****** Onanistic Critiques by Plumes of a Peacock ******
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Onanistic Critiques


"The bored blossom of youth," he thought, gazing from the suite of his upper
floor hotel window. Earlier she had been swimming. Sunlight reflected
magnificently along her girlish limbs. Her vanilla yellow legs, budding pudding
breasts and the soft licorice hair of her barely veiled pubis sent him into a
febrile swirl as he slowly dined on shrimp and champagne.

"Such a darling flower," he persisted. "I must have her--to taste the
butterscotch interior of her thighs would be a delight," he surmised.

Chewing on the tender, sweet meat morsels of shrimp with a hint of savory
cocktail sauce he unwrapped his aging package which, while he stared at the
girl, thickened with reminiscences of his first sexual experiences--the
heightened surprise of human lust.

Playing a shy game of doctor, he asked a neighborhood girl, while engulfed in
an umbrella of summer shade if she would, "Show hers."

Hiding behind his mother's house, surrounded by her tangle of bushes, he had
his first chance to fully inspect a girl's well-oiled sexual device. His
fingers still recalled the delight of their first touch ... the initial,
nervous though gentle feel of her fleshy pink folds.

In return for these favors, he replied by showing her, "His."

The girl's laughter remains. An echo of peculiar relish as he reaches a
masturbatory climax.

Witnessing the unnamed, bikini clad lass' slightest motion--a parted thigh, a
partially revealed breast as she turned to one side--he let his hot wax flow
while recalling the young girl's guffaw.

Taking a last bite of shrimp, a red splash of sauce landed along his gray,
hairy chest. Unconcerned, he rubbed it into his skin, mixing it with his warm,
creamy drippings.

Nude and restless, he rose and made a nonchalant phone call.

"Any new movies I'm supposed to review?" he asked with the phone limply cradled
along his shoulder.

"Nothing really worth while, Owen," the gruff voice replied.

"All right--I just wanted to make sure ... my best viewing times are around
now... but it's better if there's nothing for me... I have things to do--"

"I'll send a message if anything arrives," the voice interrupted.

"Who would have ever guessed that my fortunes would be made from pornography...
a series of elevated smut shows to appease the appetites of lonely men all over
the world ... absurd really--quality filmed fucking--but so it goes--"

"You've raised porno to a new level, sir--"

"Even that sounds a bit foolish don't you think? Anyway, you're making money
you overgrown monkey of a sycophant--"

"Well sir, I've still watched all the ones you made--"

"I don't care, truly I don't... I'm busy anyhow so send the bell hop if
anything new arrives ... in fact, I don't want to be disturbed until tomorrow,
all right?"

Not waiting for a reply Owen hung up.

Still unclothed he walked over to the window once more to see if his embodiment
of naivete and beauty remained. Instantly stirred with emotions and images of
her nude form, he could feel the mass of his groin return.

Through squinting eyes she watched as the older, demur looking gentleman
approached wearing a silk robe. To some his appearance might seam ostentatious,
but for some unknown reason, the girl appreciated and approved of the shiny,
almost liquid like motion is his yellow gown.

He was a well-defined elderly gentleman, possessing a distinguished face,
slender nose and broad, surprisingly inquisitive eyes. Despite his dimensions
being cast in age and antiquity, the young gazing girl felt some manner of
youth filled him, very much in the same manner that she knew sweet tasting
jellies or cream filled certain donuts.

Revealed by glimpses, portions of Owen's body became evident to the girl. His
narrow, though firm chest maintained a constant, broad V shape where the robe
opened. His thighs, with a touch of bleach colored curly hair, still revealed
the outline and flexibility of an avid walker or runner. Hints of athleticism
were evident throughout his body and to her girlish, giggling silliness, she
blushed when she saw the stiff form of his erection as he eased into a lawn
chair by the pool.

Smiling at him he was quick to reply with a friendly hello.

"Hello," she said, suddenly looking down, her eyes cast along her slowly
curving, metamorphosing body that would eventually, though no time soon,
resemble a woman's mature beauty.

"It's a marvelous dusk," he said, pointing to the horizon of flowers. "I
thought I might enjoy the last few rays before saying good-bye to the sun... I
always get a little lonely at this time so it's good to be around people,
especially young people like you," he said, smiling at her. She blushed more
harshly this time, her cheeks blossoming with vermilion hues. "Probably sounds
silly for an old man ... doesn't it?"

"I don't know... I don't think so--"

"You've got a pretty smile--"

"Thank you--"

"You ever thought about being a movie star?"

She shrugged her slender shoulders slowly, almost cautiously. Perhaps she felt
he was asking too many questions. In truth, she simply didn't know what to say
about all this attention. Her father had left her and her mother when she was
very young.

