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don't remove the author information or make any changes
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Rachel
by Magus (hypocratic_oath@yahoo.co.uk)

***

It is up to the reader to decide if this story is true; 
but please note certain names and place names have been 
edited for discretion. (M/f-teen, ped, 1st, rom)

***

I've enjoyed a pretty successful life; both 
romantically and professionally. I'm certainly not one 
to boast about girls, but I have certainly enjoyed 
sharing some of my stories with my closer, like-minded 
friends. There was 'R', a 19 year old boyish looking 
honey I dated for some time. Small, pert, cute and with 
the best fashion sense, she certainly made others 
green. Then there was 'N', a model no less, with a body 
which never lost its heart-stopping effect no matter 
how many times I unwrapped it. Despite all this 
however, I've never had the urge to share publicly my 
tales. This story is a little different however, as for 
reasons which will become obvious; I haven't been able 
to tell anyone about it.

I briefly mentioned my professional success; something 
which I am not shy of as I worked terribly hard for a 
long time before I began to reap the rewards. Anyway, I 
reached my 30th birthday without ever having bought an 
expensive car. Some of my friends had recently updated 
their own cars and so I decided I would treat myself 
for my birthday. I was still scared of a huge financial 
commitment so I decided instead to contract hire my 
treat: a Lamborghini Gallardo Spyder. Now, I could be 
tempted to forget the story and just tell you all about 
the car – believe me it was as much fun, as head-
turning and as jealousy-inducing as any pretty woman; 
but I'll save that for another day. Suffice to say I 
attracted looks everywhere I went in the car.

My route home from work varied, simply because there 
were two or three routes available which were quicker 
or shorter than each other depending on the time of 
day. On the day in question I had picked the more 
direct route, as it was earlier than usual and 
therefore way before rush-hour. Home is in a rather 
exclusive village, fringe commuter belt and a mix of 
nouveau-riche middle class, the indigenous upper class 
landowners and a scattering of farming families. I fall 
firmly into the first category. 

I was about 6 or 7 miles from home when I started to 
notice the bus-stops were full of school-kids. It was 
about that time. Its human nature to have a look isn't 
it? It was a rare sunny British summer day, the coats 
and sweaters were off and the girls, all 11-16 looked 
lovely. There were some absolute stunners too, mid-
teens, many in short skirts, white socks etc. It was a 
lesson in St. Trinian-esque tartiness. 

Slowed in school run traffic, I passed the fourth or 
fifth bus-stop and was enjoying my sneaky little girl-
spotting when I saw her for the first time. It defies 
sense to suggest that in that moment I felt anything 
like the significance which she would come to represent 
in my life; and I didn't. What I did experience 
however, was the most beautiful, angelic and strangely 
elegant teenager I have ever seen. For the sake of 
chronology we need to pause for a second, hold the 
moment as I sailed past her at maybe twice walking pace 
and saw her for the first time...

I would guess she was about 5' 6", and had long silky 
black hair, layered into a style fashionable at the 
time. I think it was her hair which first caught my 
eye; it was that shampoo advertisement hair which women 
spend fortunes each year on trying to emulate – dark, 
silky, shiny and with every single strand moving in 
complete independence to the others. She had a lovely 
skin tone, lighter than olive, but just as pure, with 
dark freckles and even darker large eyes. I have simply 
never seen a more pretty face, and when she smiled she 
presented perfectly formed white, glowing teeth.

She was slim, and stood out from the other girls 
because of the way she was dressed. There was no skin-
tight skirt, no short-sleeved shirt, no rebelliously-
tied necktie, and no sluttish knee high white socks. 
Instead, she wore a long-sleeved white shirt, and her 
necktie was correctly tied and smart, her skirt was 
above the knee, and pleated. The grey fabric looked 
tailored and gave a hint of wealth less evident in some 
of the other girls. She wore dark tights which no doubt 
added to the effect of the shiny, sleek and lithe legs 
which they covered. Her feet were covered with sensible 
black shoes which just added to the image. The only 
hint that she wasn't straight out of a catalogue was 
that her shirt hung out of the skirt at her back.

