0 comments/ 21931 views/ 2 favorites My Sweet Cyndi By: EroticaKane Cigarette trails guided my way to the beginning and end of the line. As it is, every weekend, young lovelies streamed out the door onto damp cobblestone path, slowly swaying hips and thrusting pelvises to the beat of the inner sanctum. People on the verge; sexed up and ready for anything. It was dark, the path being lit by a simple neon sign, Club One. I had to get inside if only to catch her eye for a fleeting second. "I'm looking for Cyndi, is she here?" I shyly asked the overgrown bouncer standing steadily at the door. "That girl must have some kind of magical pussy or something; guys have been asking about her all night. Yeah she's here." The bouncer's eyes grazed over the crowd in hopes of weeding out the baddies. I looked down the line of the masses and saw the bouncer raise an eyebrow. I slipped him a fifty. "Welcome Sir." He placed the note slyly in his pocket and unhitched the velvet rope. Lights fluttered to drum and bass beats. Bars spilled over with people. Mirrors on nearly every wall made it close to impossible to avoid yourself. I made my way to the main floor. "Excuse me," I mumbled, while being bumped into a Britney Spears look-a-like. "Sorry," I offered to the boyfriend of the girl. I scanned the crowd, at last finding my lovely Cyndi, surrounded as ever. She was busy being bounced on a man's lap. I loved to watch my sweet Cyndi from a comfortable distance. She radiated sex; with her big blue eyes. All that sex coming form such a tiny form, it made my mind spin. Though nearly 26, she looked all of 16. Those oh-so-small limbs, those big wide innocent eyes, the tiny nose, and that pout of her lower lip. She stood only 4 foot 10; so gorgeously little. When she came into view, I'd play games with myself. I'd convince myself that she really was 16 and innocent and inexperienced. It would be me that would be in charge of her education. "Michael!" she yelled across the room. She bounced all the more fervently, because she knows I like to watch. I made my way over to her. "Come here, silly," she waved me over. "Michael, this is my brother James," she slapped her bouncing partner on the knee and raised an eyebrow to me. She winked, thinking I'd be shocked by her choice of partner. "Half Brother, actually." James offered his hand. "What do you want to drink?" She asked with strawberry glossed lips. I watched jealously as her tongue grazed those baby lips. In my minds eye, my cock would pierce through them; I'd part them easily with an engorged head and roughly unload all I'd have to give in that pretty mouth. "Gin and Tonic sounds lovely." I heard my posh accented voice croon such innocent words; she's so unfamiliar, to the devious boy that lurks within. "Oh does it?" she mocked my accent, like always, and signaled to a distant barmaid. "You look beautiful tonight," I said in a near whisper. I said it more for myself than for her; the music made it difficult to talk, and we were right in the middle of it. Those corseted tits were just too perfect. Much too big for a girl of her size; tits that aid my fantasy to new heights. "So what are you doing here," she folded and played with her cocktail napkin. "This place doesn't really seem like your scene." I looked round the room and was flooded with visions of dancing youths; if only to be a gorgeous twenty-something again. I looked to my oxford lace ups and tweed coat. I was forty-three and it showed. She was right to pose the question: what am I doing here? My Cyndi. She took notice of my downcast look and slid her hand to my knee from across the way. She moved off the bouncing lap to be by my side. "I like your suit, " she looked over and watched me watching her. With wide eyes and a girly giggle, she whispered in my ear, "I like you." Sides of thighs touching; I wonder if she can feel the heat of my nervousness while we sit so close to one another. She slapped my trouser thigh. "So, where is it?" she reached into my coat pocket and found only keys and lint. Disappointment showed on her face, though ever false it was. This was all an act with her. She looked to me with those baby blues and rested her head on my jacket sleeve, tugging at my cuff. "Come on," she pouted. "I want it." "I know you do," I winked. I smelled her hair, fiddled with my drink straw, trying to pierce the lime at the bottom of my glass. "Give it to me." She