The music playing through the overhead speakers was kinda lame, but twelve-year-old Veronica ‘Ronnie’ Glau didn’t really care. In truth, the incidental noise didn’t really register much in her head as she was far too busy concentrating on something else… namely, teasing the seven boys ‘hanging out’ behind her, all trying to look up her skirt to catch a glimpse of her ass.
That’s right, she smirked as she leaned over the second floor railing just a little bit more, tensing her thighs and allowing the frilly, flared plaid mini-skirt to slide another fraction of an inch up her bare backside. You can look, but you cannot touch! Her mother believed that the skirt was far too short, far too slutty for the pre-teen girl to wear out in public – that is, if her mother actually knew that her little princess was wearing such a thing. She’d fucking flip! the redhead thought as she felt a tiny waft of cool air wash across her bare flesh, the sensation making her shiver just a bit. But she had learned over the summer just how to get away with such things as cockteasing…
The first time that it had happened, way back in April, it had freaked her out more than a little bit. She remembered that she had celebrated her twelfth birthday just the previous Friday – a tiny little party held at the Centurions training center in which she had brought healthy-ish snacks for the other girls and Liz and Miranda had allowed the squad half an hour at the end of their intense training session to goof off just a bit – and was feeling happy that she was finally becoming a woman! She went to bed in her pajamas and fell asleep almost immediately in her own bed. And then she awoke the next morning in her cheerleading outfit, feeling… She felt…
I wasn’t a virgin anymore, she mused as she dipped into her purse, pulled out her cell, and turned to lean against the railing, the polished wood hitting her just under her shoulder blades. She stifled a grin of amusement as the boys all rushed to look elsewhere and pretended to text on her dark phone as she settled in. She knew that the hem of her skirt barely fell below her bare pussy, and she knew that they knew she was going commando as well, and she watched them from under her thick, mascara-smeared eyelashes as they each individually tried to figure out the best way to move to give them the proper angle to get a good look at her mostly-hairless slit.
She wasn’t a virgin, she had had sex with… someone. Some woman. She half-remembered flashing lights, half-remembered someone soft and round and feminine, half-remembered exposing every square inch of her body – but she just couldn’t piece it all together. She did remember the feelings coursing through her pre-teen body, the sheer ecstatic joy she felt as she recalled the sensation of a tongue sliding up her slit, the feeling of her womb clenching so hard in her belly that she thought she might tear something, the almost shuddering pleasure of soft breasts pressed against her mostly-flat chest, and she had frigged herself until she came again, gasping and sweating and feeling oh-so-nasty in her own bed as her tween pussy spasmed and spat sticky dribbles of girly-cum into her palm.
Over the next five months she had surrendered herself fully to the sheer nastiness washing through her soul. Something was driving her, making her into a total lezzie slut. At least once per week she would ‘lose time’ only to re-awaken hours later with only flashes of memory rattling around in her brain like loose stones and the knowledge that she had gotten laid. The fragments were driving her insane – an image of a succulent pussy in front of her eyes, the feeling of a probing finger worming into her slit, the taste on her tongue as she pressed her face between a pair of spread ass cheeks, tiny little glimpses of the grown-up sex she didn’t remember experiencing. One image, of a tiny, adorable pussy lightly capped by a dusting of dark-blonde peach fuzz, just would not leave her mind, and she would focus on that whenever she pleasured herself. But what was worse was how she never seemed to be able to think about anything other than sex, sex with other girls, sex with women, sex with her own mother, and she would find herself wondering how some girl she encountered on the street would feel in her arms, of how they would feel under her tongue, of how it would feel to kiss them and stroke them and tear pleasure from their young, quivering bodies. Before she knew what was happening to her, she had stopped dreaming of the boys that she had once believed she desired – and instead obsessed about the girls she knew she now wanted.
Over the summer she had simply given in to her perverted desires. The first time that she had put herself out there was with a girl she half-knew from the local park where she played, a somewhat gawky ten-year-old who seemed cute in a buck-toothed, stringy blonde sort-of way. The pair had slipped off into the covered picnic area that provided a tiny bit of privacy behind the stone walls of the fireplace, and there she kissed her new friend, feeling her heart thudding in her chest and her tiny slit getting moist as she feasted on the girl’s lips. Ronnie showed the girl her pussy, and the girl showed Ronnie her own, and they both stroked and caressed each other’s private parts until they came with tiny little shudders, and the redheaded tween had fallen in love with the taste of the girl’s juices on her fingers. She met with the girl for three days afterwards and did stuff with her mouth, with her cunny, with every part of her willing body, until the fourth when she arrived and the girl never showed up again.
But that was okay… she was twelve-year-old, for Christ’s sake, far too old to be hanging around with the little kids at some dumb park! She moved from the childish playground to the grown-up mall, convincing her harried mother that she would be totally safe and much happier, and rather than battle the older woman surrendered to her daughter’s wishes. So the redhead put on her cutest top and tightest jeans, slung her purse over her shoulder, slipped into the mall – and discovered paradise. The place was crawling with dozens, hundreds, of sexy girls and women, ranging from stylish twelve-year-olds like her through the teen and twenty-something girls working in the stores to young mothers with babies, all sliding through the halls and chatting and interacting and laughing and… And…
That had started her new life as a… Well, to be honest, she wasn’t quite sure what she was. I’m a lezzie, I know that much, the twelve-year-old thought as she pushed off the railing and made her way in the direction of the escalators. But I’m not a hooker! She did acknowledge that she was up for any girl-on-girl games that might occur, that she had lost count of the number of pussies she had lapped or the number of tongues that had lapped at her own lightly-fuzzed slit (or even darker, dirtier places!), that she didn’t really care all that much whether she knew the name of her partner-of-the-hour or not, and she was definitely open to any little ‘gifts’ that her temporary girlfriends might feel the need to give her. But I’m NOT a hooker!!! She flicked her flowing cascade of crimson hair over one shoulder as she stepped on the metal tread, standing still as it carried her down to the lower level. I also don’t THINK I’m being a hooker during my blank times, she added quietly to herself. At least, I don’t have any new gifts when I wake back up.
The blank times were what bothered her the most. It wasn’t that she wasn’t content to engage in sex – rather, it was troubling that she couldn’t seem to remember what she did. Or who I did, she amended as she stepped off the escalator and onto the first floor. Settling her frilly skirt around her hips just a bit to expose a thin strip of pale belly flesh, she undid the top button of her blouse and made her way to the food court to find… someone. It was all so confusing, and the redhead frowned just a bit as she moved, instinctively swaying her tween hips in an imitation of the older girls she had secretly spied upon. Next time, she resolved, I’m gonna remember!
Jessie pushed the heavy wooden door shut behind her with her heel as she dropped her gym bag and backpack onto the elegant tile floor. Placing one hand on the wall next to the hall closet, she kicked first her left tennis shoe, and then her right, off and stood for a moment, luxuriating in the cool that leeched through her ankle socks and into the soles of her feet. Nice… “Mom,” she called out as she pushed off the wall and walked past the stairs and down the small shadowy hallway, “I’m home!”
“Welcome back, sweetie.” Jennifer Appell stood at the kitchen counter in her bare feet, and not for the first time Jessie was struck by just how similar the pair was. Similar height, similar complexions, similar build… She’s just an old version of me, the fourteen-year-old thought as she slid across the hardwood floor and over to the refrigerator. Pulling open the door, the cheerleader frowned a bit as she regarded the complete lack of anything good to eat – at least, that’s what she told herself. Truth is, I don’t know if I WANT to be like her when I grow up! she grumbled to herself as she glanced at her mother out of the corner of her eye. Yes, her mother was beautiful, and yes, her mother had kept – or regained, Jessie just wasn’t sure which – her figure after having her, but still…
“There’s nothing good in here,” she scowled as she shut the door heavily. “Why don’t you buy anything good?” she added as she crossed her arms.
“We have lots of good things,” Jennifer replied. “There are apples on the table, and celery sticks, and carrots…”
“Rabbit food,” Jessie snorted.
“Healthy food,” her mother shot back with a grin. “Besides, you don’t want to fill up, dinner will be ready soon.” Jennifer paused in her chopping of something green (Peppers? Jessie wondered as she made a face) and turned to her daughter. “Did you wear that all day?” she asked critically as she motioned to her daughter’s wardrobe with the knife.
“Mu-ohmmm,” the teenager whined as she rolled her eyes. It was an old battle between the two… Jennifer Appell would encourage her daughter to dress and act and speak and just generally be a dainty, cute, weak little girl, someone who would wear frilly pink dresses and have long flowing hair and paint her nails and dab on perfume and work on her makeup and get all faint over boys, something she completely and totally hated. “There’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing!” she groused as she slouched against the refrigerator. “I like it!”
“I know you do,” Jennifer replied as she smiled indulgently. “It’s just…” Her mother sighed as she turned back to the counter and resumed hacking vegetables to death. “You’re such a pretty girl, I just don’t understand why you’d want to hide all that in those… things,” she opined.
It’s better than dressing like some elitist princess like you! Jessie shot back silently, even as she bit her tongue. She knew her mother meant well, that both she and her father loved her and actually tried to be cool parents, but the fourteen-year-old just… couldn’t! Her sapphire eyes ran up and down the grown woman before her, taking in the light, filmy yellow sundress draped loosely over her thin-yet-rounded body, her bare shoulders and tanned chest exposed by the thin spaghetti straps holding the garment up, her platinum-blond hair looking almost like a metallic wave halfway down her back, and suppressed a shudder. “I like my clothes,” the teenager muttered sullenly. “I don’t need to be some… some…”
“Some frilly elitist bimbo?” Jennifer supplied with an amused smile. Jessie didn’t answer but instead just scowled, and her mother laughed a delicate, almost musical little laugh. “Okay, I’ll stop trying for now. Just don’t forget, my little bourgeoisie princess, that you’re a member of the ruling class, and not a member of the proletariat!”
“Oh, gawd…” She NEVER misses a chance to prove that she went to college! Here we go again…
“Go on,” Jennifer ordered lightly, “go on upstairs and get cleaned up. Dinner will be in about half an hour.”
“Fine. Anything come for me in the mail?”
Her mother ticked her head to the side in the general direction of the kitchen table, motioning to the small stack of envelopes on her placemat. “Where it always is. Remember, half an hour!”
