Date: Wed, 14 Dec 2016 17:50:09 +0000 (UTC)
From: Tony Williams <tonywill9999@yahoo.com>
Subject: Stranger than Fiction

Stranger than Fiction
by Tony Williams

I step out of the shower, roughly dry myself on a towel and go out on to
the landing, still naked. My young niece Debbie, who's staying with me
while her mum's in the hospital, is downstairs and if she looks up she
might be able to see me, but I don't care. I've nothing to be ashamed of,
in fact is she were to "accidentally" get to see me unclothed, I might find
it quite thrilling. I'd sure love to see her with nothing on. I look down
into the living room but she's not there. I go into my bedroom and open to
top drawer of my dresser where I keep my knickers. They range from tiny
see-through triangles of whispy material, to white cotton schoolgirl
knickers (large, to fit me), to silk tap pants. I have all the colours of
the rainbow. I select a pair of the latter which are like boxers but with
no fly, with lace round the legs and up the side, in a shade of vivid
turquoise. I look at myself in the mirror and oh, am I fucking sexy! The
knickers come almost up to my belly button and the short legs end high on
my thigh. I sqeeze my tits, quite small but nice and firm with big nipples.

I go downstairs but no one's there. I sit at the kitchen table, open my
laptop and start typing. I hear my niece coming down the stairs. She must
have slipped upstairs while I was admiring my sexy self. She'll be twelve
next month, but she hasn't yet shown any signs of puberty.

She comes into the kitchen. "Wotcha doing?" she asks, then, "Oh, my God,
you're wearing my favourite knickers"

I stand up and turn to face her. "How do I look?"

"Very classy. Can I borrow those sometime?"

"So that you can show them off whenever anyone looks up your skirt? Sure,
why not?"

"You mean like when I do this?" She takes the hem of her dress and lifts it
up round her chest, revealing a pair of white cotton knickers. My pulse
races. I give her a grateful smile. She's never done a deliberate display
before. Until now, all her knicker flashes have been "accidental", as it
were. She drops her dress and comes to sit across my thighs, one arm round
my neck, and looks at my laptop screen.

"I'm writing a story."

"What's it about?"

"About a little girl, your age, whose mum has just come home from Africa
where she served with Doctors Without Borders and she's only ever known her
kid for a few weeks each year of her life so she's trying to get to know
her. She's called Sweetie, the girl, that is." Debbie stands beside me, her
hip pressed against my shoulder. She reads aloud as I pick up the story and
start typing: ". . . stood there in her new dress, the one her mum had just
bought for her. 'Have you got clean knickers on?' her Mum asked and instead
of replying she simply lifted the hem of her dress as high as it would go,
revealing her . . ."

"We need a colour," I say.

"White, like mine? Or turquoise? Pink's good, too."

". . . shocking pink knickers with white scalloped elastic round the waist
and legs. For several seconds she gazed at her child, her pulse
quickening. It wasn't the sexiness of her underwear that was getting her so
excited, it was the fact that her daughter was willing to let her look at
what should always be a secret, concealed from public view, and not merely
permitting her but eager that she should look, in short, and
invitation. Finally, Sweetie let her dress fall and came to stand beside
her, one hand on her far shoulder." Debbie is reading along as I
type. "Unable to help herself, she placed the palm of her hand on the
inside of her little girl's knee and slowly slid it up." My real hand
follows the story line and even though I half expect Debbie to pull away,
she doesn't.

"How high does her hand go?" she asks.

"How high should it?"

"You're writing the story. It can go as high as you like." I have to take
my hand from under her dress in order to type, and Debbie reads aloud: "She
moved her hand higher until the edge of her forefinger touched the crotch
of the child's knickers, then she rotated her fingers until they were
horizontal and she pressed one finger into her camel toe . . ."

"She couldn't know it was a camel toe if she couldn't see it," Debbie
points out. I put my hand back at the top of her thigh.

"Good point. So she touches her . . . what do you call your vagina?"

"My pee pee."

