Archive-name: First/angie1.txt

Archive-author: 

Archive-title: Angela - 1





     She was nine when I moved in, a spidery little kid, all gawky and 

self-conscious as only a city kid can be. And she was bright and sweet 

and unaffected. She was the landlord's daughter, and the fact that such 

a neat kid would be in my new apartment building was one reason I took 

the place.

     The trouble started three years later.



     "Hi. This is Angie."

     (As if I might not recognize her voice. Sure, she'd been less 

likely to spend time chatting with the old guy on the fourth floor in 

the last year -- especially the last few months -- but that was okay. 

And her voice was immediately recognizable, nonetheless.)

     "I have to do this paper for school on volcanoes and  I  was

wondering if it would be okay if I looked at some of the books you have."

     (She knew about the book collection, because she'd seen it.)

     "So, like, if it's no hassle, let me know when you get a chance, 

okay? The paper is due Monday. Thanks."

     (I was listening to the recording on my answering machine on 

Thursday night.)

     On my way out the next morning, I slid a note under the door of the 

owner's apartment saying Saturday, around noon, would be fine. My Main 

Squeeze was out of the country on vacation and if Angie needed more time 

or help, Saturday would be no problem. 

     I made a mental note to clean up the place when I got home from 

work Friday night -- I like to sleep in on Saturdays -- so it would be 

presentable when Angie came up to raid the books. I had several books 

on volcanology -- it fascinated me when I was in my twenties -- as well 

as the encyclopedia (Britannica). 

     In truth, I was delighted that I had stuff that could help a good, 

bright kid get a solid grade. Really. That was it. I mean -- sure, the 

baby fat was melting away and a very pretty girl was emerging, but she 

was still very much A Kid, so nothing else occurred to me.

     This is, I was later to learn, a sign of encroaching senility.





     Saturday afternoon, 12:10 p.m., there's a knock at the door. I'm 

mostly awake. I've had two cups of The Elixir of Life (a.k.a., "coffee") 

and a bowl-and-a-half of Borkum Riff. This is as awake as I should ever 

*have* to be at ten after noon on a Saturday.

     Angie. Telling me how much she appreciates my help and  many

promises not be a problem and cute as can be in her HUGE oversized 

sweatshirt and spray-on Gitanos. I note -- not being dead -- that she 

has a very cute and sexy and well-formed butt inside that denim and tell 

myself that somewhere out there in Brooklyn, Queens or the rest of the 

Tri-State Metropolitan Area, there is an incredibly lucky 12-  or

13-year-old boy who doesn't know that this butt has his name on it -- or 

will.

     I simply smiled and told her of my genuine pleasure at her use of 

the books and pointed to the living room, which is where the Library 

Wall lives and lived. For myself, I planned to finish that second pipe-

bowl and drink more coffee. Lot's of More Coffee. (This is a prescribed 

response to going out for "a couple" of beers with journalist-friends on 

Friday night.) I suggested she open the windows wide, if she liked, 

since it was a typical Weird April and the temperature was already near 

75 degrees, and the smell of the pipe might bother her.

     "Oh, I really like the way it smells!" 

     Which is one of the reasons I like kids. They think pipes are neat, 

usually. They are fascinated by the little rituals of the pipe -- the 

packing with rich, savory tobacco, the careful double-lighting, the 

tamping of the tobacco. 

     Angie started with the Brit-3 (logical) and soon had four volumes 

scattered on the floor. I went on-line and picked up some  E-Mail

packets. While I was downloading, I refilled the More Coffee Cup. Came 

back in and started answering mail, then looked up to find her watching 

me. Great big hazel eyes and sun-lightened hair falling in riotous curls 

around her rounded, pretty face. Very pretty face. Looking at Angie, it 

was easy to understand why the first Spaniards in the New World had been 

smitten by the Aztec women (Angie's folks are from Ecuador and Puerto 

Rico). 

     "What's up?"

     "The encyclopedia is great, but we're not supposed to just use one 

book or encyclopedia."

