EROTIC STORIES :

THE GIFT
© remittance girl, 2005

It was Jill at Introspectre who helped me be brave enough to write this story. I commented on her post: My Shameless Love of Being a Good Little Girl that I was thankful for her courage to write the story she wrote because I wasn't brave enough to write my own. In the post I wrote on ageplay, I did what I always do when I deal with a topic that disturbs me. I wrote about it from a very analytical perspective. It allowed me to protect myself through rationalism. But to talk about this rationally is to be dishonest, because the core of this fantasy is, for me, absolutely irrational, absolutely emotional and wholly exposed.

One of the other obstacles, when I thought about writing this, was how to make sure you understood that this was a fantasy – fiction completely divorced from reality – while still using the language of storytelling that would allow you to immerse in it. Always, at the back of my mind, is the fear that some hideously evil person might use what I write as a justification for abuse or as an incitement to it. But, I had to ask myself this question: if I didn't write this, would this 'hideously evil person' not find their excuses or inspiration elsewhere? And, does the existence of 'hideously evil people' mean that I have to censor myself?

I guess the presence of this story on my blog gives you an idea of how I answered those questions for myself.

I have to own to the fact that breaks many of the rules of writing. It doesn't have a classic eight-point story structure, nor have I made much of an effort to make the characters or the plot realistic. Finally, I have broken a cardinal rule of switching POV throughout the story. It simply wouldn't write for me any other way.

Finally A WARNING FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO STUMBLED ACROSS THIS PAGE

This might be considered a highly offensive story to some. If you find ageplay offensive, please do not read further.

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She was one of fifty. The council has gifted her to him. Orphaned almost at birth, the colony council took the children as genetic stock and struck a bargain with single colonists. If he agreed to rear her, he could have her.

Pragmatic though it might have been, the arrangement has always bothered him because of the way it blurred the boundaries between nurturing and pairing, but he accepted her anyway. He didn't want to be alone; he had no choice.

Her name is Anna. She's an odd little thing, skinny and coltish. She has dark brown hair that she sometimes wears in a braid down her back; still, there are always stray hairs that slip out and get in her eyes. She's introverted and given to bouts of silence, which people interpret as melancholy. It's not. She has a rich interior world into which she retreats when the order of the real one confuses her. There is a part of her that wants to grow up just as fast as she can, and another part that will probably never grow at all. Perhaps this is his fault; he has done his best to give her a childhood and make it happy for her.

She's shy but loving, wary but not aloof. The elders who populate her world are not adults in her eyes; they've simply allowed the rules of 'the way things should be' to order their lives in a way that is opaque to her. Because Anna is utterly innocent and emotional and sensual and, for her, the world is still a very kind place, except for school.

It's not that Anna doesn't like school – she likes learning very much. But she doesn't like the way her schoolmates have changed. She doesn't understand their cliques and petty cruelties. She doesn't like the fact that they tease her and call her a boy, or snigger at her in the swimming pool changing room because her breasts have hardly grown yet. For the first time in her life, she's been made to question her worth. She's been made ashamed of the body she has lived in all her life. And for that reason, Anna dreads the company of others of her age.

Her refuge from all of this might have been the company of grown-ups, but they have their own way of seeing her. To them she is always a child, always 'little Anna', quiet and well behaved. And this isn't what Anna knows herself to be either. She doesn't like to be spoken to like a baby or be considered in need of constant supervision. Anna is something in-between and the only person who really sees her for who she is, is the man she thinks of as her Protector.

At every age, it seems, he knew exactly who she was and he always spoke to her as if she were smart, and important, and capable of understanding things. She adores him. And now, as she finds herself an exile from both her peers and the grown-ups around her, she seeks him out frequently. In his company, she knows exactly who she is.

Lately, she's spent her time alone in her room, thinking about him. She has begun to crave his company with something verging on obsession. She lies in bed and hugs her pillow to her chest and dreams about the smell of him and the warmth of his arms. And, if once the desire had been for simple, physical comfort, it has changed into something new: something not quite so peaceful, something that makes her breathless and feverish, something that makes her put her hands between her legs. It's a yearning towards something she doesn't understand, a flight towards a shelter she doesn't know the dimensions of.