So this is what I saw with my first glimpse, and she 
saw that I saw too, catching my eye as I drove past, 
her mouth opening into a smile or a laugh with as she 
shared a joke with her friends. The whole experience 
lasted just a few seconds, but began to have a profound 
effect upon me. I thought about her a lot over the next 
few days, to the point where I decided to take the same 
journey at the same time several days later on my way 
to play squash with a friend. Needless to say she 
wasn't there.

My frustration at not seeing her led to more frequent 
'early finishes' and careful timings until I saw her 
again. It was about two weeks since I had first seen 
her, and was another baking hot day, allowing me the 
luxury of enjoying the roof down on the car again. This 
time she was sat down in the bus stop with her legs 
crossed, and was chatting with another girl. She 
noticed the car as I approached and they both looked 
up. She made eye contact with me, but as I risked 
breaking a smile at her, she looked away; the friends 
seemingly continuing their conversation as before. 

Over the coming weeks two things developed; first of 
all I began to learn a pattern. She clearly had 
alternative travel plans on all but Tuesdays and 
Fridays as these were the only days I ever saw her. 
Secondly, I began to dread the end of term as I knew I 
would not see her again, at least for some time. These 
things in mind, I began to 'see' her every Tuesday and 
Friday. I know it sounds mad, but I was kind of 
obsessed, besotted even with this beauty. My condition 
was not improved during this time when the school had 
what seemed to be an 'own clothes' day. Whilst so many 
of the girls wore their Nike tracksuits, or other 
common outfits, the object of my attention decided to 
wear an outfit which blew my mind – and probably those 
of all the boys at school. 

It was another hot day, and I began to get excited as I 
approached her bus-stop as I had already seen at the 
early stops that kids were no t wearing uniform. She 
did not disappoint. She had on a cotton, bright pink 
halter-neck top that was completely backless, white 
linen trousers and little pink strappy shoes. Her hair 
was up in a pony-tail. I am not ashamed to admit I 
would have been embarrassed to have to stand up at that 
point. For the third time she caught my eye, and this 
time, I presume because she was stood alone, she 
followed my eyes and returned my smile. It was a sweet 
moment; she lowered her eyes and almost giggled a 
little smile, before looking up again briefly and then 
turning away as I passed further away.

That was a Friday, and four days later, thanks to the 
British weather, and several coincidences; things took 
a significant leap forward. 

I had become fairly regular in my visits to see her, 
and this Tuesday was no exception. On the way I was 
worried I might miss her, not just because of the 
torrential rain, but also as I was ten minutes later 
than usual, and was struggling to make up time despite 
the Italian engine behind me. 

As the bus-stop came into view I could just make out 
one figure, unusual as there were normally 5-10 school-
kids there. I approached and was delighted to see 'my' 
girl. She was wearing a short black tailored raincoat, 
but despite it was looking a little damp. She also 
looked a little concerned and didn't even notice me 
approaching until I was upon her. Before I had time to 
think better of it, I pulled over and wound down the 
window.

"Is everything ok?" I asked, rather feebly.

"Sorry?" She seemed a little taken aback, and it took 
me a moment to realise it must seem a little forward of 
me. She may well have become prominent in my mind, but 
she didn't know me from Adam.

"I'm sorry, just trying to be a Good Samaritan. You 
looked upset, and alone, and..." I smiled cheekily at 
her, "...just a little bit wet!"

To my relief, she suddenly warmed to conversation and 
turned to me properly, giving up her searching looks to 
the horizon behind me.

"I think I've missed my bus, and yes, I'm drenched!" 
she said.

"I'm going your way if it would help?"

"You don't mind? I live way out in 'D'...?" she told 
me. My heart leapt.

"Really? I live in 'D'. We're virtually neighbours!" 
She lived in the next village, just three or four miles 
from me. I was initially surprised I'd never seen her 
before, but I guess we hung out in different places.

