It was the gentle swaying of the hammock that roused Hannah from her nap. The summer breeze swept through the green grass underfoot and the leaves overhead, just strong enough to send the hammock into an almost imperceptible rocking motion. But it was enough to awaken the nine year old girl, though not her father who still dozed peacefully beside her.
Hannah lay still so as not to disturb him. The dappled sunlight tickled her eyes as it shone through the canopy of the mighty oak trees to which the hammock was tied. She resisted the urge to rub them lest she awaken her father. The young girl loved summer days like these. It was warm in the sun but quite cool in the shade, so much that she felt grateful for the soothing warmth emanating from her father's body. She had fallen asleep in the crook of his arm, which now snugly held her close. His bicep felt sturdy against her soft cheek while his solid forearm pressed tight against her flat chest. Hannah sighed softly, relishing the comfort of close physical contact and the innate sense of security that only a father could provide.
The nine year old closed her eyes, hoping to fall asleep again. She was just drifting off when she sensed a shadow briefly cross her eyelids. She opened her eyes.
It was Mr. Koehler, the neighbor who lived right next door. He was smiling at her as he mouthed a silent hello and held up a prescription bottle of pills. Hannah's heart fluttered. Her previous contentment was now forgotten, replaced by a great sense of ambivalence. Her expression must have balked because Mr. Koehler gave her another wry smile and quietly rattled the bottle of pills. Reluctantly, Hannah gently lifted her father's arm and disentangled her gangly limbs from his adult body. Carefully extricating her long blond hair that was trapped under his shoulder, Hannah gently swing her legs out of the hammock and stood on two wobbly feet like a newborn filly. To her disappointment, her father did not stir at her absence and continued to sleep.
Hannah took a quick moment to smooth the front of her wrinkled sundress before quietly following Mr. Koehler as he crossed their yard to his house. The cool grass felt soft and moist on her bare feet, a stark contrast to the warm and rough wood as she climbed the stairs to his deck. On the patio table were several prescription bottles containing pills of every color of the rainbow.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Hannah," Mr. Koehler told her. "It's just that I'll be going out of town tomorrow morning so I knew this was my last chance to get your help."
"It's okay, Mr. Koehler," Hannah replied. She sat down on a plastic patio chair and began opening the bottles. Mr. Koehler was in his 50s and lived alone. Among other numerous ailments, he suffered from arthritis. Due his fading vision, it was nearly impossible for him to read the small print on the prescription medicine bottles, let alone open the bottles. So once a week, Hannah would sort through the dozen bottles and arrange the pills in a clever pill box with a slot for each day of the week. She had become so adept at sorting the pills that she rarely needed to consult the bottles anymore. The whole process still took ten minutes though.
Hannah worked quickly, her nimble fingers quickly counting out the correct number of pills and depositing them in the correct slot. Despite her dexterity, Hannah's hands shook slightly and she could not control her fluttering heart, which had been beating rapidly ever since she opened her eyes in the hammock and saw Mr. Koehler. As she grimly deposited the final pills and closed the last bottle, Hannah heard the words she knew were coming.
"Oh Hannah," Mr. Koehler said, "you are so helpful for doing this for me. I just can't thank you enough. Would you like to come in for an ice cream cone?"
Sometimes he would offer something different, like cookies or Coca-Cola, but otherwise it was always the same words. "No, thank you Mr. Koehler," Hannah politely declined. But he had already taken her by the wrist. His grip was not strong due to his arthritis. Hannah knew she could easily break free. In her imagination, she could easily visualize herself declining graciously yet firmly, taking his hand from her wrist and leaving. In reality though, she docilely followed him into his house.
Once inside, Mr. Koehler ignored the kitchen and led her to the living room. "Ice cream cone!" Mr. Koehler said dismissively. "Fah! I know what little girls like even better. I bet I know what you would like Hannah."
These words, too, were scripted. Hannah felt as if she had heard them dozens, maybe hundreds, of times by now. Mr. Koehler settled into his leather recliner. The nine year old girl stood passive yet wary, waiting for the next act to begin. If there had been an opportunity to escape, it was long gone.
"That's a pretty dress," Mr. Koehler told her. He made eye contact with her but she couldn't bear it so the young girl quickly looked at her feet." I wonder what is underneath it..." He took her by the shoulders and pulled her so she stood closer to his recliner. "Are you wearing underwear?" he asked her conspiratorially. Hannah nodded.
"Of course you are. Why don't you take them off?"
As he spoke these words, however, Hannah was already mentally completing his sentence in her mind. Primly, she reached beneath the hem of her dress and pulled her white underpants off, letting them fall in a pile around her ankles. She wasn't looking at Mr. Koehler now but she knew he was smiling broadly.
"Can you lift up your dress?"
