The hitchhiker

This was the first story I ever wrote, and the first story I posted to Lolicit, on March 25, 2019. It is tempting to fix my errors. Correct my typos. Change sentences and paragraphs. I have four years writing experience now, I would not write this way anymore. But I have decided to leave it exactly as it was when I first posted it, so that this truly is my first work.

The hitchhiker – Mg, cons

(c) 2019, by P.D. Vile

“Damn!” I muttered under my breath. “Damn, damn damn!”
In this weather, I was never going to make it to my brother today. The last thing I wanted was to spend yet another night in a hotel, but it became more and more inevitable.

Was this what it was like in the days of Noah?
The rain just kept crashing down on the car, hour after endless hour. Gusts of wind tried their best to sweep the car off the road, and I had to actually work hard on the wheel to prevent just that from happening. The clock said it was just after four, but if it had said midnight I'd have believed it. The clouds were so heavy that it was totally dark on the road.

I grinned as I passed a 45mph sign. There's no way I would risk that.
The wipers were frantically moving at the highest speed and yet my vision was close to none most of the time. I felt that even the 25mph I had slowed down to was risky, and the only reason I still chanced it was that I probably was the only one out on the road in this god-awful weather.

And then I suddenly noticed what I least expected. Maybe 50 yards or so in front of me, I saw what appeared to be a person.
I slammed the brakes and the car slid across the river that called itself a road and eventually came to a standstill. I was right. This was a person.
I tapped the pedal to advance the last few yards, then noticed that it actually appeared to be ... a boy? I estimated him at about 5 feet tall. He wore ragged, worn out jeans and an oversize sweater that also had seen better days. Face of course firmly hidden in the hoodie.

I opened the window just enough to speak.
“What the hell are you doing here, in the middle of nowhere and in this hellish weather?”
“Oh sir, please can you give me a ride? I ran away from home and I've been walking all day already!”

Hearing the voice, and seeing the face close to my window made me realize my first observation was wrong. This is not a boy, it's a girl. Very early teen, judging by the size of her body and the bits I saw of her face.
And she asked ... no practically begged me to allow her into my car. Me, of all people!
Lots of thoughts went through my head. What if this was a setup. Or even if not, what can I be accused of later if I say yes. Do I really want to be on the receiving end of a child abduction lawsuit?
But also, can I just leave? The weather alone makes that such an inhumane act. And eventually there will be other cars – what if she ends up getting into the car of an actually bad person?
Those last thoughts settled it. Whatever the consequences to me, I would not leave this girl out in this weather. And definitely not in risk of falling prey to whatever she might run into.
She clearly was desperate, who wouldn't be in this weather, she'll step into any vehicle if allowed. I know myself. I know I'll be able to contain the danger I pose to her. Others might not.

I opened the door and she entered. As she lowered the hoodie I noticed that her hair was probably blond but too dirty to tell for sure, and shoulder length. Still exasperated from being outside, she didn't say thank you, but her eyes – beautiful watery blue eyes! – did.
As soon as she was out of the terrible weather and in the car, her body started shivering all over. I silently turned the heater to maximum and started driving, giving her a few minutes to get the worst cold out of her limbs. I also offered her some of the sandwiches I had left over from breakfast – she downed them like a hungry wolf!

But I knew I had to talk to her, find out who she was, who to contact, and where to take her. Every second I delayed increased my chances of getting in trouble. So as soon as the shivering started to settle and the last of my sandwiches was gone, I started asking questions.
It didn't take much effort, she was in dire need of someone who'd listen, so after my first two or three questions she took off and blurted her life story to me, at times interrupted by weeps that she swallowed down with effort.

Her name was Emily, and she was twelve. Living with her mother, after her father and her six years older brother had died, 20 months ago, during a fishing trip. And that date, 20 months ago, marked the end of her happy life.
Her mother was unable to handle the loss. She started drinking. Lots. And when drunk, she became abusive.
So far, all the abuse had been verbally. Emily had been called the worst things you can get called by a parent. Almost daily, her mother would ask why God could not have taken Emily instead of her husband and son – and that was not even the worst she had to endure.
Emily had been doing all the household chores all the time, and got zero gratitude. And as time passed, her drunken behavior started to get more and more violent.

