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Archive name: becky.txt (Mf-teen, rom, 1st, ped)
Authors name: The White Rabbit (white_rabbit27@hotmail.com)
Story title : Becky on a Summer Day

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This work is copyrighted to the author � 2001. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
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Becky on a Summer Day (Mf-teen, rom, 1st, ped)
by The White Rabbit (white_rabbit27@hotmail.com)

***

A fourteen-year-old girl's meeting with a stranger leads
to the most exciting day of her life.

Author's note: This is a work of fiction. I have never
had sex with a minor, and I would strongly urge readers
not to confuse fantasy with reality.

*

It was the hottest day of the year; and young Becky was
dressed for it, in shorts and a bikini-top that showed
off her lovely, tanned body to good advantage. And there
was plenty to show off. Although not yet fifteen, Becky
already had large breasts, the soft, firm globes of a
well-endowed adolescent, revealed more than hidden by
the bikini. Her tight, small midriff flaunted itself
without shame or conceit; while the snug shorts hinted
at the charms of her cute shaved crotch and firm,
jutting bum.

She felt rather naughty. Normally, her parents, who were
quite strict, wouldn't have dreamed of letting her go
out in the street dressed like that.

But today was so hot that even they acknowledged that
comfort came first.

Many of the men who passed by ogled her, some unaware of
how young she was, others doubtless aroused by it. It
would have surprised many of them, however, to find that
this provocative young tease had gone a year without a
boyfriend. Plenty of boys in her class would have gladly
gone out with her.

But that was the trouble: they were boys. She'd grown to
want more than their immaturity, their fumbling in the
park on the way home from dates, and their wham-bam-
thank-you-ma'am approach to sex. If it weren't that
Becky enjoyed giving pleasure, perhaps even more than
receiving it, she would have long ago decided that the
only good sex was the kind she enjoyed alone in her
bedroom.

Largely oblivious to the glorious day around her, Becky
was pulled out of her reverie by a car drawing up beside
her, and an English accent from inside saying, "Excuse
me, I wonder if you can help me. I think I'm lost."

The face looking out seemed mature, but still fresh and
unlined. The man had dark-brown hair and a beard; and
his dark eyes, big and liquid, mesmerized her.

"Where do you want to go?" Becky asked, realising, as
she did, that she was tossing her black hair flirtingly
back over her shoulders.

"The Lincoln Heights Hotel," he said. "I'm staying
there; but I can't find my way back."

"I'm not surprised," she told him. "It's right over on
the other side of town. Umm..." She tried to visualise
the route, but it was too hot. "I'm not sure if I can
give you directions," she said lamely; then, before she
realised what she was saying, added, "I could come with
you and show you, though."

The man looked surprised. "That would be really nice of
you, if you're sure you don't mind being in a stranger's
car."

Becky, who was wondering about that herself, found that,
for reasons she never did fully understand, she was
smiling and saying, "Course not."

They talked, during the ride. Becky told the man a lot
about herself: more than she usually even told friends.
He told her less about himself (she realised, later,
that she didn't actually ask his name) but said that he
was on an extended American holiday.

At last, the car drew up beside a large hotel. "Well,
we're here," said Becky, feeling strangely sorry that
the journey was over.

"I'm really grateful," said the man. "Not only for
showing me the way, but for making the journey so
delightful. You'll need to get a cab back, won't you?
How much do you think that'll cost?" His hand stopped
halfway to his wallet. "Unless, of course..." Becky
looked at him questioningly, holding her breath,
wondering what he was going to say. "The hotel's got a
good bar. Can I buy you a drink?"

Becky looked down in confusion. "Er... I'm not really
dressed for a bar, am I?" she commented, glancing down
at her shorts and bikini-top.

He snorted. "I'm inviting you for a drink," he said,
"not your clothes."

She blushed. "I'm not old enough to drink," she said. "I
don't know if they'll let me in."

He grinned. "Well, there's only one way to find out,
isn't there?"

They did get away with Becky having one drink, by
sitting in a corner furthest from the bar. They got on
even better than before, chatting and giggling together
as if he was her own age; yet, at the same time, she
felt utterly safe with him. She was, not surprisingly,
getting eyed up by many of the single men in the
barroom; but his care cloaked her without stifling,
making it clear to everyone that she was under his
protection. After a while, a little light-headed, Becky
came and sat on his lap, giving him little kisses,
feeling his hands lightly caressing her bare, tanned
skin.

Eventually, the barkeeper had begun to notice them, and
was giving them dirty looks. Becky giggled. "I think I'm
gonna get thrown out," she whispered. "Pity, I was
enjoying myself."

"I tell you what," suggested her companion. "Why don't
we get a bottle of wine and take it up to my room? No-
one to chuck you out there."

Becky knew it was supposed to be a bad idea; but she
didn't really believe that, and agreed without
hesitation. So they went up to his room together and
started on the wine, sitting together talking and
giggling and kissing.

The man, whose name Becky still hadn't asked, had his
arm around her, absent-mindedly playing with her breasts
through her bikini-top. Becky, her head laid on his
shoulder, was vaguely thinking that she ought to stop
him; but it felt so good, and she really didn't want it
to stop.