"That's a little girl's name for it. She's eleven, like you. How about
'pussy'?" She shakes here head. "'Quim?' 'Twat'?'"

"Let's call it what it is," she says, "her 'cunt'."

"That's not nice. How about 'muffin'?"

"Muffin will do, but I'm gonna call mine my cunt from now on. I know it's a
rude word but you use bad words all the time." She's right. I continue:
". . .into her muffin, pressing gently and moving it up and down. She
sighed, contentedly. 'Does that feel nice?' her mummy asked her. 'It
tickles, Mummy, but in a nice way. It makes me wanna pee.'" I put my hand
up Debbie's dress again, this time moving directly to my target, and run my
finger on her cunt, outside her knickers, amazed that she's letting me do
it.

"Is she gonna pee in her knickers?" she asks. "Remember that time when we
were taking a short cut through the graveyard and I couldn't wait to go and
I just lifted my dress and peed through my panties?"

"I'll never forget it. They were white, like now. You were about nine, and
it was the first time I realized how sexy you are. It looked so lewd,
especially with the big smile you had on your face." I move my hand from
her crotch and start caressing her bum cheeks. "Let's move on. What's Mummy
wearing?"

"Tap pants, like you."

I sit and type on: "She was starting to feel the heat of the afternoon
pressing upon her, so she lifted her hips, pulled her dress from under her
bum and lifted it over her head, revealing her eyewateringly vivid electric
blue silk tap pants. She put her hand back up Sweetie's dress and the girl
parted her legs slightly so that Mummy could press right against her
mound. She said again that she badly needed to pee."

"Now they go upstairs to the bathroom." I type it up, and end with Mum
leaning against the bathroom washbasin, watching as little Sweetie lifts
her dress and stands in front of her, proudly showing off her knickers and
narrow flat chest. Debbie follows me, reading along as I type.

"Well, then," she says, as I finish typing, "let's go upstairs." She takes
me by the hand and I pick up the lap top and follow her upstairs, sneaking
a quick view up her dress as we climb. In the bathroom I sit on the toilet
lid, put the laptop on my knees and start typing again, reading it aloud to
Debbie: "'Go ahead and pee,Sweetie,' she said to her, and the little gril
lifted her dress and sat on the toilet without taking her knickers
down. 'Wait a minute,' she protested, 'are you gonna pee in your knickers?'
Sweetie merely smiled at her and for a second or two, nothing happened,
then the pink cotton of her knickers darkened as they became soaked, and a
thin stream of pee began to fall from her crotch making a musical tinkle as
it landed in the bowl. Then the stream lessened and finally stopped and she
stood, pushed her wet knickers down her legs and stepped out of them."

"So now you want me to pee, huh?" says Debbie. "You'll have to move."

"I have to sit so I can type. You can pee in the shower and follow the
story so I can see if I got it right." She gives me a dazzling smile, lifts
her dress over her head, drops it in the laundry hamper and steps into the
shower. She pushes her hips lewdly forward and pees. My descripiton was
right on the mark, and seeing it happen in real life is much more thrilling
than writing about it, even more thrilling than the time in the churchyard
which had the added danger of the possibility of being seen. When she's
finished, I close the laptop and place it on the countertop, step into the
shower and put my hand down between her legs. I squish her panties,
squeezing more pee out of them, then put my hand up to my face and lick my
palm. "Delicous, my darling Debbie," I murmur. Then I kneel and pull the
dripping knickers down her legs and let her step out of them. I stand back
and look at her naked body, presented to me for the first time for
ages. "Oh, my God, you're fucking adorable," I whisper breathlessly. She
rewards me with a lovely smile.

"I've shown you mine, now you have to show me yours," she says. I can't put
off the moment any longer. The suspense has been exquisite and now my pussy
is dripping wet.

"Help yourself, Debbie." She squats in front of me, her cunt still in view,
and sneaks her fingers up the leg of my knickers. Her fingertips touch my
pussy and I tremble. Then she pulls the panties to one side and peers at my
cunt.