Today was the breaking point. After outgrowing all her clothes, and with no way to get new things, Emily had decided to raid her brothers clothes closet.
Her mother awoke at ten from a drunken sleep, finished the bottle of whiskey that she had slept with ... and then noticed Emily's clothing and totally freaked out. Emily realized that this time the abuse would slip into the physical. The moment it did, the moment her mother slapped her across the face, she decided that enough was enough. She just turned around, ran out of the house and started walking before her mother had even managed to get up from the couch and do something.
And that was the rest of her day: walking, in increasingly bad weather, with no idea where to go other than “anything but home”. Until she saw a car, raised her thumb, and that was me.

I figured that no matter what, no matter how drunk, a mother would still be worried when a child runs off. Boy, was I wrong!
After I convinced Emily to give me her phone number and called, I was greeted by a woman that was totally off this world. Even after I mentioned having Emily in my car, she was unable to connect the dots. The only things I heard from her, in between grunts and uncontrollable sobs, were that she was hungry and waiting for her bitch daughter to cook for her, that she wished her husband would return and that she'd trade that bitch daughter for him in an instance, and whether I would be a sweetie and bring her some new whiskey.
I hung up, now convinced that this woman did not need her child back, and should not get her back. Not now. Not before she herself got the help she needed.
But right now, her child needed help harder. I sighed, muttered a few more “shit!”s beneath my breath, and started thinking about how I could help this girl, help her mother ... without landing myself in trouble.

Emily had fallen asleep while I was talking to her mother. I noticed that she had struggled to stay awake, but walking in the cold all day, then sitting in a warm car and eating; combined with the emotion of reliving the nightmare of her past two years, had taken their toll. Her face had been tense all the time, but in her sleep I noticed that there was at least a start of relaxation.
As much as I wanted to allow her to sleep, I had to make plans. I called her name, then gently shook her, then had to shake her a bit harder before she finally woke up. Immediately the tenseness returned. In a reflex she hit away my hand ... then realized and apologized.
“No worries, I should not have startled you and I should actually not touch you at all. But I needed to wake you, because I need some information. I will not return you to your mother, not now. She is not good for you right now. But you can't stay in this car forever either. Is there anyone ... just ANYONE you can think of that I could take you to? If there are friends or family? I really prefer not having to taking you to CPS”.
She thought for a bit, then remembered that her father had a sister. She had not seen her aunt since the funeral, but before that they got along well. Perhaps she could do something?
She gave me her aunt's phone number and then drifted back to sleep. Good for her!

A good half hour and many phone calls later, I knew that my weekend plans had thoroughly changed.
Aunt Stacey had been concerned about her niece after Emily's mother had cut off all contact. After I explained the situation, she agreed to take Emily in, “at least for now”. I would take Emily to her.
Since she was living in Kansas, this was a huge change of my travel plans. I called my brother and canceled my weekend visit.
After that I called the local police, explained the situation, told them where I'd be taking Emily, and asked them to send someone over to her home to see what they could do for the mother – she'd probably end up in rehab for a long time, and I hoped that one day she'd recover enough to allow Emily to move back in. The poor girl had already lost her father and brother.

Damn. I sighed again, as I turned left on the crossroads where my original plan was to turn right.
“Kansas, it is.” I sighed again. The rain was still pouring. Damn!

A bit after nine, Emily woke up. Not exactly refreshed. This girl would need lots more sleep. And even though I had planned to drive for as long as possible, I did start to realize that I had been driving in this terrible weather for ten hours already.
This probably WAS “as long as possible”, and I'd have to settle for where we were now.
Damn, I had hoped to reach a city but the next one was still at least 100 miles away. No way I would make that and still drive safely.

I asked Emily to look out for a motel. With weather conditions still bad, I figured I'd better keep my eyes on the road so I could use her help. About ten minutes later, I has just finished bringing her up to speed on my plans for her, she squealed “I think I see something there!”
She was right. A tattered sign with the name “Largo Motel” and the remains of what once was a promotional text filled with hollow promises, and a motel that looked even worse than the sign.
Damn, damn, damn – not the type of place I ever want to stay in, but who knows how far the next one is. And we really needed a place to stop and get some sleep.
Oh, sleep. Glorious sleep. I sighed and yawned.

