Young girl old men sex stories. I Was 17 And Madly In Love With A 39-Year-Old Married Man: This Is Our Story.



Young girl old men sex stories

Young girl old men sex stories

Indeed, he was only twice her age. He bent over, resting his palms on his knees to bring himself to her eye level.

They soon had a ritual of sorts between them. Just before early nightfall at 6pm her housemaid would come knocking on the door, signaling the daily end of their easy companionship and the beginning of rituals of bath and bed.

Then one day she wore that skirt. It was not as though he had not seen the skirt before. She wore it every other day, but today, this day, it was different. Something was off about it. It seemed shorter than before, tighter than before and yet looser than before so much so that it was wont to ride up to give teasing glances of a suddenly delicious looking ass.

Pius shook his head to clear his thoughts but they seemed determined to set his feet on the road to hell. There she was, lying prone on the carpet, her face in her hands, laughing at the antics of the no good black and white hero on the screen, and all he could see was the sweet little cleft her panties were drawn into when she shook with laughter.

When the hell did she get up here? Grateful for a break from his traitorous thoughts, he rose from the couch and made his way to the kitchen to retrieve the requested drink for her. It was ice cold but she gulped it down and burped her thanks, even as her eyes shone with pleasure from the sweet drink.

When she dropped the bottle, his heart skipped a beat. The glass bottle made a dull hollow ringing sound as it bounced on the carpet. She bent over to get it but it slipped through her fingers causing her to lean even further to grab at it. Pius mopped the sweat from his brow with his hand. Why was it suddenly so hot? Why do I feel like this?

Oh God, I can see her panties again. Wait, is that her pussy? Oh God, what the fuck am I thinking? Nasa having retrieved and replaced the bottle safely on the table was kneeling in front of him and staring at the very conspicuous bulge in the middle of his trousers.

He was now sweating profusely and it trickled down the sides of his face in rivulets. The image of a weeping eight year old girl sniffling and dripping snot all over him was enough to shake him out of his near dream state. Her leg had fallen asleep so she wiggled trying to move into a more comfortable position. Every movement she made sent delicious sensations fluttering up his spine but the guilt of it all was threatening to eat him alive.

She made one particularly pleasurable wriggle and this time he actually let out a small groan. She was now the tallest in her class.

She stopped, watching him, more out of curiosity than anything else. He let his hands trail down her back before the slipped underneath that ridiculous little skirt and cupped her ass. No one had ever touched her there before. Except for bath time, and Mommy had said she was becoming a big girl now and would have to bathe herself, so no one had touched her there in a while. This touch felt different though. Rough, and full of possession. The friction… feels so good… but I need more.

I need… more… heat. Reaching between them underneath her skirt he undid the zipper of his jeans, exposing himself to her then he yanked the crotch of her panties to the side so that she was bare against him while her heat drove him to brink of a pleasure induced haze.

He wanted too much, could feel too much. This makes me very happy. You make me very happy. He was her friend after all, and probably her best friend too because which other friend did she have that could let her watch Cartoon Network on their TV? She was always lonely anyway, but Dede was so nice to her. Her heart was full to bursting. Dede Pius is such a nice friend!! Not wanting to let her best friend down she redoubled her efforts but registered some alarm when he began to groan and shake uncontrollably.

She was so starved for attention, and when they were alone like this he paid attention to her and only her. Not even your Mommy or Aunty Bose or even your best friend at school. She was still basking in the joy of being told she had any time access to all her favourite cartoons. Suddenly, the door bell rang. Now go find your shoes while I answer the door. She sits quietly and does her homework, and after that I put on cartoons for her. Come back any time.

She had turned sixteen two days ago and now she was here to deposit a gift from a generous aunt. In her hands she held a cheque to deposit into her very first account. Her very first cheque, and for more money than she had ever had all together in her life.

Her mother had always said something good had to come out someday of having rich relatives. I guess she was right. Her aunt had been especially generous, and as the teller beckoned towards her she stepped forward to declare herself two hundred thousand Naira richer.

A man was trying to get her attention. Do I know you? You would think the pick up lines in a bank would be any better but they just get cheesier and cheesier. Maybe you have the wrong person? She had just perfected that signature the week before, for just this very event.

I do know you. To her eyes, he bore a fleeting resemblance to another young man, one who had lived in her compound that her family shared with two other families, but he had moved away years ago, and the memories were mostly cottony fuzz.

Yes, she did remember him. And with remembrance, terror came close on its heels. In , we moved to Surulere, and Nasa was the seven year old me. Based on my experiences as a Nigerian adult, It has dawned on me that Pius must have simply been visiting with his married older brother Andy while he was waiting for his university to come off strike or some other such situation.

The scene at the bank never happened. I simply wrote it as a way to gain closure for something that tormented me for years causing me to struggle with a crushing sense of guilt about it as I remember that I was a willing participant. The problem is though, a seven year old cannot be a willing participant to sexual activity with a grown man. To my seven year old brain, it was impossible to understand the things he made me do with him, and the things he did to me. All I remember is that they felt good, and so I wanted him to continue.