With only the slightest hesitation, Hannah did as he said. Taking the hem of her dress with two hands, she lifted the broad sweep of cloth, exposing her hairless slit to the older man. "Oh! Beautiful!" Mr. Koehler breathed. "You are such a pretty little girl." Even though she had heard this before, Hannah still flushed red upon receiving his praise. Knowing his eyes were fixated on her crotch, only now did she dare glance at him. Despite his age and ailments, Mr. Koehler almost looked like her father with his smooth brown hair and strong facial features.
"I'd like to touch you," Mr. Koehler told her. He was looking at her face again, causing Hannah to cast her eyes downward once more. "May I touch you?"
There was a pause. "Um, yes," Hannah finally answered. "You can." The nine year old knew this was not how the script went and she knew how he would correct her.
"Yes?" Mr. Koehler's eyes twinkled at her. "Yes what?"
"Yes, Mr. Koehler" Hannah said dutifully. "Yes, you can... touch me."
His hand eagerly reached between her legs. Hannah was silent as he probed her most private spot. "How does this feel, Hannah?" he inquired.
"It's... okay," she responded.
"Just okay?" Mr. Koehler prodded her.
"No," Hannah said. "It feels... good." Though this was part of the script, Hannah knew that, deep down, it was true. It did feel good when he touched her. Admitting defeat, she told him what she knew he wanted to hear next. "I like it when you make me feel good," she whispered.
Mr. Koehler's eyebrows raised high in a surprised delight that he didn't even have to prompt her. "Why don't you come here and sit with me?" he offered.
Hannah climbed onto the armchair and settled herself on his lap. It was as if he were her own personal recliner. She could feel the soft heat emanating from Mr. Koehler's body. Her head rested against his chestbone. He was cradling her, cuddling her, as she sank against his body. Hannah felt him move the strap of her sundress aside as he kissed her bare shoulder, kissed her neck. Hannah shivered involuntarily, but not because she felt cold.
"Doesn't this feel nice?" Mr. Koehler asked her.
The nine year old shivered again. Physically, it felt no different from when she lay in the hammock with her father and she felt the same sensation of cozy security coursing through her body. Mentally, however, she knew that this was a whole different ballpark. "Yes, it feels nice," Hannah answered. Knowing what came next, the young girl lifted the hem of her dress again, exposing herself. "Could you..." she had difficulty getting the next words out. "Could you touch me some more and... make me feel even nicer?"
"Of course, sweetie," Mr. Koehler murmured gently, his hand returning between her legs. Hannah's body stiffened at his touch. Despite his arthritis, Mr. Koehler's fingers never seemed to be lacking in dexterity. The nine year old girl shuddered and swayed in his lap as the older man explored her unripe pink folds. The weathered skin of his hand contrasted sharply with her smooth and hairless valley.
"I could tell you wanted this," Mr. Koehler said softly. "I was watching you sleep with your father. I saw the look on your face." Hannah's ears perked up. This was not part of the usual script. "You liked laying like that with your father, didn't you? I can tell you did. When I first touched you just now, you were already a little wet down there. More than a little."
Hannah was squirming uncontrollably in his lap. He had found her tiny clit, his fingers relentlessly squeezing and fondling. The petite knob of flesh was seemingly insignificant compared to his large adult fingers but they produced quite a significant reaction in the nine year old girl.
"Uhhh..." Hannah grunted in pleasure. She was greatly embarrassed by Mr. Koehler's words. Was it true? Did she get the sexy feeling when laying with her father? The way Mr. Koehler's body pressed against hers right now was similar but not the same as with her father. Or was it? The young girl was confused.
Mr. Koehler swung the armchair around, rotating it so they now faced the section of his living room with a mirrored wall. Hannah stared at the reflection. Could that really be her? Sprawled on Mr. Koehler's lap, hiking up her hemline so he could touch her? His finger thrummed on her clit again, producing a spike of pleasure and another grunt.
"Uhhh!" Hannah watched as the stranger in the mirror flinched, her hips thrusting forward. Her eyes caught Mr. Koehler's pleased smile. She turned away, unable to look at him.
"It's okay, Hannah," Mr. Koehler told her. "I know this makes you feel nice. I know you like it. All girls do. It never takes you very long to get the super-nice feeling too, so that means you REALLY like what I'm doing. Don't you?"
He was waiting for a reply but Hannah looked in the mirror at herself instead. It still seemed like a stranger was staring back at her. A strange girl whose skinny and awkward legs jutted from the leather armchair as her blond hair clung to the thin sheen of sweat on her forehead. Hannah felt Mr. Koehler's touch soften as he began tracing lazy circles on the outermost edge of her pink valley. She knew right away what was happening. He was prompting her.
"Y-yes," Hannah responded weakly. "I really like it... when you touch me."
