Date: Mon, 12 Jun 2017 18:00:41 +0000 (UTC) From: Misty Meadow Subject: Lessons for a Little Lover Lessons for a Little Lover by Misty Meadow When I was eight years old, my sister taught me to masturbate. She was two years older than I and one summer afternoon, upstairs in our room , I was playing horsey with her. You know what I mean. She was lying on the end of the bed, her feet on the floor and I was astride her thigh. She was bouncing it up and down, creating a lovely feeling in my tummy. "This feels so good," I whispered to her. "Ride the horsey, ride the horsey!" she said, pumping her thigh even more vigourously. After a while, her leg grew tired and she rolled me on to my back on the bed. My dress was all bunched up round my waist, but at that age I didn't care if my knickers were showing. "I know how good that feels," she said, lying back and propping herself up on one elbow, looming over me, "but there's a way to feel much better." "How?" "Lie still and don't move." I lay there, having perfect trust in her. She gripped the elastic at the front of my knickers and tugged it upwards. "Look, a perfect camel toe." "What's a camel toe?" "See how your knickers crease into your cunt?" I loved it when she talked dirty. "It shows of the shape of it, and if your knickers were wet, it'd be like you weren't wearing any. Later we'll look at pictures of camels on the internet and you'll see what I mean." She ran a finger up the crease, making me tingle. "Now I'm gonna take your knickers off." This was fun. I lifted my hips and let her slide them down my legs and off my feet. She bunched them up, pressed them to her face and sniffed deeply. I giggled. Then she put her hand on my tummy, pushing my dress even higher, up above my belly button, and stared at my midriff. I didn't mind, in fact it was kind of exciting, having her look at me like that and I got that tingly feeling again. "You're so beautiful, Misty," she whispered. She pushed my dress higher still so it was stretched across the top of my chest, leaned in and kissed, first one nipple, then the other. Then she played with them with her fingers, gently pinching them. She lifted her head and look down at my lower body. "Your cunt is adorable!" She ran her fingertips up the inside of my thigh until she reached my treasure, as I called it, and began to . . . well not tickle it exactly, but caress it with featherlike strokes and it did sort of tickle but in a nice way, a thrilling way. Our mum was always telling us that no one is supposed to touch us there so I knew my sister was doing something forbidden, but it felt so unlike anything I'd felt before, so incredibly good that I wasn't going to tell her to stop. The she pressed her middle finger along the length of my slit, rubbing it up and down. "How does that feel?" she asked. I just hummed with pleasure. "I'm going to put my finger into you, okay?" "Yes, okay," I said, eagerly. Her finger went into me, just an inch or so, and then moved in and out. "This is called finger fucking," she said. "You can do it to yourself. I do. I do it every night in bed, after the light is out so you can't see me, but from now on, you can watch me doing it, if you like." "Cool!" I said. She pulled her finger out and placed the tip right at the top of my treasure, moving it in tiny circles, hunting for that special spot that would eventually grow into my clit. This felt best of all. She took her finger away and sucked on it, making me giggle again. "Now, Misty, I want you to do it to me." To say I was willing would be an understatement of epic proportions. I sat up, pushed her down on to her back, practically tore her knickers off and put my hand between her legs, stroking, caressing, probing, watching for her reaction and seeing her face become flushed and her breath quicken. For several long minutes I explored her, marveling at how wet she was. I was learning as I was going and during that memorable afternoon, I discovered her G spot, though I had no idea it had a name, and her tiny clit which made her twitch and groan as I touched it. Suddenly, she let out a great whoosh of air and relaxed, her eyes shut. "Are you alright?" I asked, anxiously. There was a long pause, then she opened her eyes and looked into mine. "You made me cum," she said, a big smile breaking out on her face. "Cum? What's that?" I'd heard other kids use the word but wasn't sure what it was. "I think it's time you got a proper sex education," she said, sitting up and looking for her knickers. "Let's get on the internet and ask it all the things you've wondered about." In the next hour I learned what "masturbation" meant and what "cunnilingus", "lesbian", "orgasm" and "sexual intercourse" were, though the latter seemed to involve boys and didn't appeal to me. That night, she invited me over to her bed and taught me more about how to please myself and please her. I was too young to cum, but it all felt so marvelous. It got a lot