"Wow! It's awesome! You've shaved all your hair off and you have big floppy
lips!" Imagine! An eleven year old girl enthusing about my twat! What a
lovely thought. I push down at the waistband, sliding the tap pants until
they drop to the floor and I step out of them, kicking them into the corner
of the shower. Debbie gazes at my cunt, her eyes big with wonder, then she
looks up at me. "Are you gonna pee?"

I think she's a bit too young to enjoy a golden shower so I reply, "Not on
your face, darling."

"Go ahead and pee. I'll decide where it goes." I try to relax, but my pee
won't come. She's looking up at me adoringly, her angel face wreathed with
smiles and then my pee squirts from my eurethra and hits her tummy. She
giggles, then moves so that the jet hits her cunt and dribbles down between
her legs. She laughs out loud. "This is so naughty! Pee on my tits!" She
moves again so that my pee hits her flat chest. I'm amazed that she seems
to be having a lot of fun. "Now on my cunt again. Is this naughty enough to
earn a spanking?" Her face carries a grin from ear to ear.

"Several." I say. "I'm gonna spank you several times a day, you naughty
little girl. I'm gonna make your creamy bum cheeks blush with pleasure."
Finally, I'm empty and she stands as I turn the water on and adjust the
temperature. We rinse off and step out of the shower and towel each other
dry. I leave our underwear lying on the shower floor, pick up my lap top,
take Debbie's hand and lead her into her bedroom. She opens her dresser
drawer. "What's your favourite colour, Auntie?"

"For knickers? White." She selects a pair, hands them to me and I hold them
for her to step into. Then from the closet she selects a diaphanous dress
which, when she dons it, lets her white knickers show right through it. "It
should be worn with a slip but . . ."

"Yeah, I get it. I open the lap top and start typing: "'I need to get you a
clean pair of knickers,' her Mum said. She ran into her daughter's bedroom
and took a pair of white ones from the dresser drawer. Back in the bathroom
she lifted her daughter's dress over her head, marveling at her beautiful
naked body, so slim and frail, two tiny nipples on her chest. 'Into the
shower,' she commanded and watched as the girl rinsed herself, then, when
she stepped out, she enfolded her in a fluffy towel and rubbed her dry,
paying special attention to her muffin. Then she held out the clean
knickers for her to step into and pulled them up her legs. She helped her
put her dress back on then led her into her bedroom. She sat on the end of
her bed. 'Sweetie, you've been a naughty girl, peeing in your knickers like
that and I'm gonna have to spank you.' Sweetie knew her mum was just
playing a game, so she smiled coyly, and without having to be told, lifted
her dress up and lay across her knees."

Debbie lifts her own dress, saying, "If we're gonna be authentic, you have
to get all the details right, so practice on me." She lies across my lap. I
put the lap top on her back just above her bum. "Take my knickers down."
Words to die for! With my heart racing, I slide them down to her knees and
run my hand over her bum cheeks. Then I start typing again, reading aloud
as I go: "She'd never been so excited in her life as she pulled her little
girl's knickers down to her thighs, exposing her pearly white . . ."

"Pearly?" Debbie interrupts me. "That's a bit Victorian, isn't it?" I
backspace.

". . .creamy white bum cheeks and she gently caressed them, in preparation
for the ritual to come. She started to gently spank her, one, two, three on
each cheek and Sweetie pretended that it hurt, making little 'Ow!' noises,
to complete the illusion."

"Go ahead, Auntie. Spank me. Spank my creamy white bum." I put the laptop
on the bed and give her six gentle pats as she squirms, pretending to try
to escape. I type on: "Sweetie suddenly rolled on to her back, her feet on
the floor, her head hanging down, her back arched and for the first time in
months, her mother was able to get a clear, close up look at her little
muffin. It seemed to smile at her."

"Smile? Cunts don't smile, silly." She rolls on to her back. Her cunt is
perfectly bald.

"Remember she's lying across her lap, so from Mum's point of view her
muffin runs from side to side."

"Fair enough."

