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Emma looked at me with her big, bright, innocent eyes. It almost felt too easy, now that everything was done. It had not always been that way — it was the results of years of careful work, meticulously planned since I had first laid my eyes on her, back when she was just a kid I had been asked to babysit like any good neighbor would. I just knew, at that time, looking at what a cute little girl she was, that she would blossom into true beauty. And that I had to make sure that beauty would be mine.
I was greatly helped by her overworked parents: I was always there to help when she had to come home from school, to assist with homework, to keep an eye on her when they weren’t there… All with their benediction. After all, who wouldn’t like to have someone they can trust to avoid their kid being alone? Some enterprising young teen, ready to give a hand to his neighbors, always polite, always helpful.
We quickly developed a good relationship, with Emma. As I watched her grow, I became a fixture in her life, sought to be someone she could tell every and anything. And confide she did! Oh, of course, hearing about the petty school stories of seven years olds was pretty boring, but as time passed and she started to trust me, she told me more. Her doubts, her fears, her hopes. I was there to receive them. And when the topics slowly started to change, when playground feuds began to morph into abashed interrogations about love and life and her classmates, I was more than happy to listen and help her navigate these.
It had all led to this moment. My sweet Emma, just entering her teenage years, sitting next to me on the couch while we idly watched some Netflix crap, candidly asking me when I first had sex. She was taller now, though still smaller than I, her face had lost part of its childlike plumpness, and her curves would soon start to show. As I had envisioned, her body had developed beautifully, and her naiveté was making her all the more desirable. With the way she had adorably blushed when asking her question, it was no wonder my cock was already hard.
“Why do you ask?”
“Come on, answer the question,” she pouted. She made an effort of not looking at me, a gesture I knew was just a sign of her embarrassment.
“Only if you tell me why you want to know.”
She hesitated, and I could tell she mulled over my words in the way she frowned. Her breath was just a bit short, each inhalation puffing her little chest. She finally came to a decision, cut the TV, and turned to face me. “It’s… the guys, at school… They’ve started to brag about it…”
“Oh, Emma…” I tried for a comforting hand on her shoulder. She didn’t flinch at the touch. “They’re lying, you know.” All guys lied about sex in middle school, though her classmates were certainly being precocious about it, to start the bragging at that early age. “Even I had to wait until high-school for that.”
“But…” She did not look at me in the eyes. “Some other girls have also said they had.”
Kids these days. Ah, but what matter, it did work in my favor, didn’t it? “Do they?” A curt nod. “And that bothers you, I assume?”
“It’s… they make it sound so good…”
“Oh, so they’re actually describing it to you?”
“Well…” Our eyes met for the briefest of instants. Her blush came back in full force; her cheeks somehow becoming even redder. “Not… not exactly? It’s like, Stacy, she, one time she just…” She was gesturing frantically, like she always did when she was telling a story. I could not lift my eyes from her small frame, not really listening to the successions of she-said-that-she-said-that-she-said. It was clear none of them actually knew what they were talking about. “…and, it was the best thing she ever felt, and that a loser like myself would never get know that.”
“Emma.” Something in my tone must have been out of the ordinary, because she instantly stopped her fidgeting to intensely stare back at me. The view of these green eyes, so genuine in their desire for knowledge, made my cock twitch in my pants. I would not have two shots at this, but she looked so eager, so desperate to belong and to be able to brag in return… “Do you actually know what sex is?”
“…I’m not sure,” she admitted, looking down to her lap.
“Do you want to know?”
Silence.
She looked startled, but not really afraid — just surprised by the proposition. She laughed nervously. “What… what do you mean?”
“Don’t you want to know,” I said, coming nearer to her, “if it’s actually the best thing a cute little girl like you can feel?” I saw her eyes open wide on the word cute, as if she was unused to the idea of being called that. We were close now, so close that our faces were practically touching. I could hear her agitated breath, see the faintest freckles on her cheekbones; hell, I could have sworn it was possible to feel her warmth. “I can help.”
Our lips touched.