pleaded, and stomped her tiny foot for extra effect. I kissed her head and whispered, as if we were sharing a carefully guarded secret, "Other pocket." I fingered my left trouser leg. Tiny fingers made their way down and fished about, trying to find their sweet addiction; coming almost to close to my cock. "I've almost got it," she smiled wickedly. "I can feel it," she announced knowing full well of the double meaning of her words. Her fingers stroked the side of my now hardening cock. Prize achieved, she's victorious. "Cinnamon," she gasped full of excitement. I watched her fumble with the candy wrapper, barely containing the hum from her lips. "I love cinnamon," she said. I watched the candy roll about on her tongue. I took her by the hand and led her to a quiet little corner booth; out of the way and off to the side. She grinned brightly, like a child seeking presents from Father Christmas. She knows why I've brought her here to the corner booth, yet she remains the silent grinning girl. Her feet swing freely; she can't touch the floor in those Mary Jane shoes. The candy shifts in her mouth. She hums along, playing the innocent, but she hitches up her skirt. Greeted by naked thighs, I see the stripe of her pink and white panties. "You know what I want," I say while making fervent glances near our surroundings, just to make certain no one's lurking about to see what we're doing. I enjoy my roll as corrupter, and I play it to the best of my abilities. Going so far as to fooling even myself. I can feel her heat. She places her little pink glittered fingertips over her panty-clad mound. "Pull the panties back, and let me see," I beg. She likes the way she can reduce me to schoolboy status in five seconds flat; she gets off on it, I can see it in her face. "Not yet," she purrs while rubbing that mound. "Oh my gosh, I'm so wet." Within seconds my hand covers her clothed mound. I suck up her heat through my hand; her wetness seeps though her cotton lining. She leans in close to my side, "See what you do to me," she whispers with a childlike soft voice, but the words are all whore. I cough, shift in my seat. She takes my hand, easily double the size of her own and places it into her knickers. "See how wet you make me," she moans softly in my ear as if I'm touching her for the first time. I close my eyes, move my hand past the cotton to feel the flesh, to feel her smoothly shaven cunt. Slick and sweet, I moan in delight. My middle finger slides up and down that wet slit. "It feels so good," she speaks heartfelt words in gratitude, but her thighs suddenly snap shut, and she wriggles away from my touch. Confusion hits me: "What...why?" the boy in me wonders aloud. "The candy. It's gone. It's melted, " she says folding her arms. Our shared deal is in the candy; she only allows me favors as long as the candy lasts. "I have more," I fumble through all my suit pockets. "I have more, really," I fish in my trouser pocket, but find it empty. In my speedy pursuit of her, I've left the bag in the car. She plays angry and frustrated and starts to scoot out from out booth. "Wait," I grasp her wrist firmly before she leaves. "In the car," my voice comes down from its former fevered pitch. "I left them in the tin in the car; in the glove compartment." "Well. What are you waiting for?" She smiles brightly. Hurriedly, I straighten myself. "Right, I'll be back in a tick." This time she's doing the wrist grasping, "You know, I could come with you if you want." "Oh, I don't know love." I search through my coat pocket for my keys. "You don't want me to come? You're embarrassed by me." She reaches for her purse. "No!" I kneel down, full of sorrow and worry at her thinking I'd ever feel that way. My Cyndi is a dirty-guilty pleasure, and while I know I could never introduce her as a girlfriend to friends or associates, it in no way diminishes her importance to me in my eyes. At various times though, I've recognized she may view our situation differently. I've come to think that maybe she wants more. "Then, come on. Let's go." In her hand she grabs two of my fingers, barely taking hold of them. She gives a nonplused wave to her friends, and drags me through the club. The door closes with a compressed sort of sounds, leaving us on a typical downtown street in London; stoplights flicker, streets slick with a recent drizzle, we're lost in mist and fog. She sways her hips in anticipation