She climbed in and apologised for wetting the leather 
in the car, then she said, "I thought you were local, 
I've seen the car around!" 

So, she had been spying on me?

"I can't believe you've given me a lift today when 
nobody is there to see. My friends won't believe me if 
I tell them." 

She was joking, but without thinking I answered, "Well, 
I'll just have to pick you up again, when there are 
more people around."

She smiled, wondering if I was teasing, or being 
genuine.

So, here she was the object of my dreams, in my car. 
Her legs extended into the foot-well and I struggled 
not to stare at their beauty. I took my opportunity to 
discover as much as I could from her. She was 14 years 
old, a fact which made me both ashamed and excited at 
the same time. She lived with her Dad in a rather 
isolated converted farm (he was in business, and by the 
nature of the address was very wealthy). Her Mum had 
died when she was young, a fact which I discovered 
clumsily, allowing her the opportunity to show her 
maturity and put my mind at rest. She was called Rachel 
– I finally had a name.

Having spent 5 minutes making her comfortable, and 
using my best life skills to gently and subtly 
interrogate her whilst not appearing too interested, I 
then screwed up,

"So how come you only get the bus on Tuesdays and 
Fridays?"

She didn't respond immediately, but after a few seconds 
raised her eyebrows slightly and turned her head to me. 
Seeing my embarrassment at being caught out she smiled, 
"Have you been spying on me?"

"Not at all..." I lied, "...it's just hard not to 
notice a pretty girl."

"God, that's so cheesy. And it's crap!" she laughed.

There was silence for a few seconds whilst I tried to 
recover myself and think of something to say. She saved 
me the trouble.

"On a Monday my Dad drops me off and picks me up before 
he goes away for the week. On Tuesday I come home and 
my Auntie stays with me and cooks me dinner. Wednesday 
and Thursday I stay with her, which is in 'O', so I get 
a different bus. Friday I get the bus home and my Dad 
comes home Friday night or Saturday morning."

"Well, that's a full answer. I wasn't being nosey, just 
making conversation."

"Sure..." she smiled, sounding unconvinced, "...but I 
guess I should be flattered to be noticed." She 
certainly wasn't shy.

I laid off a bit after this, not wanting to come on too 
strong after my mistake. She could justifiably be 
freaked out. I eventually dropped her at the gates to 
the substantial house and she climbed out into the 
rain. Before she shut the door, she leaned in and 
teased, "See you Friday then?" and closed the door 
before I had chance to answer. She then opened the 
gates and skipped off in the sexiest, cutest, teenage 
way I have ever seen. It must have been deliberate.

Needless to say, Friday could not come fast enough. I 
decided to take the day off, went to the gym, bought 
some new clothes (I know, I know) and just popped into 
the office later. I left bang on time and felt my 
anticipation rising as I neared her bus-stop. Rachel 
was there, and my pulse raced. As I neared, her body 
language and that of her friends changed. She didn't 
point at the car, but she kind of flicked her head 
indicating as if to say, "Oh, he's here!" 

She then walked to the curb as if expecting me to stop. 
Her friends looked shocked and amused. I pulled over, 
and she opened the door so coolly, shouting a casual 
goodbye to her friends as she climbed in. I drove off 
and it was a hundred yards before the coolness left her 
and she started to scream with excitement, kicking her 
little feet in the limited space of the car. 

"That was just so cool. Thanks so much for doing that! 
Oh my God they will be so green..." 

How could I have failed to pull over? It wasn't just me 
making an effort today. Rachel had lost the tights, and 
the sensible skirt was replaced with slightly shorter 
one, allowing me an unfettered view of her long, 
golden, silky legs. My God, this girl was beautiful

"My pleasure, but what on earth did you tell them?" I 
said, meaning "When am I going to be arrested?"

She laughed, "Don't worry, I said nothing. When I saw 
you I just said, "See you, my lift is here!"

She had told me not to worry. Did that mean she knew 
why I was worrying? Did that mean she knew of my 
thoughts? In turn, did she therefore approve?

"So what will they say? Or more to the point, what will 
they think?"

