A Trivial Pursuit

When they were alone, they sat down facing each other in the comfortable armchairs and he asked her what she wanted to do.

Let's play Trivial Pursuit, she said.

What a good idea! He was relieved it was something adult. He'd been a little worried about spending an evening with a twelve year old. If she'd wanted to play some silly game with her dolls, or sing songs or something...

I have to warn you, she said, with an important sort of smile , that I'm very good. He smiled inwardly at her. He was no stranger to the game, he'd obviously be better than her. Maybe they could spend a good, normal, adult evening together. He might have to cheat a little to keep things even. She couldn't be that good.

These are the rules, she said. The first to get 10 right answers wins the first game. And the prize is one of the things the other person's wearing. Then we play another game, only you have to get 15 right answers to win, and so on. It goes up by five every time. He was more than a little surprised. It was like strip poker. With a twelve year old! What if someone found out? Hesitating, he tried to think of reasons not to say no. In a way, it wasn't that different from doctors and nurses, which he had had to play with his niece several times. She had always examined his chest, unbuttoning his shirt with her soft little hands. Children liked undressing and dressing, but they knew what to take off and what to leave on. And they'd chained the door on the inside, that was part of the precautions you had to take in this city. No one could come back and disturb them.

But you have to take your socks off before we start because I'm not wearing any and that's not fair. He took off his socks, counting clothes now: shirt, trousers... She's wearing a dress... Well, he'd seen lots of flat chested little girls in swimming costumes, this wouldn't be that different. Except that she did have breasts. He'd noticed them before of course, not budding breasts but fully formed ones. What sort of a bra would she be wearing? My God, what am I doing? This is a game of Trivial Pursuit with the little girl of a friend of mine, let's not get carried away.

They started the game. She was very good. She must have played a lot. They got to eight to seven. If someone comes, we don't tell them about taking clothes off, its our little secret.

Don't be silly, she said, of course it's a secret. Ah! Kids like secrets. It should be okay. If someone came and she were in her bra and panties she could slip her dress back on in a jiffy. Her breasts must be as firm as anything, you never see the breasts of a twelve year old unless you have a daughter. My God, I hope she's wearing a bra. She wouldn't really need one, with breasts as firm as that. Kids these days sometimes don't. He realized suddenly that his penis, held back by his clothes, was pushing to straighten out. He had a hard-on! Please God, don't let her notice. A hard-on, this is terrible, a hard-on for a twelve year old girl. I'm not a pervert, please go down.

I win! He had lost the first game. He started to take off his shirt.

No, no, I won, so I get to choose. I want your trousers. He was amazed. He'd never thought of this. This couldn't be happening! She was supposed to be interested only in his shirt. That's the rule, otherwise it's not fair. Losing your trousers is like losing my dress. It was true. It's what he'd been thinking, that he'd see her in her bra and panties. In a way, it was just the same if she saw him in his underpants. But he had this hard-on that the underpants would hardly hide.

I want to see what color your underpants are. Come on! He wavered, looked at her face, serious and slightly angry. Her hair was beautiful, she was really a beautiful girl. Well, here goes. He unbuttoned the top of his pants. She waited. He undid the zip and pushed them down and off. Black boxers. Large bulge. He felt very exposed.

Come on, don't be silly, don't be shy, it's like swimming, like a swimming costume. She folded up the trousers in a busy, satisfied way, and put them in a little pile by her chair. The golf shirt doesn't even reach down to the top of the boxers, the hard-on is extremely visible. On the other hand, she's only 12, she doesn't know what a hard-on is, well, hardly. She's interested in the anecdotic, in the colour of the underpants. It's a game to her. As long as it doesn't start to peek out of the top...

