Celia/Chapter One
Celia
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Chapter One
“There, there, no need to cry little love,” I dabbed her cheeks and smoothed her hair, “There’s more than enough fruit for the both of us,” I assured her, “I’m Bill, what’s your name, sweetheart?”
“It’s Celia,” and her face brightened, “You’re not mad that I picked your fruit?”
“No, I’m afraid I was too swift to anger and had a change of heart. If you don’t pick it, I believe it would go to waste. I give most of it to Misses Hendricks and don’t eat much myself. Would you care for a slice of one of the pies she baked with it?”
“Really? Pie is my favourite. Mum never makes anything like that. If it wasn’t for my Gram, I would never get any,” she confided with me.
“Yeah, I know the feeling. If it wasn’t for Misses Hendricks, I wouldn’t get any either. How about pie with a big scoop of ice cream and a fizzy cola? I’ve got some fresh vanilla and is it de-lic-i-ous.”
I guess you could say that was the beginning of a long and happy relationship. We quickly became best mates. As I led her in through the scullery, I decided the least I could do was clean her face for her. What she really needed was a good scrub in the bath. So, I wet some flannels and washed her up at the basin. That’s when I discovered a pretty little girl was hidden under all of the muck.
“Don’t you ever bathe?” I asked as I scooped her some ice cream to go with the pie.
“Nope! I hate baths. I scream if mum makes me take one so she lets me alone.”
“We’ll have to fix that. Did you know that baths can be fun? I still have some perfumed salts that my wife liked. She said they made her baths luxurious. How about a fun bath? Would you like that? You could really use one but I won’t make you take it.”
“Do you have warm water? Ours is broke and it’s brassing. That’s the big reason I won’t bathe.”
“Yes, plenty of hot water. Shall I run one for you while we eat?”
“With lots of salts because they make me smell nice.”
“I’ll bet you’re a bit whiffy, aren’t you?”
“Hee, hee, hee, whiffy, huh?”
“Yes, and I’ll wash your clothes while you have your bath.”
There was an ancient wringer washer in the scullery that had come with the house. A genuine antique that still worked well. After my wife of thirty years had passed on, I had to learn to use the finicky contraption. Feeding the wringer was a somewhat dangerous and painful process and I nipped my fingers many times. Since I didn’t have a dryer, I depended on the indoor and outdoor drying lines. On sunny days, like today, the clothes would be dry in a jiffy.
We thoroughly enjoyed our sweet feast, downed our colas and I led her to the bath which was brimming, handed her the salts and told her, “Sprinkle as much as you like.”
That she did and pretty well emptied the carton. I’ll bet she will not only be the prettiest little girl after her bath, but also the sweetest smelling. Then, before I could leave, she stripped off her little play dress and knickers and handed them to me. It was a little surprising for me to see her strip down like that. However, I looked at her beautiful little naked body with longing. Nothing sexual, but a longing for the daughters I never had. My wife couldn’t conceive and at my insistence, we came close to adoption several times. We never found the right fit with any of the prospects to form a family so we stopped trying. The closest I got to children were my little nieces and cousins and mostly spent time with them during family gatherings.
She was a cute little thing and when she was naked, you could see the clear, or rather dark, demarcation line where her clothes protected her from the soil. Skinny as a rail and the only shape to her was a insanely lovely pooch in her tummy, a fat little peach of a mons and quite chubby, but nicely rounded bum. As I tried to scoop her up to set her in the water, she slipped from my grasp, darted to the bog and gave me a big, toothy grin while her wee whizzed so loudly it made her giggle. Then, the little imp flashed past me and dove head first into the bath.
In all my years, I had never seen a tidal wave indoors and muttered under my breath, “Oh, well, it’s time to dig the mop out of hiding.”
As I left, she sang out in her musical little voice, “Come back, come back, come back soon and scrubba, scrub, scrub me… hurry, hurry… huuury.”
She giggled and I chuckled at her witty little jingle. What wasn’t there to love about the little nymph? She certainly captured my heart, and that in less than an hour.
As soon as I started the washer, the room turned ominously dark and a loud peal of thunder rattled every window in the house. Then we were treated to a loud drumming, torrential downpour of rain. Ye gads, it’s really coming down out there. There went my plans to dry the clothes quickly… in… the… sun. However, my poor little moppet was frightened half out of her wits and ran soaking wet and naked through the house screaming, “Bill, Bill, Mister Bill, I’m scared,” and when she spotted me, all four foot fifty pounds of sodden little imp flew into the air and landed shivering with her arms around my neck. Of course, I caught her and ended up with a fat little bundle of soft, bare bum cheek in each hand.
“There, there,” I told her while I gently squeezed her bum and caressed her back, “It’s just a nasty thunder boom and it’s already over.”
She hugged me, rubbed her cheek against my chest and explained, “I was scared.”
