textfiles/sex/EROTICA/B/breeze.5

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|                    *** DISCLAIMER ***                         |
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| This is a story of pure fiction.  Any resemblance to persons  |
| living or dead, incidents real or imagined, places real or    |
| imagined, is purely coincidental.                             |
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|         IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, DO NOT READ FURTHER.             |
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                             - 5 -

                            
   I gradually became conscious of the beads of perspiration sliding
down my forehead, over my nose, and dripping onto my lips.  I licked
them.  Salty.  I felt like a fish, a freshwater species that had
somehow strayed into saltwater.  Peter continued to annoy Zoe.  Little
by little she slid closer to me, away from his probing fingers.  He
was pushing her toward me and he didn't even know it.  Ha!

   Peter stretched out his legs.  His toes broke the bubbling surface
just a few inches from Zoe.  She slid closer still.  I watched Peter's
face as one of his floating feet sank beneath the water.  It was a
U-boat hunting a target.  He focused on Zoe.  She looked at him, then
down into the water.  His foot must have found her because she
squealed and, as she did, she grabbed Peter's leg and yanked with all
her might.  Zoe slid hard against my leg and Peter lost his seat.  He
plunged under the water, sputtering all the way.  I think he was
surprised that Zoe could, or would, pull him that hard.  Zoe held his
foot high in the air.  Peter was all the way under and couldn't get
his balance and couldn't get a grip on anything.  With this
application of simple physics, Zoe controlled Peter's fate completely.

   "Maybe he can't breathe."  Did I actually say that?

   Zoe shoved Peter's foot and the little wet kid surfaced, thrashing
about, gasping for air.  He slipped and went under again, then stood
up boldly in the center of the spa.

   "You're crazy!" he sputtered.  "Crazy!"

   Zoe didn't move.  Her smooth leg was pressed tightly against mine.
Peter made a symbolic lunge at her.  She grabbed on to me.  She swung
her leg over mine and held on tight.  My cock stiffened again.  She
couldn't see it.  Her leg was only inches away from it.  I wanted to
pull her into my arms but I held back.

   Peter sat down again, brushing the excess water from his face.  He
glared at Zoe.  He looked at me.  Could he tell how aroused I was at
that moment?  Probably not.  I allowed my hand to come to rest on
Zoe's leg, the one she still had hooked over mine.  The water, the
chemicals, the bubbles.  I don't know.  Maybe it was the combination. 
The skin on Zoe's leg felt like electric silk.  I found my fingers
grazing lightly over the surface of her flesh.  I tried to move my
hand and arm in a way that didn't show above the water.  Zoe didn't
move her leg.  My fingers explored the shapes on her delicate little
knee, then down the front of her leg.  Now back up again.

   Peter's face had changed.  No longer angry.  No longer harsh.  He
looked at Zoe.  His eyes, sad and appealing.

   "You could have asked," said Zoe.  "You're always pulling me or
pushing me.  You never ask."

   "All right.  I'm asking, okay?"

   "Asking what?"

   "C'mon, don't make me.  Not in front of him."

   I guessed I was the 'him' in this conversation.  I had suddenly
become a third person in every way.

   "All right," said Peter.  "All right."  He mustered his courage.
"Please.  I'm asking, see?  Please."

   "Please what?" giggled Zoe.

   "Zoe!"

   "Please what?"

   "Please..."  He was struggling.  "Please... come here."

   That was it?  'Please come here.'  That was all?

   Zoe giggled again.  "Well," she said with a smirk.  "Since you are
asking..."  And she pulled her arm from around my neck and slid away.
As she went, she slowly dragged her leg across mine, allowing my hand
to pass smoothly over her skin.