OK, you start. Second game. Let's see what she's wearing under that dress. Now we've got this far, we might as well see what these breasts look like in a junior bra. Maybe it'll be in lace, like the ones in the catalogues, or transparent. My God, if she wins she could ask for my underpants. No, there's no way she'd do that. Little girls are afraid of seeing male organs, all that hair. It's just a game for her. She's interested in colors. Five - five, she could win. Concentrate. Eight - seven again, my God. There's no way I'm taking off the underpants, she'll want the shirt, but we'll have to stop then, no third game, it's too dangerous.

I won again! Guess what I want now. Malicious little smile. There is no way I'm taking off my underpants, you should be ashamed of yourself, young girl. He sounded like one of those older, white-haired characters on a children's television show. Take my shirt, I've lost nearly everything. It'll be like a swimming costume, he said, suddenly inspired.

No, that's not fair, you have to follow the rules. You agreed. She's quite firm, quite calm. It's not fair. You knew what the rules were when we started this game. It was true. Why the hell had he accepted these stupid rules? But in any case, rules or no rules, there was no way he was going to take off his underpants in front of this girl, no way she was going to see he had a hard-on because of her. You accepted the rules. I want your underpants, I want to see your hard-on. What was she saying? He couldn't believe his ears. She'd known all the time. All the time they'd been playing this second game she'd been studying his bulge, imagining. He'd obviously made a fool of himself. My God, if Marion got to know about this. What would she do? It'd be finished between them for certain. Would she call the police?

The little girl remained calm. I want to see your hard-on. Take off your underpants, you promised. How the hell is she so sure of herself, how does she know about hard-ons? I bet they studied them in those stupid sex education classes they started in the schools.

Do you know what a hard-on is? Of course I do, it's what you have on under your underpants. And have you already seen one? What difference does it make, I want to see yours. Listen, twelve year-old girls don't go around looking at hard-ons. He hardly knew what he was saying. It's not fair, you have to take off your underpants. You don't mind playing strip-tease with a twelve year old girl and getting a hard-on, but you don't want me to see anything. She paused. If you don't take your underpants off, I'll jump on you and squash your penis and then you'll get semen all over. What!? The girl was a vixen. She'd arranged all this just to get him in this situation. And I'll tell Marion you showed me your penis. What!? He was speechless. He struggled to try to think. And what will you tell Marion if I take my underpants off? He couldn't be saying this.

If you take them off now and we go on with the game, I won't tell her anything. I'll tell her we played Trivial Pursuit. Swear? Of course, cross my heart and hope to die. Pause. If we go on with the game, I don't have anything else to lose, and there's at least a chance I'll see her in her bra and panties. I only lost 15-13. I have no choice anyway, if she tells Marion anything she'll go ballistic. He took off his underpants, lifting the front clear of the bulging penis. He was almost ready to come, this was impossible, what an evening and he'd thought it was going to be boring!

Now, you see, she said patronizingly, examining his genitals from her armchair, that wasn't so bad was it? He tried crossing his legs, but if he squeezed his testicles he would come, he was sure. He uncrossed his legs casually, opened them a trifle. She stared unconcernedly at his crotch. They played another game, which he won rather easily. Had she got what she wanted? Had she lost interest? Did she maybe want to show him her charms now, and see the effect on his hard on? He wondered. In any case, his hard on was permanent, it wasn't going to change now. Maybe she didn't know that. She couldn't know everything. He was more angry at being played with than shy about his genitals. He decided to take the offensive.

I've won, he said. I'll take your dress, but I'll take it off myself. If she could introduce new rules after the first game, he could introduce new rules after the third. Sure, she said, with no trace of hesitation. She stood up and turned around, her hands clasped in front of her. It opens at the back. He stood up, feeling silly in his golf shirt, his penis standing straight up, a good thing she couldn't see him now. He felt under her hair, which hung down her back, and undid the zipper, down to the small of her back, slowly. My God, she wasn't wearing a bra. By now, he should have expected as much, but he still couldn't believe it. He was going to see those junior breasts. He let his hands go up to her neck, separate the two parts of the dress, and slide slowly down her arms, softly, moving forward as he did so to look over her shoulder at the tips of the breasts as they were revealed.

