It was still the middle of the morning when Tim and I reached our secluded picnic table. There was no one else around that we could see. We put our tennis rackets on the table top and wandered around the small clearing somewhat aimlessly, looking into every corner, kicking at the brush, both of us suddenly nervous at being alone again.
Finally, I reached out and took his hand.
“Do you want to kiss me again?” I asked, the bolder of us two. “Even though it's broad daylight?”
He gave me a hopeful look, then shrugged as if uncertain what to say.
“Okay,” he finally nodded. “But what it someone comes along?”
It was my turn to shrug.
“They'll just think we're a couple of goofy kids,” I assured him. “Messing around. No grown-ups ever think kids know how to do anything too dirty.”
“Yeah…? They don't?”
“Not really,” I said. Then I suggested, as if just thinking of it, “Or, we could go back down by the creek. I remember an old abandoned van down there, so overgrown with weeds and brush no one can see it. It still has a backseat, I think.”
Tim gave me a surprised look, then sort of shrugged again.
“An old van?” he asked, almost too casually. “Have you ever been in it?”
I gave him an innocent look.
“Just as a kid,” I told him. “Playing around. It's been there for years. I never made out in it or anything like that.”
Which was a lie. A huge one.
And I hated telling it, but the truth would have broken his heart. And then broken mine, when he realized what a slut I was and left me. I was certain a boy at that age couldn't handle the reality of my crazy sex-filled life.
“Is that what you want to do?” he asked, giving my small hand a warm squeeze. “Go there and make out?”
I shrugged.
“Ifyoudo,” I said. And I looked straight into his dark eyes. “I'm already getting excited thinking about being with you.”
And I took his hand and slid it down into the front of my shorts and underpants, letting his eager fingers find my already-slippery pussy. He swallowed hard, but then explored my slick pink opening with a nervous smile.
“See how wet I am?” I told him. “It's all just for you…”
Down by the creek, I led my new young boyfriend to the abandoned van, a battered old VW hippie bus so overgrown with brush that it was almost impossible to see from any distance. It was a sort of faded blue, mixed with a dirty shade of gray.
To get inside, we had to climb through brambles and push aside several thick bushes, which-being a young gentleman-Tim did for me.
“It really is hidden,” he said. “I never even knew it was here.”
“Most people don't.”
The sliding side door was long gone, the rear compartment filled with dead leaves and beer bottles. Only half of the windshield and a small part of the passenger's side window remained, the rest of the glass broken out ages ago.
“Watch where you step,” I cautioned. “The flooring's all rusty.”
The front passenger seat was gone and the dashboard was dented in several places as if someone had kicked it many times, hard. Tommy, actually. More beer and liquor bottles littered the floorboards in the front.
But the entire rear bench seat was mostly intact.
And the bottom part of the wide rear seat was covered by a relatively new light blue blanket. From our motel, in fact, though I'd never admit it. Also, many used condoms and condom wrappers had been tossed haphazardly onto the rusted floor.
“How old is this thing?” Tim wanted to know. He gingerly picked up part of an ancient Playboy Magazine. “This magazine's from 1978,” he said.
I could only shrug again.
“This van's always been here,” I told him. “My dad showed me how to get in here a year or so ago…”
“Your dad?” Tim asked, brightening as if everything was fine then. I mean, that sounded safe enough to him, I was sure, my own father showing me around here. “He did?”
“He sure did,” I remembered, secretly smiling at the long ago thought. “It was a lot of fun.”
It really was.
I was a limber blonde 10-year-old at the time, a little 4th-grader last year, and my father brought me to the hidden van one warm afternoon and fucked me on the old VW's back seat. But first he carefully put down one of the light blue blankets from our motel, for us to do it on.
“I don't want you getting your perfect little bare ass all dirty,” he'd told me. Then he added, “Your mother and I used to fuck in here all the time. It's been here for years and years.”
While my father took off his pants, I looked around the battered interior while slipping my own shorts and panties off.
“Daddy, it's like a private little fort in here,” I smiled. “Like a hideout!”
“Exactly.”
We both kept our tops on in case somebody who knew about the van wandered by, just so we could get dressed in a hurry. And with me soon lying on my back with my skinny legs spread wide, my father knelt between them on the seat with his cock standing straight out in front of him.
I was already so wet a little river of moisture was running out of me, right out of my bald slit and down into the crack of my bare butt. I'd been fucking my own dad an entire year by then, but each time was always just as exciting to me.
Maybe it was because even as a child I understood it was about the worst thing a father and daughter could possibly do. Of course, I guess that was part of the filthy appeal.
“Your cunt's so perfect, Maureen,” he told me, spreading apart the delicate lips of it with his fingers and looking straight up me. “It's like a pink, wet little work of art.”
I shrugged with a little smile.