I go on: "She was unable to resist the urge to bend down and kiss it, and
then put her hand on the child's tummy, stroking with her fingers in a
circular motion, moving ever lower and lower until she was circling her
muffin and her fingertips came to rest right on its lips."

"Wow!" says Debbie. "Go on then. Kiss my cunt." I'm beginning to find her
use of the "C" word kinda thrilling, coming from a seeming innocent eleven
year old, though perhaps "innocent" is stretching it a bit. I lean down and
place a lingering kiss on her lips, which have only just begun to develop,
with no sign of a clit, yet. Then I do as my story describes, circling my
fingers until I reach my target. She lies there, evidently enjoying it, but
I see her face is getting red, so I lift her upper body up and she stands,
her dress still trapped by her upper arms. I politely pull her knickers
back up and snap the elastic at her waist. Her dress falls and she sits
beside me, reading what I've just typed.

"It's not bad," she says.

"It's a lot better than my other sto . . ." I stop, realising too late that
I've just let a secret out."

"What other stories? Are they on your computer. Can I read them?"

"Absolutely not. They're far too raunchy for you."

"So where were we in our story?"

I sit at the dressing table and start typing again: "'I'm not very
comfortable, Mummy,' she said, so she let her roll off her lap to lie
beside her. Sweetie just lay there, her arms spread wide, delighting in
showing off and her Mother's excitement mountied in anticipation of what
. . ." Debbie reads over my shoulder what I've written.

"So what's she anticipating?"

"You tell me. You're writing this story as well."

"I think Mum wants to kiss her treasure," she says.

"Remember she's only eleven."

"I'm only eleven." Her words hang on the air.

"But sweetie is more innocent than you. She ought to at least do a little
touching first. We need to slowly build up to climax. Tell me what to
type." She dictates:

" . . . of what was going to happen. To her delight, the little girl put
her hand on the front of her tap pants, pressing hard against her stomach,
then moved it farther down. 'It feels nice and silky," she said. She was
about to ask her to put her hand intside her undies when, unbidden, the kid
did just that, and as her fingers touched her pussy, a wave of love burst
inside her and she felt that she was almost about to cum. Their eyes locked
and she knew she'd never feel the same way about her daughter again."

"That's more like it," I say. "Drag it out to increase the suspense. You're
quite a writer. You should write some stories of your own."

"I should read those other stories you wrote, to give me some idea of how
to begin."

"Maybe later. Now, do me a favour and run into my bedroom and fetch a me
pair of knickers. You pick the colour." She leaves. I log on to the
internet, to the site that publishes my erotic fiction, find my collection
and scan the titles, a couple of dozen of them. I pick one out, titled "The
Girl in the Window" and download it into a documents file. Debbie comes
back into the room holding a pair of ordinary white cotton knickers and I
stand as she kneels and pulls them up to my knees. She looks up at me
adoringly, leans in and places a kiss on my tummy, then pulls them all the
way up.

"Let's recap," I say. "Sweetie's naked on the bed, her hand down the front
of Mum's knickers and Mum's lying back and letting it happen. I wanna take
a break now Debbie, but meanwhile, I'm gonna let you read one of my
stories. It's written from the viewpoint of . . . well, you'll find out. I
want you to tell me if it's credible, realistic, believable." I open the
document file and click on the title. Debbie grabs the laptop and flings
herself face down on the bed, propped up on her elbows, her lower legs
vertical and begins to read. I get a quick look up her dress and go into my
room, pull on a white singlet and walk downstairs. It's time for lunch.

______________________________________________________________



We're sitting at the kitchen table, eating hastily made sandwiches. "What
did you think of the story?" I ask Debbie. "Was it believable?"

"A bit improbable, but not impossible. I liked the ending."

"If you had been her, would you have been shocked?"

"Surprised, yes, but shocked, no. Would you do that to me?"

"You know I'd never do anything that you weren't perfectly happy
about. You've always liked showing off."