He hardly had time to see the shape of them, the pink ends, before his hands arrived at the end of her arms, and he had to bend down to accompany the dress to the floor. She lifted up her feet daintily, one after the other, and he pulled away the dress. He was on the floor behind her, and she was standing in tiny white mini panties, her bottom just before his eyes, her legs slim and downy. Have you finished looking at my back, she said, turning so he could again see, but much more easily now, her firm little breasts. Not quite, he said, not knowing how to control the situation. With a wicked smile, he thought, she turned her back on him again and waited.

He stood up, taller than she, hesitated. Turn around, he said, sternly. She turned, her smile more malicious than wicked, mocking. She looked pointedly at his genitals again, much closer to her now. He looked at her breasts, round and firm, the ends pink and fresh.

Are you ready, she said. For what? He was having great trouble concentrating. For the next game. It was true, they were playing Trivial Pursuit. He had forgotten. You still have a shirt and I still have my panties. He hesitated, found no reason, no excuse, no moral force to say no, and they started another game, he in his armchair with his penis sticking up, and she in her armchair with her breasts sticking out at him invitingly. She seemed unconcerned now, more interested in the game than in his genitals. Again she won.

She took the shirt, so he was entirely naked, sitting stupidly in his armchair, her with the little pile of his clothes at her side. Well, she said, I still have my panties on, but you don't have anything to lose. He hardly dared say: so we stop here and get dressed. His penis had been hard for God knows how long, his balls would soon begin to hurt. What to do? So, she said, with hardly a pause, if I lose, I give you my panties, if you lose... she hesitated... if you lose, you have to pay a forfeit. A forfeit! If I lose, he said, what on earth do you want? Well, she said, considering the state you're in, I think if you lose, you should jerk off. What? This time he really couldn't believe his ears. You want me to jerk off in here, in front of you? She just smiled and shrugged. There was of course a perverse logic to her reasoning, Not the sort of logic you'd expect from a twelve year-old, though it seemed that twelve year-olds weren't at all like he'd imagined them, if she was in any way typical. Maybe there were all sorts of things going on in their minds, things he was sure he'd never had in his at that age. And the little girls even less. And he'd never jerked off in front of anyone. Marion had asked him once but he was too embarrassed.

I don't think that's the sort of thing we should be talking about, do you, he said. Well, she said, you don't have much choice. I could always talk to Marion, of course. All right? Let's make this a quick one. The first one to give the wrong answer loses.

He lost. He jerked off, flat on his back on the carpet, with the little girl sitting by his side watching. He felt exhilarated and awful. She commiserated. Poor guy! You didn't know what you were getting into, did you? Here, let me help you clean up. She produced a box of kleenex, wiped the semen off his chest, off his belly, off his hands, then, softly and gently, off his penis. He was once more rock hard. She smiled again, happily this time. There you are, good as new. Are you ready for the next game?

Another game? But what do you want me to forfeit this time. We have to stop. Your mother's going to come back soon. Don't worry, she said, she'll be at least another hour, and in any case, she has to phone first, to reassure me. Don't you want to take my panties off? Pause. I know what we'll do. We'll play another short game, first wrong answer loses. If I lose, you can take off my panties. If you lose, you stand with your legs open and you let me play with your balls. His penis shuddered at the thought. He looked at her little hands and could feel the gentleness of his niece's, examining his chest. He tried to think, stunned and stymied. If you play with my balls, he said, I'll come, and we'll get semen all over the carpet.

If that's what you want to do, I have a better idea. If I lose...

She looked at him expectantly, candidly, her breasts thrust towards him with their rounded tips and their firmness. If I lose... he had no imagination at all, he was a disaster... we have to do it in the kitchen. Not in the kitchen, she said, in my room. There's no carpet and we can push the rug aside. In fact, why don't we go to my room right away, it's much better to play games in.