"I don't know what they'll think. But they'll be 
jealous. Karen really fancies you, and I suspect Dawn 
does too!"

I nearly exploded, "What?" I laughed.

"Yeah, they see you lot's these days. We do talk about 
boys you know!"

"Am I not a little old for your friends though? I mean, 
I'm nearly 30." Ok I know, but a little poetic license 
must be allowed.

"I guess, but boys at school are so lame. Most girls 
like older men!"

This conversation was held without eye contact, and I 
could sense the tension, or was it electricity?

I asked, "So what about you? Is your boyfriend older?"

"Now you're being lame..." she laughed, "...and no I 
don't have a boyfriend and the moment, and yes I like 
older boys!"

We were at her house already, and I was conscious her 
father would be home soon. It is a few years since I 
was scared of a girl's father. 

"Well, it's my turn to be flattered..." I said, "...I 
never expected to be fancied by younger girls. Thank 
you!"

She laughed again, regaining control, and this time 
looked me in the eye, "Don't thank me, I never said I 
fancied you!"

I was instantly put in my place. 

"I'd invite you in for a drink, but Dad'll be home 
later and, well..."

Enough said.

"I understand. Nice thought though."

I dropped her off, and spent a few seconds watching her 
walk across the large driveway. In this short skirt her 
legs were almost fully visible and I was turned on by 
her adolescent gait. She didn't have the swaying hips 
of a catwalk model, but the lithe direct walk only 
young girls have. 

I picked her up again the following Tuesday, to the 
general mirth of her friends. In the car she announced 
that they were teasing her about me being her new 
boyfriend.

"So did you tell them that you didn't fancy me?" I 
teased, hopefully.

"I didn't say I didn't, I just didn't say I did!" She 
replied forcefully.

We spent much of the journey listening to music, or 
listening to Rachel skipping through the tracks on my 
iPod. 

As we neared her house, Rachel said, "I can't invite 
you in again, my Auntie will be there." She was already 
acknowledging that our relationship had some component 
which needed hiding. This was both scary and exciting 
for me. I didn't know what to say.

"But my Dad won't be home until late Saturday night, so 
I may be free on Friday!"

Had you announced to me there and then that the world 
was going to end in 5 minutes; I couldn't have been 
more shocked. I nearly swallowed my own tongue and she 
seemed relieved by my stammering.

"Well, s-s-s-sure. That sounds great. I guess you owe 
me a brew after all the lifts."

"Ok, well don't pick me up, just come around 6 if you 
like."

She suggested that we swap mobile numbers in case 
anything changed, and I let her punch her number into 
my phone. It was like being a teenager again, I was so 
excited. I drove away asking myself if I had a date, or 
if she was just being polite.

The next few days were unbearable, I was living for 
Friday afternoon, and I don't mind admitting I spent a 
considerable amount of time in the shower that week. By 
Friday morning, I was struggling to restrain myself 
from texting to check everything was ok. I only didn't 
because I feebly thought my text could be used as 
evidence.

In any case I needn't have worried. At midday my phone 
beeped and the screen announced I had a text from 
Rachelx. I took a few minutes to compose myself, and 
then opened it.

"Make it 7 then we can get food 2. If thts ok?"

I couldn't reply quickly enough, but tried to remain 
cool.

"See you then" I typed.

It seemed like an absolute age, but 6.45pm eventually 
came, and I set off. I'd dressed casually in chinos and 
a white shirt. As a last minute thought, I picked up a 
bottle of chilled white wine from the local shop. 

As I approached Rachel's house I realised how nervous I 
was; it felt like I was a teenager again. I really 
didn't know what to expect. I drove up to the gate, but 
before I needed to get out to find a buzzer, the gates 
opened as if by magic. I smiled to myself and drove in.

The next couple of minutes were the most amazing of my 
life. As I already said, I didn't know what to expect, 
as I really didn't have a clue of Rachel's feelings or 
intentions. The one thing I was sure of was that I 
didn't expect the sight I was presented with as I 
pressed the doorbell.