It was hard to say who had closed the gap first; I wanted to think it was her, though it could very well have been an unconscious move on my part. That was unimportant. What mattered was that even if it was but a fleeting moment, an ephemeral contact whose presence was barely felt, it was enough to know that I had won.
She jerked back, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Everything’s good?”
“I… it’s,” she stammered. I tried to be as reassuring as possible, took her right hand between mines and squeezed it. “I don’t know.”
“Just breathe slowly, I promise everything will be okay.”
“Ah…” She followed my advice, closed her eyes, calmed a little. God, how delightfully innocent she looked like that… When she opened them once more, I gave her the brightest smile I could manage. She giggled softly. “So… that was kissing.”
“Well… in a way, yes.”
“It wasn’t…” She shrugged, looked somewhat dejected. “It didn’t felt like much.”
“Oh, that’s normal. That was more of… a peck.”
“Really?”
There was only one answer I could give to that. Taking the hopeful look on her face for an invitation, I reached for her anew; this time more deliberately, putting an arm behind her back. I could saw her, just before our lips touched again, close her eyes in anticipation.
Her lips were soft, full of the vague sugary taste of whatever she had been drinking before. I embraced her, pressed our bodies together, passed my hand in her hair. Her mouth was slightly opened and she, bravely, hazarded to stick out the tip of her tongue. She obviously had no idea what she what doing, but her floundering inexperience was surprisingly arousing. I could feel her make a small noise that might have been a moan in my mouth when our tongues met.
Nearly out of breath, she broke the contact. She looked flustered, her hair disheveled, her cheeks rosy. She blinked several times in quick succession, as if trying to make sure it had not been a figment of her imagination.
“So, what do you think?”
“It was, it was,” she panted, “it was… nice.”
“Only nice?” I raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t know, I feel,” she waved her hands, fanning herself, “everything feels… so warm now, and I, I…” She glanced away from me and whispered, “My belly feels all weird, all… tingly.”
“Sweetie, that’s the proof that it’s doing what it’s supposed to.”
“But it’s so weird!” She shuffled in place. “I don’t know if I want to make it go away, or if I need more of that.”
“Well…” I flashed another grin, and slipped a hand under the hem of her shirt, lightly tugging on it. “I can do both at the same time.”
She let me remove her shirt readily enough, revealing a cute, childish brassiere that wasn’t hiding very much; but she froze when I attempted to do the same with her jeans.
“I can’t show you how it feels if you don’t let me…”
“No it’s… I can’t…”
“Why not?”
“It’s…” She turned her head, quickly threw a side glance at me. She opened her mouth several times, never managing to form the words she wanted to say. “Promise me not to laugh,” she finally said in a low, mortified voice.
“Emma dear, I would never laugh at you.”
“My… down-there, it feels… wet.” I did not think I had the capability to get harder at this point, but hearing these words, hearing my sweet, sweet Emma tell me with a raging blush that she was wet certainly did the trick. “But I swear I did not pee!”
“Oh, sweetie, I know. That’s also totally normal, that’s just a thing that happens when you really…” No need in sugarcoating it at this point. “When you want to have sex.”
“Does it?” She looked back at me, unconvinced. “I want to… have sex?” She had pronounced it like the foreign concept it was for her, slowly dragging the simple syllable. “But how can I want it if I’ve never had it?”
“Your body knows; you just have to listen to it.”
I wasn’t sure that fully convinced her, but she let me resume her undressing. She wiggled to help me remove her pants which swiftly joined her shirt on the ground. I took a step back, contemplating the result, the reward for all my work: my Emma, my barely pubescent girl, lying on the couch for me in nothing but her pastel underwear. She had not lied; her panties had a small, slightly darker patch. There was no mistake possible: the sight of her pale body, of her frail form and slender limbs, the way her auburn hair framed her adorable face and the embarrassed expression she had… It was the sexiest thing I had ever seen in my entire life. It felt like I could stand there forever, complimenting all the parts of her, from her charming little toes to the juvenile roundness in her cheeks; and yet, at the same time, like I had to claim her without delay, to bury myself deep in her insides, to make her discover the feel of cock.
“W-what?”