“Yeah, yeah.” The fourteen-year-old snatched up the small stack of envelopes and retreated upstairs, slamming the door behind her with a bit more force than she really intended. I’m not really mad, she mused as she tossed the mail on her bed and moved across the large, soft carpet to her dresser. But she’s always trying to make me into someone I’m not!!! Jessie took a minute to strip out of her still-somewhat-sweaty tank top and jeans, and sighed in pleasure as the air conditioner kicked in and sent a gentle breeze of icy-cold air wafting across her bare flesh. “I’m not a frilly girl,” she grumped as she pulled off the do-rag, stripped off her socks, and padded back over to the bed in only her tiny bra and skin-tight panties. “Why can’t they fucking get that?!?”
She let herself rest for a moment in the cool air, staring up at the (Frilly! Girly!!!) canopy above her, and then forced her gaze over to the posters decorating the wall next to the door. Edgy, dangerous guys, making edgy, dangerous music glowered back at her, their eyes making it clear that they wouldn’t put up with any shit from anybody, and she grunted a bit in satisfaction as she felt her annoyance start to ebb just a bit. “Such crap,” she muttered as she rolled onto her flat belly and began to sort through her mail.
An envelope containing a bill for her upgraded, updated uniform (“Goddamn tits,” she growled as she saw the price that she had to pay – well, her parents had to pay – to get a Centurion demi-sweater to properly fit her newly-arrived A-cup breasts that had seemingly sprang up overnight back in July), a CD that she had ordered, a catalog full of (Frilly! Girly!!!) clothes that she just knew her mother had ordered for her in an attempt to make her even more of an upper-class princess (which she promptly threw in the general direction of the trash can beside her desk), and a manila envelope…
Wonder what this is? she mused as she picked open the tab with her chewed-short fingernails. It felt stiff, as if it held a bunch of high-gloss pages, and for a moment she wondered if Brooke maybe had sent her something for the team. She slid out the contents… and almost reared back in shock.
There, laying on the thick, warm blanket covered with daisies, was a magazine. Yellow letters screamed Little Lovers, and on the cover was…
Holy fuck, that’s RONNIE!!! The fourteen-year-old could only stare dumbly at the girl on the cover, little twelve-year-old Veronica Klau, one of the Centurion mainstays who had been on the junior squad for three years – who was doing something very, very wrong. Ronnie was grinning at out at her, her snaggle-toothed grin that Jessie had seen many, many times before, as she knelt on a bed. She was half-naked, staring over her shoulder out at the shocked girl with a look in her eye that seemed to hint of all the nasty, vile things she wanted, she needed to do! The redhead tween had tucked the hem of her incredibly short cheer skirt into the waistband, exposing her slim, almost not-there-at-all ass to the world. That was bad enough, but the pre-teen was pulling aside one cheek, letting Jessie get a good, close look at her tiny puckered asshole and her miniscule little-girl slit to expose the almost electric pearly-pink of the twelve-year-old’s inner flesh, the image of which was burned into the teenager’s brain in an instant. “What the fuck,” she whispered as her heart pounded in her chest and she stared, could do nothing more than stare, at the graphic kiddie-porn magazine featuring a girl she knew on the cover…
She forced, tore her eyes away from the oh-so-nasty Ronnie and managed to look elsewhere – and her gaze fell on a small little piece of paper that had evidently fluttered out of the envelope along with the magazine. Slowly she leaned forward, keeping her eyes firmly away from the magazine, as she reached out a trembling hand and retrieved the white square. She took a deep, shuddering breath as she tried to steady herself, and glanced down into her palm. It was a tiny, hand-written note, six small words written in an elegant, almost formal script. Jessie could feel the writing-marks in the paper and knew that it was not mass-produced, that it was a message meant just for her. Dully she read the words, trying to comprehend the message, trying to force understanding into her stunned, rebelling brain.
You might be interested in this…
So weird…
Jennifer tightened her grip on the backpack she held in her lap and looked over her shoulder towards the back of the bus, past the crowd of pre-teens laughing and shouting and generally carrying on like a horde of sugar-infused hyperactive crazies, to focus in on Ilise. The little blonde girl was sitting alone several rows back, her gaze thoughtful as she peered out the window at the passing houses, the look on her face making it clear that she didn’t want to talk to anyone. The ten-year-old then turned back forward and peered at Patrice out of the corner of her eye, noting that her dark-haired friend was sitting in a pose that was the mirror of the blonde’s, with her chin on her fist as she peered out the window as well. What is wrong with those two? Jennifer wondered as she glanced at Ilise once more.
Everything had been strange since Nationals back in May. Once, the three of them had been close, had done practically everything together. It was Patrice and Ilise and her, always laughing and gossiping and talking and just being the best of friends – and the trio had spent so much time together that her mother had called them the three musketeers. I STILL don’t know what that means! the Asian girl grumped as she scowled at the memory. She tried to figure out how everything changed…
We were in the hotel room down in Florida, she thought, and we almost overslept. And I managed to get a shower first, and then we got ready. And we came in second. And…
And yet again, that is where her thoughts ended. She knew that something had happened in Florida, something bad between Patrice and Ilise that had broken their friendship. The two had barely said five words to each other as they were leaving, and over the next three months Jenny couldn’t get the pair together at the same time. Both had their excuses – Ilise had to get ready to go to camp, Patrice was taking swimming lessons, it was Ilise’s grandmother’s birthday, Patrice was grounded, whatever, whatever. She didn’t go to Ilise’s birthday party, she mused as she glanced at the brunette next to her, and Ilise didn’t come to mine. Which was a bit bad, okay, but… She just didn’t know!
“Hey, Jen,” Patrice said quietly.
“Yeah?” The ten-year-old looked over at her slightly older friend and saw that she was staring back, staring at Ilise for just the briefest of moments, before she turned back forward again. “Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. Listen…” Patrice turned to face her, leaning back against the window as she peered at the Asian girl with an odd look in her eye. “What do you think about…” The brunette trailed off, and Jennifer noticed that her eyes flicked in Ilise’s general direction once more, a split-second glance that she failed to hide at all. “Do you like Ilise?”
“I… sure, I guess.” What is she asking? “I mean, she’s nice and she’s friendly ‘n all that sorta junk.” Jennifer was confused by the question. The ten-year-old clutched her backpack to her chest, almost as if hugging the packed-full vinyl would bring clarity to her foggy, confused mind. “Do you mean ‘like,’ like, do I wanna kiss her ‘n stuff?” she ventured.
“Kiss?!?” Patrice squeaked in shock as she sat bolt-upright in her seat, her entire body stiffening as she stared at her friend defensively. “What do you mean by that?!?”
“Whoa!” What… “I didn’t mean anything! I just wanna know what you mean!”
“I didn’t mean kiss!” Patrice glanced at Ilise one more time, and then turned to slump in her seat. “Just forget it,” she grumbled as she tried to drop the subject.
Jennifer stared at her friend for a few heartbeats, and then glanced back at Ilise… only to catch the twelve-year-old blonde staring at her, or her and Patrice. For a second they locked gazes, and icy-blue eyes stared into Jenny’s brown, before the girl blushed and glanced away. The Asian girl stared at the blonde for another few seconds, and then glanced at Patrice once more. What the heck is going on with them? she wondered as she slumped down in her seat, her eyes uncertain as she gnawed at her lower lip. Does it have something to do with kissing? She could feel Patrice next to her, feel the defensive waves practically radiating from her, but she tried to put it all out of her mind as she sank deeper into her train of thought.
So weird…
He wasn’t smart. In fact, he had been tested by experts… and they had officially told him that he wasn’t smart. They tossed around big, grown-up words like functioneel achterlijk and beperkte mentale verbindingen and negenenvijftig IQ, words that meant nothing when his mother had walked with him to the doctors and then sat with a frown on her face as men and women in white coats used the grown-up talk while he looked out the window at the flowers.
He liked flowers. They were pretty, and they smelled good.
Still, he could function – so they had encouraged him to work. The job he found was simple, easy, and required nothing in his broken mind beyond doing one thing over and over and over again. He didn’t fully understand what he was doing, but five days a week he went in and did his job. And he got money that he gave to his mother, who would then let him look at the flowers.
The table was ready for him as he entered the room, and his chair, and his supplies. Somebody – one of the mystery people who paid him to do his work – had actually put a small, delicate flower in a tiny pot across from his chair, a little color in the drab room, and he smiled. Misschien zullen ze laten me mee naar huis nemen, he thought as he pulled the stack of large manila envelopes closer to him, pulled the stack of labels just as close, and began to stick the latter to the former. One, two three, four five… He turned the stack sideways, and then continued.
One, two, three, four, five…
And turn again.
One, two, three, four, five…
Again.
One, two, three, four, five…
He did his job like a machine, attaching labels to envelopes. He didn’t really understand what he was doing, but he did it anyway. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it well so that he could smell the flowers.
After all, over two hundred stacks of two hundred fifty mailing envelopes each weren’t going to label themselves.
Thursday lunch at John Hancock Middle School was pizza day, and naturally the counter holding paper plates of crunchy dough, greasy cheese, and small red rounds of spicy mystery meat was packed three deep with students. Ilise Gower glanced over at the crowd and warred with herself for half a minute – part of her wanted to brave the line to get just a little treat, but another part of her really, really didn’t want to be caught breaking her diet by any of the other Centurions, or Sienna, or (holy God above please no!!!) Jessie herself – and sighed as she knew what she had to do. Turning to the vaguely healthy entrees before her, she selected a salad that sported the fewest wilted leaves, added a dollop of thin, acrid dressing, and slid it onto her tray. She glanced over her shoulder for a second, noted that nobody seemed to be paying attention to her, and added a small spoonful of bacon bits to the top. There, she nodded to herself with a grim half-smile, I’m being good.
She walked a few more steps down to the fresh fruit and paused once again as a wave of sadness washed over her. She didn’t even want to talk to me, the twelve-year-old thought morosely as an image of Patrice flashed into her mind. It had been over a week since she had been in the same room with her former-BFF for the first time since Nationals, more than a week in which there had been three practices where the raven-haired girl had merely worked out with the squad before dashing off afterwards, usually with Jennifer in tow. And she’s stealing Jenny too, she added morosely as she poked first one apple, and then another, with an exploratory finger. Jen looks confused, maybe I should just tell her what happened. Maybe I should corner Patrice. Maybe I should just drop it. She sighed as she poked a few more apples, found a few in the back that seemed to have the fewest number of soft spots, and rolled one of them experimentally. Maybe I should just die, she added darkly.
“Uhm… Excuse me,” a tiny, hesitant voice said softly beside her.
