WARNING: DUE TO ITS CONTENT, THIS TEXT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE!
That's the only disclaimer you get. Read on at your own risk.
This is completely original... okay, let's at least say that they're
all my own words. The characters herein are fictional. Any resemblence to
real persons, living, dead, or undead are purely coincidental.
This work is rated (f/M 1st teen semi-nc pedo) by the A.S.S. Writers Guild
of America, West Delaware chapter (AW GAWD!)
f/M teenaged female initiating sex with an adult male
1st someone's first time
teen the lower case letter in f/M should have taken care of this
semi-nc semi-nonconsentual (reluctance followed by willing participation)
pedo someone's under the age of consent, and someone else is not
That's the best description you're gonna get outside of actually reading it,
which, of course, I hold no responsibility for.
Permission granted to * provided everything between the "--" lines remains
unchanged, except for translations to alternate character sets for
convenience. I do my own spelling, punctuation, and grammar editing.
* = Do whatever you want with this.
--
Mellanys Lessons (f/M 1st teen semi-nc pedo)
by Forbidden Fruit
"Come on, Tom! Enough theory. I wanna learn some practice," the oversexxed,
barely pubescent teenager pleaded of me. "Please have sex with me. I trust
you explicitly and I'm on the pill so we don't need to take precautions. I
know you want it to, otherwise you'd have never let our talk get me this
hot."
All I could do was sit back on the couch, my head swimming in lust. Excuse
me, perhaps I should first introduce myself and my doll-like tormentor. My
name is Tomas Petrovich. She's Mellany Caruthers. I'm a happily systems analyst/telecommuter/stay-at-home husband. She's a 13 year high
school freshman/child prodigy/libido extraordinaire.
"Your won't be home for hours yet, and I'm *sooo* horny."
"Mellany, I don't know what you've come to expect, but I don't think that
I'm it," I evaded.
I'm the son of a Russian defector, a literal Caucasian, as my paternal
grandfather lived and died in the Caucasus Mountains. My was a
relatively high ranking Soviet official in an oblast' near Moscow and left a
wife and small child in Russian to com to the west where he met my and I was conceived some 26 years ago. I'm quite sure the Communists
murdered my step-mother and step-sibling. I'm a native-born American, but
I'd like to visit the Rodina some time, so long as the State Dept. were to
build me a false identity to travel under while there. After all, once they
got everything out of my that they wanted, they did send me through
college on the tax-payers' dimes. (Thanks guys!) And I don't care what
people say, the KGB is still alive and well and as warmly as Russians treat
their friends, that is as coldly as they treat their enemies. I'd even
learned to govoru a little po-russkiy myself.
"I'm so wet just thinking about finally getting a live cock in me. Look."
Mellany, sitting on the couch, turned to face me even more directly than she
had been and hiked up the knee length skirt she was wearing to reveal her
glistening slit naked as the day she was born under her clothes. The facts
of the situation didn't surprise me in the least, either that she was wet as
the sea or that she was wearing no panties, but the action of showing them
to me so brazenly on my own couch was a new experience.
Maybe a little explaination is needed about how Mellany and I got together.
As I said, I'm a stay-at-home husband, sort of a `90's version of a male
housewife. I stay at home, keep up the house and my goes to work every
day. Very modern. Very third wave. My telecommuting job as a systems analyst
with Digital Alchemy, Inc. made it possible. Truth be told, my income
and my wife's are so close from year to year, that if you put the two
figures side by side, neither of us could pick out our own salary.
My wife, her name's Hanna, fiery Irish, lass that one. Well, truth be told,
she was as much Irish as I was Russian. First born American generation of
recent immigrants, desperately trying for a second, having thrown ourselves
into our common American culture with full abandon. Our friends had taken to
calling us Vodka and Whisky, rather than Tomas (I'd demured to having my
traditional Russian name anglosized from tah*MAS to TAH*mus) and Hanna.
When our neighbor, Mellany's learned of the well educated, on hand virtually 24 hours a day, she nearly gave me her very precocious
child prodigy to tutor. Seems Mellany's IQ tops out around 170 and had
already skipped two grades by the time we'd moved into the neighborhood, and
I swear she had designs on skipping two more. She was a holy terror to all
the teachers at the public high school her insisted she attend to
the point they hated the site of her. Mellany's very hyper and would tend to
ask question after question ad infinitum of her teachers far above and
beyond the topic of the day to the point they'd all banded together and sent
Mellany's mother, her name's Susan, a stern letter telling her to reign
her in or start answering some of Mellany's questions herself.
