Mandy’s heart thudded in her chest as her fingers brought her ever nearer that elusive precipice. She hadn’t been touching herself for long, in either sense of the phrase, having just discovered masturbation a couple of months prior and having held out this night until after eleven thirty. Now, as midnight approached, she chased a climax that seemed to want to dance out of reach.
She knew why. She knew what she wanted. And it was driving her crazy.
She pulled her dew soaked fingers from her panties and brought them to her nose. The aroma of her own arousal spiked her lust but brought her no closer to her release. She slipped those wet fingers into her mouth and sucked them clean only to snake them back down under her covers and into her panties to strum her immature, eleven-year-old sex once more while savoring the flavor on her tongue.
And once again, the idea seeped through the crevices of her mind. It both thrilled and terrified her. She couldn’t possibly go through with it; it was far too risky and insane. But images flickered in the inside of her brain—an erotic slide show of what it would be like to throw caution to the wind and dive headlong into danger.
Her fingers caressed and probed, searching for the fuze to light the fireworks, while she entertained the notion of the idea. Some logical portion of her mind kept tossing objection after objection—I’m too young! What if I get caught? What if I can’t figure out how to actually do it? What if I get caught? What if Tim finds out? What if I get caught? What if it hurts too much? What if I get caught? What if Brian hates me? What if I get caught? What if I get caught? What if I get caught? The rest of her overstimulated brain answered each objection with It’ll be worth it!
Again, she slipped her hand from her pliant nether lips and sucked her fingers clean as her mind turned to images of the object of her obsession and what exactly she had planned for him. She couldn’t seem to stop smiling as her imagination ran wild, and the fluttering in her chest nearly caused her to burst out into uncontrollable giggles. She managed to remain quiet, but it was a close thing.
It was funny. She’d had a crush on her brother’s friend Brian for quite a while now. She hadn’t told anyone, mostly because she was embarrassed about it. If she had told someone, she would have described it as being in love with him, but somewhere, deep in the recesses of her mind, she knew it was just a crush.
She would often imagine little scenarios where they could become boyfriend/girlfriend: he would see her in some new outfit she’d just got and proclaim his undying love for her, she would say just the right thing and he would notice her and proclaim his undying love for her, she would be brave enough to wear a bikini in front of him at the pool and he would proclaim his undying love for her, or they would somehow end up alone together and he would proclaim his undying love for her.
That evening, however, had been different. She’d overheard that he was coming to spend the night with Tim, her big brother. It wasn’t the first time that he’d spent the night. It also wasn’t the first time that she wished she was the reason he was coming over. Butterflies fluttered in her belly at the mere idea. She’d searched through her closet, desperately trying to find just the perfect thing to wear so that he would notice her. She knew it was a long shot, but it had to work eventually, didn’t it?
She’d oh, so casually maneuvered herself to be in the living room that evening, wearing her coolest shorts and a top that several of her friends had told her looked great on her, when the doorbell rang. Her heart hammered at the sound and it was all she could do to stop herself from springing to her feet and running for the door.
Tim lumbered down the stairs from his room, calling out, “I’ve got it.”
Mandy pretended to watch the TV as Tim opened the front door. “Hey, man,” she heard Brian say in that subdued way of his. He was quiet; she thought it was cute.
“Hey,” replied her annoying brother, “C’mon, bring your stuff upstairs.” It was typical of Tim; never offer to help. She would have helped if he’d asked, but she knew he wouldn’t. After all, he was quiet. It was cute.
As he crossed the entryway to the foot of the stairs, she saw him for the first time that day. Just then, several things happened in such quick succession, that she would never truly know in what order they occurred: she took in the fact that he was dressed in a plain yellow t-shirt and denim shorts, he glanced around the room—his eyes briefly locking onto hers, and the idea had popped, fully formed, into her mind. The idea had latched onto her brain and refused to let go during the rest of the evening and into the night. It was impossible—crazy—risky. But it made her insides dance and her little slit tingle and moisten.
Now, several hours later, lying in bed, still alternately fingering herself and sucking her girl juice, the idea demanded action. She’d debated it enough in her mind. It was time to implement it. Damn, the torpedoes, full speed ahead! She’d heard her dad say that more than once, and it seemed appropriate now.
She tossed her covers aside and sat on the edge of her bed. It was strange. Now that she was acting on the idea, she felt much calmer, despite all the things that she knew could possibly go wrong.
She stood and crossed to her door. As she reached for the handle, a thought struck her. She should take off her nightgown. After all, where she was going, she wouldn’t need it; it would probably just be in the way.