of adventure, "So, where's your car?" My Sweet Cyndi Ch. 02 I looked down to find her smiling innocently at me, the top of her head barley reaching my chest. “My car’s just round the corner there.” I took her hand and she gleefully skipped beside me not quite being able to keep up with my steps. “You’re walking too fast.” She said with a pout. “I’m walking perfectly normally.” I said striding along. “Normal for you.” She kicked the back of my leg and slowed to her own walking pace. For every one step of mine she took two or three; I laughed paternally. My car alarm beeped it’s welcome. I turned to see her reaction; to see if it would be the same one I got from most girls who saw my car for the first time. “That’s your car?” She looked on disappointingly to my Aston Martin. “Yes, why? Don’t you like it?” I pressed a button to unlock the car doors. “Most girls think it’s brilliant.” “Well, I’m not most girls.” She came back quick with that line, making me feel a complete fool. “Well, obviously that’s true. You’re like no one I’ve met.” I said in hopes of redeeming myself. She took a seat on black leather. “I thought you’d drive like a Mercedes or something. You know something more adult and less flashy.” She smiled, teasing at the hint of a mid life crisis. “I have one of those too.” I said, reaching into the glove compartment for the candy tin. “You lie! You don’t.” She stuck out her tongue and I placed a freshly unwrapped candy upon it. “Thanks.” She hummed in satisfaction. “Yes I do! It’s parked in my garage at home.” I leaned back, rested my head on cold leather and placed my hand on the gearshift. “Well I don’t believe you.” She folded her hands neatly onto her lap, looking around the car’s interior and then out the window to our surroundings. An uncomfortable deafening silence surrounded us. A silence when minutes pass like hours. We’re relatively new to each other despite all of our molesting motions. “Aren’t you going to take me home? It would be the gentlemanly thing to do you know.” The latter half said with a posh English accent, mirroring my own. “Yes! Yes. Where do you live?” Turning the ignition I checked mirrors and gauged how much room I’d have to exit the spot. I turned the wheel and felt a hot palm on the back of my hand. “Not my home, your home.” She gave me a nudge and propped herself up on my shoulder with her tiny hand, manhandling me for a passionate kiss. “Oh!” I played shock and thanked god for having left the candy tin in the car. I couldn’t help but look over to my Cyndi; her littleness intrigued me. She had the face of an angel and the mind of the devil himself. She continued looking out the passenger side window still finding amazement in all things London. “Look! There’s Trafalgar square!” She exclaimed and turned her small frame towards the door, her face glued to the window. That pleated skirt hiked itself up on her turn and again I was greeted with cheek and cotton unicorns. “Where do you live, Michael?” She rested her paw on my thigh and drummed a beat with her fingers. “Chelsea.” I made a turn down a side street. “Posh area. That’s where all the party girls are.” She teased and returned her hands to her lap. “You know, I don’t think you’ve ever seen me naked before?” She slid off her cotton unicorns and unzipped her skirt. “Um. No.” I cleared my throat as she slid her skirt off and threw it into the backseat. “What are you doing?” I asked and I tried to keep my eye from wandering off the road. She unlaced her front laced corset, leaving her naked except for those striped knee socks and Mary Jane shoes. I pulled off the road. “Oh my god,” I flushed over red, “You’re amazing.” I drank her in; slim snake hips, thin firm waist and bountiful breasts. Her hair she braided as I looked on in wonder. She was comfortable in her nakedness. She fiddled with raven locks and paid no attention to me. “Now do you wanna take me home?” A wicked smile crossed her lips. Temptation I tasted on the tip of my tongue. I started the car and drove at speeds my engine had never known. At my drive, I parked the car and waited for her to gather her clothes, but she didn’t. She sat happily making a glance over to her door; waiting for me to open it like a proper gentleman. “Of course, how inconsiderate of me.” I mumbled. Cyndi; my little precious Cyndi, she reached for her bad and slung it over one shoulder. “Wanna see me skip?” Such beauty