I mentioned Mellany's hyper. That extends to more than just intellect and
physical energy. One day, after a particularly gruelling project was on the
verge of completion, I'd flopped into bed next to my for some much
needed rest when at 10:40 at night the phone rang with Mellany on the other
end with some question or other about the chemical bonds in a crystalline
solid. I told her I had no idea, but if she wanted to come around tomorrow,
I was sure I could punch something up for her on my workstation. It was at
that moment that I realized that I'd never seen her sleep. She'd never
talked about sleep or dreams. I'd never seen her bed or pajamas or anything.
I had no physical evidence the ever had any down time.
I also mentioned libido extraordinaire. In otherwords, hypersexxed. Some
people call it being an early bloomer. I call it nymphomania. For Mellany,
if it wasn't coming out of a book, it was coming out of her. All the did was think about learning and thing about sex. If she wasn't reading a
book, she had her hand up her skirt fondling herself. I actually had to read
up about nymphomania to prove to myself that I wasn't just imagining this
hot little bod coming on to me.
I don't know how the topic was first broached between us, but I was soon
privy to the fact that Mellany's wet almost all the time. I assume that's
the reason she seems to always be in the presence of the bottle of mineral
water, gulping pints of the stuff an hour, liquid replacement. She told me
how as far back as she can remember there hasn't been a day where she hasn't
been rubbing, stratching, petting, fondling, or masturbating herself. The 13
year itch? I chalked it up to an adolescent girl's exageration, but after a
couple of days of trying to tutor her while she couldn't sit still, I
started to believe.
She revealed to me, almost off the cuff, that she'd first taken her own
cherry at the age of 9 with the sterilized handle of one of her father's
screw drivers, and that since then she's tried all manner of phallic objects
in a vain quest to scratch that itch, but to no avail. Though she'd taken
her own cherry long ago, she swore to me that she'd never, ever been with a
boy. Most of the in her school were too oafish or stupid for her tastes,
anyway. I figured it was because she's probably concidered a nerd by the
nerds at that public school. Brainic kids tend to get that kind of
reputation, even if they have budding bodies that promise to have even
the most chaste of priests fall to their knees before it shouting, "Spank
me, mama!"
And now, she felt like she'd finally found the she wanted to experiment
with... me.
"Mellany, I'm happily with a great sex life. I actually enjoy sex
with my wife. Do you know how unusual that is for a in the `90's? No,
I'm not screwing up my marriage for you."
"Oh come on. I know you wanna. You've been looking at me with those lustful
eyes all the time. We've discussed this before-"
"Yeah, once or twice, in theory."
"And now the theory's all in place and it's time to run a little experiment.
Come on, Tom. I know you'd be the best thing for me." Mellany's wet, hot
crotch still glistened in the light of my living room, and having sat still
for more than 30 seconds allowing me to soak it in with my eyes as a visual
snare, Mellany finally had to do something about it. Dropping the hem of her
skirt above her waist to leave herself exposed, she ran the fingers of her
right hand through the vaginal secretions on her inner right thigh,
collected them on her puffy public mons and began to lightly stroke her
delicately curved labia majora hedonisticly in front of me.
Now, up until this point, I'd had no illusions that Mellany wasn't just
interested in me for my mind. I was there ostensibly as her tutor. I'd even
accepted it happily when she'd added sex ed to the curriculum, I just wasn't
quite ready to be her lab partner. Unfortunately, she knew my gravest
weakness.
I'm a child lover. Please, not a disgusting pedophile. Not a child molester,
not a child abuser, not a child rapist, and certainly not a child murderer.
I simply find myself physically attracted to teenage and prepubescent
girls. only, not boys. I'm a confirmed heterosexual and not even
bi-curious. Although the physical attraction aspect is far outshadowed by
the raw human drive to reproduce, my being physically attracted to girls is just one reason Hanna and I were trying so hard to make a baby
ourselves, that fatherhood would quell my secret desire.
