.com _________________________________________________________________ E-mail just got a whole lot better. New ninemsn Premium. Click here http://ninemsn.com.au/premium/landing.asp -- 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: Moderators: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at Hosted by | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+