Rachel answered the door with a radiant smile and my 
heart stopped in its tracks. She was in evening dress 
and was simply the most amazing sight I'd ever seen. 
The dress (Gucci I later found out) was a black silk 
halter neck, completely backless and with a plunging 
neckline. The material was loose and draped around her 
frame apart from at the hips where its short skirt 
tightened to hug her thighs and backside.

Rachel's hair was up, and held in place by a beautiful 
little diamante clip. Her neck was long and slender and 
as she turned to lead me to the lounge, I could see the 
full length of her back and the teasing hint of muscle 
movement with each step suggesting the beginning of a 
buttock. To cap the rear view off, she had two 
symmetrical dimples at the base of her spine. Her legs 
seemed endless and silky and olive coloured. On her 
feet she had tiny strappy diamante shoes with long slim 
heels, surely adding to the image of those legs. 

"Would you like a glass now?"

I was snapped from my reverie, and saw her indicating 
the bottle of wine. "Sure..." I replied, "...you?"

"Well, I shouldn't, but who'll know?" And with that she 
winked and walked off leaving me once again staring at 
this backless beauty.

I shouted in the direction she had disappeared, "I feel 
a little under-dressed now!"

"Don't be silly..." she responded from somewhere 
unseen, "...this is new and I just wanted to try it 
out! Besides, I was always taught to dress for dinner!"

My mind was in bits by now. Here I was, alone with a 14 
year old girl in her house whilst her father was away. 
She was flirting with me, and I wanted her. It was 
wrong, but strangely everything felt so right. 

Rachel returned with the wine and we sat in front of 
the log fire on the huge comfy sofas and talked a 
while. It was that nervous moment when two people have 
implicitly agreed to advance their relationship, but 
nothing has been said. Because of the circumstances I 
was determined not to make the first move, but rather 
leave each proverbial door wide open. 

We chatted about my work, her school and hobbies and 
friends, my car. It was nice, and it was easy to forget 
that Rachel was only 14. She was intelligent, mature, 
knowledgeable and cultured. 

My worry about the first move was answered fairly 
quickly. Rachel jumped up and said, "We should choose 
some food if we're going to eat, it'll take ages 
anyway. Indian or Chinese?"

I plumped for the latter and she grabbed a menu from 
some cabinet behind me and came back, jumping onto the 
sofa next to me. She sat sideways next to me, her 
uppermost knee spread across mine. We read the menu 
together. This girl really was a master at putting 
people at ease. We chose food, and she called the 
takeaway from her perch right next to me. When she'd 
finished she got up and returned the menu, put on some 
music (Bach Piano Fugue for those who care) and came 
back to sit next to me. This time she knelt side-on, 
facing me and asked, "So what shall we do while we 
wait? Want to watch a movie?"

I agreed, probably a little too easily, but then I was 
in heaven, and had no reason not to go along with 
everything as it was offered. Rachel jumped up to grab 
the SKY remote and said, "Save kissing me until later 
then? You seen "Titanic"?"

She was so confident, yet such a sweet girl. Perfect 
really! But I sensed I was being a little too passive.

"What did you just say?"

She came back with the remote, flicking through the SKY 
recorded movies.

"I said have you seen Titanic?" Now she was sat back 
next to me, that delicious back pressed against me, her 
head in the crook of my arm, and her knees pulled 
coquettishly up to her chest. She pretended to be 
intently looking for the movie on the large TV screen.

"I meant before that..."

"Oh that! Well I presumed that you'd want to kiss me, 
but it'll wait if you're not ready!" She clicked the 
button to start the film.

"I've been ready for weeks Rachel. I promise you."

She didn't respond, but just snuggled slightly closer 
in to me, allowing her head to rest on my chest, and 
bringing her knees round to rest on my legs. Her back 
was bare, her skirt was as high a decency would allow 
above her silky bare legs, and the halter top covered 
her breasts enough to be sexy and decent, but allowing 
a glimpse of roundness at each side and down the middle 
to underline her femininity. In the circumstances, I 
found it difficult to find a suitable area to rest my 
hand and hold her close to me. In the end, I settled 
for her tummy, feeling her taught youthful tone. She 
snuggled in again, suggesting satisfaction with my 
choice.