Decision made, she pulled it up and over her head, tossing it in the direction of her bed. It hit the edge and fell to the floor in a pile. She stood there for a moment in nothing but her panties. The idea of walking through her house dressed as she was sent a little thrill through her.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, a tiny voice whispered that what she was about to do was crazy—that she was going to be in so much trouble if anyone found out. But every part of her being cried out that what she was doing was so right. She took a deep breath and put her hand on the doorknob. She turned it and the door whispered open to a dark landing. The sounds of a sleeping house met her ears and she couldn’t help but notice how strange they sounded to her, so rarely did she have the chance to hear them.
Just as she was about to step through her door, another thought crossed her mind. What about her panties? What if something caused her to have to rush back to her room suddenly? What if she couldn’t find them and had to leave them behind? Wouldn’t it be stupid if her panties caused her to be caught and get in trouble? She worried her bottom lip in thought. Should she really do it? Should she leave her panties behind and walk through the house naked? Considering what else she was planning on doing, walking around naked hardly seemed anything to be worried about. Besides, the door to her brother’s room was only about fifteen feet away, what was the big deal, really?
Strangely, she felt compelled to close her door to protect her modesty, before hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and dropping them to her feet. She stepped out of them, picked them up and tossed them over to join her nightgown.
Again, she opened the door, the forbidden nature of prowling around her house at night with no clothes on sent tingles through her crotch and caused her juices to flow. She stepped out of her room and closed the door behind her.
For a moment, she stood there, naked as the day she was born, basking in the thrill of doing something so naughty and contemplating just what she had in mind once she reached her destination. It was the thought of the person that was her destination that spurred her feet forward, padding silently along the landing—all her senses tuned to even the slightest hint that someone else might be up and around in the dark house, or moments from opening a bedroom door.
Closer she drew to her brother’s door as the excitement built within her. She was going to do it. She was really going to do it!
She had only a few feet left when she noticed that the door she approached was cracked open five or six inches. It struck her as odd since she was sure that her brother slept with his door closed. Perhaps Brian wanted a bit of light in their house in case he had to get up in the middle of the night or something. But, then again, it was dark in the hallway.
Closer she moved, until she could place her hand on the door. She brought her ear up to the crack and listened for the sounds of teenage boys awake and talking. She held her breath, but heard nothing—not even the rustle of blankets indicated either of the boys might be awake.
Carefully, she pushed the door, opening it farther—10 inches, 12, 16. It was open enough for her to slip through. She eased her head in and stepped inside. The streetlight cast an eerie, pale amber glow over the room, illuminating it just enough for her eyes to realize something she hadn’t expected.
The room was empty.
Where were Brian and her brother? Were they off somewhere, sneaking around the house just as she was? Maybe. Well, they probably weren’t naked like she was.
The thought caused a mental image of Brian walking naked around her house to drift to the front of her mind and her pussy tingled at the thought.
There was one possibility. They could be down in the basement. For a while now, they’d had it set up with a TV and an X-Box so that she and her brother could play games (rarely at the same time) without keeping their parents from watching the news or whatever it was parents watched on TV. Her mother called it the rec room. It was possible—and considering the fact that the boys weren’t in Tim’s room, likely—that their parents had allowed the boys to sleep down there. There was only one way to find out.
She slipped back through the door and began heading for the top of the stairs. As she started down them, she paused as she considered whether or not it was wise to go all the way down to the basement naked. She thought she should probably go back and at least put her nightgown back on. But then again, she’d come this far, and she couldn’t deny there was something unbelievably exciting about sneaking around while nude.
Down the steps she went.
She reached the bottom and stopped to look briefly back up. The flight of stairs seemed so much longer when she was naked. It was weird.
The grandfather clock next to her began chiming the hour. So on edge was she that she nearly jumped out of her skin. She actually did leap into the air and turn nearly a full 180 degrees before landing in a semi-crouch, her heart pounding almost painfully in her chest. She had barely managed to suppress the urge to scream, and now that she knew there was no danger, she only just kept herself from laughing out loud. She did giggle quietly.
Her sense of nervousness heightened by the chiming of the clock, she chose to wait until the sound had died before continuing; she wasn’t sure she would hear something as quiet as footsteps over the sound, and so, she stood rooted, eyes darting around occasionally, ready to catch the slightest movement.
Suddenly, she was hit with light from the staircase. Her eyes reflexively closed against the brightness. Adrenaline surged through her. Someone was coming! She must not have heard her parents’ door opening over the noise of the stupid clock.