She had been so lost in her reverie that she hadn’t even noticed the girl sidle up to the fruit counter, but her voice was so soft and quiet that it didn’t startle her, and Ilise turned her head slightly. The girl next to her was short, even shorter than Ilise’s own four and one-half feet tall, and had a jet-black braid hanging down to the middle of her back that almost seemed to shine in the light of the cafeteria. Green eyes with little flecks of gold in them that seemed shy and just a little bit scared, the girl wore a simple pair of jeans and a yellow tee-shirt that looked baggy on her painfully-thin body. Like Ilise she had no figure whatsoever – but the twelve-year-old couldn’t decide if the girl was way younger than she was, or if she was just anorexic or something. “Sorry, am I in your way?” she asked.
“Kinda,” the girl replied, her pale cheeks almost flushing in embarrassment as her gaze flicked from the cheerleader to the fruit and back again. “I wanted to get an apple.”
“Yeah. Here.” Ilise quickly picked one and placed it on the girl’s tray, right between the small pint of milk and a plate of salad-dressing-bacon bit that looked eerily like her own, and tried to shake off her depression with a smile. “I’m Ilise,” she said as she turned back to pick an apple of her own.
“Wow, that’s so cool a name!” The girl smiled at the twelve-year-old and slid a half-step closer, just a bit of the stiffness leaving her body as she relaxed a bit. “Not like my boring old Candice.”
Ilise could feel the girl’s gaze taking her in, but she ignored Candice’s check-out just as the girl had ignored hers. Besides, she knew exactly what the girl would see – jeans, a sort-of adult blouse that her mother insisted made her look like a teenager (but was a bitch to keep stains off of!), her sandy-blonde hair twisted into a pair of pigtails jutting from the sides of her head above her ears and brushing her shoulders. In fact, she knew she looked cute… except for her eyes, which were still a bit red and puffy from her morning ‘Why-Doesn’t-Patrice-Love-Me?’ cry. “That’s actually not too bad,” she replied as she picked an apple for herself and the pair moved down. “We can call you Candy.”
The brunette thought for a moment, and then her face lit up with a wide, brilliant smile – and Ilise caught the silver glint of braces flashing in the light. “That could work!” she replied in an almost excited tone. “Nobody ever called me Candy before,” she added as she paused by the desserts. “But that’s ‘cause it might sound weird with my last name.”
“What’s that?”
“Kane.”
Ilise thought for a second, and then had to stifle a giggle. “Candy Kane! Okay, maybe that’s a bad idea,” she said with a smile.
“No, I like it!” The girl struck a pose, standing stiffly upright while balancing her tray on the fingertips of one hand while she waved the other slowly like she was acknowledging a crowd. “Candy Kane, the winnah!” she intoned in an almost formal fashion, but the laughter in her eyes and the wide smile on her face ruined the effect somewhat.
She had to admit it – the girl’s graceful movements and easy balance impressed Ilise, and she smiled too. “Wow, you move so easily!” she said as she tried to balance her tray on her fingertips as well… and was surprised at how easy it came to her.
“Thanks!” Candy gave the twelve-year-old another appraising glance, almost as if she were evaluating her new friend’s stance, and gave a satisfied little nod. “You move easy too. Are you a gymnast too?”
“No, I’m a cheerleader,” Ilise replied with just a hint of pride. “I’m on the Cooperstown Centurions junior squad,” she added, “so that means I haveta do a lot of tumbling and jumping and stuff.”
“Cool! That’s kinda like gymnastics!”
“Have you been doing gymnastics long?”
“Yeah, since I was six.” Candy made a tiny face and, as an astonished Ilise watched, leaned forward as she reached for a small cup of cling peaches. The girl’s sneaker-clad foot came up behind her in perfect timing to her outstretched hand, and the tray perched on her fingertips didn’t so much as jiggle as the girl moved. “So, like, six years,” she added as she reached up to place the cup on her tray, reached back out, and grabbed a second. “You want one?”
“I shouldn’t,” Ilise replied a bit sadly as she shook her head. “The squad’s pretty strict about what we can eat.”
Candy shrugged and placed the cup back in its place and stood back upright. “I don’t have to worry about stuff like that, I’m in the gym so much that I can just about eat anything I want.”
“Lucky!” The pair continued down the line, past a few random students, and to the cashier. Ilise paid cash, but she noted that Candy actually had a credit card that the fat, old woman at the register swiped without comment. “I work out a lot too,” she continued as the pair left the food room and entered the cavernous cafeteria proper. “But they’re really strict about diets ‘n stuff like that.”
“That sucks,” Candy replied sympathetically. She gave Ilise a tiny little nudge with her elbow and pointed towards the end of a long table where a pair of eighth graders was leaving, and without hesitation the two girls dashed over to claim the newly vacated seats. “My family just moved here, so I don’t know any of the teachers,” the brunette commented as the pair settled in. “Who you got for homeroom?”
The blonde made a little face of disgust. “Ms. Tran,” she replied as she picked up her plastic fork and speared a rather wrinkled-looking tomato. “She’s, like, really strict.”
Candy made a face as she hoisted her fork as well. “Ick. I got her for math. I got Missus Bauer for homeroom.”
The conversation flowed easily, and within minutes the pair was busy comparing – and judging – the faculty at Jane Addams. And to her surprise, Ilise forgot all about her sadness.
Of course, she added silently as Candy chewed and talked at the same time, her combined pearly-white teeth and flashing silver braces and green-and-red food a warring riot of color in her mouth, her lips might have something to do with it. For some reason, she just couldn’t take her eyes off of the brunette’s pink, puffy lips – and a tiny part of her wondered just what it would be like to kiss them.
Laurie turned the faucet handle, cutting the flowing shower down to a tiny dribble of water that quickly dripped to a stop, and wiped the excess water from her eyes. She was clean, her skin scrubbed until it practically glowed pink and her hair a tangled yet pristine mess on her head, washed not once nor twice but three times. All to be pure. All to be free from any hint of grime or grit.
All to be perfect for Brooke.
You can only do so much, the child-Laurie voice in the back of her head whispered. Wash all you want, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a dirty little lezzie slut. She’ll NEVER accept you!
“She will,” the twelve-year-old muttered in reply. “I will make her love me!” The little voice didn’t respond, but she could feel it smirking in the back of her mind.
She pulled back the shower curtain and grasped the towel, draping the plush terrycloth over her head and making a start at drying her hair. The second that she closed her eyes Brooke was there, tall, lean, thin-yet-curvy, sweet-yet-sexy, almost beckoning to her, whispering how good it would feel to take off their clothes and touch each other. As the tween slid the towel to her shoulders and began to dry her body she opened her eyes and the image vanished, but it was still there, almost burned into her brain, occupying her very soul…
It was Thursday evening, so she didn’t have cheerleading practice – which meant that it had been over twenty-four hours since she laid her eyes on Brooke. A little over a week since she had first sat in on the introductory meeting of the Centurions, eight days since she had met her love, and already Laurie could tell that something within her had changed. The first official practice that Friday evening had been a chaotic mess as the girls tested each other, evaluated each other, tried to figure out who would be in which position and performing what particular task in which routine, and it was all the girl could do to pay attention to instructions when she wanted to do nothing more than stare at Brooke. The sixteen-year-old wasn’t in her uniform but rather her workout gear – a pair of tight black leggings that hugged her body like a second skin and a sheer pink tank top that provided glimpses of her gray sports bra and barely constrained her rounded breasts, her chocolate-colored hair twisted into a long braid that fell down her back and seemed to invite the little girl to gaze at the teenager’s heart-shaped, perfect ass, her tiny feet clad in a pair of pink tennis-shoes…
I bet I looked like a homeless woman! Laurie snorted to herself, although her criticism of her dress contained no heat, no bitterness, absolutely none of the self-pity that she had once had. She knew that she had almost given up, almost had become the crazy, perverted bag lady that she thought she would be – but Brooke had changed all of that. The Centurion captain had inspired her to do more, to be more, and the twelve-year-old started to change herself.
Okay, clothes are coming along, she thought as she wrapped the towel around her nude body and stepped out of the tub. A desperate wheedling to her mother had taken care of that, along with a trip to the mall and a small-scale shopping spree that had ended with a completely new wardrobe. She had wanted to do black and pink, the colors of Brooke, but the women in the stores had convinced her that she was an autumn (whatever that meant) and really should wear clothes that were jade, rust, or pumpkin – so she did. Nobody had said anything when she walked in on Wednesday in a short little shiny green skirt and a reddish-brown tee-shirt, but she could tell that they were looking, tell that they were whispering about her in a good way… and best of all Brooke had mentioned just how cute she looked, a compliment that caused her heart to almost leap from her chest!
It made up for the fact that another ‘blank time,’ another block of hours in which she had vanished from existence and had returned deep in the dark of the night, sore and stiff from sex. She could only remember fragments – the taste of a soft, succulent peach-fuzzed pussy on her lips as she nuzzled some girl’s stiff clit, the feeling of being on the edge of cumming as tongues worming into her own slit and asshole at the same time while fingers pinched and twisted her pokies – but she remembered enough to know that something had erased most of the memory of a three-way from her mind. But she didn’t care, didn’t even want to care, and instead just dreamed of Brooke as she slipped her fingers into her own slick, painfully-sore pussy and frigged herself furiously until she gushed her little-girl juices all over the stained and sticky sheets beneath her.
Should I care about the blank times? she wondered idly as she stood before the counter. Do I care? Laurie just wasn’t sure… but a part of her knew that she was desirable, that other women found her sexy. They have to, she mused as she gnawed at her lip and peered at reflection through half-seeing eyes. They must, otherwise they wouldn’t keep sleeping with me. Right? “Right?” she whispered/wondered aloud. Slowly she loosened her grip on the knotted towel, letting the damp cloth flutter down around her feet as she stared at herself in the mirror. She wasn’t sure what the big draw actually was – to her eyes she looked like a little girl, barely developing, nothing special. Her gaze slid down her thin shoulders to the barely-there little bumps under her nipples (The sales lady said that they were just AAA-cups, ‘n so a training bra is good enough, she mused to herself with a snort) that hinted that puberty was just getting started in her body, down past her slightly pudgy belly (Baby fat, she snorted again), to her mound. The twelve-year-old only had six tiny black hairs – she had counted! – and below them…
There’s nothing really there! Laurie leaned back slightly while pulling herself open, tugging the tip of her tiny slit up just enough so catch a glimpse of her pearly-pink inner flesh capped by the tiny little nub of her clit. Just the sight of the small button sent a little shiver of pleasure through her body – she still couldn’t believe that something that was no bigger than the nail of her pinkie could be so sensitive, and that stroking it could feel so good! But I’m still a little girl, she mused as she stood back up straight and first turned to the left, and then to the right, and tried to see if her butt had any curves. I don’t know why girls want to have sex with me!