We started to watch the movie, and slowly melted into 
each other's company, gradually the tension easing and 
the closeness and comfort with each other developing. I 
gently stroked Rachel's thigh with my fingertips and 
she responded with delicate little mews of 
appreciation. I kissed her head, taking in the smell of 
her youthfulness and cleanliness. In the midst of this, 
the buzzer sounded as the Chinese had arrived. 

I gave Rachel some notes from my wallet, and she went 
to the door. She returned with the bag of food and 
skipped past me towards the kitchen, "Grub up!"

I followed her this time, my eyes glued to her bare 
back, knowing this time that I would enjoy this girl, 
that she wanted me too. She placed the bag on the 
surface and turned to get some warm plates from on top 
of the Aga. As she turned I was there in front of her, 
and decided to delay no longer. Her eyes suggested she 
knew my intention. I reached out and took her head in 
my hands, my fingers intertwining with her silky soft 
hair, probably messing up the style. I pulled her to me 
and closed my eyes, kissing her lips gently. 

Slowly, softly, gently I kissed her, and she kissed me 
back, slowly opening her mouth. Her lips were soft and 
moist and I was in heaven. Gradually our kiss became 
more urgent, her hands moving from my shoulders and 
encircling my waist. After what seemed like an 
eternity, we gently broke, and smiled at each other. 
"Shall we eat?" Rachel asked. I wasn't sure if it was a 
rhetorical question or not, but we let go of each other 
and served up the food, taking back into the living 
room to watch the remainder of the movie.

We ate and watched and cuddled some, but neither of us 
spoke for quite some time. After a while I decided to 
clear away the plates and left Rachel watching the 
movie. I grabbed the wine whilst I was in the kitchen 
and went back to the lounge to top up our glasses.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" She asked, 
coquettishly.

"Will I need to?" was my instinctive and slightly bold 
answer.

"Need to for what?"

Her attention was now completely focussed on me, the 
movie seemingly forgotten. Not for the first time I was 
stuck for words, but as ever Rachel came to my 
assistance.

"Are you planning to have your way with me?" She smiled 
as she teased me,

"Sweetheart, I have nothing planned but just enjoying 
every moment of this. It's such a perfect evening."

She suddenly looked a little serious and vulnerable, 
"I'm still a virgin, and you'll have to be very 
gentle." Her eyes lifted from the floor and looked into 
mine, she was gently relinquishing the control she had 
held over me for so long. Suddenly it was SHE who was 
in uncharted territory.

I hadn't anticipated this moment; I had dreamt of it 
many times but never allowed myself the luxury of 
believing it would come true. Now I was stuck between 
the opportunity to fulfill a dream with the most 
perfect, most beautiful girl on the planet AND face 
prison for it, or I could walk away. There was no 
competition.

She stood up and pointed the remote at the TV, the 
image disappeared and the room fell slightly darker, 
just the roaring, crackling fire behind Rachel now lit 
us. Without hesitation, she slipped the halter neck of 
the glorious dress over her head and slid her hands 
down her body to push the material from her hips. The 
dress fell into an inelegant heap at her feet. Next she 
removed the clip in her hair and let it fall across her 
shoulders. Finally she slipped of the tiny white silk 
bikini panties she was wearing and stood in front of 
me, complete.

I can't begin to describe the sensations I felt at that 
moment, but I imagine you can work at least some of 
them out for yourself. What I can describe, as best as 
mere words will allow is what I saw before me in the 
flickering light. Her deep dark silky hair fell in 
waves around her face and shoulders, catching the light 
and bouncing with every movement. Her eyes, large and 
round and dark, framed by long black lashes, blinking 
with insecurity at this moment, not sure of her own 
actions or what to expect in my reactions. 