My desire for girls, Mellany in particular, doesn't really run to the
sexual, although that is usual where it ends up. It's just a general
pleasantness exuded by the fresh female form that makes me want to be near
them. As far as wanting to have sex with them, yes, I want that to, but I
want it to be consentual. I want it to be at least as pleasurable for her as
it might be for me. I had no doubts that Mellany got more pleasure from
merely walking from the kitchen to the living room than I did, let alone
making the beast with two backs.
The twin ideas of having sex with a who later regreted the
experience as horrible and of being arrested for statutory rape tended to
keep my pecker in my pocket, moreso the former than the latter. But right
now, the heady scent coming off of Mellany's creamy white thighs and
screaming sensuality were working on my head, just like she knew they would.
"What is it you want from me, Mellany? What is it you want me to do?"
"I want you to get naked and plant *your* tool right here," she said still
stroking her moist labia lasciviously. "I want my days of using screwdrivers
to be over."
My resolve was weakening. This was one of my most deeply held fantasies made
flesh and blood.
"I think there's something you should know first, something I haven't told
you yet in all of our discussions of sex. I'm not very well endowed."
It was absolutely true. I'm secure enough in my masculinity to admit to
being slightly below average in the package department. At 4 1/2", 5" if I
stretch it, erect, I was certainly no Rod Jeremy, and at about 1" in
diameter, I didn't expect to send any porn queens into ecstasy with it, but
all cliches are true. It's not the size of the bat, it's how you swing it.
"I think there's something you should know. I don't care." And to punctuate
her statement, the lithe thing took first her left foot and then her
right foot and placed them behind head, jutting her bright pink out
all the more lewdly. She was just sitting there, this vision of lust, on my
couch, leaking secretions through her skirt all over the fabric.
'What the hell you thinking about furniture coverings for at a time like
this, fool? Do her!' my mind screamed at me.
At the very least, my arms listened and in 2.5 seconds, I'd stripped off my
t-shirt and sweats to stand there naked except for my socks. I never wore
any underwear, regardless the reason. I just deemed them an unnecessary
nusciance. At that point, my brain cut in again to try to stop me, and I
just stood there in front of Mellany's well lubed lovebox. I'd probably
still be standing there today if a sound from Mellany's throat hadn't roused
me from my thoughtful pause.
"Ooo, pink!"
And I was. Just as a matter of preference, I keep my entire crotch cleanly
shaven. That combined with the lust rising up in me had made my entire
crotch glow nearly as pink as Mellany's puffy, labia. My dick was still
semi-erect and jutting out only about 2", but the entire glans was covered
in a film of my own secretions. My balls usually ride high in my
scrotum. Perhaps it was the heat of the mid-summer's day in the south, but
they felt like they were dangling between my knees.
A few more coos from Mellany helped coax my memeber to its full 4.5" glory
(Hey, it's glorious to me and that's all that matters!), which in turn
coaxed more gutteral sounds from her. Small, though it may be, my member
gets just as hard as any other when properly provoked, and right now, I
felt like I had a concrete pillar jutting out from my loins and seminal
fluids leaking from the tip almost as readily as Mallany had her own fluids
flowing. All resolve drained from my body, or maybe it was just the blood
from my head, but I immediately sank to my knees, which put the head of my
cock just inches from Mellany's hot, wet, sticky, engorged, spread cunt.
"One last chance to back out."
"Not on your life, plowboy. Plow on!"
And plow her I did, and well to. With our combined lubricants, I could barely
tell that I'd entered her at all, until the heat and tightness of her
steaming twat registered in my lust fogged mind. 'I'm not a smart man, but I
know what sex is,' ran through my mind. 'And this is it!' I responded to
myself. My diminuative girth and Mellany's barely pubescent sex fit like a
hand in a glove, or maybe a dick in a really is the best analogy here.
After a few strokes in her deliciously hot, moist cunt, my entire crotch was
just as covered with slick, clear lube as was hers. Our mutual secretions
were running down from our union to completely coat and drip off of my balls.
We fit so well that when I was entirely in her, out pubic bones matched up
almost perfectly. I could feel her clitoris being pinched against the skin at
the base of my shaft on every stroke. I have no idea how many orgasms she
might have had during this entire encounter. I neglected to count. All I
could feel were the mind shattering sensations coming from our coitus and
worked to highten them even though I already felt like I was on the top of
the world.