Anna has become clingier. He has been the opposite. He has kindly, but firmly, moved her off his lap when she's tried to crawl there. On a Saturday morning, when she has climbed onto his bed and snuggled next to him, he's told her she is too grown up for that now. As kind as he's been in his rebuffs, they are still rejections and she has felt the only sanctuary she had slipping away from her behind a barrier of 'things she is now too old to do'.

* * *

One afternoon, at the end of another week of school, she comes home to find him sitting in the common room. She knows better than to cry at school – it only makes things worse – but once the asylum of home is achieved, she sits down on the sofa beside him and buries her head against his arm and cries.

"What's up, Anna?" he asks, freeing his arm and putting it around her shoulders.

She sobs. "I hate school; I hate the girls at school! They're nasty and mean!"

"Are they? That's horrible," he says, patting her arm and kissing the top of her head. "What did they do?"

"What they always do! I hate Fridays. I hate swimming! I hate it!" she wails. "Can I not go to school on Fridays anymore, please?" Anna looks up at him with tear streaked eyes, desperate to be told that there will never be another Friday swimming lesson, ever again.

"Sh-h. Take a big breath, Anna," he says softly, "and tell me exactly what they do that's so mean."

She trusts him and she does what he says. She draws a huge, fractured breath and then says, "They tease me. They say horrible things about me. When I get changed, they point at my chest and laugh and say I look like a board…" Another bout of sobs makes her words unintelligible.

"A board?" he asks, confused.

"Flat as a board!" she mumbles miserably. "Flat as a board."

He wants to laugh aloud, but he doesn't. He knows she won't understand why he thinks it's funny; she'll mistake it for his agreement. "Anna, that's just not true."

"I am! I'm almost flat. Lots of other girls have big breasts already!" she protests, her voice rising. "What's wrong with me? Why are they so small and ugly? Why am I so small and ugly? Why???"

"You're not, Anna. You're not ugly at all, sweetheart."

His voice is calm, reassuring, but it only serves to drive her misery. He's refusing to see what is obvious –what all the girls at school can see – and he's only saying these things to calm her down and comfort her.

She struggles off the couch, away from his arm and stands in front of him, a teary mess. Her fingers fumble with the zip on her school shirt and pull it apart. She stares at him, red-faced and defiant.

"See? See? They're ugly… I'm ugly!" she wails, the tears coursing down her cheeks. "And don't tell me I'm not, because I know I am. You won't even let me sit on your lap anymore; you think I'm ugly, too!!!" She stands weeping, holding her shirt apart.

"Oh, Anna!" he says in dismay. He understands now; he understands her misery and he's appalled and angered by the fact that someone has made her feel so inadequate. "Come here, bunny," he whispers, using the name he called her when she was first gifted to him. He pulls her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her, comforting her, stroking her tear-stained cheek.

"I'm not a bunny, anymore," she whimpers, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her face against his chest.

"Oh, you'll always be my bunny. Some things never change." He strokes her back as she weeps and catches little, breathy hiccups. "You'll always be my very beautiful bunny."

"No…" she mumbles against his shirt, wet from her crying. "I'm not beautiful. Please, don't lie."

He's furious now. Not at her, but at the people who have caused her doubt herself. "Anna, sit up, come on. Look at my face!" His voice changing now; it's sterner, serious. If she won't listen to words of comfort anymore, perhaps firmness might be better.

Anna wriggles around in his lap, straddling it to face him when she hears the seriousness in his tone. She pushes wet strands of hair behind her ear with a thin finger and looks into his face.

Seeing her this way is painful for many reasons. He looks at her and all he can see is her loveliness, her delicacy, the flawless little girl he's been given. But more, he looks at her and knows she's not a little girl anymore. She sits astride his legs, looking up at him, her shirt open and awry, her small breasts perfect with their dark nipples at their centers, the slender expanse of thigh visible beneath her short pleated skirt. Even as he places his hands on them, he knows the reaction he is having has changed. The sight of her makes his own body stir, his own breath quicken. His reaction is proof of how terribly wrong she is. "You are not ugly, Anna." His voice is stern and slow. "There is absolutely nothing ugly about you."

She stares up at him, blinking.

"Do you understand?" His voice is soft, but demanding. "I never want to hear you say that again."