“Damn,” I muttered once more, as I pulled into the parking lot.
“You say that a lot mister.”
“You are right, and I shouldn't. I just really hate the weather, and I hate the looks of this place too. But there's little choice.”
“Oh, I don't mind,” she retorted, “I actually agree with you. I just don't say it, I only think it.”
And then she smiled. The first smile I saw on her face. Despite the dirt, despite the greasy hairs plastering her forehead, despite the rings around her eyes, this was the most beautiful smile I had ever seen.
This was the first time I noticed that this was not just a child in need – no, this was a very beautiful child in need.
Damn! I forcefully pushed away the thoughts that were starting to creep in.

The parking lot was actually quite full. Weird for a place this far off. I had seen very little traffic on the road, so this came quite unexpected.
The explanation came at the check-in desk. The middle aged lady that checked us in was the perfect combination of “I hate my job” and “but I hate you even more”. But she did tell that most visitors had decided to stay an extra day upon seeing the weather. That, plus some new arrivals during the day, meant she had only one room left.
“But it has a single Queen bed that you and your daughter will have to share, I hope that's not a problem?”
“Oh, but she's not my ...,” I started but was interrupted by Emily kicking me in the shins to interrupt me.
“Oh no, we don't mind at all, it'll be just like when I was little!”
I didn't want to risk another kick so I waited until we were in our room before asking “why the hell did you kick me?”
“She may look like she doesn't give a damn, but do you really think she'd be okay with me and a random dude that's not my father sleeping in the same bed? I am really tired. I need to sleep. I didn't want to risk it!”
Damn, she's not only beautiful, she's clever as well!

“Damn!”
I just realized a new challenge. Emily had nothing except the clothes she wore, and those were soaking wet. She could not sleep in those. I rummaged through my weekend bag and fished out one my T-shirts that I handed to her.
“You probably want to shower?” I asked.
Her face lit up, so no answer was needed.
“You can wear this for the night. I saw a laundry room, so I should be able to get your clothes clean and dry for tomorrow. Just leave them outside the bathroom door.”

I turned with my back to the door, resisting the temptation to sneak a glance.
Once I heard her clothes drop on the floor and the click of the door closing, I gathered her stuff and went to the laundry room. As I threw her clothes in the machine, I realized she had given me her panties as well. Made sense, they were just as soaked as her jeans, sweater, and socks.
I recalled that soon we'd be in the same bed, with her wearing my shirt and nothing else. I shuddered.
“Damn!” I muttered again, as I consciously pushed those thoughts out of my mind.
I also noticed that there was no trainer bra. Was that because she didn't need one yet? Or had her mother simply neglected that as well? I tried hard not to think about it anymore.

Emily obviously enjoyed the shower. She stayed there for a long time. I wanted to stay awake, since I needed a shower too, so I sat in a chair, watching ESPN ... and then apparently doze off anyway, until I startled awake by the sound of the bathroom door.
I opened my eyes and .... “Damn, damn, damn!!!”
Now that she was clean I finally realized how beautiful she really was. Her hair was indeed blond. Still uncombed and unbrushed but already flowing beautiful around her innocent head.
Her cheekbones were just perfect; she had the best Greek nose I ever saw, and even though she was not smiling now I had no trouble adding the image of her smile that I had stored earlier in my mental picture of her face.

But her beautiful face was not what drew my attention most. She had left the bathroom stark naked!
She was standing there, toweling herself dry, in full vision of my lustful eyes as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
Her body was almost perfect – ribs protruding a bit because she had been underfed for some time now, but otherwise very well formed. Nice muscular legs and arms. A flat belly. And her chest ... oh my God! Two small mounds, small buds, protruding maybe an inch or so, with small areolas and cute pointy nipples.
Her navel was an inny. And though I told myself I shouldn't, I just had to look down. There, between her legs, was a tuft of pubic hair, enough to show the first onset of puberty but not at all managing to cover her beautiful mound and slit. I started to feel a swelling in my pants ....
“Shit!!!!”