Her room was pink and tidy. The narrow little bed where she dreamed up these games was in the centre, with painted boxes on either side for night tables, and a small table lamp. She turned it on, leaving the other light on too, and they sat cross-legged on the bare floor facing each other, he looking at the band of white panties, she at his hairy appendages. They played. He won. She stood up facing him. Go ahead, she said, you can take them off, I don't mind. He had remained squatting on the floor, always slower than she, always a little behind. Come over here, he said, uncrossing his legs, and she came, and stood between his legs, her toes touching the underside of his thighs, and he reached up, sliding his hands up her legs from the knees up, up to the panties, then, hooking his little fingers onto them, so that his palms could feel her legs as they slid down them again, his thumbs reaching in to brush over her mound, her lips, the inside of her thighs... She stepped out of the panties, and moved casually away, so that her sex was no longer just in front of his eyes.

He hesitated, then got up. Now you give me my clothes back, he said. Here. And he handed her the tiny pile of dress and panties. But she moved away and threw herself on the bed, arms up, legs open, eyes closed. He looked at her, letting the vision seep in, the firm little lips almost devoid of hair, the firm little breasts that were almost the same shape lying down as standing up. She opened her eyes, looking directly into his as he stared. You've already come, she said, but I haven't, so it wouldn't be fair to stop now. We have to go on till we've both come at least once.

My God, no, it couldn't be possible. So he was going to feel this soft young body, feel the lips and the breasts. Now, she said, in the next game, if I win, you eat pussy till I come. If you win, I'll play with your balls till you come. Okay? She produced a coin from nowhere. Heads or tails? He hesitated again. But there was nothing to be done, and he could think of nothing he'd like more than to come again, with those litle fingers around his penis. On the other hand, if he lost, he couldn't imagine a cleaner, more beautiful pussy to suck. He chose tails but it was heads so she started.

When she won, he didn't know whether to be disappointed or excited. He was going to put his tongue to a virgin clitoris, run his hands over the points of virgin breasts, caress a beautiful, lithe, no doubt responsive little body. On the other hand, those dove-like little hands were not going to play with his balls, or stroke his penis, those gentle finger tips were not going to work around the top of his erection. Well, he could hardly complain. He had her lie on her back on the bed with her legs open while he bent down over her from the bottom of the bed. His tongue went wild, licking her lips, penetrating between them, searching for the hard little point, sucking, licking the whole sex again. And at the same time, although this hadn't been in the rules, he thought smilingly, his hands ran up and down the lithe little body, seeking out the breasts, lingering on the nipples. She responded, although less than he might have hoped, moaning just a little, breathing a little more heavily. He continued licking, sucking and caressing for what seemed a long time, and began to wonder if she'd come. Young girls, according to the literature he had read, didn't come nearly so easily as young boys, and it was only when they were really experienced that they came quickly and well.

And this young girl, for all her assurance, couldn't be experienced.

What to do? He paused. Did you come, he asked. No. But it's very nice, she said encouragingly. Don't give up. What do you prefer, he said, what do you want me to do? Well, she said, maybe you should kiss me. He worked his way up, giving her little kisses on her breasts, her cheeks, the corners of her mouth. Finally, he kissed her lips, she opened her mouth, he kissed her deeply, his right hand on her breast, gently on the nipple. She pulled him to her, caressed his back, around the hips, her finger tips reaching the top part of his buttocks, then over his back again, she pulled him over her, wriggled, pulled back her head, smiled, kissed him on the lips, wriggled round so she was on top, wriggled her bottom and suddenly he had come, he didn't know where, what a mess they were making, my God. You raped me, you naughty man, you raped me, she cooed jubilantly. It was true, he had come inside her, he was still inside her, and she was still wriggling around on top of him. He was still hard, not as hard as before, but hard enough so that she could feel him. I still didn't come, she said, and I have to come before you can go home. I want you to rest for a few minutes, I'll fetch you a beer, then I want you to fuck me really hard. Get me ready and then fuck me hard, that should do it.