better when she kissed my treasure and let me kiss hers and within a few days, we were going down on each other like a pair of lust crazed dykes. Thank you, Sis. You turned a pleasant childhood into a fantastic one. * * * I turned out to be gay. Not bisexual, no, totally gay. I don't think my sister's actions had anything to do with my sexual orientation. I'd have grown up to be gay even if she hadn't introduced me to the delights of girl on girl sex at that vulnerable age. I believe our sexuality is handed out to us by fate or whatever, randomly. We don't get to choose, though we like what we get. I never met a lesbian who wished she were straight. All my sister did, God bless her, was to jump start my development at an early age. She, on the other hand, discovered boys during puberty, and I was left to pleasure myself at night. "I've grown out of that stuff," she said one night when I tried getting into her bed. I was crushed, but soon found other girls who trusted me enough to let me touch them, take their knickers down, caress their treasures and share my secrets. Thank God for sleep overs! When I reached puberty, nothing changed. Boys were still a pain in the neck, and girls were even more exciting, but strangely, as I grew older, more curvey, with nice small firm tits and pubic hair (which I keep religiously shaved off), my preferred age for sex partners remained stuck at ten or eleven, specifically pre-pubescent. Most people would think that preteens of that age, with their flat chests and boyish figures, aren't sexy, but to me, it's not so much their body shape as their innocence, and more importantly, the vulnerability of younger girls that draws me like a magnet. That's not to say that I take advantage of their naivite to impose myself on them; no, not at all. In all my encounters with kids their involvement has been absolutely consensual, my primary goal being to give them pleasure and teach them how to make me happy. I always tell my little lovers that if they say "no" it means "no" and things will stop at that point. I live in fear that one day, a kid will tell a parent or teacher that Misty has been doing naughty things with her, but so far, they seem to know instinctively that what we do must remain a secret. Perhaps it's the forbidden nature of our adventures that is the main attraction. If you were to call me a paedophile, I'd point out that the word means "lover of children", to which I'll admit, but I'm not a predator. I don't "come on" to girls. I merely encourage them to play games they've never thought about before, and if they like it I let them take the lead from there, with just a touch of guidance now and then. * * * Now my sister and I are all grown up, in our late twenties. She got married and had a kid, a lovely daughter whom I've watched grow from a toddler to a cute little girl, then to an adorable eight year old who seems to love me as much as I love her. Like her mum and me, she's slender to the point of skinniness, so she'll grow up to have one of those super-model figures without an ounce of fat. Her eyes are big and dark and beautiful and her lips just beg to be kissed. Earlier today, my sister announced that she had to go up to London for a conference and asked would I take care of little Pandora overnight? I eagerly agreed, my heart racing at the thought of having this little angel all to myself. I briefly wonder, given our childhood history of sexual exploration and the fact that my sister knows I'm not just an ordinary lesbian, but a lover of little girls, why she's trusting me with her daughter. Grinning, I ask her, "Do you trust me with her?" "I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt her, just like back then, I never did anything to hurt you." "Until you fell for a boy and abandoned me," I point out. "True," she admits, "but you got over it." Well, not entirely. "Pandora knows how to say 'no'." But does she know when to say 'no'? I wonder. "Anyway, you're not a child molester." Not quite, I think, at least not yet. * * * We're in the middle of yet another blistering heat wave. The scientists are right: climage change has arrived. Summers were never this hot when I was a kid. I meet Pandora at the school gates, take her small hand and we walk through the village and down the lane to my tiny cottage. Like any eight year old in a school uniform, she looks adorable. I think it's something to do with the white ankle socks, from which her slender legs emerge, reaching upwards until they disappear up the all-too-short skirt, carrying my imagination with them. Indoors, I show her my bedroom. It's the only one in the cottage. "You'll have to sleep with me in my bed," I tell her. "Is that okay?" "No problem, Aunty," she says, brightly, "it's a nice big bed." "You don't have to call me 'Aunty'," I tell her. "'Misty' is just fine. Did you bring clean knickers for tomorrow?" "Oops, I forgot. I didn't bring jammies, either." "Not a