From: OneSickPuppy@HotMail.com   
      
   Story: Lydia   
      
   by Vivian Darkbloom   
      
       Bare legs of the young girls skipping home from school, walking   
       in their gangly pre-pubescant stride under the hot sun, young   
       breasts, soft rounded mounds of joy under a thin bubblegum-pink   
       shirt. In groups and one by one, they walk by in the afternoon,   
       braids and pigtails.   
      
       She was delicate and thin, maybe 10 or 11 years old, details are   
       fuzzy. How she asked me to come help her with her homework: "My   
       mom works during the day. Won't be home till late, maybe   
       midnight."   
      
       To be with her alone, sheer delight in her innocent laughter, her   
       silent smile. Lydia was her name. Thin and pale, delicate blonde   
       hair, bare legs and sandals, painted tonails. Eye shadow, too, I   
       think.   
      
       Reverie broken: "My friend Kay wants to come along too. She's   
       having trouble with her math, and I know you can help us." Kay,   
       brunette with insolent sulking moist red lips, and leftover baby   
       fat transparent skin her belly, bare under the halter top that   
       barely concealed the two soft hills scarcely sprouting from her   
       chest.   
      
       Insolent and skipping, Kay and Lydia led me down the garden lane,   
       under green trees, midst the solitude of nature down the   
       sunlight-dappled long private drive to her family's isolated   
       dwelling, two stories in stone and wood, hidden in the middle of   
       the forest of giant trees.   
      
       Now how would I ever get her alone? Maybe wait for the other girl   
       to leave. Wait and see.   
      
       Suspicions arose when they would whisper so I couldn't hear,   
       shushing each other with a kinky little giggle or two. How to get   
       her alone?   
      
       Inside the front door, carved oak door with the classic inlaid   
       squares, imitating window panes I guess.   
      
       "Could I use the restroom?" I had to ask. Brunette baby-fat Kay   
       leapt up out of her insolent mood and sweetly took my hand   
      
       "I know where it is," she chirps, "Come on," and we ascend   
       stairs. Plush and carpeted, breathless, leaving Lydia behind, she   
       shoves me into the cozy fabric-festooned chamber, closing the   
       door behind us.   
      
       "I gotta go too," she explains, breathless, yanking down her   
       black sweat-pants and plunking down on the seat. A torrent of   
       liquid issues forth from the shyly peach-fuzzed carmine crease.   
       She grins up at me sheepishly.   
      
       My mental plunge towards getting Lydia by herself had frozen like   
       a popsicle.   
      
       Then Kay is done. "Can you help me wipe off?" she asks, blinking.   
      
       My heart skipped backwards a beat. "You sure?" I asked.   
      
       "Uh huh," She nods sincerely, longingly.   
      
       I take the piece of toilet paper, and reach gently between her   
       legs, my finger extended. Making contact, I feel the warm golden   
       droplet, the soft carmine-red skin of her royal chamber.   
      
       She moans briefly, softly.   
      
       "Now I can help you," she said, still seated, pulling down my   
       pants and underpants, her face across from my penis. "So I always   
       wondered how guys did it, you know. How do you aim. Can I try?   
       I'll hold it while you go."   
      
       "I suppose," I said.   
      
       She spread her legs, to leave me room to piss into the bowl,   
       still gripping my dick with one chubby little hand, pointing it   
       right between her thighs.   
      
       It was slow getting the flow going, but she watched in   
       fascination as it streamed between her legs. momentarily. "You   
       could water my garden!" she giggled, and the flow touched her   
       smooth, nearly hairless crotch for just a moment, leaving a   
       little dripping.   
      
       When I had finished, she reached out with a tissue to absorb the   
       drop at the end. Then she gave the shaft a small, wet,   
       affectionate kiss.   
      
       There was a pounding on the locked door. "What are you two doing   
       in there?" demanded Lydia from the other side. Kay got up, shirt   
       gliding over her bare rump, and opened the door partly, so I   
       could see her slender blonde face through the crack.   
      
       "What?" asked Kay.   
      
       "Are you two having fun without me?"   
      
       "So come on in," Kay let the door swing open. I stood awkwardly,   
       noodle flailing in the air, half arisen. Lydia stared.   
      
       "By the way, have you seen the lotion?" asked Kay casually.   
      
       "Next to the toys."   
      
       The frozen popsicle of my mental plunge towards getting Lydia by   
       herself fell into the dismal dust of no return, shutting down all   
       mental operations into indefinite cessation.   
      
       "Oh. Thanks!" Kay dashed out the room. My mind barely registered   
       that she was on some sort of mission.   
      
       Lydia now stood mesmerised, staring at my partial erection. She   
       reached out, trancelike, and gently stroked me, smiling up to see   
       my response. Arose further.   
      
       "Yes," I said, trying to maintain a positive form of coherence.   
      
       Lydia bends down, meticulously circling the tip with her tongue.   
       Very stiff now. Lydia is down on her knees, with the end of my   
       member immersed in the soft wetness of her mouth.   
      
       Kay has returned, and kneels behind Lydia. Placing two fingers on   
       her own smooth skin, one each on either side of the aperature   
       yawning between her legs, then lets them slip teasingly into the   
       center. She caresses herself with lotion, and moans.   
       Occasionally, she thrusts forward to brush herself against   
       Lydia's buns (still clothed in shorts) and reaches around to   
       stroke Lydia's crotch. Her tiny nipples poke up behind her smooth   
       blouse.   
      
       Lydia, unperturbed, methodically tongues the tip. "Mmm," she   
       says. "Better than chocolate." She fondles my testicles,   
       sometimes daringly reaching around to probe the other regions   
       behind them.   
      
       Electric streams of ecstasy encircle my protruding horn, longing   
       to release into the mouth of innocence.   
      
       Kay's moans grow louder, and I hear the faint sound of   
       contractions between her legs. That's it, more than I can take,   
       triggers the explosion that fills Lydia's mouth with my sweet   
       whiteness. She looks up at me and smiles, until Kay leans around   
       and kisses her hard on the mouth, long, sweet, and hard.   
         ____________________________________________________________   
      
       They had reclad themselves once more in all of their boring   
       clothing, and we sat down with the dry leaves of the mathematical   
       text their teacher had assigned.   
      
       "I don't get it." complained Kay. Probalibities, numerologies,   
       what a bunch of crap.   
      
       Dutifully, I studied the text. "It's talking about the chances of   
       a particular combination occurring, which is the number of cases   
       in which it occurs divided by the total number of cases."   
      
       "Right," unconvinced.   
      
       "Ok, lets say you are making a sandwich, and you have   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)