With a little hiss of annoyance she forced her thoughts away from her confused musings and back to a subject that she truly loved… Brooke. “I’m going to make her love me!” Laurie whispered as she grasped her toothbrush and squirted a globe of toothpaste onto the bristles. As she brushed her teeth the image of the teenager floated through her mind, beautiful and poised and oh-so-gorgeous, and the twelve-year-old could feel the warm knot of her arousal growing deep in her belly as she fantasized.
Brooke slid – sauntered – across the hardwood floor of the gym towards her, the sixteen-year-old’s cheeks flushed with desire, her nipples hard enough to show through her pink tank top and grey sports bra. “Laurie,” she said as she came to a stop in front of her, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” The teenager licked her lips as she reached out a single hand to stroke Laurie’s face, and she whimpered with barely-held lust as she leaned closer…
The tween leaned forward and automatically hooked her free hand around her hair to keep it out of her face as she spat into the sink, a thick glob of toothpaste and spittle that was quickly washed away by the running water. Not bad, she thought as she took a sip from the small pink plastic cup, but I can do better. She swirled and spat once more, swallowed the remainder of the liquid, and dropped her rinsed toothbrush into the cup as she placed it back on the counter. Taking up her hairbrush, she began to work the bristles through her snarled, damp locks as she imagined another scenario…
Laurie lay in her bed, her eyes wide in the dim light of her bedroom as she gazed at the goddess standing before her. Brooke’s long hair was loosely draped around her shoulders like a gentle chocolate waterfall, and the teenager worried her lip with her teeth as she looked down at the twelve-year-old. “Laurie,” she whispered as she fiddled with the ties of her sheer, filmy, pink negligee, almost squirming under the gaze of her pre-teen lover. “I wore this just for you. Do you think I’m pretty?”
“I think you’re beautiful,” Laurie replied, her words husky.
Brooke laughed a short bark of laughter as she blushed deeply and looked down at her feet. “No, you’re beautiful,” she muttered. “I’m just okay!”
“Do you really think I’m beautiful?” the tween asked as she tossed off the covers in a single flourish. The twelve-year-old was nude on the sheet, her developing body fully exposed to the teenager’s hungry gaze. “I don’t have any boobs,” Laurie added as she slid her palms across the tiny, barely-there swells on her chest, giving her already-stiff nipples a twinned pair of tweaks to make them even harder. “And my pussy’s just nothing,” she continued, continuing the journey of her hands down her belly to her mostly-bare mound. She let her thighs loll open as she used her fingers to spread herself, exposing her inner pink to the hungry stare of her lover.
“You’re perfect,” Brooke whimpered.
“Do you want to eat my cunny?” Laurie was wet, so wet that she imagined that a pool of Laurie-juice was soaking into the mattress beneath her flat ass. It was her turn to whimper as she dipped her fingertips between the spread folds of her slit, her pads glancing against her stiffening clit and coming away sticky with her own passion.
“Yes,” the teenager moaned. She pulled on the ties of her negligee, letting the material flutter open to expose her nude body to Laurie as she crawled onto the bed…
“Fuck,” the twelve-year-old hissed as she placed her palms against the edge of the counter, supporting herself with her arms as she tried to lock her shivering, weak knees to keep from dropping to the floor. Between her legs her little-girl slit felt hot enough to burn, and her nipples were so hard that they actually ached. “Fuck,” she repeated as she swallowed heavily, her mouth feeling dry and her brow feeling feverish. The little girl slipped a hand between her thighs and stroked her pussy, an involuntary moan of pure, unadulterated lust tearing from between her gaping lips as her entire body shuddered. Brooke made her so horny, the thought of Brooke made her so horny, that she couldn’t think straight! She stroked her pussy again, and again, and then again, each dip of her digits between her cunny lips spiking her higher, each swipe of her fingertips spreading her slick little-girl juices over her nubbin, and she rolled her rock-hard clit as she slowly, jerkily, sank down to the small rug beneath her feet.
“Please let me taste you,” Brooke pled as she worked her pink thong off of her hips and down her thighs. “I wanna make you cum, and I want to taste you cumming in my mouth!”
“Yes, eat me!” Laurie whispered. Her hand was moving furiously between her thighs, and she leaned back against the bathroom door as she spread her legs to give herself more access. Her entire sex was drooling, wet and hot and ready and the twelve-year-old wanted more, needed to have more…
Brooke crawled up the mattress until she knelt over Laurie’s nude body, and with a delicate tenderness she lowered her face to the tween’s. The pair’s lips met in a light, tentative kiss that was simultaneously innocent and nasty, and the twelve-year-old opened her mouth to fence her tongue with the teenager’s, all while Brooke’s long, nimble fingers slid down her flat belly to the cleft between her legs, stroking her pre-teen clit and dipping in to stab at the hole to her inner womanhood.
“Yeah, Brooke, finger me!” Laurie moaned softly. She wasn’t even aware that it happened, but when she felt the curved handle of the hairbrush she had still clutched in her tiny hand slip between her swollen lips she welcomed it’s warm plastic touch. Her mind firmly fixed on fantasy she slowly, gently pressed it home, hissing as an inch of the gripped handle pushed past her fuck-hole and into her body. “Fuck me, please, fuck me!” she whimpered.
“Fuck me, please, fuck me!” Laurie whimpered, raising her hips to give Brooke even more access to her little-girl cunt and the fuck-tunnel to her womanhood. The sixteen-year-old’s twinned fingers pushed deep and steady, sliding inch after inch into her until they were buried completely inside of her, and then the teen pulled them out just as slowly, all while feasting on Laurie’s kisses. Back in and back out, a bit quicker, and again even more quickly, and again, and again, until her fingers were pumping in and out of the pre-teen’s squelching, trembling pussy. The tween broke the kiss and threw her head back, gasping for air as Brooke nuzzled her sweat-slicked neck. “Please, Brooke, make me cum!”she moaned. Everything was perfect, she was so close…
Laurie pistoned the handle of the hairbrush in and out of her slick, straining little-girl pussy, each plunge ramming all six inches of warm, hard plastic completely into her cunt. The girl’s pre-teen juices flowed freely, making everything wet and slick and not only helping the hairbrush tear into her but filling her ears with a wet squelch every time she forced it back inside of her. She rolled her wrist slightly, making the handle roll inside of her and almost gasped as the plastic slid across the rough front of her fuck-hole. She was so close, she could feel the rising tide of her orgasm sloshing through her body and straight into her brain…
“I love you, Laurie,” Brooke whispered as her pumping hand became a blur of motion.
“I love you, Brooke!” Laurie moaned as she pumped the hairbrush in and out of her as fast as she could. She could feel the wave of her lust rising, the undulating tsunami crashing higher and higher, her heart thudding in her chest as much from her effort as from her emotions…
Brooke’s fingers pressed all the way inside of her…
Laurie pressed the handle all the way inside her straining pre-teen cunt as far as possible, and the glancing bump of the tip against her quivering cervix was the final straw. With a shivering, shuddering gasp her belly clenched once, twice, three times, and then the tidal wave of her orgasm washed over her body, tearing all conscious thought from her brain as her entire world shrank to nothing but the sensations exploding from deep within her. The twelve-year-old gave herself over to her animal instincts as she lifted her flat ass off the rug, holding herself two inches above the floor on trembling legs as she offered her little-girl womb to her imaginary lover. The walls of her vagina clamped down around the handle, undulating along its hard plastic length as the entrance to her womb opened up in welcome. Her brown eyes rolled up into her skull as she struggled to maintain the pleasure, and the pre-teen was rewarded with a second orgasm following quickly on the heels of the first, another body-wrenching twist as her sex clamped down on the hairbrush. She became distantly aware of a light, dull keening noise, and realized that it was coming from between her own slack lips. Brooke, Brooke had made her cum, made her so completely a woman, and she wanted her goddess’s fingers inside of her forever…
Slowly, ever so slowly, the little girl began to come down off her sexual high and return into herself, slowly leaving her existence of pure sexual nothingness and becoming Laurie once more. She became aware that she was laying slumped against the closed door to the bathroom, the cool faux-wood panel leaching the heat from her white-hot flesh as she gasped for breath. Down there, between her splayed, limp thighs, she felt the handle of the hairbrush still lodged inside of her body, and with dull, barely-comprehending eyes she stared at the tool. The hard, smooth plastic grip was completely gone, wedged between her stiff, swollen pussy lips with only the four inches of bristles visible under her tiny palm. “I love you, Brooke,” she whispered as she gently tapped the end of the brush, and she shivered just a bit as she felt the wet-hard plastic shift inside of her. The twelve-year-old gently gripped the end of the brush and, with a gentle, almost non-existent tug, let the slick plastic slide from her well-fucked cunny in a steady motion. Laurie moaned softly as the contoured handle moved slowly at first, and then more quickly as her vagina closed behind the retreating intruder, until it almost popped from her slit and tumbled to the rug beneath her. A tiny bit of Laurie-stuff sprayed out behind it, a tiny wad of clearish-white slime that sprang from her still-gaping cunt to spatter down her taint and onto her tiny little asshole. “I love you, Brooke!” she whispered again as she placed her stiffened fingers over her still-twitching pussy, not pushing inside of her but rather pressing against her still-stiff, painfully-hard clit.
“I love you too, Laurie,” imaginary-Brooke replied in her mind.
She sat there for almost ten minutes, luxuriating in the sensations of her post-orgasmic body, before she even stirred. Slowly she levered herself up to her knees and then used the counter to pull herself back upright to stare at herself in the mirror. Her face was flushed, her reddish cheeks cut with drying tears of joy and happiness and sexual satisfaction, her lower lip looking almost gnawed from where her teeth had almost bitten through at the height of her orgasm. “I love you, Brooke,” she whispered as she stared into her own reflection, seeing Laurie, the new Laurie, completely overwhelm and eliminate the weak, wimpy thing that she had been. Brooke had done that, Brooke Landon had made her a woman – even if the teenager didn’t know it. And Laurie Pritchard was gone forever, to instead become…
Laurie Landon?
The twelve-year-old didn’t know from where the thought had come, from where the idea of becoming Brooke’s little-girl wife had emerged – but the idea sent a shiver up her spine. “Laurie Landon,” she whispered, thrilling to the little tremble that ran through her weak thighs and the pounding of her heart in her chest. “I’m Laurie Landon,” she said softly as the corners of her mouth curled up, “and this is my wife Brooke Landon. We’re in love!”
It sounded perfect. It sounded like exactly who she wanted to be, who she had to be. It sounded like who she was.
“I will make you love me, Brooke,” she promised to the universe. And she knew that she would. She could see the sheer determination in the eyes of the Laurie in the mirror.