My dad was always complimenting me on my pussy or my bare butt or my sweet little knockers. And I knew he meant it by the way he loved using his mouth on my skinny little body, all over me, every chance he got-sucking and kissing my nipples and my boobs, my pussy and even my asshole.
In fact, he and my mother loved licking my asshole and my pussy at the same time, one in front and one in back, such a dirty thing to do together, to their own daughter.
Especially when I'd come so hard with their mouths on me. It just got them both so outrageously excited.
“Thank you, Daddy,” I'd said in the van. I genuinely appreciated his appreciation of me. And his appreciation of my 10-year-old hairless little cunt. “But you're just saying it because I'm your kid.”
“Hardly,” he shook his head. “Your sweet cunt is the sweetest little cunt I've ever seen. Or tasted. In my entire life.”
I gave him a disbelieving look.
“Sweeter than mom's?” I wanted to know. For about the hundredth time. It was a little game we always played. “Is my cunt sweeter thanhercunt?”
And he always gave me the same answer. “Your little cunt's even sweeter than your mother's cunt,” he affirmed again. “But don't you ever tell her. We don't want to hurt her feelings.”
See? He did appreciate me.
Anyway, the older kids that always used the old van's backseat for sex still used our motel blanket. I knew because I'd been back there more than once after that first time with my dad.
Usually it was with one or more boys (once with five of them!) for exactly the same reason-to get fucked senseless, until I was groaning and sweaty and squirming all over.
I was quite the little gangbang girl, even at that tender young age.
Of course, that was also my fear, bringing Tim to the van. It was more than possible that Tommy or Paul or James or Randy or Keith of any of the many boys who'd fucked me on that very backseat would unexpectedly show up.
Which would take a lot of explaining on my part. Lying, I mean.
Anyway…
“Tim, It looks like a lot of kids have sex here,” I pointed to the many condoms. Almost as if I was shocked at the discovery. “It must be a make-out place now.”
He was studying the floor, too, then nodded. “I guess.”
I think it unsettled him a bit, the obvious evidence of a great deal of sexual activity in the van, even a soiled pair of some girl's silky panties left stuck to the floor. They were partly under the driver's seat.
So maybe the fact that I'd brought him here, me being no stranger to this particular location, caused him concern as well.
I took Tim's hand then and led him to the backseat, pulling him down onto the blanket with me. I could still see the particular cum stains my father had left on it our first time there: an array of dark splotches when he'd pulled his still-spurting cock out of me, his semen jetting out in multiple ribbons between my wide-open young thighs.
And I knew the stains he'd left were mingled with my own little-girl juices.
For some reason, my little pussy always got amazingly wet. Much more than normal, I'd been told many times. It was like I had an endless little oily river in there, that never stopped overflowing.
We'd spent about three hours on that seat, my father and I, in several interesting positions, my dad getting hard repeatedly and fucking me again and again. Of course, I'd sucked his thick cock between each time, to keep getting him stiff.
So that helped.
And it was kind of fun to taste my own juicy lubrication on my father's dick, each and every time I'd done it. We'd both been insanely aroused, crazily so, and I'd had one trembling orgasm after another.
It was the purest father-daughter quality time I'd ever spent with him.
“Tim, you can kiss me,” I prompted, beside him. “I really want you to.”
And so he did, the young boy leaning into me and pressing his mouth eagerly into mine. Our tongues once again found each other as his hands groped at me. I took one of his hands and slid it under my top, straight to my training bra. Then I helped him undo it so he could get to my budding breasts.
“Oh, God,” he breathed as his hands squeezed my bare boobs gently. I was positive they were the first tits he'd ever felt. “They're so firm!”
“It's because you've got me all hot,” I breathed right back. “My nipples are both all stiff, too!”
As if the prove it to himself, Tim's fingers immediately found one of my rubbery pink nipples and pulled at it. He rolled the tiny protuberance between his fingertips and got a dreamy little sigh from me.
It was like electric sparks were going straight from my overly-sensitive nipples down to my even more overly-sensitive clit.
“Keep doing it just like that!” I encouraged him, my breath growing steadily more ragged. “Squeeze my tits. You can suck on them, if you want.”
If he was shocked at my explicit talk, he didn't show it.
Instead, he wasted no time, pushing up my pullover top and my training bra and instantly fastening his eager mouth to first one of my small firm breasts and then the other. Within moments, he was sucking at my pointy nipples hungrily as my breathing kicked up from fast to faster.
“Let me jack you off,” I said then, undoing his jeans and unzipping them. “I want to feel your dick in my hand again.”
Still sucking and kissing my taut pink nipples, Tim nodded.
Then he jerked with a little moan as my fingers enclosed the warm shaft of his cock. It stood up straight and proud from his crotch, the many thin, light blue veins adorning it pulsing along the sides. I gave it a quick squeeze, feeling it twitch quickly in response, then slowly began working my hand up and down.
The head of his hardened penis was swollen a deep red, a single glistening drop of clear fluid at the tiny slit at the very tip.