“Hey, that's a new one!” she remarked dryly. “What happened to damn?”
“Emily why didn't you change into your shirt in the bathroom?” I asked as I forced myself to look away, trying to remember why I just one minute before still thought the television was interesting.
“That bathroom is way too small,” she replied, “I just kept bumping into everything and the shirt almost fell into the water, so I decided to just step out. It's not like I already have big boobs or anything!”
Oh God, if only she knew. If only.
“Besides, I am ugly as hell, my mother always tells me so, and so do the boys in school.”

I looked up and this time very consciously and very visibly allowed my eyes to wander across her entire body. She looked at me questioningly as I did this.
But then I said, and I meant every word of it, “Emily, your mother is wrong, and those boys have no clue. You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. You may not have boobs yet, but they will soon start to grow, and by then you'll need a large stick to keep all the boys away from you!”
She then smiled, completing the picture of perfection I was already admiring. My sincerity got through to her. My words helped repair her self esteem ... just a bit, but still.
And then she grinned mischievously, said “Who says I'll want to keep them away?”, and went into an outburst of girlish giggling.

As much as I enjoyed the show, as much as I wanted to keep drinking in every moment of her joy, her happiness, the movements of her muscles, the slight bounce of her ... “damn!” I said to myself mentally and finally managed to force my gaze away from her.
I have to be so careful with her. I have to control myself. Admire her, yes. Give her self confidence, yes. But stop there. Control myself.
Damn!

She walked past me, momentarily interrupting my view of a game I wasn't watching anyway. She was dry now, wearing my shirt, and ready for bed. The shirt was loose enough that her breasts were completely hidden, long enough to cover her pussy and ass.
I still loved the sight of her legs, her arms, her face, her body contour. But this was now safe. I could watch as she slipped under the covers of the bed.
“Are you going to keep watching that?” she asked.
“No, that was just to keep me awake while you showered. I'll go the bathroom now, then go to bed and sleep. I want to start early tomorrow; we still have a long way to go.”

And then I realized that I needed something to wear for myself as well.
I normally always sleep nude. My brother has a guest room with full privacy so I never pack any pajamas when I go to visit him.
I started digging through the weekend bag to find something for myself to wear. I picked a clean boxer short and my only remaining T-shirt.
“That'll have to do.”

After I finished my shower I started to realize that Emily had been right. There was simply no way to dry off and slip into my clothes in such a narrow bathroom.
Damn!
I sighed, made sure to think hard about pancakes, motor oil, or whatever else would keep me from springing a boner, then opened the bathroom door and stepped outside. I hoped that Emily was already sleeping. She was not.
She was lying in bed, holding the remote. The TV was now showing some cartoon show. As she heard the door, Emily turned her head briefly.
“See, I told you that there's no way to dry off in there,” she said.
And with that she returned to her cartoon.

I was relieved, apparently it was not a big deal at all to her to see me nude. But a small naughty area in my brain was disappointed that she was not as mesmerized with me as I was with her.
“Idiot,” I scolded myself mentally, “were you really expecting a 12 year old girl to be impressed with the looks of a slightly overweight and not particularly well endowed man in his forties?”
And yet my mind started to wander off in directions where I didn't want it to go. I forced my mind back to egg rolls and spring cleaning and was happy that Emily didn't look up again, as my dick was now definitely starting to grow a bit.
I managed to avoid full erection, as I quickly finished drying and put on my boxers. I was just starting to put on my shirt when the cartoon ended and Emily switched off the television, looked in my direction and asked if I was ready.

Normally when I sleep in a Queen bed, I always feel that it's spacious enough for two, easily. But now that I was sharing one with a beautiful young girl, wearing nothing but my T-shirt, it felt awfully tight.
I tried hard to find a position that would not seem inappropriate. But it was hard because the mattress was old, it had a dent in the middle so gravity pulled us toward each other.
Damn!
I decided to lie on my left side, back turned towards Emily, right hand grasping the edge of the mattress to prevent being pulled towards the middle.