“Nothing, I’m just… admiring you.” I touched her side, let my hand linger in a slow caress. She shivered. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.” I bent down to give her a quick kiss. She had a strange expression, split between her self-doubts and the need to believe me. “I would have to be blind not to see how exquisite you are.”
“Ex…?”
“Pretty,” I explained with another kiss, on her forehead. I reached behind her back, unclasped her bra and removed it with one swift move. She, in what I hoped was only an unthinking reflex, crossed her arms to hide herself — not that there was much to hide. “Emma?”
“It’s not fair if I’m the only one naked…”
“…I guess it is.”
I stood back and, with a speed that I almost surprised myself with, threw my own clothes on the floor, keeping only my boxers. I caught the exact moment her gaze fell on that particular part of my anatomy, because her eyes opened wide in an emotion I could not decipher; surprise, shock, fear, and maybe, just maybe, desire. Her arms fell to her sides, unveiling her chest. She wasn’t absolutely flat, but it would still be quite some time before she would have some actual breasts; yet I could not resist her small nipples standing right in the middle her perfectly round areolas. I rejoined her on the couch. Her body was warm to the touch. I tried not to lie entirely on her as to not crush her with my weight, and planted a new kiss on her lips. Before she could answer it, I had already moved, kissing her neck, her collarbone. Her skin still had the faint taste of soap. Each kiss was lower than the last, until I reached a nipple.
“Oh,” she flatly said when I took it in my mouth, playing with it, flicking my tongue around it. I hadn’t planned on sucking on her nipples at first, but the vision of these two hard nubs on her otherwise undeveloped chest was too good to pass. I nibbled on them, ever so slightly, not wanting to brutalize her, and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath.
I managed to get one more Ah! out of her before I abandoned her breasts and resumed my exploration of her body. She giggled when I touched her stomach; I did not stop there, kissing every accessible inch of her, still aiming for her nadir. I slowed down a bit when I reached the rim of her panties. The moment was somehow more serious. I looked up, crossed eyes with her. Her lips where drawn into a fine line, conflicting emotions in full display on her face. I heard her hold her breath.
I kissed her crotch, right on top of the spreading dark stain on the cloth. She gasped. The fabric was damp; gone was the smell of soap, replaced by the sharp scent of her wetness, of its saltiness. The undeniable proof of Emma’s excitation. The concept overfilled my brain; I simply grabbed her underwear and yanked it away. She had a small noise of indignation to which I paid no attention, so busy that I was basking in the glory of her pussy. She of course did not had a bush, merely a peach fuzz, an adorable collection of small hairs barely darker than her skin. It was almost unbelievable that I was finally seeing Emma’s pussy, not exactly immature but not yet adult, a thin slit between lips that arousal had made just the slightest bit pink and puffy, glistening with her slick.
I dove and met her heat, hungrily, as if it might disappear without notice. I gave an experimental lick before I spread her lips with my tongue and lapped her juices at their source without actually trying for her entrance. She tasted… words failed me. The only thing in my mind was savoring her. I explored her folds until I found her clit. It felt so small under the tip of my tongue, but as soon as I brushed it Emma’s thighs stiffened. I had one arm on her hip, securing her right against me; I moved the other back up, grasping one of her small hands, feeling her reaction in real time by how much she squeezed on it. I toyed with her, never leaving a spot without attention, slowly licking the entirety of her slit before coming back to circle her clit. She breathed harder, gasps interspersed with moans, surprisingly adult noises coming out of her small body.
“It… it feels… like… some…something is… ah!” she managed to articulate as her hips started to instinctively move, as she ground herself against my tongue in an atavistic reflex, “something is ha-happening!”
“That’s good, enjoy it!” I answered — which, given that I was eating her sweet little cunt like my life depended on it, probably sounded like fatf goff, efoy if. She did not care, could not care, as she was navigating these undoubtedly new sensations. Her movements were erratic now, her legs shivered in uncontrolled spasms, and her moans had transformed into an almost continuous whine. She was so obviously close to the edge; I sucked on her clit, trying to do my best to help her reach it.
Her body shook, suddenly; she wailed and gripped my hand with all her limited strength. Her drawn-out keen had the high-pitch of a child voice, and it was the single most erotic thing I had ever heard in my life.