She nods. She doubts him, but she nods anyway.

"There isn't anything wrong with your breasts. They're perfect."

Anna looks down at her breasts, bringing her hands up, covering them. She doesn't believe him, and shakes her head at them.

In an instant, his hands cover hers and gently push them aside. "They're lovely, Anna," he whispers, replacing her hands with his own, gently caressing each budding breast with the tips of his fingers. He cups them, feeling their small weight, and brushes his thumbs over the dusky, soft nipples. They feel exquisite to him, sending blood rushing through his veins, making his heart race.

Her gaze is downward, on his hands as they touch her. She watches as the nipples change from soft and puffy to hard, little nubs, in response to the brushing of his thumbs. She sighs her relief. His caresses are proof that he isn't lying to her - that perhaps, after all, they are beautiful. More than this, there's a delicious electricity to his touch that makes her breath shallow, her stomach squirm with butterflies and the place between her legs feel very warm. She arches her back, pushing her breasts into his hands, sighing again.

When she looks up, his face has changed but his expression is unreadable to her. All she knows is that it's not the closed-off face of a person who won't look at her. He is seeing her and, longing to close the gap between then, she surrounds his neck with her arms and presses her newly found beauty to his chest.

He hugs her fiercely, exhaling a breath he's been holding for a long, long time. He can sense her relief by the way her body moulds to his. A surge of unexplainable happiness rushes through him, knowing he's managed to heal something that was broken in her. But the joy is overshadowed by caution. He's hesitant to interpret what he thinks he's seen in her face, and heard in her sigh, as she pushed her breasts into his hands; the sound and images echo through his brain and speak to his body. "Feeling a little better?"

She doesn't answer, but the nod of her head tells him.

"Are we finished with all the tears then, bunny?"

"No," she whispers.

He leans back against the sofa, taking her with him as he slumps down. His fingertips graze her back idly. "No? Why not? What can we do to make sure there's no more of that?" He makes his voice lighter, playful.

She wriggles and settles on him again, her face nestled against his neck. The smell of his skin brings her a primal state of comfort, nudging at the edges of her senses, making her feel every inch of her skin. "Touch me everywhere. Make me feel beautiful everywhere," she murmurs.

His hands stop their caresses. The words fluttered against his skin and sent tendrils of arousal through his body. Still, he scared to misunderstand her; perhaps she only wants a child's comfort? He has sworn to never put his needs above hers, or offer her more than she asked for. There have been terrible mistakes in the colony – Protectors that wouldn't wait, that forced. The rumors have sickened him – terrified him – and that's why he has been so cautious about physical contact with her. But maybe this is the way to ascertain if she is ready.

"Where?" he asks, his lips grazing her hair. It smells of soap and dusty days.

"Everywhere."

"Like when you were small and I washed you?"

She's silent for a moment and then shakes her head. "No... Not like that."

"Then like what?"

Anna moves on him again, closing her arms tightly around his neck and pressing her lips to his cheek. She sighs. The air from her breath brushes past his ear. "I don't know. Do you?"

"Maybe."

He smoothes her hairs off her face, letting his fingers brush over her eyelids, her cheek, her lips. She feels so delicate. The fragility both frightens and arouses him in equal measure. Her lips purse as his fingers trail over them and, without seeing, knows how indescribably sweet the gesture is. With his other hand, he reaches up under the looseness of her undone blouse and touches her bare back, tracing the long, straight line of her spine.

She gives a soft gasp at the touch. Wisps of warmth spin away from her spine on both sides, enveloping her chest, triggering a shudder of delight. It is as if everywhere his fingers pass a trail of luminescence is left behind, like his touch is painting her in beautiful colours. This is what she has craved, what she wanted. She loves him desperately for doing this for her, for understanding how much she needs this.

"I love you," she peeps. "Please don't stop."

"I love you too, Anna," he whispers back. The shudders that he elicits as he stokes her bare skin vibrate through him like depth soundings. He wonders if she hears how fast his heart is racing.