All of Mellany's years of sexual play must have really toned her vaginal
muscles because they were squeezing and stroking and my dick on
every stroke like no mouth ever could. The ultraslick walls of Mellany's
vagina pulsated and rippled around my shaft and I knew I wouldn't be able to
hold out with her as long as I did with Hanna. The very air around my head
seemed to glow a pale yellow as my orgasm neared. I felt like if I could
just leave my cock up this horny little girl's forever, I'd be the
happiest on the planet.
Finally, stroke after delicious stroke, pelvis grinding against pelvis in a
hot, wet dance, I felt the bubbling cauldron in my scrotum boiling up
through my dick, and I drove my shaft as deeply into her channel as I could
drive it, with nearly all my weight pressing down on what was at that point
the center of our beings. I could feel her clit smashed between our pubic
bones and hoped I wasn't hurting her. I came in a few violent squirts of
jism into her belly. Each individual jet of my seed was wrapped in a shudder
by Mellany as she could feel my ejaculate filling her lovebox.
It was only after I came down from my ejaculatory high that I realized
Mellany'd been moaning and whimpering in ecstasy all along, and quite loudly
to. When I get wrapped up in my work, I tend to shut out the rest of the
world. The only input I had gotten from Mellany had been the data collected
through my probe, and that was just as to how I was doing. If I sensed she
liked a certain technique, I tried that same stroke as many times as
possible. This was my generic technique for discovering how to hit a woman's
g-spot as often as possible. I thought I'd found Mellany's, but wouldn't be
sure until we'd both regained the power of speach.
I also realized what we'd been doing with our hands during all of this. We'd
been holding our hands clasped together palm to palm. My left hand holding
her right, my right, her left. We'd been using our grip on each other to
steady ourselves and as a form of sexual combat. With Mellany's feet still
behind her head, she needed a way to guarantee that she wasn't going to tip
over during the act. And by holding hands, we could sort of caress one
another in the sensual movements our arms made together.
Having shot my wad deep into her and both of us panting like cheetahs
after a chase, I slowly slid part of my 5" protuberance out of her sopping
cunny. When about half way out, I got an idea to extend our love making a
few moments more and drove just as slowly back in. I continued this
excrutiatingly slow post-orgasmic stroking for nearly two minutes, milking
every last drop of from my dick and driving even more out from around
our union. Several thick, gooey globs of mixed with clear lubricants had
leaked under pressure from Mellany's tight slit to run down into the crack
of her ass with the rest of her emissions and down my scrotum to drip onto
the carpet.
I was getting hard again, but knew I'd never survive another fucking like
that and just wanted to finish the job properly. Mellany on the other hand
had at least two more orgasms before I finally pulled my covered organ
from her still pulsating slit. I watched her for a moment as her lovebox
remained open still groping for my cock to return. It was an incredible
sight to behold, that of a openly begging to be filled again.
"That was great. Can we do it again?" Mellany was the first to speak.
"Only if you're trying to kill me."
"Oh," Mellany moaned, but I was already rising back to my feet.
Mellany released her legs from behind her head and slowly returned her feet
to the floor.
I walked to the kitchen to wet a hand towel to clean our mutual lubricants
off of myself.
"Maybe we *should* get cleaned up. In the mood for nice, hot shower?"
Hellany's voice grew very husky at the word "hot."
"No!" I came jogging, almost running, back from the kitchen. "Last thing I
need is for you to be coming out of the shower with nothing but a towel
wrapped around your head while Hanna comes in the front door from a hard
day's work. Nothing like discovering your husband had been engaged in a day
of hot, monkey love with a school to guarantee a short and painful
life."
Wiping the last bit of our spend from my balls, I tossed the towel into
Mellany's lap for her to use. She wiped her thighs down and then attempted
to get the stains out of her skirt, soon dispairing of being able to
leave my house in a presentable manner.
I got back into my t-shirt and sweats and went to get the water broom.
Mellany helped me straighten up the sofa and clean the coushins before I
helped her collect her books and show her to the door.
"How about next time you come over you have a real school project to work
on... from a book."
"Oh, I will," she said, cupping my balls through my sweats. "Next week, they
start teaching the sex ed curriculum." Giving me her patented toothy grin,
she showed me the back of her head as she walked out my door.
'They'll be teaching?' I thought. 'I wonder who could teach that kid
something new about sex.'
--
FF98
"Don't knock masturbation; It's sex with someone you love." -- Woody Allen
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