However, her head started feeling a bit woozy after a
while. "I need to lie down," she said.

"Be my guest," he replied, and helped her stretch out on
the bed, then gave her a light kiss. It was almost like
kissing a child goodnight; but it sent a tremendous
erotic charge through her.

Slipping off his shoes, the man lay down beside Becky
and began kissing her, one hand caressing her tits, the
other wandering down to her shorts. Becky blushed when
she saw him smile at the discovery that the crotch of
her shorts was damp.

"I think you'd be more comfortable out of those
clothes," he suggested softly; and Becky felt powerless
to do anything but nod. So he quickly unfastened her
top, letting her firm young breasts bounce free. He
spent a few moments kissing, licking and sucking each
erect nipple; then he patted her bottom.

"Lift your bum up," he said; and Becky giggled, thinking
that sounded so much nicer than telling her to move her
ass. Raising herself up, she let him peel off her damp
shorts and wet knickers.

For a few moments, he did nothing but look at Becky: her
lovely tanned body, her wet, waiting pussy, her
beautiful blue eyes, filled with desire. Then he kissed
her again, thoroughly and wetly, before moving his mouth
back to her nipples. His hand began playing with her
pussy.

On the few occasions that boyfriends had bothered to do
this for her, they'd been clumsy and ineffectual; but
this man seemed to know, even better than herself, what
turned her on. He rubbed his finger along the insides of
her wet lips; flicked a fingertip over the little button
of her clit; worked a finger into her soaking hole,
teasing and tickling the most sensitive parts of her
pussy-wall, some of which she hadn't even been aware of.

After a few minutes of this, Becky began writhing and
trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps. When the
orgasm came, it was the biggest she'd ever known, and
she completely blanked out for a few seconds.

When she was aware of her surroundings again, Becky
realised that her lover, too, had undressed. His body
showed no sign of middle-age; and the stiff cock that
stood up to greet her made her gasp. Not that it was
bigger than others she'd encountered, though it was a
fair size; but something about it told her deliciously
that this was a man's cock, not a boy's.

Used to what was expected, Becky put out one hand to
take hold of the erect shaft; but he put a hand on hers.
"Looking at your gorgeous, naked body's all I need to
keep me excited," he said softly. "It's going to get
loved till it can't take any more."

Becky felt slightly disappointed: she loved to give
head, and watch the effects of what she was doing to her
lover. But, within a very short time, she'd forgotten
all about that. Giving each of her nipples one more
kiss, he began to move his mouth down her body, over her
belly and her mound, until he was kissing and licking at
her pussy. His tongue sent shudders all through her
aroused body as it flickered over her clit, then pushed
into her hole. His fingers continued their work,
occasionally slipping round to play with the little
rosebud between her buttocks, though he stopped short of
pushing fingers into her arse.

Becky had only come down a little way from her last
orgasm; and soon her body was bucking uncontrollably, as
she came hard again. Hardly had the orgasm finished,
before he turned over to lie on top of Becky, though
holding his weight off her, and positioned the head of
his cock against her soaking pussy. Her mind was telling
her that this probably wasn't a good idea; but her pussy
was thinking for her, and she simply opened her legs
wider and raised them a little, opening up the hole for
him.

He pushed into her, a bit at a time, letting perhaps an
inch at a time slide further between the soft, wet walls
of her pussy-hole, rubbing different places in different
ways each time, allowing each part to adjust to his cock
before he stretched some more. When it was finally all
the way in, he began thrusting in and out, moving a
little side-to-side as well, so that the big shaft
filling her pussy rubbed on all parts of it in
unpredictable ways. Becky's pussy sucked and squelched,
her muscles trying to pull him further in.

Her previous orgasm hadn't really finished, and she
started coming again very early on. But, this time, it
didn't subside, just went on and on, until Becky hardly
knew what was happening, who she was, who was fucking.
She wasn't even fully aware of being fucked; only the
ecstasy that seemed to have completely replaced her
body. She was limp, flopping about on the end of his
cock like a rag-doll; but a rag-doll programmed for
continuous orgasm.

At last, Becky was vaguely aware that the shaft pumping
in and out was throbbing; then spurts of warm come began
hitting her cervix, filling her pussy with his semen.
She went into convulsions, hitting a peak even higher
than the state of orgasm she'd been in all through the
fuck.

The next thing she was aware of, she was lying in his
arms, drenched in sweat, his cock still buried to the
hilt in her, and she was unsure whether she wanted to
cry or laugh hysterically. It didn't matter: she was too
weak to do either. He was kissing her, and she thought
he was saying something, too; but everything was coming
and going too much for her to concentrate. It didn't
matter: the only thing that mattered was that she was in
his arms, feeling utterly safe and loved.

As Becky slipped into delicious, golden sleep, the last
thing she heard was her lover whispering, "Sleep well,
sweetheart. I'll be here when you wake up."

THE END

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This archive does not condone child abuse, we also do
not censor authors. Anyone acting out such scenarios
in "real life" can look forward to many unproductive
years "getting it up the butt" by a fellow convict in
their local penitentiary.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 14