Barely able to see through her slitted eyelids, she darted for the closest hiding place she could find. She ducked underneath the table behind the living room couch. It wasn’t the most ideal spot, but it would at least hide her from someone looking down the stairs; as long as whoever it was didn’t come down, she’d be OK.
But just as that thought had crossed her mind, she heard one of her parents reach the top of the stairs.
Don’t come down, she thought fiercely. Don’t come down. Don’t come down.
Her mental chant was interrupted by the sound of footsteps descending the stairs. Now she was in a bit of trouble. Her hiding place protected her relatively well from someone just looking downstairs, but whichever one of her parents it was would likely walk right by her. Her odds of going unnoticed weren’t good. And it was too late to find somewhere else to hide.
She pressed herself up against the back of the couch and raised herself as high as she could under the table. She carefully held herself up with her left foot and hand, propped her right foot up as out of sight as she could get it, and used her right hand, high on one of the table legs to steady herself. She wasn’t completely hidden, but it was the best she could do.
Down the stairs the footsteps came, until her father’s feet and pajama-clad legs descended into view. He reached the bottom of the stairs and paused, not five feet away from her. She held her breath, expecting to be hauled out from her hiding spot at any moment, and willed her father to keep walking to wherever it was he was going. Strangely, despite her terror that she was about to be caught, she could feel a drip of her girl juice traveling slowly down her left inner thigh.
After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a second or two, she watched her father’s feet turn to their right and head toward the kitchen. Mandy breathed a silent sigh of relief as she watched her father’s retreating back.
However, she now realized she had an even bigger problem: coming from the kitchen, her father would have a clear view of her hiding spot. There was no way he wouldn’t see her.
Carefully, she lowered her right hand and leg and inched her way out of her spot, while keeping an eye on her father to make sure he didn’t turn suddenly back. For the briefest of moments, she considered her options. She needed to find a new hiding place. She could run up the stairs and back to her room, but that would take her farther from her destination. She could hide in the shadows by the front door; if she held perfectly still, he might not notice her. She could hide between the couch and the coffee table, but if he came into the living room, he’d see her for sure.
The kitchen light flicked on and she darted around the corner between the grandfather clock and the stairs. She heard him open a door, then a few seconds of quiet and then she heard the door close. He must be checking on the boys, she thought. Then it occurred to her; and now he’s done and he’s coming back this way! Gotta hide!
She darted forward and threw herself between the couch and the coffee table, again pressing herself up against the couch so as to be as hidden as possible.
She heard more noises from the kitchen, but couldn’t identify any of them. Then she heard the refrigerator door open and her father pour himself a glass of milk, the sound of the milk carton being put back and the refrigerator door closing. There was near silence, save the pounding of Mandy’s heart in her throat, as her father drank his milk. Then she heard him rinse the glass and the tink of the glass being set in the sink. She heard the click of the kitchen light and the house around her became darker, now lit only by the light coming from the stairway. She heard her father’s soft footsteps as they came back to the stairs and then continue on up. Another click and she was once again plunged into darkness. Then she heard the soft clunk of her parent’s door closing.
Now she was stuck, but for a different reason. She couldn’t see anything. Her eyes were no longer adjusted to the darkness.
She lay there thinking about how close she’d come to getting caught, and again, the thought shot tingles through her. Her hand found its way to her sex and began playing once again. She closed her eyes and thought about exactly what she was doing and exactly where she was. She was masturbating in the middle of her living room, completely naked, in the middle of the night, when anyone could walk in and catch her. The notion drove her arousal to new highs and her fingers flicked and rubbed rapidly in a desperate desire for release. Her frustration mounted at her inability to hit her peak. It was all she could do to keep herself from moaning in a strange combination of desire and frustration.
Then she thought of Brian. Her destination. She had to get to him. That would bring her her release, she was sure of it.
Deciding that her eyes were readjusted enough, she climbed to her feet and made her way around the couch, around the corner toward the kitchen and almost missed the door to the basement in the darkness. She fumbled around and found the knob. She held her breath as she slowly turned. There was the softest of clicks and the door cracked open. Darkness lay beyond.
She gently pushed the door farther and stepped on the landing, ears tuned for any sound of movement at all. Only the distant sound of soft, slow breathing reached her ears. Carefully, she inched the door closed and started down the steps.
At the bottom, she stopped to get her bearings. She could hear breathing coming from the direction of the couch that sat in front of the TV. She ignored the urge to tip-toe, knowing that with her bare feet, it would be ridiculous. She cautiously crossed to the couch and tried to determine who was where.