   She moved across to Peter and knelt close in front of him.  Peter
reached down around her waist.  "Turn," he said.  And with his hands
still on her slender waist, Zoe turned so her back was to him.  Then
Peter pulled her toward him.  They both looked at me, their little
faces quite serious.  Was I supposed to look away?  Was I supposed to
go away?  It didn't seem to make any difference whether I stayed or
not.  Zoe bent over slightly and put her hands on her knees.  She
started to move slowly, rhythmically, up and down against Peter.  The
same bubbles that hid me from them before, now reciprocated.  But I
could imagine.  I imagined Peter's hard little cock, stiff and
straight as a wooden broom handle.  And I imagined that it fit nicely
in the tight space between Zoe's ass cheeks.  And I imagined that Zoe
was caressing Peter's cock with her ass.  And I imagined, no, I knew
that Peter was enjoying it.  And I imagined myself in Peter's place.
And as I watched Zoe I focused on her face.  She was strangely
serious.  It was as if she had a job to do and she was doing it.  I
began to rub my own stiff cock.  I rubbed it in time to Zoe's
movements, pretending that my hand was some part of her.  Any part of
her.  Her ass, her hands, her lips, her breasts, her knees pressed
together, anything.

   So I stroked myself.  And I looked into Zoe's eyes, she into mine.
Peter slid his hands from Zoe's hips to her waist.  He pulled her
closer and her hands came off her knees.  She continued to move up and
down, faster now.  I followed along.  I could barely contain myself.
Peter slid his hands across her tummy and up to her chest.  His hands
completely covered her little breasts.  He palmed and squeezed them.

   "Ow!  Not so hard," cried Zoe.  But Peter didn't care.  He was
rubbing himself against Zoe now.  Faster and faster and with more and
more force.  Little noises came from his mouth.  Zoe frowned and
winced from Peter's rough treatment.  The incredible sight of these
children was carrying me beyond any control.

   Then, suddenly, Peter pushed Zoe away.  He turned her so she faced
him again and pushed her down.

   "No!" she exclaimed.  "Not under."  Peter's face was pleading.  He
was in agony.  Good!  Torture him, Zoe.  Torture him.  "I'm not going
under."

   "Then here," panted Peter.  And he pulled Zoe next to him on the
fiberglass seat.  He took her hand and forced it under the water.
From the motions of her arm and body, I could see that she was rubbing
his cock with her hand.  I pretended it was her hand on my cock too.

   Zoe watched Peter's face.  Somehow she knew all about this.  She
rubbed faster.  Peter's look of anguish and his gradually arching back
said it all.  He started to buck and twitch.  Zoe rubbed faster.
Peter let out a loud moan, bucked again, then was still.  He panted.
Zoe panted.  She smiled at him.  He shoved her away and stood up.  His
cock was half-erect now and tremendously long.  He rubbed it once or
twice, then climbed out of the spa.  He grabbed a towel, wrapped it
around his waist, and without drying off, stormed out.  I didn't know
what to say.

   Zoe was dejected.  She looked down at the water.  "What about me?"
she cried.  "What about me?"

   My cock had gone limp, yet unsatisfied.  I wanted to hug her.  I
wanted to tell her it was all right.  Everything was all right.  I was
vaguely conscious of holding my arms open for her.  She flew into
them.  She climbed up on my legs, each of hers straddling mine.  She
threw her arms around my neck.  She didn't just cry, she wept.  Her
little body heaved as the tears flowed.  She pressed against me,
sending a warm stream of delight through my entire body.

                              -+-
   
   I don't know how long we stayed that way, Zoe and I.  Locked in a
loving embrace.  I know that her tears gradually subsided.  She had
slid herself so close against me that her tiny slit now rested against
my limp cock.  But now it started to grow, responding to the sensuous
life pressing on me, flooding me with desire.  My cock grew and grew
and there was nothing I could do to stop it.  There was no way to keep
this precious child from feeling it, short of throwing her off me into
the middle of the spa.  That would have been Peter's technique and I
wanted to do nothing that would be associated with him, not even
remotely.

   So I breathed slowly and deliberately and the fairy creature on me
came to life.  She released her grip around my neck and sat upright.
She put her hands on my shoulders and looked me straight in the eyes.
The sound of the bubbles and the water was deafening.  My cock was now
fully erect.  Zoe's tiny slit was pressed hard against it.  Could she
know?  How could she not?  Her legs were spread wide because of the
way she sat on my legs.  I could feel her cunt and the slit, also
spread wide open, as it engulfed the base of my cock.  It was warm,
warmer than the surrounding water, and slightly sticky.

   Zoe looked down.  She was trying to tell me she knew how I felt.

