From: bobandcarole@aol.com   
      
   Srory: Elise   
   (Mg, pedo, cons)   
      
      
      
   Written by bobandcarole   
      
      
      
      
   Author's note: 'Elise' was a subplot of 'My Neighbor', dropped when it   
   served instead to detract from the story. I had in fact deleted it, and   
   only recently felt compelled to rewrite from memory what I'd done and   
   flesh it out into its own story. It's short, but stands on its own.   
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
   Elise had never spent the night here by herself before. In fact,   
   she'd only joined Jennifer on two previous occasions when her   
   half-sister stayed over with our daughter.   
      
   So, when Elise showed up alone last night, I'd been surprised.   
      
   A couple of months older than Jennifer, Elise was a few days away   
   from celebrating her 11th birthday. She looked nothing like Jen,   
   since the girls were not truly related. Their respective parents   
   had had a long relationship, but had never married; still, the   
   pair spoke of each other as sisters.   
      
   Elise, about an inch shorter and probably ten pounds lighter, was   
   not quite as developed as was Jennifer; nipples that had just   
   begun to show their future, arms I could put my whole hand   
   around, thin legs that were not quite gawky. Yet, she was   
   beautiful, with a grown-beyond-her-years face that presented   
   itself well under long, heavy dark hair. It was easy to imagine   
   her right now as the adult she will become.   
      
   Like many young girls, Elise loves to be tickled, and last night   
   was no exception. After dinner, she played her favorite game of   
   calling me names, hoping to rile me up enough to leave the couch   
   and the television alone to chase her through the house instead.   
   We ended up on the couch anyway; with me sitting gently on her   
   belly, tickling her all over as she pretended - shrieking all the   
   while - to try worming her way out from underneath.   
      
   Looking behind me, I noticed that Elise's nightshirt had ridden   
   well up above her baby-blue panties, presenting quite a view. My   
   wife, who had to work early the following morning, already was in   
   bed, so I made no effort to cover back up the squealing child   
   under me. Instead, I pointed toward the bedroom door and held a   
   finger to my lips, urging quieter play.   
      
   Conversely, my tickling became more gentle, brushing her ribs,   
   her neck, her legs and just about everything else with almost an   
   erotic undertone. My cock, in fact, had begun to respond   
   slightly, stirring just enough to make its presence known. Elise   
   pretended to not notice, but her hands brushed across my member   
   more than once as they moved to wherever I was tickling her.   
      
   Is that intentional? I wondered. Should I get more bold?   
      
   As if by answer, I let my hands brush a couple of times across   
   her awakening nipples; she made no move of disapproval. Reaching   
   behind me, I tickled her inner thighs, once brushing quite   
   intentionally across her panty-clad pussy.   
      
   Her legs opened wider.   
      
   Naturally, having just received the universal sign of sexual   
   acceptance, I was ready to continue until I heard the bedroom   
   door open. My bleary-eyed wife just stood there, irritated. For   
   appearance's sake, I continued tickling Elise a bit more   
   innocently as I apologized for the noise.   
      
   And that was that.   
      
      
   I awoke this morning to a sight I'll never forget: Elise lying on   
   her back next to me, the covers just above her ribs. My wife   
   evidently had found a ride to work and had let me sleep in, and   
   now this still-little girl was taking advantage of the situation.   
      
   No, I didn't wake her; instead, I found myself silently wondering   
   how far she was willing to go. Better still, how far was I   
   willing to go?   
      
   Rolling toward her - this porcelain doll sharing my bed - I   
   rested my hand on her belly. Her nightshirt had ridden up again,   
   so that my thumb found cotton at her ribs, and my palm and   
   fingers felt the heat of her bare belly. Elise began breathing a   
   bit more rapidly; the rise and fall of my hand becoming more   
   apparent. She rolled her head slowly to one side and glanced at   
   me, not seeing my one eye partially opened and hidden by the   
   pillow.   
      
   She smiled, and looked back toward the ceiling.   
      
   Taking my cue, I allowed my hand a slow, gentle motion across her   
   belly and up toward her chest, then down to the edge of her   
   underwear. As I'd hoped, my thumb now could slide under her shirt   
   to feel only skin as it traveled once more past her ribs. Slowly,   
   very slowly, my hand slid up her breastbone toward her neck,   
   making no overt effort yet to find her tiny breasts.   
      
   Several times, I made the same move. I wanted her to think I was   
   asleep.   
      
   Elise was breathing quite ragged by now, the anticipation perhaps   
   building within her young breast as my hand slid not quite   
   innocently up and down her silken belly and chest. Finally, I   
   found the nipple nearest me and felt its tiny center, hard as a   
   pebble. Slowly, my hand traced circles around the aureola, and I   
   had to fight to keep my breathing even as my loins began to stir.   
      
   My hand soon found the girl's other nipple, and I was surprised   
   to feel that it was noticeably bigger than its twin. Somehow, in   
   my testosterone-induced haze, I'd forgotten that was normal.   
      
   It seemed I'd gotten lucky; if Elise noticed my sudden   
   hesitation, she made no move of acknowledgement.   
      
   I resumed the gentle ministration of hand to breast, reveling in   
   its coarse softness for several more minutes. There was more to   
   caress, but I could not very well appear too rushed.   
      
   Elise was breathing through an open mouth now, halting and raspy.   
   My hand obliged her seeming impatience, sliding down her belly to   
   the edge of her panties. The girl's back arched slightly. I   
   rubbed lightly back and forth, closer to her immature mound each   
   time, her body responding as if it could push my hand farther   
   without actually pushing. Finally, my hand hit home.   
      
   An audible gasp was the result.   
      
   Smiling to myself now, I rubbed the length of her young pussy   
   with a bit more insistence. Her hips began bucking slightly under   
   the gentle pressure, betraying her youth and inexperience, or so   
   I supposed.   
      
   That was the moment another thought occurred to me: should I get   
   her off; or roll over, perhaps frustrating her to the point that   
   she'd come to me to finish? If I find her orgasm now, will she   
   just leave, or would she show her appreciation?   
      
   Ultimately, I couldn't bring myself to make her suffer, even if   
   only briefly. My finger ticked her little clit until her body   
   stiffened, a near-silent squeal escaping her lips.   
      
   I smiled in spite of myself. I had made this ten-year-old girl   
   come.   
      
   Her breathing slowly returned to normal, and I rolled to my back,   
   my goal fulfilled. Just as I was about to nod off, I felt a hand   
   on my belly. Thank you, I thought.   
      
   Elise, to my surprise, was just as slow and methodical; working   
   her hand over my belly and chest, and finally to my own nipples,   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)