     "No problem." I stood and padded, barefoot, behind her into the 

living room. Barely 12, Angie was small even for that -- maybe 4-foot-6 

-- and not even the luscious twitching of her butt in the Gitanos could 

dispel the awareness that she was a kid. A smart, pretty -- maybe even 

sexy -- kid. But a kid. I kept telling myself that as I stood, towering 

behind her, in front of the stacks and pulled books for her. I had 

several on volcanology, tectonic plates and morphology. 

     In the meantime, volumes of Brit-3 were scattered all over the 

living room floor, with a liberal leavening of pages from her notebook 

covered with semi-legible scrawls. 

     Naturally, though she was supposed to do the research and writing 

on the paper, it took a good -- oh, fifteen minutes before I  was

crawling around the living room floor with her, finding and marking 

passages that would be useful and relevant.

     Crawling around on the floor is precisely when the trouble started. 

I was just riffling the pages of THE HOLE IN THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA 

(about Project MoHo) for a useful explanatory section when I looked up 

and found myself confronted with her jean-clad butt. She was crouched 

over something else, reading, but as she read she was moving that cute, 

round little ass in small circles.

     I was wearing an old sweatshirt and a pair of nine-year-old jeans 

and nothing else. Seeing her hard little ass, the way the denim of the 

jeans crept between her cheek and the split of her cunt and -- oddly, 

most of all -- the little line of bare flesh just above her waist, where 

her shirt had crept up...well, it was instant, embarrassing boner time.

     This was a KID, fer cryin' out loud!

     I cleared my throat and said, "Angie, please sit on the couch or 

something."

     "Huh?"

     "Waving your butt in front of my face is a bit awkward for me." 

(Yes, I really do talk that. Sue me.)

     Now she leaned her head back and turned to look at me over her 

shoulders, hazel eyes bright with mischief and mirth. "What's the matter, 

Dave? Too hot for ya?" She wiggled for effect.

     "That -- and too young. Stop it."

     She arched her back and swiveled her butt still more. "You mean 

this? Or what?"

     "Or I'll take a great big bite out of your ass."

     She giggled and flashed me a Dare You look and thrust her butt back 

at me.

     I reached out with both hands, grabbed her denim-clad hips, leaned 

forward and bit lightly on her right cheek. Very lightly, since the 

denim was tight and her ass flesh was tighter, leaving no excess to grip.

     Angie squealed and shivered slightly, so I bit the other butt-cheek.

     "Ooooh -- you'll never get me to stop that way!"

     I squeezed her hips and she shivered again. "Maybe the jeans are 

too tight," she said and I heard a click -- followed by a zzzzzip! The 

jeans loosened. Then they began to slide down.

     "What the hell -- stop it, Angie!"

     "Uh-uh. I know what I'm doing and I know what I want." Jeans still 

sliding -- pink rayon was coming into view -- and her voice suddenly 

softer and huskier.

     "What do you want?"

     "What your girlfriends get that makes them moan and scream so loud 

that I can hear them down in my bedroom."

     Shit. I'd thought that with the window and drapes closed and the 

pillow as a muffler, the cries wouldn't be audible -- certainly not all 

the way down the airshaft to the second floor bedroom of an over-sexed, 

barely pubescent pre-teen.

     "And you think you're ready for this?"

     The jeans reached the back of her thighs. There was a growing wet 

spot in the tight crotch of the tight pink panties (which had a little 

yellow heart on one side). She was certainly ready physically.

     "You bet my ass, I'm ready," she murmured.

     "Convince me." My hands trembled as I took them off her lithe, 

rounded little hips.

     "How?"

     I knelt up straight and she turned to sit on that cut butt, staring 

at me as she skinned the jeans the rest of the way off.

     "Go into my bedroom, take off your clothes, lay on the bed and 

masturbate."

     She frowned.

     "What -- "

     "I'll come in and watch you. If you're ready for this, then you 

sure as hell won't mind me seeing you rub yourself."

     She stood slowly, knees quivering. "Promise?"

     I nodded. She nodded back, then stepped around me, shapely young 

legs flashing inches from my eyes, and headed for my bedroom. 