And then I heard the sobbing. Damn!
“Hey, Emily ... what's the matter? Are you missing your mother? Are you afraid? Scared?”
“No,” she sobbed, “not missing mum at all, I feel much safer now than in a long time. But I feel so alone. You are kind to me mister, but you'll take me to Aunt Stacey and then what? Will she be as nice? Or will she also treat me like dirt?”
“She sounded really nice on the phone, Emily,” I tried to console her, “I'm sure it will be fine.”
“I still feel alone, mister. Can you at least hold me tonight, and not turn your back on me?”
Damn.
But I felt unable to resist her silent sobbing.

I turned around in the bed, to my right side.
“I think it'll be more comfortable if you turn your back on me, then I can spoon you,” I suggested.
She complied, and I put my left hand on her shoulder. She grabbed it with both her hands, entwined her fingers with mine, and pressed my hand to her shoulder as if it were a lifeline and she were drowning. I could tell how much she needed this.
Damn, I always knew that this is exactly the situation I should never get myself into, and now here I am. Damn, damn, damn.
But I did notice that the sobbing stopped. That the breathing started to slow down. That some of the tension disappeared from her shoulder. And that her grip on my hand relaxed a bit.
She was still holding it firmly, but at least the blood flow to my fingertips resumed.

As she drifted off to the land of dreams, her body relaxed more. Her hands slid down her body, pulling my right hand along.
Damn! Why did they have to end up just upon her right nipple?
Through the thin fabric of my T-shirt, I could feel the exact outline of her breast bud, and of the small pointy nipple that in my imagination now erected a bit more. It took all my self control to hold my hand still, to not start caressing and massaging.
And that's when she relaxed a bit more, and her body gave in to gravity. Her body slid towards the center of the old mattress until it was stopped by my body. I felt the warmth of her back against my chests.
And to make matters even worse, her ass landed exactly at my groin. Her buttocks against my crotch. It was the only part I had not yet seen. How would it look? I bet she has two very firm buttocks. with just enough meat to be a bit bouncy. I am sure that …
“You blithering idiot,” I scolded myself mentally again, “stop fantasizing about her ass you fool!”
But it was too late already. My subconscious refused to be controlled any longer. I felt the blood pumping to my dick, which grew to full erection before I could even say “Damn!”

I could not control that part any longer, so I tried to control what I could. I tried to withdraw my hand and dislodge my body from hers, and that's what woke her. Half awake she clutched my hand even firmer on her breast. And then, as she felt something press in the crack of her ass, she woke up fully.
“Damn, mister, is that your dick? Did you get a hard-on over me?”

Oh. My. God. ... Damn! ... Busted.
All my attempts to control myself. Failed. And now I'll still end up in jail, for trying to help this girl.
But then she surprised me again.
“Thank you so much,” she whispered. “After I showered, when you told me I am not ugly, I was not sure if you meant it or if you were just trying to be nice. But now I feel your hard-on. Now I know that you really think I'm beautiful!”
And then she turned around, planted a full kiss on my lips, said “thank you” once more, and turned back. Grabbed my hand and put it on her boob. Pressed her ass firmly into my dick. And said “I like this very much, can we just sleep like this?”

I didn't know what to say. I don't think it would have mattered. My body was speaking for me.
My dick that had started to shrivel a bit over my fear of landing in jail immediately grew back to full size. And then, as Emily started to wiggle her butt and at the same time used her hands to force my right hand to massage her boob, it started twitching, which made her giggle a bit and then continue.
I didn't know how to stop this. I knew I should. But I was unable to. I didn't want to, I wanted this to last forever.
So I just lay there, allowing Emily to grind her ass into my dick, to massage her tit with my hand.
All separated by fabric, so technically not sex, right? Who am I kidding! No matter how you turn it, this is plain and clear statutory rape.
But it just felt so good, so good, too good ... I grunted as I felt my cock start to spasm and unload spurt after spurt of sperm into my boxers.