Closer up those dark freckles on her olive cheeks 
highlighted her youth and innocence, yet deepened her 
beauty. Her lips, unadorned with paint, were full and 
luscious, the bottom one bitten between her perfect 
white teeth. Her hands were clasped firmly behind her 
back and one knee was bent slightly in front of the 
other, painting an innocent yet seductive picture. 

Rachel's skin was, is something to behold. It is 
tanned, olive, and smooth as a pebble and with a silky 
sheen. Her breasts were small but perfectly formed, 
falling firmly from her shoulder line to small, 
wrinkly, tight brown nipples and curving back 
underneath to her chest. Somewhere between an A and B-
cup I'd guess, but just perfect. Beneath her breasts, 
the soft smooth skin led to a divine belly; vertically 
flat from her pubis to her ribs, her belly was toned 
and tight and firm. 

Shadows gave hint of the muscles in her belly leading 
v-shaped to the prize below. Her legs were long and 
slim, the muscles in her thigh defining thigh from butt 
cheek. As she turned to display herself to me, I saw 
that wonderful bottom, tight and toned, hips just 
hinting at womanliness, but with narrow hips and tight 
round buns still awfully boyish. She completed her 
spin, and I allowed myself to look upon her, that 
magical V, her mons pubis plump and naturally bald 
giving way to a small patch of short thick black hair 
just above her slit.

She came for me, and took me by the hand, leading back 
to the sofa silently. She straddled me gently and 
slowly began to unbutton my shirt, occasionally kissing 
softly while she did. For the first time I laid my 
hands on that incredible backside, enjoying the 
firmness and the feeling of playing with a 14 year old 
girls beautiful rear.

When she had unbuttoned my shirt she peeled it off me 
and stood up. She slowly put it on herself, leaving the 
buttons undone. The white of my shirt against her 
bronzed flesh was incredible, the eroticism of her 
wearing my clothes indescribable. She suggested me go 
upstairs, and I followed, hypnotised by the moment. She 
led me to her bedroom, a huge room with a big strong 
oak bed, made up with plump Egyptian cotton bedding. In 
the corner of the room a door led to the ensuite, a big 
wet room tiled totally in dark blue slate, and with a 
glass screen separating the basin from a large shower 
area. Rachel finished undressing me so tenderly and 
then walked into the steaming shower still wearing my 
shirt. I followed, mesmerised by the sight of her 
through the wet translucent fabric.

She soaped me and gently washed me all over with a 
large natural sponge. The feeling was incredible as she 
occasionally brushed against me with her breasts or 
hips. I was as hard as a rock, but she saved that till 
last, going down on her knees and gently washing my 
balls then my cock with the sponge – her mouth just 
inches away.

When she had finished, Rachel pulled my shirt from her 
shoulders and let it drop, passing me the sponge she 
then turned her back and pressed her hands high up 
against the wall, allowing me unfettered access to her 
wet, nubile, firm, young body.

I followed her lead, and soaped her all over, starting 
with her neck and working down her back. When I reached 
her ass, I took my time, being gentle and slow, then 
slowly worked down to her thighs, allowing myself the 
pleasure of stroking her innermost thigh with the 
sponge so slowly, and ensuring I occasionally glanced 
across her labia.

After her legs were done, i turned her round and kissed 
her on the lips, then dropped to my knees and started 
from her feet, working upwards this time. When I 
reached her pussy I was so gentle as almost to tickle, 
and then worked upwards again, past her belly and up to 
those delightful pubescent breasts. I lingered here, 
and casually dropped the sponge, allowing my hands to 
circle around the soapy flesh, feeling her nipples 
tighten into taut little bullets. She kissed me and my 
hands wrapped around her, pulling her close to me, and 
pressing my hard cock into her belly.

We rinsed down in the steaming hot water and then 
stepped out to the bedroom with huge white fluffy 
towels. Rachel skipped playfully across the room and 
turned out the big light, leaving just a small lamp on 
and setting the mood. Then she came back and started to 
dry me, herself wrapped up to the armpits in her towel. 
It was a lovely moment, sensitive, intimate, beautiful. 
She tickled me and I returned the favour and we giggled 
and played in each others' arms. 