“Like this?”
Patrice stood ramrod straight, her thighs trembling with tension and her shoulders stiff as she held herself in the ready pose. Then, with sudden, sharp movements, she thrust both of her clenched fists in front of her with a flourish! Both forearms came up, raising her fists to just in front of her flat chest, and then out with a full extension that made her look like the letter T. Back in front, over her head, T, left-front-right-front-up-out to the sides with elbows bent, and the twelve-year-old shouted as she jumped, both hands open with her fingertips reaching for the sky as she gave her flat little-girl backside a tiny kick with her heels.
Jessie stood in front of her as the brunette panted after her movements, her eyes critical. “Kinda,” the teenager said. “Here, watch one more time.” The blonde girl stood just as straight for a split second and then did the routine, her arms moving in a gentle, flowing motion that Patrice tried to understand. “Don’t splay out your fingers at the end when you jump,” she added, as she provided a perfect example, “and your palms should face out. And loosen up!”
“I’m trying!” the twelve-year-old whined.
“Well, try harder!” Jessie whined back, her tone a mocking imitation of the little girl.
Patrice set herself once more and then ran through the routine again, and was pleased to see Jessie give a grunt of satisfaction. She’s a psycho, the girl thought as the Centurion lieutenant focused in on Elly, her sharp voice berating the ten-year-old for her jump. But she knows her stuff! The brunette girl ran through the routine one more time, her mind working to remember all the moves and changeovers and the little tweaks that Jessie had taught her, and thought that she just might get it. Sometime, way down the road. Like, when she was fifty.
“Okay,” Jessie’s voice cut through her reverie like a knife, “that’s the basic stuff. Take a few minutes, get some water, and then come back. We’re gonna see if you can possibly do it all in sync. Quit whining!” the fourteen-year-old snapped as the six junior squad cheerleaders groaned in misery. “It’s not like it’s fucking rocket science!”
Patrice joined the other girls and moved on over to the square metal fountain next to the door to the locker room, using the back of her hand to wipe the sweat from her forehead. As she waited her turn she tugged the collar of her tee away from her neck and tried to get a bit of cool air down her chest, and then glanced around. Nobody was paying attention, so she took the chance… and tugged her butt-floss panties from between her cheeks. Hot and sweaty, this sucks! she groused to herself as she held her twin braids behind her neck and leaned over, pursing her lips to slurp up some icy water. But I’m learning. At least Jessie is yelling at me less! She sighed as she stood back up, feeling a little bit cooler, and leaned against the smooth concrete wall as she caught her breath and ran through the routine in her mind one more time. That is, she tried…
A tiny shout of triumph echoed from the other side of the gym, and she glanced over at the group of girls with Sienna. The blonde lieutenant was the Centurion expert at balancing and pyramids, so naturally Brooke had assigned her the task of whipping the squad into shape – which essentially meant that, for half of each training session three times per week, six girls from the senior squad and three from the juniors would pull out some heavy mats and practice throwing each other down. At least that’s what it looked like to Patrice… You couldn’t pay me to do that! she thought with a grimace as she watched Lisa K. hop up, place her feet in the palms of two other girls, and rise up into the air like a wobbling, teenage statue for half a second, before losing her balance and sending all three of them down to the floor. Sienna shook her head, her blonde pigtails dancing over her shoulders as she leaned down to help Lisa up, and spoke softly to the intent fifteen-year-old. But at least she doesn’t yell like Jessie does, she added to herself as she plucked her tee away from her chest once more.
“You’re staring,” a soft, quiet voice commented, and Patrice turned her gaze to regard Jennifer. The Asian girl was dressed in a simple pink tee-shirt that was actually a hair too small on her skinny frame and hid nothing – including the fact that her tiny little poking nipples through the thing fabric proved that she was far too young to worry about anything like a training bra – and a slightly looser pair of dark blue shorts. Her hair was twisted into a long braid, and the ten-year-old twisted the end nervously as she stared at her older friend. “You okay?” she asked, her brown eyes wide and filled with concern.
Patrice sighed and turned back to regard Sienna’s group. “I’m fine,” she said distractedly. I’m NOT fine, a tiny voice in her head muttered, but the brunette simply ignored it. “I’m just trying to remember the routine.”
“Uh-huh.” Jenny’s tone made it clear that she didn’t totally believe her friend, but instead of calling her on it she simply slouched against the wall in an imitation of Patrice’s pose. “It’s not that hard,” she added. “It’s just that Jessie is a hard-ass.”
“Yeah.” Dammit… Her eyes kept drifting across the gym, back to Sienna and the pyramid girls, back to Lisa K. and the redheaded Ronnie and the tiny little eight-year-old Leila who looked way too young and way too dainty to be as energetic as she was… and back to Ilise. Her former BFF, the girl who had kissed her, who had then avoided her all summer, looked a bit nervous as she tugged down the waist of her blue-green tee to re-cover the tiny little strip of bare belly flesh that had peeked out while she was gyrating and jumping, and watched Sienna moving girls into the proper position for her turn to sail up into the air. Patrice felt her heart thump in her chest as she the sandy-blonde through her eyelashes moving past her twin braids and slim waist and narrow hips and sparkling blue eyes and full pink lips that she just so wanted to kiss some more…
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jenny asked again, as she tugged on her braid. “’Cause you keep staring over at Ilise.” The ten-year-old was quiet for a second, her gaze flicking back and forth between the two. “Did something really bad happen at Nationals?” she ventured, her musical voice low and quiet as she leaned a little bit closer. “Did you two have a big fight or something?”
“No, nothing like that.” I just don’t know if I love her, or if she loves me, or what the fuck is going on…
“’Cause,” continued the Asian girl, “if you two had a fight, you should try to make up. After all,” she added, her voice dropping down to barely audible over the din of the gym, “how can you kiss her again if you two are fighting?”
“What?!?” Patrice almost shouted in shock, but she didn’t care that the girls around the water fountain jumped and stared, or that Jessie glowered at her from her place on the floor, or that Brooke glanced across the gym at her with an odd, almost questioning look on her face. Her knees felt weak and her heart thudded in her chest as she stared at Jenny in shock, her mind shrieking in terror. She KNOWS!!!
Bonnie stared across the gym floor at Patrice and Jenny, totally confused as to the shout. The black-haired girl looked frightened, while her Asian friend was just looking… “What’s all that about?” the eight-year-old whispered to the twins.
Both Nyssa and Juliana peered around Bonnie at the scene playing out near the locker rooms, and then quickly looked away. “Don’t look,” Nyssa whispered while her sister flushed and nodded quickly, “Jessie looks pissed.”
Bonnie’s gaze flicked to the fourteen-year-old who was charging across the floor towards the pair with a look of pure murder in her eyes, and then she too tore her attention back to her friends. “Wow, I didn’t know she could be so angry,” she murmured in a quiet voice.
“She can be mean,” Juliana replied in a voice just as quiet. “But that’s ‘cause she takes the team real serious.”
Bonnie quickly glanced at the lieutenant as the teenager herded her students back onto the floor with the threat of extreme violence that would result in her having to dispose of their bodies, and then leaned in close to the redheads. “Really, really serious!” she whispered. “We’re just lucky that today we’re tumbling!” she added, and the trio nodded solemnly to each other.
“Okay!” Brooke’s melodic voice, bright and sweet and full of kindness, slid through their gossiping and drew the pre-teen’s attention. “Laurie, you’re up next. You ready?” The twelve-year-old had an uncertain look on her face as she nodded, but the teenager merely smiled in encouragement. “You can do it,” she said confidently, “and don’t worry, I’ll be here to help you. Whenever you’re ready.”
Bonnie watched as Laurie took a deep breath, exhaled, and got herself set. Then, with a suddenness that surprised her even though she was expecting it, the brown-haired girl jumped off, running forward quickly. Onetwothreefourfive steps and then she launched herself into the air, her arms straight in front of her as she threw herself forward! But Brooke was there, darting in to place one slim hand on Laurie’s belly and another on the small of her back, twisting her grown-up body to help the tween flip forward. The twelve-year-old planted her palms on the mat, let her stiff legs arc through the air, and landed on the soles of her feet with a heavy thump. “I did it!” she squealed, her face splitting into a wide grin as she hugged Brooke!
“Yeah!” Brooke returned the hug, turned the tween, and gave her a little push back to the massed girls at twenty feet away. “That was awesome! Pretty soon you won’t need my help anymore. Okay…” The sixteen-year-old looked glanced down and smiled. “Jenna, you’re next. You need my help too?”
As the wispy thirteen-year-old informed Brooke that she had been practicing and wanted to try her flip unaided, Bonnie felt a tug on her sleeve. “D’ya think you can do it alone too?” Juliana whispered in her ear.
“Uh-uh,” the eight-year-old replied with a shake of her head. “I’ve only done it, like, twice before, and Brooke helped me both times. I need to practice a lot more.” She looked over the redhead’s shoulder at Nyssa, and her brow furrowed a bit. “Hey Nys, whatchya looking at?” she asked.
“Laurie,” the nine-year-old replied. All three glanced at the tween out of the corners of their eyes and noticed that she was staring at the group of girls waiting their turn to tumble. “She’s always, like… looking,” she added.
Bonnie caught Laurie’s eye and smiled, but then felt a little confusion as the tween merely blushed and looked away. “Weird.”
“She’s always doing that,” Juliana offered.
“I heard that she likes girls,” Nyssa gossiped, “’n that’s why she’s always staring at them.”
“What?” Brooke asked as her confusion grew deeper. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“She likes girls,” Nyssa repeated with a little shrug. The redhead leaned in closer to Bonnie and her sister, pitching her voice so low that only the three of them could hear. “Like, I dunno… Kissing ‘n hugging ‘n stuff like that?”
Bonnie glanced at Laurie again and then back at Nyssa. “I thought that only boys and girls kiss and hug, unless they’re, like, relatives,” she replied. “Can girls do stuff with girls?”
Nyssa shrugged once more, her green cotton-covered shoulders bouncing up and down. “I dunno. Probably. There are those lezzie girls, y’know. Maybe they just kiss a whole lot.” The nine-year-old glanced at Laurie once more and then turned her gaze back to Bonnie. “That’s just what I heard,” she added lamely.
Juliana leaned in close, almost nudging her sister out of the way to whisper in Bonnie’s ear. “Have you kissed anyone?”
Nyssa half-pushed her twin aside. “She wants to know if you’ve kissed a girl,” the redhead said with a wicked grin. “‘Cause she wants to kiss you,” she added in a teasing tone.