"And you've always liked looking." I grin in agreement. She stands, takes
her plate to the sink, turns and lifts her dress up in her classic "look at
me" pose. Her knickers are blinding white. I pull the laptop to me, spin it
round and use it's camera to take a picture of her. She drops her dress and
comes round to stand beside me and we look at the screen. It's a perfect
shot, conveying the lewdness of her pose. I put my hand on the inside of
her thigh and run it up to her pants, then tickle her cunt through the
cotton with my fingertips.

"That's a great pic, Debbie, one for my collection."

"Collection of what?"

"Pictures from the internet of little girls like you in their underwear. I
even have a few naked ones."

"You bad, bad auntie," she murmurs. "Let's see them."

I open the file and start the slide show. Picture after picture of preteen
girls in their undies, all with dazzling smiles on their faces. There are
even a few family shots of naked little Lolitas. My hand is still up her
dress and her knickers are getting damp.

"They're all so pretty and they look so eager."

"I don't download a picture if she's not smiling." I save Debbie's picture
to my collection. She sits across my lap and puts both arms round my neck,
her cheek against mine.

"I wanna read your other gay stories," she whispers in my ear. "I wanna
find out about girls who eat pussy and whatever else they do."

"Not right now, Sweetheart, there's a lot going on between us already and I
don't want you overloaded. Just be patient and you'll experience everything
in time. Let's get back to the story." I put one arm round her back in
order to type, bring it up on the screen and start typing again: "Sweetie
moved her hand up and down, her eyes locked on hers. Somewhere in the back
of her mind a voice told her mother that this was wrong, but the soft touch
of her daughter's fingers on her pussy make it impossible for her to
resist. She could feel her orgasm building in her lower abdomen as her
wetness coated the little girl's hand. She looked up at her face, beaded
with sweat, and their eyes locked and she saw the look of absolute
adoration on her . . ."

"Eat her pussy, Sweetie!" Debbie interupts. "Go on, lick her cunt!" I'm
typing as fast as I can, ignoring typos, living the excitement of Sweetie
and her mother: " . . .little angel face and then, without warning, her
orgasm exploded . . . "

"Fuck, no!" Debbie cries. "Doesn't Sweetie get to lick her?"

"Hey, what's the rush. We've got all day. You seem terribly eager for the
girl to perform oral sex. She's not a slut."

"Oh, yes,she is a slut and I'm a slut, and you're a child molester." She
slides off my lap on to her knees beside me and pushes her hand into down
the front of my knickers. She looks up at me and grins. "Molest me,
Auntie!" she says with a wicked grin. "Make me your sex slave!" Where does
she get this stuff from? Unable to focus on the story, I lean back and she
begins to finger my pussy. I'm totally wired and ready to cum.

"Oh, Jesus, that feels incredible! Don't stop, whatever you do. Oh, Debbie,
you sexy little fox, you're driving me crazy." My breath comes in
gasps. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum! Any second now!" She drags my knickers down to
my ankles and buries her head between my thighs, just as my orgasm lights
me up like a firework display. My hips thrust up as her tongue probes me,
tasting my juices. then she lifts her head and looks at me, an expression
of eagerness on her face. Wetness drips from the corner of her mouth and
our eyes lock as she licks her lips. I can see her tongue swirling round
her mouth, tasting the last trace, then she grins.

"There, Sweetie could've done that, couldn't she?" I'm speechless. "It
doesn't taste bad at all. I can see why girls like to eat pussy."

_________________________________________________________



It's after dinner and I've had time to recover from the explosive orgasm
that fired such a huge quantity of my juice into Debbie's eager mouth. I
take my laptop and go into her room. She's stripped down to her white
cotton knickers and lies face down on the bed, her upper body propped up on
her elbows, staring at her iPad.

"What are you reading?"

"You fucked up, Auntie."

"Huh?"

"When you printed out that story `The Girl at the Window', the top of the
page had the internet site printed there. I looked it up and you were in
the list of authors and I found all your stories." Her face adopts a
shocked look, clearly faked. "All those little girls in their knickers,
fucking and licking, and all those Mummies molesting their daughters. You
should be ashamed of yourself." She can't help grinning.