Fortunately, light from the back yard safety light filtered through the high basement windows, granting her the ability to see just enough. The spikey blond hair of her brother rested at one end of the couch, while, in front of said couch, lying on a blanket, was the object of her dreams and desires.
He still wore the yellow shirt he’d arrived in, but he’d discarded the shorts and lay sleeping in his boxers. She was looking at Brian, her true love, the boy she fantasized about, in his boxers! This served to remind her of the fact that she was naked.
She was naked in front of Brian! Brian, who was in his underwear! Her pussy drooled.
She could have stood there for all eternity reveling in her current circumstances, but she had a mission to complete. The idea. It was close, now. So close. The thought thrilled and frightened her—excited and terrified her.
Carefully—silently—she knelt down next to Brian. She leaned close to his face, wondering what it would be like to kiss those lips. She was sure that, one day soon, she would. She couldn’t wait for that day, and all the days after where she would be his and he would be hers.
She moved her attention down to his boxers. She knew all she had to do was unbutton the fly and beyond that would be his thing—his manhood, his dick. His cock. She could fish it out and get him hard like that, but she didn’t want it to be that way.
Gently, she grasped the elastic waistband and began working it—so, so slowly—down. She kept a watchful eye on his face, checking for any sign that he might be waking up. Millimeter by millimeter, she worked them down, until she managed to lift the front over his sex.
She paused. There it lay before her. Not exactly what she was expecting, but then she really hadn’t known what to expect. She was surprised to find that her mouth actually watered at the sight of it. She took the time to admire it before continuing on her mission.
It seemed to take an age to get his underwear down far enough, but once she got them to about his knees, they slipped off pretty easily. She returned to kneeling near his waist and looked at his cock again.
This is it, she thought. This is the point of no return. Damn the torpedoes. She took the organ in her deft fingers and carefully stroked it a couple of times. Full speed ahead.
She bent over and slipped the head of it in her mouth. As much as she hadn’t known what it would look like, she knew even less what it would taste like. To her it tasted of skin and, well, Brian. Which she found perfectly pleasant.
Slowly, she worked it in her mouth, trying to breathe life into it. She was cautious at first—gentle licks, soft sucks, slow movements—but, as time went on and Brian stayed asleep, she slowly grew bolder. And the monster came to life.
With the throbbing pulse of his heartbeat, his cock stiffened and lengthened under her ministrations. Pleased with her work, she snaked one hand down to her own sex and found it dripping with her arousal. Slowing her attentions on his manhood, she pulled her mouth off and, keeping it in her hand, she brought her leg around to straddle his upper thighs.
She raised herself up on her knees and positioned him at her tiny, virginal entrance. Finally, the moment was upon her. The idea. The thought that had suddenly popped, so fully formed, into her mind that she hadn’t been able to purge it from her brain. The idea that she could—that she should—give herself to him while he slept. His hardness nestled at her sex. She was ready. Now or never.
She watched his face closely in the dim light as she began to lower herself. Her juice and spit made the way slippery, but her tightness made it difficult. There was a lot of pressure at her opening, but she couldn’t seem to get him to slide in. She slowly allowed more and more of her weight to rest on his rigid cock, forcing it to press more and more insistently at her opening. She could do this. She would do this. Nothing would stop her.
Finally, she felt a stretching and his head slipped inside her. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before. She’d experimented with her fingers before, but only one at a time. This was so much bigger. This was so much better. This stretched her and filled her like her fingers never could.
Glancing down at their joined sexes, she was surprised at how much of him still remained outside her. Slowly, she began lowering herself farther, scrunching up her face involuntarily as she did so. He felt so huge inside her—and he only seemed to increase in size the farther down she went—but she was determined to take him all the way.
She expected the pain of the loss of her virginity, but never felt it. Perhaps she didn’t notice it with all the stretching his shaft was doing to the inside of her channel. Maybe she’d broken it when she was younger and didn’t remember. Or, it was possible that she didn’t have a hymen; she’d heard once from a girlfriend that some girls were born without them. Of course, that girlfriend had gone on to say that such girls were natural born sluts. Mandy didn’t think she was a slut.
At least, she didn’t think she was a slut for anyone else but Brian.
When she hit bottom, she paused for a moment with her ass resting on his upper thighs and her hands resting on the ground on either side of Brian’s chest. She marveled at the fact that she’d gone through with it; a few short hours ago, she was a silly little girl with a crush, waiting to be noticed. Now, she was naked and sitting impaled on a guy’s cock. The thought caused her to start grinding.