Juliana blushed so deeply that Bonnie was afraid the girl might pass out from embarrassment. “Nys!” she hissed in outrage as she gave her sister a little punch in the arm.
Bonnie glanced at Juliana and then blushed herself as she turned back to Nyssa. “Nuh-uh, I haven’t kissed anyone.” The eight-year-old thought hard, trying to remember if she ever had, and realized that she just drew a blank. “I’ve kissed my mom, ‘n Brooke, ‘n my grammy ‘n grampy,” she elaborated as she shook her head, “but I don’t think it’s the same thing. Is it? I don’t know. I think it’s different.”
“Different what?” asked Juliana.
“I dunno,” Bonnie replied with a shrug. “Different kind of kissing. ‘N if it’s different, then I don’t know how.”
The twins glanced at each other, and for a moment Bonnie could swear that there was some kind of almost telepathic communication between the two. They turned back to the brunette, and while Juliana blushed and looked at her feet Nyssa merely blushed. “We don’t either,” she admitted.
“Maybe we can look stuff up on the ‘net?” Juliana suggested. “Find out about kissing ‘n lesbians ‘n stuff like that?”
Bonnie thought for a second and then smiled. What a brilliant idea! When she needed to find something out for school, the internet was the first place she looked - so why not find out about kissing and lesbians there as well? “That’s a great idea!” she said with a wide smile and a nod. “Are you guys doing anything tomorrow? It’s Saturday, ‘n I don’t have to finish my homework ‘til Sunday. We could have a sleepover!”
“Yeah!” Nyssa agreed with a smile just as wide, while Juliana merely just smiled and nodded. “It’ll be fun!”
“Hey! Juliana!” The trio jumped, each with a guilty look on their faces as Brooke’s voice cut through their gossip. “It’s your turn, you ready?”
As the nine-year-old set herself and then dashed down the mat towards the waiting teenager, Bonnie almost smiled. Yeah, a sleepover! With my friends!!! That’s so awesome… She gave a little squeal and clapped her hands as Juliana made her flip (with Brooke’s help, of course) and then Nyssa set herself up for her turn, the eight-year-old almost felt giddy with excitement. We can gossip, ‘n have fun, she thought. ‘N we can learn about kissing ‘n lesbians!
As Nyssa flipped and Bonnie got herself ready for her attempt, she pushed thoughts of her weekend plans to the back of her mind. She stared at Brooke for a moment, and then set herself up. Don’t forget, raise arms just before jumping, she reminded herself as she tensed, and then with an almost wild speed pushed off of her heel and began her run down the mat.
Hours later things were different – but for some weird reason Juliana wasn’t surprised. Should I be? the nine-year-old wondered as she tugged the bottom of her demi-sweater down, momentarily forgetting that it wasn’t supposed to cover her belly, and then smiling to herself. We pushed the beds together to make one big bed, ‘n we’re wearing our uniforms instead of our pajamas, but it just feels right! The redhead glanced over at her sister as the pair knelt on the twinned mattress and felt a little thrill shoot up her spine as she took in Nyssa in her Centurions uniform… and knew that she looked exactly as cute as her twin did in the outfit!
“Okay,” Sienna said, and Juliana turned her attention to the fourteen-year-old standing beside the bed, her lips curled into a smile as she gazed down upon the pair. “Now lean forward and kiss her.”
“Which one?” Nyssa asked.
The teenager giggled and waved her hand dismissively. “I dunno. Doesn’t matter, one of you kiss the other one.”
What an amazingly wonderful idea! Juliana nodded vigorously and leaned forward, bringing her face closer to Nyssa’s. For a moment she could feel her sister’s warm, minty breath wash across her face, and then her eyes fluttered shut as their lips met. Little bolts of electricity shot from her mouth down through her chest and deep into her belly, making her dirty place feel sticky and itchy, but she couldn’t stop, simply would not stop, and she breathed through her nose as her sister did the same, their lips parting as their tongues met in the middle, and she felt so wicked. There was a flash, but her sister tasted so good and kissing her made a funny feeling in her tummy…
Nyssa was the first to break the kiss, pulling her lips away with a wet smack as she loosely wrapped her arms around Juliana’s bare waist. “She tastes good!” she exclaimed to Sienna, her simple statement filled with surprise.
Sienna laughed as she leaned forward, letting the girls have a good look down the front of her Centurions uniform top at her small, firm teenage breasts, letting her long blonde ponytail hang over one shoulder so that it just dusted the sheet beneath her. “Of course she does,” the lieutenant replied with a dazzling, beautiful smile. “All girls taste good!”
As she slid her hands around the waist of her sister, shivering slightly as she felt Nyssa’s smooth flesh slide under her palms, Juliana realized that she couldn’t remember exactly when Sienna had come into the their bedroom. I can’t remember inviting her over, she added as she leaned in to kiss her twin again, tasting her sister’s hot breath in her mouth as she whimpered a tiny little moan – but for some reason, it felt natural. It isn’t, but it is, she mused. The pre-teen tried to think things through as she stabbed her tongue into Nyssa’s mouth – she remembered having dinner, working on some homework so she would be able to have the sleepover with Brooke tomorrow, and then getting ready for bed. She had brushed her teeth and washed her face, pulled her hair into a set of way-cute crimson pigtails, and then pulled on her cheerleading uniform, the fabric still feeling a bit scratchy and stiff because it was so new. She went into the bedroom she shared with Nyssa to find her twin in her matching uniform and the beds had already been pushed together… and Sienna had simply walked in behind her. Who really cares, anyway? she concluded as she tightened her arms around her sister and felt Nyssa’s tighten in return as their kiss deepened. This is really fun!
“Do you want to do more?” Sienna asked, her simple question cutting through Juliana’s reverie like a knife.
The twins broke their wet kiss once more, and Juliana saw her sister smile widely. “Yes!” Nyssa blurted, but Juliana just nodded, content to let her one-minute older twin take the lead as always. I so want to do more! she thought as she felt the warmth of Nyssa’s body against hers. I wanna do it all!
Sienna smiled and stood back up. As the twins watched she hitched up the hem of her cheer skirt, slipped her fingers into the waistband of her spanky pants, and slid the brilliant crimson satin down her toned thighs. The teenager didn’t even say a word but simply leaned over, and the funny feeling in her tummy twisted as she watched the fourteen-year-old kiss Nyssa, a deep, passionate kiss that sounded wet and sloppy, and then her eyes fluttered shut as Sienna did the same to her and sent sharp blasts of lightning shooting through her pre-teen body once again. “Oh, we’re gonna do more,” the teenager remarked as she knelt on the mattress next to the pair. “But if we’re gonna do more,” she added with a wicked smile on her face, “you gotta remove your spanky pants just like me!”
Well, duh! Juliana didn’t hesitate… Rolling onto her back, the nine-year-old reached under her cheer skirt and pulled off her panties, her eyes darting between her sister matching her movement-for-movement and the oh-so-sexy Sienna watching the pair with a hard, glittering look in her eyes. There was another flash, but who the heck cared about any of that? Her eyes settled on the fourteen-year-old, enthralled by what the teen was doing. The older girl half-sat on one hip and had one leg cocked up, and her hand had slipped between her toned, tanned legs while her fingers were squirming in her dirty place. It seemed so pretty, so perfect, so totally natural to watch the girl’s twisting fingers, but when Sienna’s hand shifted slightly and she got a good look Juliana started in surprise. “You got hair down there!” she blurted, unable to help herself.
Sienna merely laughed and pulled her skirt up to give the pair a good look at the fuzz dusting her mound, but her sister frowned as she glared at Juliana. “Of course she does,” she informed her twin, the tone in her voice almost implying that she was an idiot. “She’s almost a grown-up!”
Juliana was mesmerized by the teenager’s dirty place… Unlike her own bare, hairless mound there was a small, neat triangle of wispy, almost golden hair that seemed almost furry and looked soft, while her flower was more than just a tiny little slit. There were a couple of dark pink lips, things that almost looked like worms, running the length between her thighs, and the nine-year-old felt the funny feeling in her tummy twist even harder. Cunny, it’s called a cunny, she reminded herself, the word coming into her consciousness from somewhere. “Will… will we get hair down there too?” she asked, her voice an almost whisper as she stared at the teenager’s sex.
Sienna smiled gently and nodded. “Yes, both of you will, someday. But for now it’s really good that you don’t have hair. You can see stuff better. See?” The fourteen-year-old sat up a bit and brought her other hand down between her thighs, using her fingers to spread herself out a bit. As Juliana watched in astonishment the pink worms parted and she could see even more of Sienna’s cunny, see the shiny pearly-pink inside that looked wet and slick and utterly delicious! “Older girls have to shave it off,” the teenager explained as she spread her fingers a bit more, and the nine-year-old caught a flash of a dark hole down near the bottom. “The less hair you have, the better people can see your cunt.”
Juliana could tell that Nyssa was just as fascinated by the sight of the older girl’s flower as she was, and both leaned forward in awe as they stared between Sienna’s legs. Another flash distracted her for a split-second and she frowned a bit, but ignored it as her gaze remained locked on the tasty pink flesh before her. “Wow, it’s so pretty!” her sister remarked, her voice almost reverent as she stared.
Sienna smiled in response. “You’ve got one too,” she replied. “You both do.” She glanced over at Juliana as she let her hand fall away from between her legs and rolled forward onto her knees. “You wanna show your sister?” she asked with a grin.
“Uh huh!” Of course! She’s so smart… As Sienna moved in between the twins and sat with her back against the right hand headboard (of her own bed, she noticed with a shudder of happiness) Juliana snuggled in close. Trying to match the moves that she watched the teenager make, she lightly gripped the hem of her cheer skirt, and then pulled the in-the-way thing up to her belly button as she let her legs fall open. She spared a quick glance to the fourteen-year-old (who smiled and nodded in encouragement), and then reached between her thighs. With her thumb on one side of her slit and two fingers on the other, she spread her cunny in what she hoped was a passable imitation of Sienna’s moves. There was another flash, and then another, but she ignored them as her heart thudded in her chest. I hope I’m doing this right… “Nys, is my cunny pretty like Sienna’s?” she asked. When her twin didn’t reply she looked up from her own lap and saw that Nyssa lay tummy-down between Sienna’s thighs, her mouth pressed tightly against the fourteen-year-old’s dirty place. “What’s she doing?” she asked curiously.
“She’s eating me out,” Sienna replied. Juliana was surprised – the teenager’s voice sounded roughter than it usually did, and as she glanced up into her face she saw that her cheeks were flushed a deep red. “That’s what girls do to each other,” she explained as another flash went off. “There’s this thing called a clit that feels real good when you touch it ‘n rub it, or when someone else kisses and licks it. All girls have one.”