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Young girl old men sex stories

Indeed, he was only twice her age. He bent over, resting his palms on his knees to bring himself to her eye level. They soon had a ritual of sorts between them. Just before early nightfall at 6pm her housemaid would come knocking on the door, signaling the daily end of their easy companionship and the beginning of rituals of bath and bed. Then one day she wore that skirt. It was not as though he had not seen the skirt before. She wore it every other day, but today, this day, it was different.

Something was off about it. It seemed shorter than before, tighter than before and yet looser than before so much so that it was wont to ride up to give teasing glances of a suddenly delicious looking ass.

Pius shook his head to clear his thoughts but they seemed determined to set his feet on the road to hell. There she was, lying prone on the carpet, her face in her hands, laughing at the antics of the no good black and white hero on the screen, and all he could see was the sweet little cleft her panties were drawn into when she shook with laughter. When the hell did she get up here?

Grateful for a break from his traitorous thoughts, he rose from the couch and made his way to the kitchen to retrieve the requested drink for her. It was ice cold but she gulped it down and burped her thanks, even as her eyes shone with pleasure from the sweet drink.

When she dropped the bottle, his heart skipped a beat. The glass bottle made a dull hollow ringing sound as it bounced on the carpet. She bent over to get it but it slipped through her fingers causing her to lean even further to grab at it. Pius mopped the sweat from his brow with his hand. Why was it suddenly so hot? Why do I feel like this? Oh God, I can see her panties again.

Wait, is that her pussy? Oh God, what the fuck am I thinking? Nasa having retrieved and replaced the bottle safely on the table was kneeling in front of him and staring at the very conspicuous bulge in the middle of his trousers. He was now sweating profusely and it trickled down the sides of his face in rivulets. The image of a weeping eight year old girl sniffling and dripping snot all over him was enough to shake him out of his near dream state. Her leg had fallen asleep so she wiggled trying to move into a more comfortable position.

Every movement she made sent delicious sensations fluttering up his spine but the guilt of it all was threatening to eat him alive. She made one particularly pleasurable wriggle and this time he actually let out a small groan.

She was now the tallest in her class. She stopped, watching him, more out of curiosity than anything else. He let his hands trail down her back before the slipped underneath that ridiculous little skirt and cupped her ass.

No one had ever touched her there before. Except for bath time, and Mommy had said she was becoming a big girl now and would have to bathe herself, so no one had touched her there in a while. This touch felt different though. Rough, and full of possession. The friction… feels so good… but I need more. I need… more… heat. Reaching between them underneath her skirt he undid the zipper of his jeans, exposing himself to her then he yanked the crotch of her panties to the side so that she was bare against him while her heat drove him to brink of a pleasure induced haze.

He wanted too much, could feel too much. This makes me very happy. You make me very happy. He was her friend after all, and probably her best friend too because which other friend did she have that could let her watch Cartoon Network on their TV? She was always lonely anyway, but Dede was so nice to her. Her heart was full to bursting. Dede Pius is such a nice friend!! Not wanting to let her best friend down she redoubled her efforts but registered some alarm when he began to groan and shake uncontrollably.

She was so starved for attention, and when they were alone like this he paid attention to her and only her. Not even your Mommy or Aunty Bose or even your best friend at school. She was still basking in the joy of being told she had any time access to all her favourite cartoons. Suddenly, the door bell rang.

Now go find your shoes while I answer the door. She sits quietly and does her homework, and after that I put on cartoons for her. Come back any time.

She had turned sixteen two days ago and now she was here to deposit a gift from a generous aunt. In her hands she held a cheque to deposit into her very first account. Her very first cheque, and for more money than she had ever had all together in her life. Her mother had always said something good had to come out someday of having rich relatives. I guess she was right.

Her aunt had been especially generous, and as the teller beckoned towards her she stepped forward to declare herself two hundred thousand Naira richer. A man was trying to get her attention.

Do I know you? You would think the pick up lines in a bank would be any better but they just get cheesier and cheesier. Maybe you have the wrong person? She had just perfected that signature the week before, for just this very event.

I do know you. To her eyes, he bore a fleeting resemblance to another young man, one who had lived in her compound that her family shared with two other families, but he had moved away years ago, and the memories were mostly cottony fuzz.

Yes, she did remember him. And with remembrance, terror came close on its heels. In , we moved to Surulere, and Nasa was the seven year old me. Based on my experiences as a Nigerian adult, It has dawned on me that Pius must have simply been visiting with his married older brother Andy while he was waiting for his university to come off strike or some other such situation.

The scene at the bank never happened. I simply wrote it as a way to gain closure for something that tormented me for years causing me to struggle with a crushing sense of guilt about it as I remember that I was a willing participant.

The problem is though, a seven year old cannot be a willing participant to sexual activity with a grown man. To my seven year old brain, it was impossible to understand the things he made me do with him, and the things he did to me. All I remember is that they felt good, and so I wanted him to continue.

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