Truth be told, I didn’t know what ‘horny’ was when my clit was first touched. The mild numbness throughout my whole body, ridden by overpowering excitement, drifting in a somewhat relaxed state, I was so sure that this, this thing happening to me, couldn’t be bad.
He slowly split those delicate, complex folds of skin between my legs and the coldness told me of how sensitive that spot was. From the second he laid one of his fingers on it, I was shaking. Everytime he vibrated his fingertip, I would tremble hard, then gradually slow down, only for him to repeat the process again.
There were no hints that he would be going after any thing more. It was just the two of us, in bed, enjoying this physically-pleasing activity. Soon, things got slippery below for some reason I didn’t understand. Instead, he used it to his advantage and moved even faster.
In no time, my mind was blank and all over the place at the same time. Each time he pushed my thighs apart, the warmth of his hands calmed me down. Those warm, big hands then went over my stomach, and over my small boobs that never grew much since then. He would cup them in his hand, close his fingers together to squeeze them for a bit, before two fingers, his index and thumb, went around my nipple.
That very pinch forced a moan that came easily out of me, as if I have been waiting since he first laid hands. Minutes passed rapidly in the euphoric mood, packed with continuous moaning and jitters shooting through my tiny frame.
I could tell in a comforting way, that he was as pleased as I was, to see his little girl in nothing else but smiles.
The whole ordeal went for a short while longer than thirty minutes, where I was asked to sit upright, to watch him lie on the back on the other side of the bed.
He gently brought both my hands to his loose boxers, for me to feel that cute little bulge risen midair. The innocent me simply undid the button over his fly, and wrestled for the surprise he had hidden underneath in plain sight. How would a girl like me not squeal in shyness when I saw it?
I didn’t know what overcame me when I impatiently held it in my hand, bringing my face so close to it I could smell a tinge of saltiness, but nothing pungent. It was so smooth, so glossy, so attractive. I just had to touch it.
The whole time I have my fingers wrapped around it, the slight growth in length and girth fascinated me even further. There was even a droplet forming at the very tip.
The curious me wasted no time to dab my pinky in it, to taste it like how I tried his cooking. It was sweet! He later took out a red, plastic bottle with the word ‘strawberry’ on it, and pumped some sweet-smelling liquid into my hand.
Seeing how some of it was dripping through my fingers, I quickly rubbed it over his cock and there he was, shivering and twitching like I did earlier. I thought, ‘he must be feeling good like me!’ Using both my hands, I held his cock and jerked it up and down, constantly breathing in the strawberry scent of the lubricant.
I couldn’t resist tasting some of it from my fingers! It was so good that I had to have more from the source, well, not from the bottle but his dick. The ‘marinate’ has somehow got under his skin and I was smart to notice how his moans differed from when I was using my hands.
His dick, in the end, was too long for me to put in my mouth. I could only manage the first few inches of it, comparable to the length of my pinky. Which wasn’t too bad right? Compared to my thumb?
He was nice enough to stop me just as I grew tired, and explained that my hands were more than enough. I didn’t know what I was doing then, nor what was going to happen. I followed his instructions and tightened my grip, pumping faster and slower to his call.
His cock kept growing in thickness until my fingers almost couldn’t stay around it anymore. Plus, he was getting a little too loud.
After a few more minutes, he let out a deep groan right as hot, white, translucent liquid sprayed from the tip, landing all over my hands and his stomach. Since this was of another colour, I had to taste it again.
It was strawberry, with some bitterness. I wiped as much as I could off him with my hands, and he brought my sticky hands to my face, wanting me to slurp it up.
For a long time, I have been a fan of undercooked eggs, and the texture was exactly like that, save for the taste. We went to the toilet together after that and he washed my hands for me.
Back in bed, he asked me to lie down while he had his ‘supper’, which was actually him eating me out. I fell asleep some time in between and woke up to wet panties – my favourite pair of panties he knew I can go without changing for weeks.