“A clit,” Juliana said experimentally, letting the new word roll around on her mind and finding that she liked it. “Where is it?” she asked excitedly. “Do I have one?”
“It’s right here.” Sienna slid a hand across Juliana’s thigh, and the little girl shivered as she felt the teens fluttering fingers slip down to her spread-open cunny. Expertly the fourteen-year-old’s fingertips gently stroked a stiff, firm little button of flesh that was right at the top of her slit, but the pre-teen wasn’t ready for the sheer shock that shot through her body and caused the funny feeling in her tummy to twist once again. “Girls use their tongues, or their fingers, or other things to make each other feel good,” the teen explained, but Juliana could barely hear the words through the rasp of her own panting breath and the thudding of her heart in her ears as Sienna stroked her again, and then a third time.
Yes yes yes yes yes… Juliana felt hot and sticky, her tummy hurt like she’d just done a million sit-ups, and she could feel the sweat running down the sides of her neck – but at the same time she felt good, so very good! She lay against Sienna and raised her face, and almost automatically the teenager brought her lips to the little girl’s. Her ears were filled with the murmuring moans of both her and the teen’s wet, passionate kisses, the sound of their smacking at war with the wet lapping noises of Nyssa working Sienna’s cunny with her lips. Sienna’s hot breath filled her mouth, and the little girl felt almost dizzy from the waves of pleasure shooting from between her legs. The fourteen-year-old’s fingers never stopped moving, never stopped stroking the nub of flesh, each caress sending another bolt of energy into the knot behind her belly button, and it was all she could do to stop herself from sobbing with happiness as she felt a wetness dripping from her cunny. “Feeling hot,” she whimpered as the pair broke to gasp for air.
“Then take off your sweater,” Sienna suggested. That’s a brilliant idea! Juliana thought. Why didn’t she think of it first?!? She sat upright, letting Sienna pull her fingers from her cunny as she grasped the bottom of her demi-sweater and pulled it up and off her body. The teen instead let her Juliana-slicked fingertips slide down her back, stroking up and down, moving lower with each caress as Juliana leaned forward and hugged herself. “Do you like playing girly games with me?” Sienna asked softly, whispering into the nine-year-old’s ear almost as if it were a secret between the two.
“Uh-huh!” She was excited and scared and she wanted to stop, everything felt so new and strange that she didn’t want to do more, but she did, she so did want to do more, she didn’t want it to ever end! “I feel all wet and sticky down there,” she added as she ran her fingers up her slit, dipping her fingers into her cunny and shivering at the slickness she found. She turned her head and gazed down dully at Nyssa, seeing only the top of her twin’s mussed hair as she furiously worked her face up and down between the teenager’s thighs. “Does Sienna’s cunny taste good?” she asked, almost mesmerized by the sight.
Nyssa pulled her face away, yanking her lips from Sienna’s clit with enough force to make a tiny little pop that caused the fourteen-year-old to gasp and jerk, but Juliana could only see the twinned fingers that her sister was pumping in and out of the blonde’s slick cunt. “Yeah!” she nodded almost frantically. “It’s delicious! Wanna taste?”
“Uh-huh!” Juliana leaned forward as Nyssa stuck her tongue out, and she met her sister’s lips once more. This time she could taste Sienna’s pussy, a musky, slightly sour taste that was both alien and oh-so-right in the back of her throat, and the knowledge that the sourness was Sienna’s cunny juice!!! made her tummy twist even harder. Breaking the kiss she let her face drop down between Sienna’s thighs, raising her backside up so that she could get a good angle to worm her own tongue against the teen’s clit while her sister continued to slide her fingers in and out of the blonde’s slippery sex. So good! she thought as she dipped down, letting Nyssa’s pumping fingers pull her tongue inside the fourteen-year-old just a bit and getting an even deeper taste of her inner cunny. Sienna moaned and rolled hips, the motion falling into perfect harmony with Juliana’s lapping tongue and Nyssa’s pumping fingers, and the nine-year-old was forced to grip the blonde’s hips with her tiny hands to keep her mouth in place.
The nine-year-old was losing herself in the taste of Sienna, in the sensations roiling though her body, in the tickle of the sweat running down her nude skin as she feasted on the teenager. It was so right, so perfect… and then suddenly Sienna sat up, pulling that delicious, wonderful pussy away from her! She almost whined, almost threw a temper tantrum like a little girl, and opened her mouth to object when her eyes glanced up and there, sitting right in front of her, was Nyssa’s slit. There wasn’t a single hair to be seen and her cunny looked like nothing more than a gash the size of a quarter on end, but it was there, it was a cunny, and she knew that she wanted, she needed, to taste more! Extending her neck she fastened her lips to her twin’s pussy, worming her tongue squarely into the slit as Nyssa gasped and raised her hips to her sister’s feasting mouth. At the same time she felt her butt cheeks being spread, and a momentary warm blast of breath against her backside that vanished as something firm and hot and stiff worm against her asshole. The roiling waves grew higher as she sensed a motion behind her and something hard and rounded and slightly cool pushed against her own slit. “Oh my Gawd, Jay,” Nyssa’s voice floated from a million miles away as her sister gasped in a throaty voice. “She’s eating your butt!” It should have been nasty, should have been disgusting, but Juliana didn’t care, couldn’t care, wouldn’t care… all she wanted was more of the taste of her sister on her tongue and the feeling of Sienna’s tongue against her butthole and the whatever it was…
It happened so suddenly she wasn’t even aware it was happening, but the pressure of the rounded thing against her cunny grew harder and harder, and there was an agonizing tearing between her legs that hurt so much she thought she would scream but the pain lasted only an instant before being replaced with this warm, wet, delicious feeling of something long and hard sliding deep into her woman sex. She broke my cherry! Juliana thrilled as she spread Nyssa’s slit wide and suckled on her sister’s clit, her moans sending what was probably a wonderful feeling through her twin. I’m a woman now, and she’s fucking me! She felt oh-so mature, felt as though her entire life had been leading up to this very spot, and now there was this sexy teenage girl pumping something in and out of her pre-teen cunny while worming her tongue into her poo-hole, all while her twin sister writhed and moaned as Juliana lapped at her hairless pussy. I’m a lezzie now! her soul screamed happily.
She felt bad, though, bad for Nyssa… after all, she had gotten her cherry popped first, and she was almost a full minute younger! I have to make it up to her, she thought as she what she thought was right, what was the perfect solution to the problem, and the nine-year-old pressed two stiff fingers together and wormed them into her twin’s cunny. There was this tiny flap of flesh, an almost pearly thing that blocked her path – but she instinctively knew what to do. With a steady thrust she pushed her hand forward, feeling the blockage stretch and strain and then, with a suddenness just like her own it tore, and Nyssa hissed and tensed as Juliana’s fingers slid all the way inside of her. “Oh God,” Nyssa whimpered as she slowly relaxed and stroked her sister’s hair, “you took my cherry, you’re fucking me!” Juliana shivered a bit as the sweetness on her tongue took on a metallic tang, but she didn’t care, she so didn’t care! “We’re both women now,” Nyssa added in an almost zombie-like voice, her words punctuated by the rasp of her breaths, her gasps in time with the rolling of her hips.
“Mf-Mfff!” Juliana nodded her head as she gazed up at her sister, past her bare mound and the waistband of her uniform, past her flat tummy and flat chest and her tiny, stiff little nipples, and met her sister’s eyes as she continued eating her out. She could feel the pressure building deep in her tummy, a twisting swelling like a balloon filled with hot water, and everything around her seemed to fade away until there was only her sister’s moans and spasming pussy, and Sienna’s squirming tongue, and the thrusts of the thing inside of her, and as she peered into her twin’s emerald orbs she could see that Nyssa was rising just as high as she was and oh GOD this feels SO GOOD…
It happened quickly, almost so quickly that she didn’t realize it was happening until long after. First Nyssa stiffened, and the grip on the back of Juliana’s head got firmer as she pressed her pre-teen pussy into her sister’s mouth, and then there was a wet gushing on her lips that tasted sweet and musky and slightly metallic and she realized that her sister was cumming, that this was the magical orgasm that she and some other younger girls had whispered about when they thought no adults were around, and her heart thudded in her chest as she realized that it was her tongue and her fingers that had forced her older sister to experience it! At the same time she felt Sienna push the something so deep that it hit just the right spot, while wriggling her tongue in just the right way against her spittle-slicked asshole, and the balloon in her belly swelled and burst, become a non-stop series of tidal waves of pure sex that slammed every conscious thought from her skull, and it hit her again, and again, and she felt herself vanishing as the little girl no longer existed and she became a clenching pussy that undulated and sent waves of pure satisfaction up into her very soul.
Slowly she came back into herself, slowly she became Juliana once more. Nyssa was splayed out before her, half-conscious as she moaned and quivered and lay locked in the post-passion glow of her first orgasm. The nine-year-old glanced behind her and saw Sienna in the grips of her own lusts, fingering her sopping pussy wildly as she pinched and twisted one of her own nipples, her blue eyes locked on the freshly-fucked twins before her. Juliana pushed herself up on unsteady palms, feeling her inner body shift as it pushed the something out of her still quivering, dripping pussy, and she half-kicked the slick, buzzing vibrator off the bed as she turned around. “Let me,” she begged the teenager, moving her face between the girl’s thighs as she gently pushed her hand out of the way. Replacing fingertips with her tongue, she lapped at Sienna’s drooling slit, not caring that she was smearing her own sister’s pussy juices onto the fourteen-year-old’s already sopping cunt, tasting another pussy that made her feel oh-so good, and almost instinctively her hand fluttered down between her own legs, seeking that wonderful button that would send those delicious feelings shooting through her once more…
Dimly she was aware of the flashes of the camera, distantly aware that a fourth person joined them on the bed, that someone new was lowering her face between Nyssa’s thighs as her twin moaned in passion, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t care. How could she, when there was Sienna’s elegant, teenage pussy spread out before her, just begging to be licked? She wormed her tongue against the dark hole that led deep inside the fourteen-year-old, and then flicked up along the slick inner pink back up to her clit, and her fingers wormed into her own wet slit and with a wild abandon she shoved two fingers inside of herself, pumping furiously as she felt the balloon in her tummy start to swell once more, feeling so natural and perfect and this was exactly what she needed even if she hadn’t known that she needed it.
And then Sienna stiffened, arching her back as she twisted Juliana’s hair in one fist and shoved the nine-year-old’s face squarely into her cunny as she came, and Juliana almost came herself as she slurped up the thick gob of Sienna-stuff that splurted onto her tongue, and then she felt a finger worming into her slick, spittle-soaked asshole and she did come…
Again!