before me, for a fleeting second my thoughts drifted to the neighbors. “Unlock the door! Unlock the door!” She bounced up and down on my welcome mat, “I have to pee so bad!” Lock unlatched, she threw her backpack onto the floor like a child after a hard day at school, and went from room to room in search of relief. I made my way to the living room, put in a CD and mixed drinks at the bar, being sure to put out a glass of water for my lovely, who I knew had three times the alcohol I had. I heard tiny steps making there way upstairs. “Where are you going?” I shouted over music. “To your room. I need something.” She added her signature giggle. “It’s the fourth door on the left.” Ice cubes hit the short glass and I reached for a lime in the fruit basket. The patter of feet overhead filled me with anticipation and wetted my appetite more. “Armani,” she was drowning in one of my white dress shirts, “you’re quite the swanky one.” She winked and wrapped her little arms around me. I leaned down and smelled the coconut fragrance of her hair. “You look sweet.” I proclaimed and she spanked my bottom with a gentle hand. “Boys like it when girls wear their clothes.” She took the cocktail glass and made her way to the small kitchen table, “Come sit with me. What do you do, I mean for a living? You have all this nice stuff!” She fingered the tip of her glass and dove two fingers in to fetch the lime. “My family is well off, so a lot of it is inheritance actually. I work in advertising.” I watched her squint at the bitterness of the lime. She placed her now shoeless feet on my knees, teasing me by opening and closing her legs. She laughed at my attempts to keep up conversation, which on the revelation of her shaven cunt would find me lost for words. She wetted her cherry stained mouth and asked the obvious, “You like what you see?” She opened for me, for a long view. Her fingers stroked her inner thighs and ran along her pink slit. She teased her clit, raised her juice-drenched fingers to her mouth and sucked greedily, “Mmmm tastes nice.” She scooted down in her chair and worked her foot over my crotch. “Feels like you’ve been thinking naughty things too.” Her eyes met mine and she gave a faint smile as she slid off her chair onto her knees. “Now it’s my turn to see you.” Pink glittered fingertips unlatched my belt and unzipped my black trousers. She hummed a gleeful tune in her exploration. Her blue eyes gleamed as if it were the first cock she’d ever seen. “Nice.” She said in a half whisper moan. Her tiny hands barely being able to circumference my cock; she gazed on me before licking my tool up and down like a lolly. I stroked her braids, as she took more of me into her mouth; playing a sort of game with herself, to see how far down she could get her mouth on my cock. Her bottom swayed from side to side. Her hand moved from my lap; I could see her arm make motion and I knew she was touching herself. She came up for air, her head lifting off my cock, and she let out a guilty moan. “It feels so good.” She said as her eyes and demeanor turned almost teary and sad, “I like touching myself, is that bad?” A sly smile curled her lip and I could tell she was playing a little girl game with me. “It’s only bad if you don’t cum.” I paused and watched her move onto her back, “It’s only bad if you don’t let me watch.” “I get shy!” She lightly protested. “Bullocks.” I grinned, and she laughed at my English sentiment. Her hand moved to her mouth where she wetted her fingers; her snatch already glistening with anticipation, I wondered as to why she needed more lubrication. She rubbed her clit furiously, stopping now and then to put those fingers in her honey hole. My cock felt ready to burst. She tweaked her nipple and her hips writhed from under her administrations. I wanted to stroke myself; I wanted to spill my hot seed all over that cunt and make it mine. She let out moan after moan, her eyelids fluttered back and forth as if she were in dreamland. I wondered what dirty fantasy she had conjured up in that filthy mind. “Ohhhh!” moaned high in pitch, her fingers worked faster and harder. “I’m gonna cum!” Her eyes opened wide and searched out my gaze. Her orgasm hit her like firework, and then slowly glazed over in sultry post orgasmic bliss. I watched a creamy droplet slip from her hole. “Girly cum.” I purred and was down on my knees, licking greedily from the fountain of youth.