With a final lick that made her shudder, I withdrew from her pussy, leaving a trail of small kisses on the inside of her thighs. I sat up, looking at her. Her eyes were unfocused, she was blinking rapidly, and her breath was very short. She seemed to come back to her senses, passed a hand in her hair.
“That… That was…” she panted. “…what was that?”
“That, Emma,” I answered, patting her head, “was your first orgasm. I hope it felt good!”
“Even better! It felt, it felt, I don’t even know, it was just, wow, like, fire, but, good, and my belly just… and everywhere in my body… it’s…”
“Well, then I guess you’re ready for the rest.”
“The rest?” She apparently realized what I meant at that instant, and put her hands in front of her mouth in a gesture of shock that might have had more impact if she had not been naked, leaking on her couch. “Do you mean…?”
“I did offer to show you what sex felt like, didn’t I?”
“I… I guess…”
I stood up, removed my dirty boxers — soiled with my own precum. Finally out of its cloth prison, my cock sprang straight. Emma’s eyes were fixated on it, her mouth just a bit agape in surprise. Her gaze flickered between it and her own crotch. She frowned.
“So that’s supposed to… to go…”
“Inside, yes.”
“But that’s never going to fit!”
“Don’t worry,” I said, though I had to admit that it would probably be a challenge. I wasn’t particularly well endowed, but she was quite small. “Your body is made for this, it has ways of… being more accepting.” I came closer to her. She sat back up. “Here, take a look at it, it’s not that intimidating.”
She was still frowning, but she did look at it. With her seated on the couch and me standing next to it, my cock was almost exactly at the height of her head. It was rock-hard and bobbed with each of my heartbeat. She took her time examining it, shifting her position a bit to see it from all angles. The image of her childish concentration over my dick was as amusing as it was arousing.
“You can touch it, if you want.”
“I don’t know…”
She did, though. Her hand was cold, or maybe it was just I that was burning, but the sudden contact made me shiver. I suppressed my groan, afraid it would frighten her.
“It’s… warm… and soft…” She squeezed. “Hard, also.” She released her grip. “But, uh, what… do I have to do something?”
“Just use your hands to move on it, back and forth.”
“Like that?”
She had put both her hands to use this time, and put all her heart into following my instructions, slowly stroking the entire length of it. It was good, albeit in a strange way — not really pleasurable in the usual sense, as she was so inexperienced and so ignorant of everything that it was barely a passable handjob; but the fact that it was Emma that had her hands on my dick, the striking contrast of her small fingers wrapped around it, the way she had her tongue out like this was just a school exercise she had to pay extra attention to was insanely hot. It made me want to reach for her pussy again, slip my fingers into her, drag these delicious sounds out of her again. I resisted the temptation: I wanted her entirely new for me, wanted my cock to be the first thing to split her open.
“Hey, Emma…”
“What? Did I do it wrong?”
“No! No, it was very good!” She beamed at that comment. “But… do you think you’re ready?”
“I…” She put her hands between her legs. Hesitated. Breathed deeply. “I think so.”
“Alright!”
She was small, I lifted her easily and repositioned her in the couch so that she would be on her back, her legs raised. It was not the most practical of positions, but it would have to do. That way, I had the best view in the world; her two holes were on full display. She looked uncertain, but her pussy wept in anticipation, and arousal had slightly spread her lips revealing parts of her pink flesh. Right below it, with no hair to obscure it, was her neat little asshole. It was enticing, tempting me to lick it, to feel of its ridges with my tongue; I had other plans for now. I took my cock in one hand, brought to oh-so-close to her, stopping right as I grazed her entrance. She twitched. I looked at her directly, luxuriating in the sensation of her wetness on the tip of my dick.
“Ready?”
She just nodded, curtly.
I pushed.
She was tight— wet, yes, which helped but so very, very tight. She inhaled sharply through her teeth but said nothing, and I pressed on. I went in as slowly as I could, gradually parting her flesh; a feeling of intense resistance being pushed away that felt as wrong as her warmth felt right. She whimpered, shut her eyes, and I thought I could even see a few tears forming at their corners. My dearest Emma was writhing in pain as my cock opened her insides, as I stretched her virgin pussy— it took an extreme effort of willpower to not explode on the spot.