His hand rides over her shoulders, firmer, warming the skin as it goes. As it reaches her side, by her breast, she shudders again and mews. Her lips pluck at the thumb caressing them, parting and drawing it in. Her mouth closes around the tip and sucks, even as she feels his hand move beneath her, covering her breast and squeezing it gently. The tips of his fingers slide back and forth over a nipple that has become hard. She moves her body against him, pressing the breast eagerly into his hand. Her hips push into him and she opens her lips to whimper, only to close them again, drawing his thumb further into her mouth, sucking hungrily.

Not comfort. It's not comfort she wants. Every bone in his body knows this now, and the realization pushes blood down into his cock; a floodgate has opened. It causes him to inhale sharply, and sigh out the breath. "Oh, Anna. Sweetheart," he murmurs, pulling the thumb from her mouth and cupping her chin to pull her face up to his.

Her plump lips are half open, her eyes half closed and unfocused. She is already lost in the contemplation of her own sensations. When he presses his lips against hers, they respond immediately, pursing and opening for him. Her tongue darts between them and slides along his mouth, probing, searching, until he parts his lips. Her entire body stretches, pushing her tongue into his mouth as if it had been coiled and waiting for the opportunity to spring forth. He responds by cupping her head and sucking gently on the eager tongue she has offered him. And as her lips form a seal against his, her hips begin to grind, her pelvic bone rolling over his erection. The raw intensity of her reaction to the kiss is overwhelming; he moans.

Colours explode behind her eyes as she kisses him. Something inside her wants to get inside him. She doesn't know what it is, but she surrenders to her urges and presses her tongue between his lips. The sensation of his response - sucking her tongue - tumbles down her back and seizes her hips, driving her to press herself against him over and over, as if pushing at a door to get inside.

He follows the line of her body down to her hips and feels them roll and curl. Cupping the small, plump cheeks of her ass, he kneads them as she moves, pulling her up his body enough so that it's no longer the sharp bone of her pelvis she's rubbing against him, but the soft hill of her mons.

Anna gasps and withdraws her tongue as he shifts her. Perhaps it's the other way around; perhaps what her body wants is to have him inside of her. She finds his tongue with her lips and sucks it into her mouth, making hungry noises as it enters her. She suckles it, delighting as it moves and strokes into her. Her body's on fire, her skin is sizzling from head to toe, and her heart thuds against her ribcage. To stop moving, kissing, touching him now is unthinkable, the absence of his hands, his mouth, his skin, unbearable.

He pulls her little skirt up over her hips and slips his hands under her panties, savoring the perfection of her bottom, the muscles beneath it that flex as she grinds. His long fingers follow the crevice along. They graze over her tiny, puckered hole and feel it snap closed, a startled sea anemone, in response to his touch. He passes on, following the contours down to her pussy.

What he finds there makes him groan aloud. She's meltingly wet, her juices already saturating the fine covering of hair and smeared to either side, on her thighs. It takes nothing to probe between her nether lips. They are plump and swollen and split apart the instant he presses inwards. Her need is so incredibly present; it almost pushes him over the edge. Her slow, steady grinding has already made him fear he will come this way. 'What does it matter if he does?' he asks himself. 'This is the beginning of something that has no timetable.' The thought makes him happy, relaxes him, and allows to him respond, pressing his hips forward as she grinds.

The feeling is amazing. Anna leaves off sucking his tongue to moan. "Oh-h...this feels so, so, so good," she pants, next to his lips. She wants to say more but can't. Only her body knows the words; she's unable to translate them.

It makes him smile and chuckle. "It does, doesn't it?" he says, angling his pelvis upwards again. "Here, this is even better, I promise." Between her legs, he presses his fingertip into the opening of her small, wet hole. Not deeply, but offering her possibility to push onto it with each grind of her hips.

At first, it feels odd. His finger feels big and hard, pressing into her. She has never put anything inside there before and it's very sensitive. But as she moves her hips, letting herself sink down onto it a little more each time, it begins to feel extraordinary. She can feel her interior muscles hugging, sucking on his finger, as she drives herself onto it. Until, in one fluid motion, she pushes down and feels a sharp pain and the sensation of small something tearing inside.

"Oh!" She squeaks, flinching and pulling away from his mouth in shock. "That hurt!"