problem. I always sleep naked and we can wash your knickers and they'll dry overnight." I don't have a washing machine or a dryer and I do everything by hand and dry it all on the clothesline, very environmentally correct. "When is this heat gonna end?" I ask, peeling my dress over my head. Now all I have on is a pair of pale blue knickers that are so sheer, they'd be invisible if it weren't for the white flowers patterned on them. Pandora eyes them. "You like my knickers? You can see my cunt perfectly." I use the "C" word deliberately. I want Pandora to feel that being naughty is okay. "I have to be careful how I sit when I'm out and about, but here, with just the two of us, it's doesn't matter. We're both girls." She smiles, staring at me. I feel that delicious tingle that happens whenever I show my cunt to another girl. "I'm gonna take a shower to cool off. Wanna join me?" This is the moment of truth. If she accepts, we might progress from nakedness to who knows what? If she's too shy, then it's all over. "Good idea!" she says, enthusiastically, unfastening her skirt and letting it pool round her ankles. Her knickers are plain white cotton, my favourite colour, exactly the kind I wore at her age and often wear to this day, and when she takes her blouse off and stands there, in just socks and knickers, my heart almost skips a beat. "You're very pretty," I say, not wishing to overdo it with lavish praise. I slide my own knickers down, step out of them and watch as she takes hers off. The only thing more exciting that watching a preteen take her knickers off is when I take them off for her, a thing I've done on more than one occasion. She sits on the bed and lifts one leg to take her sock off and I get my first good look at her sweet little cunt. I wonder if I should grab my camera and record this moment for posterity, but there again, I don't want to do anything she might object to. She lifts the other leg and removes that sock, all quite unselfconciously, then stands up. I take her hand and lead her into the bathroom. It's quite big, given the size of the tiny cottage, having been upgraded by my parents when they owned it as a holiday home. We step into the shower and I adjust the water temperature. We lather ourselves, and then I do her back and her bum and she returns the favour, nothing explicitly sexual yet, but a kind of intimacy to break the ice and help with our bonding. We towel off and go into the bedroom. Pandora lies on her back, her hands behind her head as I stand at the foot of the bed, gazing at her naked body. My heart is racing. From the way she's looking at me, I'm almost certain that any advances I make won't be rejected, but nevertheless, I'm going to be very careful. I sit on the bed beside her. "Have you ever been told that the female figure is the most beautiful thing in the world?" I ask. "No, not that I remember." "Well, it is, and your's is the most beautiful off all. You're gorgeous, Pandora." She smiles. "You're not bad yourself, Misty." Oh, this could be a good sign. "Would you mind if I took some pictures of you?" Without even pausing to think about it, she answers in the affirmative. "Not at all. I've never been photographed in the nude before. This is gonna be fun!" Fun, indeed. It's going to be exquisite. It's going to make my pussy a lot wetter than it is right now. It's going to make my heart race. I pick up my camera from the bedside table, stand at the foot of the bed and frame her in the viewing screen. Her hands are behind her head, her body stretched out, her feet half a metre apart and best off all, on her face is a huge, inviting smile. The flash goes off. I sit beside her and we look at the result. "Ooh, what a naughty girl I am," she says in a little girl voice. "You can see my . . . " "Your cunt. You can call it your cunt if you like. I don't have a problem with bad words, in fact, I like it when girls talk dirty to me. It's a beautiful cunt." With that she brings her knees up and lets them fall apart. This pose looks quite deliberately lewd and I quickly move to the end of the bed again and take several shots. Her smile never leaves her face. She sits up, takes the camera from my hand, looks at the screen and then at me. "I'm sexy, aren't I, Misty?" Never was a question more to the point. I don't care that her chest is flat, that her sweet little cunt is nothing more than a slit in her mound or that she has no pubic hair, to me she's the epitome of sexuality. What is most exciting is her willingness to expose her most intimate parts to me and the camera. "Let me take some pictures of you," she says, to my delight. I lie down on the bed and she starts shooting as I adopt ever more provocative poses. My intent is to convey to her that there is no pose too outrageous and nothing is forbidden. I start on my back with my legs spread wide, then on all fours with my bum facing the camera and my cunt in full view and then on my back again