   "He hurt me," she pouted.  "Here."  And she looked at her chest,
just to one side of her breast.  I looked too and, yes, there were
reddish marks where Peter had grabbed her.  "Look," she said, and
twisted herself slightly, bringing her breast within inches of my
face.

   "It doesn't look too bad," I managed to get out.

   "It hurts."

   I wanted to kiss her hurt and make it better, the way countless
hurts of children are always made better.  But I knew that would be
a dangerous move.  A move like that would send me, us, down a road
from which there could be no return.  Then a miraculous thing
happened.

   "Kiss it," she said.

   My heart stopped.  I saw gray.  I recovered.  "What?"

   "Kiss it." she repeated.  "My mother always kisses hurts.  It
always makes them feel better.  Always.  Kiss it."

   I was at the fork in the road.  Each choice was a one-way street.
I knew the one I wanted to take.  I knew the one I was supposed to
take.  Maybe I was wrong, but I sensed attraction here.  Me for Zoe.
Zoe for me.  I wasn't a child.  I couldn't remember.  Was I misreading
her?  She always fought against Peter, but often gave in.  Did she
feel sorry for him, or did she really want what he offered?  What did
she want from me?  I knew what I wanted from her.  I couldn't force
her, ever.  I couldn't trick her.  Oh, I could, but I would never,
ever.  Not to her.  Not to Zoe.

   "Please," she cooed.

   So I took the path, my path, and no looking back.  I bent my head
forward and Zoe lifted herself up slightly and turned.  The marks from
Peter's fingers were red but not too bad.  They'd be gone by tomorrow.
Would I be given the credit for the miraculous healing that was about
to take place?  I brought my lips to Zoe's skin, conscious of the tiny
breast only millimeters away.  I can't remember if it was me or if it
was Zoe who closed the final distance, but my parted lips pressed
lightly against her hurt skin.  She jumped a little.  I looked up
into her eyes.  She smiled at me.  I don't know why, but I began to
lick her skin over the red marks.  A lion licking its cub.  Stupid
thought.  Her skin was moist and slippery and I moved my open lips all
over the spot.  Zoe threw her head back and let me do it.  Again, my
tongue painted her skin.

   I was astonished when, without warning, Zoe turned slightly.  Was
it an accident?  More like an accident of fate.  I didn't move my head
at all.  Instead, Zoe's turn brought her budding breast against my
lips.  My tongue was out and her hard little dot of a nipple rubbed
across its sensitive tip.  I looked up at her again, expecting anger.
Instead, I saw a smiling child who nodded once and pressed herself
even harder against my face.  My tongue licked a narrow circle around
the smooth pink disk that now seemed swollen with desire.  Zoe moved
herself back and forth across my lips.  She pressed hard, much harder
than I would have thought felt good.  I pursed my lips and sucked
lightly on the pink skin.  I rubbed the little nipple with the tip of
my tongue.

   I wanted to do so much more.  My cock was about to explode.  I
was ready to do anything for this beauty.  Anything except listen to
the sound of a car pulling into the driveway.  Another splash with the
ice bucket of life.  Steven was home.

   Zoe turned her head around.  She gave a deep sigh, then looked at
me.  "You're staying over, right?"

   "I'm staying.  Yes."  Only fast flowing lava could get me to leave
this house tonight.

   Zoe bent down and kissed me quickly on the lips.  She rose from my
legs very slowly.  As she did, she dragged her cunt, still open, still
warm, all the way up my hard cock.  She knew.  Oh yes, she knew all
along exactly what I was feeling.  This girl was definitely smart.

   Zoe climbed out of the spa just as the sound of the front door
opening and closing broke the dreamy silence.  Steven was in the
house.  Mozart still played from the walls and Zoe moved like a
ballerina, and I wished I was made of white terrycloth.

   Zoe retrieved her dress and panties.  She spun around on one
pointed toe and waved at me.  Then, with a toss of her head, she was
gone.  I looked at the floor where she had stood.  Water, her water,
covered the wood slats.  Water that was on her, in her, all over her.
On the bench, her little black shoes sat, surrounded by two wet white
socks.  They looked like they were waiting for a bus.  And then there
were the sounds of a kitchen coming to life and the delicious smell
of cooking chicken drifted in on a breeze.

                            *  *  *

------------------------- (End of Chapter 5) -------------------------
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