He immediately resumed his direct assault on her baby clit, sending a fresh shockwave through Hannah's body. "Of course you do," he said. His free hand moved to cup her chin. "Maybe one day you can ask your daddy to do this for you." As he spoke these words, Mr. Koehler's lifted her face to look at his in the mirror. He laughed. "Oh, the look on your face!" he teased her.
Hannah felt mortified by the thought of her father touching her. But didn't she feel mortified too when Mr. Koehler touched her for the first time two years ago? She had since grown accustomed to his touching, though she never really welcomed it. Or did she? Confused again, she tried not to think about it. After all, the sensations simmering inside her nine year old body were reaching a boil. She was almost there, it wouldn't take too much longer...
"Hannah," Mr. Koehler spoke. "Why don't you turn around and face me?" His fingers began softly teasing her again. The young girl trembled with longing as her hips thrust forward again, fruitlessly searching for the stimulation her body desired. Hannah groaned silently. She knew what he wanted her to do, although from the very moment she saw him in the hammock, she had hoped he would not.
Unenthusiastically, Hannah slid off his lap only to clamber back on, but this time she faced him as she straddled his knees. Mr. Koehler reached behind her back to support her as she leaned back. There was a moment of awkward silence.
"Well?" Mr. Koehler asked.
Hannah gritted her teeth reluctantly. Sometimes, Mr. Koehler would only make her say the lines he wanted to hear and then he would touch her until the super-nice feeling came. Other times, however, he insisted on making her jump through hoops. This was one of those times.
For the third time that afternoon, Hannah shyly lifted up the hem of her dress again. This time, she only raised it enough so that he could just barely see her hairless slit, aching and waiting. She was surrendering to him. "Mr. Koehler," she began. "I like it when you touch me. It feels really good when you touch me. Will you make me feel good?" Not knowing what he wanted to hear, Hannah blurted out everything in hopes of covering all the bases.
"Of course I will, Hannah," he said kindly. "Anything for my darling angel." Hannah shivered once, then twice. The touch of his finger between her legs was pure electricity. Teased for too long, the nine year old girl was primed for her release.
"Look at me," commanded Mr. Koehler.
Hannah heard him but pretended not to hear. But his fingers began dancing across her hairless slit, depriving her of the stimulation she so desperately craved. Reluctantly, Hannah raised her face to his. Only when their eyes made contact did his fingers once again find her tiny, enflamed clit. Hannah gasped, her eyes wide, as Mr. Koehler took her sensitive nubbin between two fingers and squeezed. That did it.
"Ahhhh!" Hannah squealed. Her orgasm, pent up behind barriers of confusion and frustration, finally broke free. The nine year old girl quivered violently in the older man's lap, gasping for air as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her young body, causing her to arch her back. She would have fallen backward had it not been for Mr. Koehler's hand clutching her shoulder. Her own hands grasped tight around the cotton cloth in her hands, never letting the hemline fall. Her eyes remained locked with his as well. She knew he would immediately stop touching if she broke it, and that was the last thing she wanted now. Staring into his eyes, Hannah felt a deep connection to Mr. Koehler, so deep that she was embarrassed by it. Later she would realize that this connectedness was the same sensation she felt while laying in the hammock with her father, but for now her attention was focused on the intimate pleasure he was providing her.
Each time he gave her the super-nice feeling, Hannah would wonder if it could ever go on forever. Infinite pleasure, infinite time. Eventually though, her body would concede defeat, becoming too sensitive to bear even the slightest touch. To her disappointment, Hannah felt the over-sensitivity approaching as her orgasm wound down. After one final shiver, the young girl closed her legs almost imperceptibly, signaling a withdrawal. Understanding, Mr. Koehler withdrew as well.
Hannah immediately looked away, once again bashful of his gaze. She had followed the script as always and was now grappling with the final act where the nine year old was consumed with a growing sense of embarrassment and shame at what she had done. Guiltily, Hannah retrieved her underpants from the floor and slipped into them, her back to Mr. Koehler.
"I should go home," she murmured indistinctly. "Bye, Mr. Koehler." She left the room without looking back. Hannah meekly let herself out the patio door where the whirring sounds of summer greeted her. She skipped across the deck and down the stairs, happy to return to her own yard where father still lay dozing on the hammock. Carefully, she crawled back in with him.
"Hey," her father said sleepily.
"Sorry," Hannah apologized, settling herself in next to him. She tried to arrange herself as she was before, nestled into the crook of his arm.
Her father stifled a loud yawn. "Where were you?" he inquired.
"At Mr. Koehler's house," Hannah answered after a short pause.
"Mmm," her father mumbled drowsily. "Helping with his medicine?"
"Yes."
"It's really great that you do that, Hannah," he said, hugging her close. He kissed the top of her head. "You're a good kid, you know that?"
Hannah giggled absentmindedly but didn't answer. Instead, she wrapped his arm around her again and cuddled against his chest. Gazing at the clouds floating lazily across the blue sky, Hannah wondered if she really was a good kid.