When I regained my senses, I noticed that Emily had turned on her back and was smiling at me.
“I made you cum, didn't I?” she asked.
And then I felt her hand probing my boxers.
“Oh yes, no doubt,” she answered her own question. “Perhaps you should take this off and get a clean one?”
“Uhhh, I'm pretty sure this is the last one I had, and the one I wore today is soaked with rain,” I replied.
“Then at least take this off. I'll try to clean the stains in some warm water and then hang it on a rack so it's dry tomorrow.”
She started tugging the waistband and I, still mesmerized from what just happened, just lifted my waist without thinking, allowing her to pull it down and exposing my wet, sticky, and now once more limp cock to this amazing twelve-year old girl.
She took my boxer short to the bathroom and I heard water running. I was still lying on the bed, contemplating what had happened, as she returned with one of the smaller towels. She must have dipped it in warm water, because it felt warm and moist as she, without even asking, started to clean the remaining sperm off my belly and cock.
There was nothing really sexual about her touches, but just the feel of her handling my cock and balls was enough to start a new erection.
“It looks nice,” she said, then threw the towel in the bathroom, returned to the bed, and resumed her original position.
There I was again. My hand on her tit, through the fabric of her shirt. My dick, already back to halfway erect, pressed against her butt crack, now separated from it by only a T-shirt and no boxers anymore. And Emily relaxing as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“You ... seem to know your way around this kind of things. Have you done sex stuff before?”
“I've had sex-ed in school,” she replied, “and my mother sometimes lets guys fuck her for a bottle or two.
“I don't think she knows I've seen it, but she probably doesn't even care. I hate it when that happens. Those guys just use her as some toy you can throw away. And she does not care about them either. But that's how I know.”
After a brief pause she continued: “But this was different. You really care for me. You are not using me as a sex toy. I think you tried very hard to not do anything wrong. But I don't think this is wrong. I liked it when I felt your dick grow. I didn't want to make you cum when I pushed my back into you, I just enjoyed the feeling. But I liked it when I felt you cum. It feels nice to know that this is all because you think I'm beautiful. It's nice to know that at least one person thinks I'm beautiful.”

As she dozed off to start her much needed sleep, I realized that she was right. What I did ... or rather what happened because she did it ... or no, I did it, I could have stopped it ... oh well, what we did was not wrong. She enjoyed it as much as I did. I didn't force anything on her. It's okay, really.
I gently squeezed her tittie. Very gently, I didn't want to wake her. I concentrated on the nice feeling of her warm butt crack against my still semi-erect dick.
And with those happy thoughts, I too fell asleep.

My girlfriend was lying on her back, buttocks up. I was behind her, rock hard after the amazing foreplay we had. I gently positioned the tip of my dick against her entrance and started to push, ever so slowly, just the way she liked it. She squealed a bit.
But what happened to her voice, since when does she sound so girlish? With a shock I awoke. It was a dream. I was not with my girlfriend. She had left me a month ago. I was with Emily. Twelve year old Emily. And I was ... OH MY GOD!!!!

Her T-shirt must have moved up a bit during the night as her ass and cunny were fully exposed. And in my sleep, I had apparently done exactly what I was dreaming. I looked in shock as I saw the tip of my dick between her small labia. What had I done? I grew limp in an instant and my dick fell out.
Oh, my God. What if Emily noticed?

“Why do you stop?” I heard her ask.
So ... she was awake? And not objecting?
“Huh, what?” was the most thoughtful response I could muster.
“I woke up a few minutes ago. I noticed that my shirt had crept up, and that your dick was now pressing against my butt. I liked that feeling and I liked what happened yesterday so I wiggled a bit more, and then it slipped between my legs. You were still asleep, mumbling about boobs and pussy so I figured you were having a nice dream. And then you started pushing your dick against my cunny and that felt so good!
“I wanted you to continue, but then you woke up and pulled back. Please put it back in. Don't worry, you won't hurt me, I have played with one of my mother's dildos that was about the same size. I've put it in. I'm not a virgin.
“But I never felt a real dick inside of me. Please fuck me?”