"My Mom thinks about that stuff more than me really--"

"Where is your Mom?" he asked, still smiling, trying to appear harmless and
less than anxious. Occasionally his roaming eyes caught her small breasts,
noticed the puffy outline of a fresh nipple or the flourishing, peachy
beginning of her eventual hirsute mound.

"She's gone gambling--"

"O, does she win big money?"

"Not really," she said, looking at him more directly; feeling that he was
genuinely interested in her. "A few times she has but mostly she just looses it
or spends it on drinks and stuff."

"I see, I see," he said, moving his elbow slowly along his pelvis, rubbing the
familiar, sensitive rim of his head. "Where's your father?"

"O Dad? That shit--oops--"

"That's quite all right," he assured her, watching as she gently parted her
legs, revealing the soft interior of her thighs. Several more times he rubbed
his elbow or forearm over his fully stiffened cock. "Use whatever words you
like ... some people are real shits," he said, winking at her.

"Well ... he left us is all I can say and Mom raised me--"

"O, so you're all grown up now?"

"No ... not really but sometimes I feel that way--"

"You want to know a secret?"

"What?"

"You look grown up to me--"

"I do? Really?"

"Yes, really," he said, enjoying her excitement. It was a sheer thrill to
witness emotions and gestures wash through her as though water running through
a sieve to be purified. Everything about her was new and genuine it seemed.
"You want to know something else?"

"What?" she said with a rush of breath; feeling admired by his persuasive
glances and genteel talk.

"I think the make up you are wearing looks quite dashing--"

"Dashing? What do you mean dashing?" she said, laughing slightly.

The sound urged him, begging him to apply more pressure with his forearm to his
heated groin. He longed to be able to reveal his great secret; all his body
nude before her green eyes. Her pupils penetrated by his cock--the great
orifice of the mind fucked to such raw and feverish states of pleasure. Caught
in this mutual stare he imagined himself slowly undressing and playing in some
shady corner as summer burgeoned around their frolicking awakenings.

"I've heard that word in a song, like in Jingle Bells but I don't think you
mean it like that do you?"

"No ... no," he said laughing, "I simply mean you're beautiful."

"I am? I've only heard a few boys say that before--"

"Well, I just think that's important for a girl your age to know ... but wait a
tick-tock, I don't know how old you are?"

"Guess--"

"Sixteen," he said, which made her face erupt with a smile.

"Nope--"

"Fifteen?"

"Nope--"

"Fourteen?"

"Huh uh, but you're getting closer," she said, giggling again.

"Come on, you must be kidding me, you look so mature--"

"I'm not even a teenage yet--"

"Are you twelve?"

"Yep ... but my birthday is soon."

"I'll have to think up a good present," he said smiling, rubbing more furiously
along his groin, feeling the tip of his head pulsing slightly, preparing to
allow a little pre-come dribble along the seams of his boyish bathing suit.

"You don't even know me--"

"Well, what would you want if you could have almost anything?"

While she thought he continued to look at her body. His ogling was quite
obvious but she either did not mind, did not care or was oblivious to his
sexually charged incentives.

"You know something, I just thought of it--"

"What!?" she said excitedly, her voice raising slightly.

"Would you like some new bikinis? That one is very nice I think/"

"That would be wonderful. Mom complains all time'bout how much my clothes
cost... would you really?"

"Of course ... but I would have to think of the right color and to get an idea
I'd need to see you well, model the suit you have on--"

"I always wanted to be a model or ballerina--"

"Now's the perfect chance--"

"Well, what do I do?"

"Good question," he said, pausing as he felt the first warm release smear along
his bathing suit. "I need you to stand up ... walk toward me--then, turn around
and walk back ... pretty easy isn't it?"

"I can do that," she said with enthusiasm.

Standing, she walked toward him, budding young breasts pointing upward; her
slender hips moving in a falsely sexual, seductive manner--an over stylized
imitation of how a young girl thought a sexy woman would walk. Up close he
could see the great detail of her virginal lips and the delectable outline of
prepubescent hair. His longing was to kiss her to orgasm.

Turning around, his eyes gazed plentifully at her slightly plump, oval
buttocks. With her back toward him, Owen gingerly pinched the head of his cock
with his forefinger and thumb and allowed the full intensity of his orgasm rush
through his whole body. He quivered, almost swooning as she turned back around.

Assuming some natural pose, he asked what her name was as the last effects of
his ejaculation wore down to simple bliss.

Unable to hear her reply he simply smiled, ready to return to his upper floor
suite to sleep in his den of quite, air-conditioned darkness. Standing and
satiated from his clandestine pleasure, he could feel that his cock had
returned to its neutral boy flaccidness.

"One day," he said, while walking away, "you will make a beautiful Muse."

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
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