“I want to suck you,” I offered hesitantly, not certain how my new boyfriend would respond. Was I being too bold, too soon? “Is that okay with you?”
Tim pulled his face away from my bare breasts and sat up, looking into my wide blue eyes. I could tell he was extremely excited at the thought of it, but uncertain about me actually doing it.
Giving him a blow job.
“Really?” he said. “Suck me? Are you sure?”
I nodded. “You're my boyfriend. I want to give you pleasure.”
But he just bit his lower lip, saying nothing, maybe deciding.
So without waiting, I bent down and took his young cock into my mouth, my lips wetly enclosing the swollen head of it as my tongue began licking across it.
“That feels fantastic!” he gasped, a 12-year-old boy getting his first blow job from his first girlfriend. “Use your hand, too, Maureen.”
Still sucking at his throbbing cock, I began jacking him off again, slowly, my small hand moving up and down.
He groaned low in his throat, his hips shifting on the ancient van's seat as I sucked harder at him. I loved the feel of his young dick in both my hand and my mouth, the hardness of it, the smoothness of his flesh, the way the rounded fleshy head of it throbbed the entire time.
“You can come in my mouth,” I let him know. “You're my boyfriend. I'll swallow your cum, if you want.”
He seemed not to hear me at first, but then Tim began gently pushing his skinny ass up off the seat. He was actually fucking me in the mouth. I bobbed my head faster, my hand speeding up, wanting to taste his young cum, to swallow all of it, in fact.
Like I'd said, I was addicted to dick, including the sensation of warm semen filling my mouth. Even the taste of it going down my throat.
I was probably more of a little cum freak than most of the younger girls in The Family Fun Club, swallowing mouthful after mouthful of it at every sex party. Good thing I was so skinny-my mom said there's serious calories in semen, but I still couldn't tell if she was kidding me.
She and my dad loved to kid me all the time.
Anyway, I pulled Tim's jeans open wider and slid a hand into them, my fingers finding the fleshy sack of his balls and squeezing it gently. He still had almost no hair down there.
He moaned softly, then pushed his rigid cock still deeper into my slippery mouth, my tongue working around the smooth head of it in little circles that quickly had him trembling uncontrollably.
“This is unbelievable!” he breathed. “I love it, Maureen!”
I nodded, still sucking him with a series of little slurping noises, then reached up and pulled off the blue scrunchie holding my pony tail in place. I tucked it into the corner of the bench seat we occupied.
“Tim, grab my hair!” I told him. “Grab it tightly while I'm blowing you.”
It seemed to puzzle the boy for a long moment, but then his slender fingers entangled themselves in my blonde hair. When he closed his grip on the handful he had, I nodded that he'd done exactly what I'd wanted.
“Pull it a little more,” I said to him. “Pull my hair tighter. It turns me on!”
Which, for whatever reason, it did, that sensation of my blonde hair being pulled tightly at the roots, as if stimulating my scalp maybe. For whatever reason, it made my cunt (already wet) even wetter.
My mom had taught me that when I'd first started eating her pussy.
And so Tim gripped a much bigger handful of my hair and tightened his grip on it until the sensation went straight down my entire body to my 11-year-old cunt. And, of course, made it even wetter.
“I want you to come,” I murmured to him, still sucking and masturbating him. “I want to taste your cum!”
It turned out I didn't have long to wait.
With a shuddering gasp, Tim suddenly stiffened and poked his hard cock even deeper into my mouth as that first tiny jet of his young cum spurted against my tongue. A brief moment later, further warm ribbons of it filled my mouth, my tongue working quickly at the tiny hole it poured from.
“Oh, God, yeah!” he gasped again, his fingers in my hair and his dick throbbing repeatedly as his balls unloaded every drop of his warm liquid into my mouth. “Maureen, my God, this is so great!”
In my heart of hearts, I prayed he'd feel the same wayafterwe were done.
Boys, all boys and men alike, actually, think and talk very differently before and after they'd had their way with a bad girl.
They often only fully appreciated her, it seemed to me, until they'd shot their rocks off. And then they barely knew her. Until the next time.
Little bastards.
Anyway, I sucked Tim while continuing to jack him off, my hand a blur in his lap until the final small spurt of his cum ebbed out. Then I licked gently at the smoothly-firm tip of his cock until it was clean.
“Did that feel good?” I asked with a sly smile, sitting up and well knowing the answer. “I wanted you to love it.”
Still trying to catch his breath, Tim nodded and slumped back into the seat, yet his slender cock remained hard, still wet and shiny from my mouth. He wasthatyoung, after all, with more erections in him than even he knew.
“Ididlove it,” he admitted. But then he gave me a curious look and asked, “Have you ever done that before? Sucked a guy's dick?”
Of course, I'd been expecting such a question all along, but I still wasn't entirely prepared for it.
“Well…”