with my knees up by my ears. "Awesome! Perfect!" she calls as the flash fires away. I sprawl in a chair, pulling my pussy lips apart . She says, "Oh, my God!" as she takes a close up of my pink grotto, glistening with moisture. "My turn now," I say, taking the camera from her. She lies on one side, her upper leg bent at the knee offering a clear view of her treasure. I move in for a close up then show her the screen. It's all cunt with a little bit of thigh at the edges and a bit of tummy at the top. When I transfer this on to my fifty inch TV screen, it's gonna look awesome, a huge cunt staring down at us from the wall. She lies on her back and pulls her knees up beside her ears, offering her bum to me. I take more pictures, shooting between her legs, so the bottom half of the screen is her cunt and in the top half, her smiling face. I put the camera down, take hold of her ankles and place them on my shoulders. Now she'll be able to hold this relatively comfortable position long enough for me to, well . . . I'm a lesbian paedophile aren't I? You're probably ahead of me right now. "Can I kiss you?" I ask. "My legs are in the way." "Not on the lips, silly; on your cunt, your beautiful little cunt that you seem to enjoy showing off, just like I do. May I?" I want to give her the chance to refuse. I need to know that if we're going to experience sexual contact, it has to be entirely consensual on her part. "Ooh, yes, yes," she gushes, enthusiastcally. My heart skips a beat. I lower my head and press my lips against hers, I drag my tongue up the length of her slit to where her tiny clit is just starting to grow. I hear her gasp as my tongue pushes on her button, ringing the doorbell to heaven and I probe gently with my tongue, finding my way in through the gates of paradise "Misty, Misty," she croaks, her voice hoarse with excitement. I lift my head for long enough to say, "I love you, Pandora," then go back down into the valley of earthly delights, licking and probing into her pink depths, pulling her lips apart with my fingertips to push deeper with my tongue. She's wetter than can be accounted for by my saliva. I'm tasting real pussy juice, cunt cream from an eight year old. I marvel at my luck. I go back to her clit, circling it with the tip of my tongue then playing an arpeggio on it as it swells, engorged with blood. I want to see the expression on her face, so I come up for air and look at her. She returns my gaze, and expression of adoration on her angel face. My heart is pounding. Then, to my astonished delight, she asks, "Can I do it to you?" Oh, my God! I've hit the jackpot, died and gone to heaven. Here I am, a dedicated adult lesbian paedophile, naked with an eight year old child, upon whom I've just lavished my love in the form of an utterly depraved and highly illegal act, and now she's eagerly asking me to allow her to reciprocate. Can she do it to me? That's got to be the world's most unnecessary question. "Yes, your can kiss my cunt. You can do anything you like, my darling, the naughtier the better." I lift her ankles off my shoulders allowing her to lower her legs, and I roll on to my back. She props herself up on one elbow and looks at me, running her eyes up and down my body. "You're so beautiful, Misty," she whispers. My whole body trembles under her gaze. I spread my legs in invitation "Sit on my face," I demand and she straddles my head, lowering her cunt on to my mouth and then she's down on me, her face buried between my thighs, her lips pressing against mine, her tongue exploring me, inside and out, nibbling on my pussy lips, sucking on my clit, breathing hard through her nose. She might be inexperienced and a little bit clumsy, but no one has ever brought me to orgasm as fast as she's doing. I'm just seconds away. I lift my arms and embrace her hips, pulling her down hard on my face. The fireworks explode inside me, spreading heat through my whole body. The universe lights up as a wave of lust carries me higher and higher until I'm floating in the sky, gliding on a sea of love, slowly descending until I land gently back in my own bed. Pandora has sensed that something's happened. "I came!" I gasp. "You made me cum, Pandora, you sexy little angel." She rolls off me and I see an expression of smug satifaction on her face. She lies beside me, her head on my chest. "You're a lesbian, aren't you?" she asks, sounding incongruously innocent. "I am, I'm a paedophile lesbian, a lover of little girls." "And I'm a lesbian too, then?" "Oh, you are, my darling, you are!" Like my big sister, all those years ago, I've introduced a sweet little girl the delights of gay sex, passed the torch on, so to speak. Whether she grows up to be bisexual or totally gay isn't important. She now has the option, assuming we have any choice at all, to enjoy whatever kind of sex she likes. I've removed her inhibitions and, I hope, any trace of guilt. I feel kinda good about it. The end.