My last semblance of resistance had broken. My dick was back to full size already. Without speaking, I positioned my swollen member against her tiny entrance and started pushing.
She was hot and wet, the only resistance was due to her tightness. Slowly and steadily, I pushed in past her resistance, until all of my 4.8 inches were in.
It felt glorious.
I just kept it in for a while, savoring the feeling of her tunnel around my cock. Then I started fondling her breasts with one hand. With my other hand, I started caressing her soft smooth mound, feeling around until I found her clit.
And as I started to massage her most sensitive area, I was no longer able to hold still. I started slowly moving in and out of her young cunny. All the way out until only the tip was in, then back in. Slowly out, and back in.
I heard her moan. I moaned too. I tried to maintain a slow pace but it just felt too good. It felt so glorious. I had to speed up. Faster and faster I went, until I slammed my dick in her at full force, back out, back in.
Her moaning increased as she was building and building towards ... and then I lost control.
“Damn, damn, oh yeah, oh god, damn!” I yelled as I started releasing a full load of sperm into her immature womb.
“Yes,” she yelled, “I did it again, I made you cum again! Thanks, Mister!”

“Oh no,” I said after a brief recovery, “this is not fair. You now made me cum twice. I did not make you cum even once. That is not how sex works. Please allow me to make you orgasm.”
This, apparently, was new to her. I should not have been surprised. The lowlifes she had witnessed fucking her mother obviously only cared about their own pleasure, using her as a pure cum dump. She did not know that women can orgasm too.
But she was willing to learn, once I offered. I did not tell her what I would do, I just told her to take off her T-shirt, lie on her back, and enjoy what I was about to do. She did. She lay down, fully relaxed, completely trusting me to give her the good time I promised.

I started by caressing her shoulders with my hands, and then also started kissing her face. Her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, and then her mouth. A quick peck first. Then a longer kiss on the lips, and when I gently touched her lips with my tongue she opened her mouth and I gave her her first French kiss.
While our tongues were battling, my hands wandered down and started massaging her breast buds. They felt so soft, yet so firm. So fragile and innocent, yet so incredibly sexy, with those tiny nips standing proudly upright.
I just had to kiss them, so I moved my mouth down, kissing and licking her right breast while still fondling her left breast with my right hand. My left hand went on expedition south. Across her belly, fondling, caressing, gently massaging, and playfully tickling her navel. Then further down, past her genitals and feeling the smoothness of her thighs. Then back, and finally finding her wetness.

I took my time. My mouth alternated between her two breasts. Licking her areola, sucking in her nipple, ever so slightly nibbling it. Then to the other breast, then back again. My left hand was working her vagina, caressing her mound, her lips, her clitoris. Gently prodding in between her lips, entering the tip of a finger, or sometimes two, then back out again to the clitoris.
And my right hand just caressed and fondled whatever part of her amazing smooth skin it could reach.

I heard her moaning. It got louder and faster, as her breathing sped up. I knew she was approaching orgasm, but I wanted to give her more so I slowed down. Asked her to spread her legs, then sat between her legs and lowered my head.
I extended my tongue, touched her right nipple, moved across to her left, and kissed it. Then back to the right, and then down, tracing a path of saliva from her tittie to her belly, until my tongue was in her navel. I stayed there a while, gently exerting pressure as if I wanted to penetrate her through her navel ... and then when she totally didn't expect it I blew a raspberry in her navel, making her squeal and giggle.

My hands went up, finding once more the two tiny treasures on her chest. As I once more started massaging and stroking her buds and nipples, I moved my head between her legs and gave her cunny a first lap.
I don't know if she ever had seen or heard of eating out a girl, but she had already committed to accepting and enjoying whatever I did, and that's what she did. My first lap made her shudder with enjoyment. I continued. She tasted so good! And her cunny looked so young, so sweet, so inviting.
I lapped and lapped and lapped, drinking what I could from the source of her joy. I started suckling on her clit, harder and harder as I heard from her gasps and moans how much she enjoyed it.
I moved my left hand down, inserted first one, then two, fingers in her, moving them in and out as I kept sucking and sucking on her clit. More and more of her juices dripped across my fingers onto the bed. I lapped up what I could, savoring the taste of her honey mixed with my sperm.
As the moans got louder, she started bucking her body, pressing her pelvis hard against my mouth ... and then she came. Not the scream I somehow had expected, but a long protracted, very deep moan. Almost a grunt. Her body shivered all over as wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure swept over her.
And then she went limp, with one last, deep sigh.