He lay back as she fetched the beer, dazed out of his mind. He couldn't be making love to the twelve year old daughter of his girl-friend. It did seem simple now, almost natural, and how unbelievably exciting. And it was impossible to get out of. She had trapped him and he had fallen for it and there was no way he could get out of it. She was amazing. She seemed to know everything there was to know about sex and lovemaking and masculine psychology. But my God, they had to keep this a secret.

She returned, and he asked her again about the secret. If I make love to you, he said, you have to promise never to tell anyone, you don't realize what a terrible thing it would be for me if anyone ever found out. Oh, I know she said casually. But I could never swear to keep this a secret for ever. I promise I won't do anything to make problems for you. He couldn't accept that, but whatever threats he made seemed weak and useless, and he had to leave it at that.

He told her to play with his balls as he played with her breasts, that that would excite her, and she did, and he was hard as a rock again. He licked her sex and sucked her clitoris till she pulled his head up and told him to go ahead. Then he fucked her hard, as she had said to do, and he came again in a jiffy, and he kept on coming and going until she said she'd come too, though he couldn't be sure if she wasn't lying. And then they lay there, lovers, caressing each other's skin, breasts and balls and hips and neck, and looking into each other's eyes.

Did you plan all this, he asked, did you know all this was going to happen? Well, she said, more or less. Of course, I didn't know how well you played Trivial Pursuit. I still don't believe it. You're only twelve, how do you know all this about making love and sex and everything. I'm not twelve yet, my birthday's next month, but mother says I'm very precocious. I had my first period just after my eleventh birthday, so I've been a woman for almost a year now. But still... Of course, everybody talks a lot about sex and everything, and then there are the videos, there are some very explicit videos that you can see on the web, you know. And I wanted to see what it was like. And what was it like? It was great. Your penis was a lot smaller than the ones in the videos, she said, disarmingly. It didn't hurt at all. And I liked the sucking. Yes, that was good. But most of all I liked seeing you get more and more excited. You know, I have you in my power now. He smiled. What are you going to do with me? I'm not sure. But I'll think of things for you to do. You can come and pick me up at school tomorrow. But I work in the afternoons. Well, you can arrange something. I go to Saint Mary's. We finish at half past three. I'll expect you.

He wasn't altogether against the idea. It would be easy to arrange. Maybe she'd want to play again... The phone rang, obviously Marion checking all was well, or reassuring Julie. He followed her to the phone, caressed her breasts while she spoke to her mother, his girl friend, my God!

We should shower, she said, my mother will be here in three quarters of an hour. They showered together, soaping each other, playing with the shower head. He was hard again, he'd never been so hard so long or so often. She soaped his penis ever so slowly, moved her fingers around his balls, rinsed off the soap. Then without warning she put the penis in her mouth, sucking hard, twisting, squeezing his balls. He held her head, waiting, his genitals hurt now, but he still wanted to come. Her tongue was twisting around over the top of his penis, he would never come, he'd come too often, he couldn't now. She slid back her head, her lips just over the tip of the penis now, he could see the tongue flickering back and forth. And still he couldn't come. Well, she said, laughing, are you all dry? He could hardly speak.

She toweled him roughly, patted herself quickly, then pulled him out of the bathroom into the lounge. I want you to wear this until tomorrow she said, producing a pink ribbon. No cheating, you don't take it off until I see you tomorrow, I want to inspect it then. And despite his not very energetic protestations, she tied a bow around his penis, taking the ribbon underneath his balls, and pulling it fairly tight. Put your underpants on, she said, I want to see what it looks like. The bow was still visible, as an extra lump on top of the still bulging penis. He put on his trousers and shirt. Back to normal. Though she was still naked, she seemed in no hurry to put her clothes back on. I'm going to bed, she announced, it's past my bedtime. I feel tired. He wanted to caress her as she lay in bed, but she wanted none of it. I want to sleep now. I'll see you tomorrow. You wait for Marion in the lounge.