     I stayed there for a long five minutes, contemplating what I was 

getting into. Something too young, yet obviously mature enough to know 

what she wanted. My cock, however, was contemplating only one thing and 

it won the debate.

     Slowly, I stood and went into the bedroom. She lay atop the covers, 

naked, eyes closed, one hand moving between her rounded thighs, the 

other toying with the small mounds of her breasts and the stiff little 

spikes of her nipples. Her hips were rocking slightly and the aroma of 

her juices was rich in the room.

     She opened her eyes and slowly focused on me. "You promised..."

     I shucked my clothes quickly. She watched avidly. I stretched out 

next to her on the bed. "Have you done this before?"

     "With a boy? No."

     "It'll hurt, the first time."

     "No it won't. I had an accident on a bike a long time ago." Her 

eyes unfocused and she moaned. Her hand was moving faster between her 

legs. "Pleease, don't make me wait..."

     I leaned down and kissed her soft, sweet lips. She may not have 

fucked before, but she sure as hell had done some practicing kissing. 

Her lips were demanding and her tongue was expert and she savored the 

kiss as much as I did. When I finally broke it off, I started kissing 

the line of her jaw, then her ears and finally started working down over 

her soft throat and chest. 

     Her hand went to the back of my head, guiding my mouth to her 

little tits. They were unbelievably sweet and vulnerable, so small and 

fresh. Her skin was smooth and very, very firm. Her nipples were hot and 

when she felt me take on into her mouth, gently sucking and  then

tonguing, she gasped and pulled my face down fiercely onto her young 

boob. 

     At the same time, I moved one hand down over her belly, caressing 

her abdomen and hips and thighs. She was short enough that I could 

easily reach all the way down her constantly moving legs to her taut 

calves. When my fingertips trailed up the inside of one quivering thigh, 

she gasped and hunched down at my hand. I evaded.

     "C'mon, c'mon, touch me..." she moaned. "Make me get over!"

     My lips followed the trail blazed by my wandering hand. She had 

both hands on my head, fingers twined in my hair as my lips descended 

first on one hip, then the other. I trailed my tongue down to the 

unlined crease of her thigh and traced it almost to her pussy. The 

fragrance was incredible -- clean and rich and sweet. 

     She opened her thighs wider and tried to trap my head between them. 

I used both hands to hold them apart as I repositioned myself between 

her legs, belly down and ready for lunch.

     There wasn't a hair on her mound and the tiny  slit,  though

glistening, was pink and swollen. Her clitoris, fully engorged, protruded 

cleanly above the petite labia. 

     I blew softly across the tightly pressed lips and she gasped loudly 

and tried to drag my mouth onto her. I let her win  that  one  --

gradually. I licked the tip of my tongue around  and  around  the

compressed lips of her fledgling cunt and only slowly drew the spirals 

in.

     When I pressed my tongue flat against her cunt and licked slowly 

up, she began to hump at me and grunt rhythmically. When the tip of my 

tongue caught the underside of her swollen clit, she began to moan -- 

loudly. And when I finally flicked over her tiny trigger. She whined and 

came. And she came hard, grinding her cunt down on my mouth so I could 

feel her pulsing.

     I worked my hands under butt and grabbed -- and covered -- one 

perfect cheek with each hand. I held her up to my mouth and let my 

tongue go nuts on her. She came again and then again, her whines getting 

louder and more prolonged and sometimes almost intelligible words. I ate 

her for as long as I could stand it.

     There was one more step to get her completely caught up in her own 

lusts, though. I withdrew my hands from under her clenching little ass 

and placed one finger at the entrance of her cunt. Slowly, carefully, I 

pried open her lips and found the tiny opening. She was unbelievably 

wet, but also unbelievably tight. And hot.

     As I kept licking at her, I rotated my hand and eased my finger 

inside her, palm up. Her cunt clenched on my finger and she emitted a 

soft scream of pleasure as she rammed her hips down onto the digit. She 

immediately started a fucking motion, pausing ever few seconds to cum 

again -- holding her self all the way down and contracting her cunt 

violently on my finger.