We were dry now, and lying naked on her bed, in each 
other's arms. Clearly the time had come, and Rachel 
looked at me square in the eyes and said, "Make love to 
me, [P]!"

I leaned across and kissed her tenderly, allowing her 
tongue into my mouth. I touched her with my fingertips, 
feeling the Goosebumps rise as I did so. I tickled her 
arm, then the side of her chest, that lovely flat, firm 
belly and gently cupped her breast in my hand. I kissed 
down her chin, her neck and slowly worked my way down 
to the breast I was gently kneading with me hand. 
Rachel gasped as I kissed her hard nipple and sucked it 
into my mouth. I made circles around it with my tongue, 
lightly flicking the tip and blowing on the wetness 
gently, making the hard nipple even more so. She arched 
back her head, and I followed by kisses down her belly.

I took time, intending to savour every moment, kissing, 
touching, tickling and blowing. Eventually I reached 
her young pussy, and manoeuvred my way between her 
legs. I kissed and toyed with her inner thighs, getting 
gradually closer and taking in that honeydew aroma. I 
licked her mons and her hips bucked unwillingly; 
slowly, gradually and gently I reached that pure bald 
cleft, I let my tongue open her, which wasn't awfully 
difficult as she was a wet as I was hard. I sealed my 
lips around her pussy, French kissing her whole pussy 
while my tongue sought out her little clit. 

I varied between fast and slow, hard and soft, 
occasional stopping with my tongue to just kiss all 
over her pussy, occasionally pushing my tongue into her 
virgin hole. As the tempo increased, Rachel leaned down 
and grabbed my hair with one hand; holding me in place, 
demonstrating her approval, and showing clearly with 
each firm grip what she liked the most. It wasn't long 
before I heard her whimper, and felt her muscles 
tighten. Her back arched, her pussy pushed into my 
mouth and she came for me, her juices in my mouth.

I didn't move, but continued to kiss gently around her 
thighs and mons, occasionally darting my tongue softly 
over her clit – each time I did she tensed 
uncontrollably. I started to climb as if to mount her, 
but she got up, smiling sweetly at me and using her 
hands on my shoulders to lay me down. Then she knelt at 
my knees and bent to take my cock in her mouth. She 
licked me all over; looking up at me with those big 
eyes as she did, then she took me in her mouth, bobbing 
her head almost painfully slowly up and down my cock. 

When I was wet all over, she came closer, straddling me 
with that fit body. She held me cock and placed it in 
her virgin pussy, and slowly began to fuck me. Inch by 
inch, moment by moment we progressed until I was deep 
inside her. She whimpered that sexy little noise 
throughout, occasionally shivering with the first 
pleasure, or with a twinge of pain. Her face was 
serious, eyes closed, mouth partly open.

There was no Eureka moment, no noticeable breaking of 
her hymen, just tender, sweet love-making, and a tight, 
tight pussy. We took our time, and over the next ten 
minutes made love in this position. Slowly, sensually, 
kissing and caressing throughout. As I began to reach 
climax I realised that I had taken no protection (what 
could I do) and began to ask her what she wanted to do. 
I barely had got my mouth open to ask before she put a 
finger to my lips, sat up astride my cock, and smiled 
sweetly and smugly as she fucked me slowly to orgasm. 
It was the best of my life, and I swear I fell in love 
at that moment. My life changed irrevocably. 

We made love two more times that night, catching sleep 
as it came. We woke wrapped in each other's arms, only 
half under the covers. Rachel got up for a shower, 
thinking I was asleep. I watched her walk naked across 
the room, amazed that even for this short time that she 
was mine, and stunned by the beauty of this nymph. 

I waited for the water to start, and then followed her 
into the shower. I'm sure you can imagine how the rest 
of the day went before I had to leave at lunch.

Rachel and I didn't finish there, but things have been 
awfully difficult.

I'd appreciate feedback!

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. 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 prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 56