His first reaction is to withdraw his finger, removing the object of her discomfort. But he knows better. Her hymen is only partly broken and it will sting until it's fully breached. "Sh-h," he whispers. "It's natural. It's your hymen. It will be over in a moment if you let me fix it." But her eyes are still wide and wary.

"Will you trust me?" he asks, kissing her lips gently. "I promise it will feel better in less than a minute. Okay?" The thought of her first bite of this apple leaving a bitter taste in her mouth is unbearable to him. He's determined that her memory of this experience should be wholly positive.

Anna looks at him, trusting. He would never hurt her and he knows lots of things that she doesn't know. She's still upset that one moment everything could feel so nice, and the next, a sharp little pain could take it all away. "Okay," she whimpers back, and searches his lips for comfort.

He starts to move his hips again, knowing that the shaft of his cock is right below her clit. He is engineering a distraction for what will follow. With his other hand, he covers her small, round buttock and squeezes it firmly, massaging it until she begins to move her hips, tentatively resuming her grinding motion. He holds his first and second finger together, penetrating her shallowly until reaching the point where the membrane lies, half torn.

"Kiss me, bunny," he says. "Kiss me very, very hard." She sighs and grins, and presses her mouth to his, opening in invitation of his tongue.

When he pushes his tongue into her mouth and she begins to suck on it, he can feel her need reigniting. He pushes his fingers deep, feeling the thin membrane give way. Even as she cries into his mouth, he presses her hips down and rocks against her, easing the fingers in and out of her slowly, firmly, until, eventually, she begins to fuck herself on his fingers, past the pain.

He didn't lie. It only hurt a moment and now it's beautiful, like a whirlpool of marvelous sensation sucking her inward. Why has he never done this to her before? Oh, no matter, she thinks. She want to tell him she loves him again, for making her feel this way, for making her whole being glow. With her eyes closed, she can almost see it. Can he see it? He's breathing fast like her and making soft noises like he makes when he wakes up. Perhaps he feels the same – like he's glowing. It's a hungry sort of glow and every time she moves, she feeds it a little more, and a little more, and more and...

"Oh-h!" she squeaks. There are ripples in her body spreading outward, gentle and light at first and then, as she feels his fingers fill her again, stronger.

"Does it hurt, Anna?"

"No. No. It's... so... nice," her words are stuttered as her body twitches on top of him.

He can hardly take the stimulus; he's almost bursting. Between the grinding, the snug walls around his fingers that have started fluttering and squeezing, and the sound of her moans, he's bathed in her pleasure. She begins to shudder hard and buck her hips, voicing successive little cries has she orgasms. It's unbearably sweet, unbearably hot. He arches his hips one last time and comes into his clothing.

* * *

She whimpers as he pulls his fingers from her and she lies on top of him for a long time, overtaken with little tremors. Finally she stirs, makes a noise like a baby animal.

"Are you okay, Anna?" He pushes the hair from her face and looks at her.

Her eyes are hardly open. She nods and presses her small nose into his the flesh of his cheek and inhales deeply. Then she moves her face, burrowing into his neck, and does the same again.

"You smell so good!" Her mouth is pressed to his skin, her voice muffled.

He laughs. "I'm flattered you think so, but it's just the pheromones."

"Pheromones?"

"Chemicals on my skin – yours too." He nestles his face into her hair and breathes in. It makes him giddy and his mouth floods with saliva.

"You didn't smell as good before."

"It's the smell of love, Anna."

"M-mm. It makes me feel hungry. It makes me want to eat you all up!" She giggles.

"I think we'll save that for another time," he says.

He holds his hand up and looks at his fingers. They're streaked with a small amount of blood. He fights the desire to put them in his mouth and taste her; she wouldn't understand even if he could explain.

Instead, he sits up carefully, clutching her to him. "Bath time, I think. Then we can have some dinner."

* * *

Anna sits naked on the side of the tub in the small bathroom and watches the water run. Her body feels lethargic and she has to tell herself to get up and step into the water. She can hear her Protector in the other room, moving around and singing to himself, gathering up her nightclothes. The water is almost too hot. She winces as she lowers herself into it. Once in, she sits and loses herself again in the swirling patterns.

Why isn't he with her? Why is he taking so long? She wants to call out to him but it's a babyish thing to do. When she hears his footsteps on the tile, she smiles and lies back in the water, closing her eyes in the surety that he's near.