     I moved the fingertip inside her and put my other hand on her 

abdomen, just above her bare little pubis. I pushed down with the hand 

and felt the swollen, pulsing bundle of nerves on the upper part of her 

vagina with the inserted finger -- and began massaging.

     "OH SHIT!" she screamed and then she really  began  cumming.

Uncontrollable spasms of pleasure wracked her small body. Her scream was 

suddenly muffled -- she had grabbed a pillow for the purpose -- but 

intensified in strength and tone as I continued to massage her G-spot 

and lick her swollen clitoris. Her belly muscles rippled and her cunt 

spasmed wildly, milking the finger, as she came. 

     I kept it up for a few more minutes and she never so much as paused 

in her orgasms. When I finally withdrew the finger and stopped the oral 

ministrations, she lay tensed and still cumming on the bed. After a few 

seconds, she calmed to an occasional shudder of pleasure and limply 

pushed the pillow off her face. Her eyes were wet and her cheeks were 

damp. There was a small spot of blood on her lower lip where she had 

bitten it.

     She managed to focus her open, crazed eyes on me as I knelt between 

her legs. Her lips moved, but no words came out at first. She swallowed 

loudly and finally whispered, "I never imagined I could get over like 

that! I feel like it's still happening!" She sounded amazed. "How did 

you learn to *do* that?"

     "Extensive research and all the practice I could get. Ready for 

part two?"

     I shuffled forward on my knees between her shaking thighs, old Mr. 

Pecker leading the way.

     "I don't want to get pregnant..." she whispered.

     "Vasectomy."

     "But I don't want to, you know, catch anything."

     "Tested and cleared for all diseases. Relax, Angie; do you really 

think I'd take a chance with either?"

     She shook her head slightly. "No, it's just last-minute jitters."

     I reached down to slide one finger over her tiny pussy and she 

shook again. 

     "Get in me, please," she whispered, eyes closing, legs opening and 

raising toward me.

     I leaned over her and guided my prick to the vulnerable little slit 

and was suddenly beset with doubts. She was so small! Even my average-

size cock looked too big for her labia, let alone the tiny opening I 

knew was inside. 

     But as soon as the knob was against her, she began swiveling those 

narrow hips, with their meager traces of lingering baby-fat, trying to 

screw her cunt onto my dick. Her legs went around my waist and she 

started humping herself up at me.

     I worked my glans into the grip of her tiny pussy lips, the put my 

hand under tautly upturned little ass. I pressed into her gently, 

rotating my hips to find the angle and the opening.

     Suddenly, she groaned out an "Uh-huh! Uh-huh!" and pulled at me 

fiercely. I took this as a hint and pressed harder and felt an unreal 

constriction begin at the head of my cock. Bit by tortuous bit, I was 

sliding into her, the tiny pussy hard and tight around me. The knob 

suddenly was all the way into the miniature opening and we both groaned.

     She looked up at me and asked, "Is it all the way in?" Then she 

looked down and saw there was plenty more. "Oh, damn, more-more-more..." 

She began bucking her hips up at me while her hands came up around my 

neck. She was trying to pull me into her and pull her onto me. I did my 

best to help. 

     Slowly, so very damned slowly, I sank into her a little more, then 

pulled back and pushed again. I saw her tiny, swollen pussy  lips

stretched thin around my shaft. Her cunt lips seemed to implode each 

time I pressed into her. She seemed to be loosening inside, but not a 

hell of a lot. 

     When three-quarters of my dick was buried in her, I pulled back 

almost all the way -- and pounded into her as hard as I could. Once. It 

must have taken fifteen seconds, but I finally got all the way into her. 

I felt something inside her lurch against the end of my constricted cock 

and she gasped as her pussy was pushed deep enough to take all of me. I 

felt her petite pubis against the bony ring at the base of my cock and I 

ground against her -- and then felt her cunt begin spasming.