“Wow!” she said as she had recovered. “That was ... great. Damn indeed. You are right, mister. That is very damn!”
She paused to think then gave my once more erect dick a demonstrative glance.
“Can we do this again? I want to do this all day!”
Oh dear.
Oh damn. I wanted that too. I wanted to keep her. I wanted to pleasure her day in and day out. I didn't even care about my own orgasm anymore. When she had her first orgasm on my tongue and my fingers, that was such an amazing experience, that's what I wanted to keep doing.

But common sense prevailed. Now that I had already orgasmed twice, some of the blood had returned to my brain. I noticed the clock. It was already 8:30.
We still had a long drive ahead of us. Her aunt expected us. I had taken up a responsibility towards this girl the day before, and that responsibility was not to turn her into a full time sex addict.
So I said, “No, we need to eat breakfast and start driving. It's still a long way to your Aunt Stacey and I promised her we'd be there this afternoon. Go take a shower, then go see if your clothes are dry.”
Damn. Why did I have to be so smart? Damn, damn, damn!

“You need to shower too, Mister. Let's save some time and go together.”
Well, with that small bathroom, I don't think we actually saved much time. But Emily did learn to jack off a man, and then my cock went fully limp and refused to recover. Probably for the better.
It was 9:45 when we finally entered the breakfast room. We checked out, and I was happy that I was never asked for an ID and paid by cash because as soon as someone started to clean our room, they would never believe the father and daughter story anymore!

The weather had cleared. It was a beautiful sunny day. Emily chatted a lot during the day. On the surface, a very normal, twelve year old girl. Absolutely stunningly beautiful, but still a girl.
Heavily scarred by her past. Just past her first sexual experience. But none of that showed, as she was chattering about her girl friends, favorite TV shows, terrible teachers, and good looking but immature boys in her class.

As I finally arrived at the address of Aunt Stacey, we were greeted by a woman in her forties, who was welcoming and kind.
Emily had become a bit tense in the last hour of the drive, but after the first few minutes with her aunt she relaxed again.
She turned to me. “Thanks for all you did, Mister. You have really helped me. I think I'll be fine here with Aunt Stacey. And you still have a long way to go before you are home again so I won't hold you any longer.”
Stacey invited me to dinner but I politely refused. Emily was right, I did still have a long drive ahead and needed to get going.

As I turned the car, Stacey and Emily waved me out. And I noticed, invisible to Stacey but visible to me, how Emily mouthed the words “our secret”, then pushed her finger to the lips in the universal signal of silence.

I never forgot Emily. But I never heard from her again. When I tried to contact her a year later, Stacey had moved without a forwarding address. And Emily never contacted me.

Until, nine years later, out of nowhere I got an invitation to a wedding. Her wedding.
I went, of course, eager to see what had become of her. I was at the same time a bit wary, well aware that even now she could still get second thoughts and charge me with statutory rape. But I was too curious to know what had become of her.

At the reception, I was met by a gorgeous young woman. She was 21 now.
Her breasts had indeed grown, and her wedding dress had enough cleavage that all guests could see that they were nice and firm.
Her face was still as beautiful as ever. Her hair was longer now, down to her back, and hanging loose. Her eyes ... yes, still the same eyes, those eyes that were the first element of her beauty to strike me. I would have recognized her even if she had not been the guest of honor at her wedding.
I also recognized her Aunt Stacey, though I don't think that was mutual. Next to Emily was another elderly woman that I didn't recognize.

As I congratulated the bride and the groom, Emily leaned in towards me and whispered in my ear: “Thanks for coming, Mister. And thanks for 'cumming'. That one day, that one night, really made the difference for me.”
And then she introduced me to the woman standing next to her.
“This is my mother. Last time we met I told you about the problems she had. You'll be glad to know that she got the help she needed, and is now fully recovered.”
I noticed her mother was holding a glass of water and smiled.
“Is this someone I know, Emily?” her mother asked, as I shook her hand.
Emily smiled. “You don't know him, Mom. He was a friend who once, a long time ago, was there for me when I needed someone. I invited so he can see that his help DID make a difference.”

And then, as I started to walk away and make room for the next guess, I swear I saw her mouth the words “our secret”.

Damn!