“I know you were, poppet. I don’t believe there will be any more of the nasty old thunder and we need to freshen you up.”
Then, I set the wash timer and carried her back to the bath. The old machine was mostly all manual so I needed to come back in thirty minutes and change it to rinse water.
Then, I soaped her hair and warned, “Squeeze your eyes shut tight so they don’t sting.”
She instantly turned serious, gave me the stink eye and informed me, “I’m not daft, you know.”
“You certainly aren’t. I believe you’re quite bright,” and I quickly scrubbed her face, neck and ears, “Now hold your nose,” and I dunked her under for a rinse.
She came up spluttering, “That was fun! Do it again.”
So, I gave her another quick dunk before I pulled her to her feet and soaped her torso. Then, with each foot on the rim of the tub, quickly did them and her legs before the rinse.
“Now scrub my bottom and crack really good since they’s the worst.”
“Sweetheart, you’ll have the cleanest, freshest bottom and crack in the whole town before I’m through.”
“Good!” She exclaimed before I dug my fingers into her sides and she wiggled screaming from my grasp.
“I love your little bottom,” I told her as I soaped up her crack.
“Mum says it’s nasty because I should learn to wipe properly.”
“I could tell, considering the state of your knickers,” I pointed out.
“Mum showed me how but I don’t do it as hard as she does.”
“Yeah, you have to press the tissue in there to get clean and if you don’t, guess where it ends up?”
“Hee, hee, hee, in my knicks.”
“Bottoms are special and need to be scrubbed properly, especially around here,” I told her as a I popped a fingertip through her little rosebud.
She squealed and wiggled and then giggled while I twisted my fingertip around in her bum hole. But, she stopped and sighed, and then told me, “You put your finger in my bottom.”
“Is it nice?” I inquired.
She nodded her head and assured me, “You can do it some more.”
“You have such a lovely little bottom hole,” I told her, “It feels so nice and warm inside.” And it did and was so tight it hugged my finger like a rubbery little glove. Then, I squeezed a firm bottom cheek and told her, “We’ll come back to that later. Now we do the front,” I told her as I rubbed my soapy fingers through her little split.
“Hee, hee, hee,” she squealed, “It tickles,” but I didn’t relent and gently gave her little slit a good scouring.
“I’m not too rough, now am I? You have a lot of little cracks down there that need to be cleaned,” I assured her.
She shook her head and told me, “Clean it really, really good for me.”
I did, but the problem was, I liked it too much and felt the consequences in my pants now, so I sat her down in the bath and rinsed her off. Then, I scooped her up in a soft bath sheet, ruffled her dry, carried her to my bedroom and sprawled her out on the bed.
“Let’s see if we can find something you can wear until your clothes are dry. It may take awhile if the sun doesn’t come out again.”
“I don’t need no clothes. Can I stay naked?”
“That’s pretty naughty, but I’ll bet you like being naughty, don’t you?” I asked her.
She bit her lip and nodded as she climbed to her knees and told me, “Mum makes me wear clothes because she says ‘nobody wants to see you naked, girl’.”
“Well, she wasn’t referring to me. You don’t have to wear clothes when you visit me if you don’t want to.” I informed her.
“I don’t?”
“No, you don’t. You’re very pretty when you’re naked.”
“I am? Hee, hee, hee. You halfta get naked with me, please, please, please?”
Now that was something I was reluctant to do, especially with the swelling in my pants. I’m sure a barrage of questions would follow and then she would divulge the truth within hearing distance of the wrong ears. There was no need for word like that to get out.
So, I told her, “That might not be a very good idea, love. Men are much different than little girls and that’s why they shouldn’t see them without their clothes.”
She was crestfallen when I told her that and pleaded, “Why... why can’t you?” Then in a much lower voice she continued, “I know men have things down there. I’ve seen them before... humph,” she stamped her foot, “Get naked with me!”
“What would your mum say? I don’t believe she would approve.”
“She showed me Uncle Harry’s thing, hee, hee, hee, and he was naked all over.”
“Did she now?” I asked in surprise.
It would seem that Uncle Harry was her mum’s friend. I found out later that she had a ‘lot’ of uncles that frequently popped up and only left when her mum tired of them; like toss them out on their ear.
“What if I just showed you for just a minute?” I attempted a compromise, “You shouldn’t tell anyone, though if I do.”
She put her hands on her hips and went, “Humph... well... I guess.”
“Give me a few ticks,” I told her as I grabbed my gown and went to the bath to undress.
For some reason, I didn’t believe she would follow me, but I caught sight of her stealthy little shadow as I closed the door. Then, as I removed my clothes, I saw the door open a bit and spotted a little eye pressed to the crack. She was serious about seeing me naked. So, I quickly stripped down and pulled on my gown and could hear the patter of bare feet as she ran to the bedroom ahead of me. For some reason, my cock looked forward to showing himself to her and throbbed even harder now.
End Chapter One
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