With almost a snap Sienna came back into herself, and her heart pounded in her chest as she found herself standing on the curb just outside of school, in the dark, alone. The fourteen-year-old gasped as she whipped her head around, searching for something, anything, just the tiniest of hints that might give her some clue about what she had been doing. No, she sobbed to herself as she felt her legs give out from under her, and she sank down onto the cool, dew-soaked grass, curling into a ball as she hugged herself.
It was just like all the other times… One minute she was walking up to her house, her muscles aching from the hard workout that evening and her skin slicked as much from her exertion as from the hot, humid early-September air – and then poof! She was outside Jane Addams Middle School, alone and filthy and dressed in her sweat- and pussy-soaked cheerleading uniform and knowing, just knowing…
Think! The blonde girl ordered herself as she tried to sort through the fragments and flashes in her mind. There was an image of two tiny, hairless pussies floating before her eyes… There was the delicious sensation of a tiny tongue squirming against her painfully-hard, so-sensitive-it-hurt clit… There was the scent of a woman, a combined pussy/perfume/perspiration odor that sent a thrill shooting from the pit of her stomach as it wafted deep into her sinuses… There was a tiny little-girl voice begging, just begging Sienna to eat her flower, to make her a big girl, to make her cum… There was the taste of… The taste of…
I ate pussy again! Sienna shivered as she sobbed quietly to herself, her tears flowing freely down her cheeks as the sheer confused terror took hold of her brain. And it wasn’t a woman, it was a little girl! Fuck, I’m a pedo! “No,” she whispered. “Please, no more, make it stop…”
She sobbed until she could cry no more, until her eyes burned and her face felt swollen and she felt hot and headachy. She cried until she couldn’t feel enough to hate herself anymore.
After what felt like an eternity, the fourteen-year-old began to take stock of her situation. She slid her duffle bag across the damp grass and unzipped the top, fumbling inside as she tried to see what exactly she still had. Her hand almost instantly glanced across her cell, and with an almost panicked speed she pulled the phone out and thumbed the button. Almost midnight, she noted dully as she registered the time. I was gone for over four hours. I could have done a lot… Sienna turned the face of the phone towards her bag, using the light of the screen to illuminate her belongings. She felt herself calm just a little bit as she spotted her clothes, her regular, everyday workout outfit of black stretchy Lycra pants and red cotton tank-top, and as she fumbled her clothes out her sweat-soaked dark blue sports bra tumbled out with them. No panties, as usual, she noted as she glanced around, searching for a place…
The landscaping was her salvation, and a conveniently-placed hedge provided the privacy that she needed. The fourteen-year-old stripped off her uniform, trying not to think about the strange stains on her skirt that she wasn’t totally sure were only hers, and slipped into her exercise gear. Please don’t let me soak through! she begged the universe as she settled her skintight pants around her hips and felt the gurgling wetness deep in her womb. I just can’t face… Her body felt stiff and sore, her pussy rubbed raw and her nipples stinging and her pucker slick and slimy, and every movement she made sent a reminder to her brain of what she didn’t remember doing. I raped a little girl… I raped two little girls! The thought returned, unbidden, and Sienna forced it from her mind. But just as quickly another thought came on the heels of the first – Maybe she raped me… Please, God, let it be them that raped me…
“I can’t keep doing this,” she whispered to the universe as she felt her tears welling up once more. “Please, make it stop…”
This time she could only cry for a few minutes until she had nothing left inside of her. And then, numb, she turned her attention to her more immediate, pressing problem.
“How am I going to get home?” She looked at her phone, and felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach as she realized that she only had one option open to her…
For what might have been the first time ever, Jessie was grateful that her parents had kind-of granted one of her wishes. When she turned fourteen back in December she had asked for her driver’s license (no chance of that, given her age), or a motorcycle (far more likely, but still a slim chance), or an electric guitar. She thought that of the three the motorcycle would be most likely, and her parents had granted her wish – but of course, they put their own upper-class, bourgeoisie twist on her gift.
“God, don’t let anyone see me on this thing,” she muttered softly as she coasted to a stop at an intersection, the motor of the scooter softly putt-putt-putting beneath her seat as she looked right and left. It was small and Italian and had about one-half of a horsepower… and it was a bright, electric pink!“Well, I asked for it,” she grumped as she kicked off and continued making her way through the night. Fortunately, it was after midnight, so the chances of anyone spotting her cruising through the darkened suburban streets were slim. But still…
Almost unbidden an image flashed into her mind – an image of twelve-year-old Ronnie, her cheer skirt rolled around her waist and her legs thrown wide, shoving a green-and-black swirled vibrator into her tween pussy as she almost moaned for the camera, and Jessie almost laid down the scooter on the warm asphalt before she got herself back under control. Concentrate, dammit! she shouted to herself, ordering her diseased brain to stop thinking of naked little girls doing nasty sex-things and instead focus on anything else…
The Ronnie pictorial was nasty, oh so nasty – Jessie had trouble believing she had seen what she had seen. Even now, hours afterwards, the images were still stuck in her brain, and she’d be doing something, thinking something else, and one would flash unbidden to the forefront of her consciousness. She was trying to ignore the conversation her parents were having over the dinner table, pushing her unknown-pile-of-green-and-yellow-vegetable-things around with the tines of her fork, and then BAM! There was Ronnie, throwing her legs open wide for the camera as she spread her pre-teen slit with both hands. She would be working on her math homework, tapping her teeth with the eraser of her pencil as she tried to remember what the teacher had said about integers and matrices, and then BAM! There was the little redheaded slut, pushing a way-too-large dildo into her stretched pussy with one hand while the other twisted a stiff nipple so hard that it made the teenager’s eyes water. She would be brushing her teeth while trying to decide whether or not she needed another shower to wash the filth off of her, and then BAM! There was a post-orgasm Ronnie, her cheeks flushed and her skin looking slick, looking right into the camera as the text claimed that she wanted, she needed, the taste of pussy on her tongue…
That was bad, the fourteen-year-old mused as she putted along the darkened streets. Was it bad? It was. Wasn’t it? She was all so confused! A part of her had been disgusted by what she had seen, had wanted nothing more than to run down to her parents and tell them what had been sent to her and to stop it all and try and forget. But another part of her just… didn’t. She had studied Ronnie’s pictorial, and another featuring a seven-year-old Vietnamese girl talking about how she was a lesbian hooker while taking off her clothes, and a third about some thirteen-year-old French girl who loved to masturbate in public (and who provided graphic pictures to illustrate her claims, and forced the teen to conclude that she would never be able to think about the Eiffel Tower in quite the same way again), and then she… She…
I hid it. Jessie didn’t know why she had kept her mouth shut, nor did she know why she had saved the horrifying thing… but she had. After reading from cover to cover she slipped it under her mattress, desperately wishing that she could forget what she had seen. But she just couldn’t – she had obsessed about the pictorials of way-too-young girls displaying themselves for her hungry eyes, and she just couldn’t get the image of Ronnie out of her head. So after dinner, when she was supposed to be doing her homework, she pulled it out again and re-read it – and almost threw it across the room when she noticed that she was getting horny. The teen threw herself into her work, desperate for a distraction… but she pulled it out yet again, and examined the undressing and nude and masturbating twelve-year-old Ronnie one more time, and this time she gave in to her lusts, gave in to her sick, twisted obsession, and she had slipped one delicate hand into the front of her sweat pants and beneath her skin-tight pink panties and stroked her clit, harder and firmer and faster, all while she stared at a picture of the junior cheerleader slipping two fingers inside her pre-teen pussy while her face was a mask of pure bliss and the text told of how she would look at the other girls in the locker room while they were getting changed and dream that she was touching them, that they were touching her, and Jessie came, her teenage pussy clenching and drooling and spitting sticky, slimy gobs of girl-cum into the crotch of her no-longer-clean panties as she imagined that Ronnie was looking at her body, and Jessie was looking at hers…
I came, the blonde teenager acknowledged sadly as she made one last turn and headed for school. She was disgusted with herself, horrified that she could ever get hot over a twelve-year-old girl, who was on the junior squad for fuck’s sake!!! She could barely look in Ronnie’s direction at the Centurions practice that evening, almost terrified that the twelve-year-old redhead would instinctively know that Jessie had seen her naked, had stared at photos of her naked body, had masturbated furiously in the seclusion of her bedroom until she came with great, gasping moans as a warm wetness soaked into the crotch of her panties, and that the tween would call out the humiliated teenager in front of everyone… But she didn’t, and Jessie tried to pretend nothing was different. But things were different for her, and the self-inflicted orgasm she had torn from her body the second she got home from practice proved that there was something wrong with her, something oh-so-wrong…
I’m actually glad Sienna sent me that text! she admitted as she pulled up in front of Jane Addams Middle School, lowering her foot and turning the key to cut the motor as she peered into the darkness. I was about ready to pull that thing out and frig myself again! “Hey, See,” she hissed softly, her eyes trying to make out shapes in the night. “Where are you?” A rustle just to her right caused her heart to leap into her chest, but then she relaxed when she saw her co-lieutenant slip out from behind some bushes. “I’m here, what’s up?” she asked.
“I… Hi, Jess.” Sienna’s voice sounded – weird. There wasn’t any of the usual bubbling girly-girl sweetness that it usually contained, and as Jessie peered closer she could see her friend moving a bit stiffly. She’s still in her workout gear from this afternoon, the fourteen-year-old noted with a frown, and she had to force herself not to crinkle her nose in disgust as the golden blonde got close enough to smell and the scent of sweaty, unwashed teenage girl wafted into her nostrils.
“Fuck, See,” Jessie exclaimed as she dismounted and moved over to her friend. “You look like shit! Everything okay?”
“I… No,” Sienna whispered. She stood there for a moment, stood before her, her body trembling… and then to Jessie’s surprise she burst into tears. Taking the half-step between the two of them Sienna threw her arms around her friend and clutched her tight, sobbing deep, wet sobs of misery into the platinum blonde’s shoulder as she cried. “Everything’s wrong, everything’s so wrong…” she whimpered, her words muffled as she tightly hugged her.
Jessie hesitated for only a fraction of a second before wrapping her arms around Sienna, holding her tight and squeezing as she tried to understand. “It’s okay, everything’s okay,” she murmured softly. What the fuck happened to her? she wondered.
Well, most of her mind wondered… There was a small part of her brain, a tiny, almost non-existent part, that smelled Sienna’s scent deep in her nostrils. And this small tiny almost non-existent part caused her heart to pound in her chest…