The sight of her naked in the green water makes him want to cry, out of some inexorable sweetness. She's unbraided her hair and it floats around her like a watery halo. It has been four years since he has looked on her this way and she has changed into something extraordinary.

His growing erection reminds him that he's a mess. He can feel the cold, clamminess of where he spent himself before. He takes off his clothes as he watches her float, blindly in the warm water and then, looking down at his erection standing out so prominently, wonders if it was the right thing to do.

Her eyes flutter open and she smiles. "Want to get in? You haven't had a bath with me in a long, long time. Remember when we used to?"

"I remember. I've missed it."

"Why did you stop?"

"You needed time to be alone."

She doesn't understand his answer. Sitting up in the water, her hair streaming down her back, notices that something has changed. The thing between his legs never used to be that big and it never stood out like that before.

"Does that hurt?" She nods towards his groin.

"No, not at all."

"It didn't used to be that way. I remember."

"You've just never seen it that way before. Sometimes it's like this and sometimes it isn't."

"Oh." She scoots forward in the tub, exactly the way she used to when they used to bathe together. "Are you getting in?"

He steps into the water behind her and sits down. His mass displaces enough to push the water level over the rim of the tub and splash over onto the floor.

Anna huffs. "See? It wouldn't do that if your thing wasn't so big!"

The seriousness of her tone makes him laugh. He pulls her backward between his legs and hugs her. "Oh, I adore you, Anna! You are the funniest, smartest girl in the colony." Grabbing the washcloth and the soap, he lathers it in front of her. "Move your hair and I'll wash your back, bunny."

She gathers her wet hair and pulls it over her shoulders, grinning. She's happy he is having a bath with her again; happy he let her sit on his lap. Most of all, she was happy he touched her and made her feel so good inside. He scrubs her back and then pours water over her to rinse it off. Automatically, she turns around in the water to face him and holds up her arms, like she used to do, looking at him expectantly.

For a moment, he doesn't move. He sits and thinks, the wet cloth dripping from his hand. Then he gives her a little smile, makes more lather and begins to wash her front. He's gentler with her than he used to be when she was little. He used to scrub her chest just like her back, but now he rubs her carefully. It feels nice. She sighs and smiles.

"It feels nice."

"Does it?"

"Uh-huh. Really nice. Better than when you scrub hard."

He rinses the cloth in the bathwater and washes the soap off with it. "I'll remember that for next time."

She grabs the cloth from him and begins to soap it. "Here, I'll show you. Put your arms up."

She begins to wash his chest with infinite gentleness. "Put your arms up, I need to get under there!" she demands with mock authority.

It makes him chuckle. "Yes, Ma'am," he says, raising his arms.

Anna gets to her knees in the tub and reaches up to wash under his arms, first one, and then the other. Then she washes his chest again, and his stomach, paying special attention to his navel. She looks down at his thing in the water. It's still big and standing up. Only the tip of it sticks out of the water, but she's sure it needs washing too. She reaches out with to hold it with one hand and wash it with the other.

"No bunny, not there. I'll do that myself."

"You said it didn't hurt."

"It doesn't."

She's concerned. "I'll be gentle, I promise." She says, holding it a little more carefully.

He's not sure what to do; he's been so used to keeping himself away from her, it's become automatic. But equally, he doesn't want to teach her shame. He can feel her slender fingers holding him delicately, tenderly, as if it's something wounded that needs care. Moreover, he is positive there is a limit to how much he can control his reactions to her stimulus. He doesn't want to scare her.

"Okay. You can wash it. But be gentle, alright?"

It doesn't matter that she's gentle, his erection grows under her attentions and he fights the desire to thrust upwards through her hands. He stifles a groan.

"Am I hurting it?"

"No, Anna. It feels very nice."

She looks at him suspiciously. "It's getting bigger."

"Yes, yes it is. It's very sensitive and it gets bigger when you touch it."

"Does it feel good?"

"Remember when I touched you? Down there? It feels exactly like that."

She giggles. "Really? But it's not the same shape at all."

"Nonetheless, it feels the same."