     It was like rings of muscle rippling the length of my dick. It felt 

like her cunt was sucking at me. I knew I wasn't going to last long in 

this little twat's grip. I began working my dick back and forth in her 

taking it out halfway, then pressing back in and tightening my muscles 

to make my dick twitch inside her at its deepest. 

     Slowly, she began rocking in motion with me and then she started 

rocking and rolling, her hips pumping demandingly. The moans began again 

and quickly became soft screams. I handed her the pillow and  she

clutched it to her face and started wailing again. 

     "I want to get really deep in you, Angie," I said as I pumped her. 

"Really deep."

     She howled into the pillow.

     I paused and untangled her legs. With my dick still locked halfway 

into her, I shifted her legs and repositioned her on her side, with me 

straddling one small thigh. I pulled her other, upper knee up till her 

thighs was against her abdomen. I could feel her tighten and shorten on 

my cock. I reached between her legs with one hand and put my palm over 

that magic spot just above her pubis. With the other hand, I pressed her 

cheeks, right over her tiny anus. Then I picked her up in my hands and 

began ramming.

     Her screams this time were purely animal as she came and came. I 

was holding her off the bed and fucking her up and down on my cock as I 

jack-hammered my hips at her. Her legs and arms were completely limp and 

whenever she paused for breath in her screaming, I could hear her tiny 

pussy sucking at my pistoning cock. She was cumming non-stop, now, 

completely possessed by orgasm, and when I finally slipped the tip of my 

index finger into her little asshole, she lost it. Her limp arms and 

legs quivered uncontrollably and her cunt seemed to be in one, long 

spasm. I could feel the contractions through her belly, as well as on my 

cock and the butt-reaming finger.

     My balls tightened and the buzz spread through my crotch. My dick 

swelled in her and I jammed it to the limits and held it there. Her 

tightness squeezed me so much that I came in one prolonged, almost 

agonizingly restricted stream. She screamed all the louder and tried to 

hunch herself harder against me, as if to seal me inside her frantic 

pussy. It felt like she was siphoning the cum out of me, and  the

admixture of her juices and my hot semen was bathing my  cock  in

sensations I'd never known before.

     When the last of it was out of my cock, she was still grinding 

against me, getting the last pleasures as my dick very, very slowly 

receded inside her. I lowered her hips gently to the  now-rumpled

bedcovers and slowly withdrew my finger from her newly violated back 

door. I removed the pillow and carefully shifted until she was stretched 

out on her side, in the cradle of my arms. We nestled like spoons, my 

cock still trapped in her twitching little pussy. I leaned over and 

kissed her ear and the side of her face. Her cheeks were wet and she was 

sobbing. With each sob, her cunt contracted on me and her belly rippled 

under the hand cradling it; I knew they were sobs of pleasure.

     "You are so beautiful and sexy," I murmured. "And you made me feel 

fantastic. That was so beautiful, seeing and feeling you cumming like 

that. I love it."

     "I never knew..." she began. "I feel totally wasted, yet, still 

like, buzzed, you know? Is it -- do you always make it feel so good all 

those ways?"

     "I try, baby, I try. And there are a lot more ways."

     "Yeah, and I want 'em all."

     "With you on top of me and sucking each other at the same time --"

     "I want to learn how to do that with my mouth, make you feel that 

good."

     "Sounds good to me. And there's other openings, too."

     "I never knew it could feel so good to have something in my ass! 

Wouldn't it hurt to have a dick up there?"

     "It shouldn't, if we do it slowly, and carefully, and gently -- 

would you like that?"

     "I want to try it. Would you like it?"

     My cock lurched inside her at the thought. She clenched down on me 

and giggled softly. "Yeah, I guess you would..."

     "But right now, we cuddle. And then we finish your paper."

     "Oh, I finished it Tuesday -- when I knew my folks would be away 

this weekend and your girlfriend would still be out of town."

     "You planned this? Like that?"

     She turned her bright, womanly, lovely 12-year-old face to me and 

smiled hazily. "What do you think, lover?"

     I kissed her and we softly dozed off together, wrapped up in each 

other's arms and closeness.



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