Eventually, I sank my entire length inside her. I stopped moving when my pubis touched her, merely happy to feel her walls around me. It was even better than I had imagined. I knew could never go back from that intense grip, from the way her muscles seemed to ripple all around myself, from that wet heat that felt like it had been designed and molded to hold my cock.
“I’m all in, Emma.”
“Ah…” She had a sigh of relief. “It… it feels so strange…”
“You’re so beautiful,” I dropped without even thinking. “So fucking pretty with my cock inside you.”
“Your… your cock…” She blushed again, though I felt like her embarrassment came more from the use of a naughty word than by the fact that said cock was currently spreading her virgin lips wide, ever so slightly bulging her smooth young skin forward. I knew I should give her a bit of time to get used to the sensation before moving, but she took the initiative, raised her head to admire the sight of our parts intertwined. She moved her hands to her stomach, running her fingers across it, probing curiously where she could feel it. Heaven was real, and it was here, in the form of an immature cunt so tightly wrapped around my cock that I could feel her finger pushing her walls.
“You okay?”
“I… I’m not sure…”
I cautiously began to move. I went slowly, just testing the waters, going back until only the head of my dick was in her; and then, just as slowly, entered her again. Her face scrunched up. Again, almost out, then in, out, in… Each new back-and-forth felt easier than the previous. She was still deliciously snug, but was getting drenched. She let out a cute little Ah! when I bottomed out. That was encouraging; all that was left was trying to find a good rhythm.
“You feel so good…” I was trying to feel tender in my compliments, though it sounded extremely lustful. That was probably more representative of my mental state as I enjoyed the sound of our bodies slapping against each other.
“It… Ah, it feels… ah…”
Content in the fact that it was pleasurable enough for her to not be able to form coherent sentences, I just relaxed a focused on the pleasure building in my dick, the feeling of moving in and out of that tight little thing almost unbearable. I knew I would not be able to last very long, not in these circumstances, not with the insanely obscene wet sounds echoing in the room, not with the concerto of inarticulate noises she was making as I plowed into her. I had to hold, though. I had promised to show her how sex could be the best thing she’d ever felt, and I intended to deliver.
“God, Emma, I’m fucking you,” I could not help but groan, as if vocalizing the situation made it more real somehow.
“Y-yo-you are…”
“You’re so cute when you’re feeling good…”
“I…ah, I…” I tried to sync my thrusts with her breathing. “It’s so… good…”
I reveled in that feeling of satisfaction, that strange mix where I was no longer able to say if my pleasure came from the base physical act or the knowledge that it was my cock that was inside Emma, that I was the cause for these moans I could not have imagined she was able to make, that I was making a woman out of this kid I had seen grow. It was both, and neither, and my mind was just blank, every twitch of her muscles and every noise bringing me closer to the edge and I could sense that familiar feeling in my balls, it was coming, it…
“Emma, I’m going to…!”
“G-going to..? AH! It-it’s ha-happening aga—”
Her climax took her before she could finish her sentence. She shook, just like when I ate her out, a full-body spasm she could only ride with a soundless cry, her eyes closed and her head back. Her pussy quivered with her orgasm, the arrhythmic contractions of her walls finally undoing me.
I came harder than I had ever came in my life, with a primal groan that I could no more control than I could stop the flows of cum. I was filling Emma up with my loads, filling her still infertile womb to the brim, her tiny hole throbbing and squeezing me dry, my mind entirely numb.
A minute passed, or maybe an hour, before I stopped seeing stars and pulled out of her, drawing a small whine of protest. I observed the aftermath of that incredible pleasure: my dearest Emma, no longer a kid but not yet an adult, lying on a couch, naked, sweaty and out-of-breath and her cheeks red from the effort, her nipples perking on her flat chest, globs of semen slowly pouring from her sore pussy and staining the fabric.
“So,” I said, trying to sound as matter-of-factly as possible given the situation, “that was sex.”