The grinding felt so good. It sent shivers of pleasure like little jolts of electricity careening through her body. She took particular care to press her clitoris—her little pleasure button—into the hard bone of her partner’s pelvis. The sensation was ecstasy and it was all she could do to keep from crying out her bliss.
Harder and harder she ground, moving faster and faster until she could take it no longer and she started bouncing a bit on that hard shaft of teen cock.
She knew she should have been more careful. She knew she should have taken care to be gentle so as not to wake Brian and risk ending it all. But she just couldn’t. Her own needs and desires controlled her movements and compelled her to hold nothing back.
It felt so good. It was better than she’d ever felt with her fingers. Better than she’d ever felt with the pulsing shower-head. Better than she could have imagined. And her peak danced ever closer.
She tried to stay silent, she really did, but her voice cracked into a soft moan.
Her moans became grunts.
She was so close, now. So close.
She felt hands sliding up her arms. She looked down into Brian’s open eyes.
He was awake.
She was caught.
For one brief moment, she thought her life was over. But then she realized...
He wasn’t stopping her. He was letting her fuck him.
She peaked. The unstoppable force of her orgasm slammed into her after all the slow frustration and build-up of her long simmering arousal. She squealed quite loudly despite her valiant attempt not to.
Her lover—did she really just think of him that way?—must have been close, because he seized her by the waist, and slammed roughly into her a few more times and found his own peak, releasing himself deep within her.
Now spent, she collapsed onto his chest, the pair of them panting as they came down from their climaxes. He wrapped his arms around her and cuddled her to him.
She was in heaven.
“Are you two fucking?” came the somewhat groggy and quite annoyed voice of Tim to her right. There was a moment where she tensed at having been caught by her brother, but Brian just tightened his hold on her and she relaxed. She knew she was all right as long as she was in his arms. No matter what, they would both be OK.
“We were,” came the reply. She felt the rumble of his voice echoing in his chest as he spoke and she delighted in it. His chest, his arms, his softening cock, still trapped in her sex—it was all comfort to her.
Tim sat up and grabbed his pillow.
“Shit,” he exclaimed. “If you’re gonna do that, I’m going to my room.” And, putting deed to word, he stood and mounted the stairs, closing the door behind him.
Mandy watched him go in the dim light, then turned and looked Brian in the eye. He had a strange look of triumph in his expression that stoked her simmering passions.
“Stay with me,” he said simply. She beamed at him.
“Forever,” she replied.
They woke several times during the night. Whichever one woke first, would begin stimulating the other until the other woke as well. Then they would fuck with wild abandon, bringing each other to wonderful orgasms before falling asleep once again, still in each others arms. Still mated.
The last time that Mandy woke, morning sunlight streamed through the high windows. Morning had arrived.
A thrill of fear washed over and through her as she heard her mother upstairs making breakfast.
Mandy was still straddling Brian with his flaccid cock still wedged in her overused little pussy. She knew that her sex and inner thighs and his cock, balls and upper thighs must be coated in massive amounts of dried sex juices and cum. And she was naked; all her clothes were two stories above her in her bedroom. She was going to be in so much trouble, she was positive of that.
She was in the middle of trying to separate herself from Brian when the door to the basement opened. She froze. She turned to find her mother standing on the landing at the top of the stairs looking right at her. She could only hope the couch kept her nudity a secret, but even if it did, it certainly wouldn’t last once her mother came down the stairs, which Mandy was sure she would do. She resigned herself to being grounded for the rest of her life.
“Breakfast is ready, you two,” her mother said in her usual cheery voice. “You’re probably going to want to clean up before you sit down to eat. I imagine you’re both pretty messy.”
What the heck is going on? Mandy wondered. Has the world gone all crazy? Or is it just mom?
“Come on,” her mother continued. “You can share a shower.”
And with that, she turned to go back through the door as if she found her eleven-year-old daughter impaled on the cock of her son’s fourteen-year-old friend every day.
“Mrs. Hart?” Brian called after her before she’d closed the door.
“Yes, Brian?”
“Is it OK if Mandy comes to live with me for a while? I kinda like her.” He said this with his eyes locked on her own. Her heart pounded in her chest. He wanted to keep her? Her dreams had all come true!
“Of course, Brian,” came the reply. “Keep her as long as you want.”
Mandy could scarcely believe her ears and she gazed at Brian in wonder.