"Whatever you do, you can never tell anyone what you've found," I tell her,
my voice serious. "Now I guess I don't have any secrets from you." I sit
beside her and run my hand up the back of her thigh and begin fondling her
buttocks. She rolls on to her back, pull her knees up and lets them fall
apart. My hand quite naturally lands on her crotch and I caress her with my
fingertips. I lean in close and murmur in her ear, "I know how to end the
story. She gets fucked, but not by her Mum." I reach into the drawer of the
bedside table and blindly grope for my vibrator.

"Who, then?"

"I'll show you. Can I take your knickers off?"

"You know you don't have to ask." I have the exquisite pleasure of hooking
my fingers into the waistband of her knickers and sliding them down, my
face close, my gaze riveted on her cunt. Then I grab her ankles and pull
her body down the bed until her bum is right at the edge, her feet on the
floor. I kneel between them, lean in and kiss her cunt. Then I go to work
with my tongue, sliding it up and down her crack, pushing it into her, then
repeating it. She quickly becomes wet.

"You're cunt tastes delicious," I tell her, truthfully. The aroma of her
sex makes my head spin. "Lace your fingers behind your head to hold it up
so you can look down and see what's happening." I turn the vibrator on and
rub the tip up and down her slit, about three seconds on each stroke, nice
and slowly to make this thing last. She shivers with delight. My movements
get more pronounced, the end of it touching her perineum, then sliding up
over her muffin until the middle of it rests in her slit, then I pull down
again, the tip pushing at her lips with each cycle. It's now dripping all
over from her wetness. Back and forth I go, my eyes locked with hers as she
gazes adoringly at me. I press the tip into her, just a couple of
inches. Her face becomes flushed and her breathing quickens and I press a
little deeper until suddenly she mews a little cry, pulls her knees up to
her chest and lets out a huge gust of air. Her legs fall back, and she lies
there, her eyes closed. I think I just made her cum.

"Oh, that was so . . . " She's lost for words.

I pull back, and sit on my heels. She lies there, her gasping breath slowly
diminishing. She puts her hand down between her legs, pushes two fingers
into her cunt, then licks them clean, then looks at me. I can see nothing
but pure love in her eyes. I put the tip of the vibrator against my own
clit and let it do its magic. In seconds I, too, have cum. I get up and sit
beside her.

"Back to the story," I say. "Mommy can't use the vibrator to actually fuck
her ltttle girl," I say, "'cos she's a virgin and she doesn't want to spoil
that, so she kinda fucks her without taking her virginity, see what I mean?
It's the perfect ending. The reader can use his imagination to . . ."

She interrupts, her voice eager. "Or her imagination. We need to write this
up." I open the laptop and start typing: "Later that evening, still naked
from her shower she came into Sweetie's room to see her lying on her bed,
looking perfectly delicious in her white schoolgirl knickers. The girl saw
her and her eyes lit up. There was no time to waste, so she asked her
outright, 'Can I take your knickers off?' Sweetie smiled. Her mother had
the exquisite pleasure of hooking her fingers into the waistband of
Sweetie's knickers and sliding them down, her face close, her gaze riveted
on the girl's cunt. Then she grabbed her ankles and pulled her body down
the bed until her bum was right at the edge, her feet on the floor. She
knelt between them, leaned in and kissed her little darling's cunt. . . ."

"So she doesn't get to eat her Mum's pussy?" Debbie asks, plaintively. I
pass the laptop over to her.

"You write it , Debbie." She starts to type as fast as she can. "thrusting
her tongue in as far as it would go. . . " She pauses, creating the plot
inside her head.

"You can let little Sweetie do anything she likes," I say, to encourage
her.

"She's gonna sit on her Mum's face and eat her pussy and then let Mum fuck
her with a big fat dildo," she mutters. She stops typing for a second and
looks at me. "I think we should act it out first, get all the kinks out of
it, make sure it's believable, right?"

Oh, absolutely!

The End.



Authors depend on your feedback. Please email Tony Williams:
tonywill9999@yahoo.com

Copyright © 2016 Tony Williams. All Rights Reserved.