Anna lets the washcloth float away and curls both her hands around it. She can feel it pulsing if she holds it tight, like something alive. She tries to remember what it felt like when he touched her down there, and begins to rub it and stroke the length of it. She would like to make him feel as good as he made her feel earlier and she searches his face as she touches him, for signs that it's working.

"Does it make you feel beautiful?" she asks quietly, as she strokes him.

"Yes, it does."

It is the first time in over fifteen years that another human being has touched him like this. Suddenly, he feels how hollow he has become through lack of contact. All the feelings that rush through him as he watches her, feels her, touch him this way... he moans at the vastness of what floods over him. She's hesitant, and awkward with him, and perhaps she has no idea of how she's affecting him but she's giving him his humanity back.

Gently, he puts his hand around hers and guides her. "This way," he whispers. "You don't have to go so fast."

She looks up at him. "Like this?" she whispers back.

"Just like that. Thank you."

He wants to thrust, he wants to close his eyes and roar, but he doesn't. He won't close her out. Still, he can't control his breathing, which has become rapid, and he fights to make his eyes focus on hers. He lets her take over again in order to stroke her legs beneath the water as she touches him. He'd like to touch her again, to make her come again, but he's worried that she's sore and needs some time to heal. Instead, he pulls her legs to bring her closer and, cupping her face in his hands, bends forward to kiss her.

She can tell now, she knows this is making him feel good. A surge of pride and love bursts through her as she watches his face and what it tells her. When he kisses her, she can feel all the pleasure he's feeling on his lips and, as he slides his tongue into her, she squeezes him and makes him jerk. There have been times she has made him happy before - made him laugh – but nothing like this. It feels wonderful to know she can make him feel good, too. It makes her feel so beautiful.

The trembles in his body transfer to her lips and she can't help but smile. Yes, this is exactly what she felt like before.

He begins to thrust gently through her hands, feeling his balls tighten and boil. The sweetness of her mouth as she sucks his tongue, and the way she squeezes him takes him over.

"Ah-h... god!" he gasps, and hugs her tight as he comes. He feels the warm gush of fluid hit their chests and then a second. "Oh, yes!" he whimpers. "Yes-s." He rests his head against hers, pressing his lips into her cheek, trying to catch his breath and trying not to weep.

* * *

They are downstairs in the kitchen, eating grilled cheese on toast. Anna's favorite. She finishes the last of the crust and sits back with her knees pulled up to her chest.

"Why did you cry?"

He rests his chin on his hand and looks at her. "It's very hard to explain."

"Can you at least try?"

He considers, for a while. "Remember how you asked me to touch you all over so you'd feel beautiful all over?"

She gives him a wry smile, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and nods.

"Well. I haven’t felt beautiful all over in a very long time. And feeling that way again made me cry. Not out of sadness. Just... like… when you watch a really great film, and at the end everything turns out perfect, and it makes you cry. Do you understand, Anna?"

"But I made you feel good?"

"Oh, Anna. Very, very good!"

"We should make each other feel that way all the time."

He chuckled. "Oh, really? All the time? What about going to school? And I have to go to work, you know. Anyway, if we did it all the time, it wouldn't feel so nice."

"Really? Oh." Anna looked at him a moment. "Well, lots then! Can we do it a lot?"

"We can do it quite a lot. Okay?"

"Now?"

He burst out laughing. "No, not now!" he said, reaching across the table and ruffling her newly dried hair. "Now you have to help me with the dishes."

* * *

Many things had changed, but many were just the same. There is still homework, and her Protector made her sit at the kitchen table once the dishes were done and do it. But he bent over her every so often, to look at her progress, and gave her a kiss. It was still the same, only a little better. When it was time for bed, he came to her room, and kissed her goodnight and turned off the light just like always.

She closes her eyes and tries to sleep, but too many thoughts are racing around her head. She lies in the dark and listens to him move around next door until everything goes quiet and all she can hear is the wind outside her window.

Turning and nestling her face into the pillow, she tries to regain the memory of his smell, like she always has. Somehow, now, the memory won't come. Instead, she remembers the feeling of his hands on her skin and the way his lips moved when he kissed her. Her hands tingle as she remembers how she touched him and made him feel good. Her skin feels warm when she recalls the hot liquid spurting between them.

Anna puts her hands between her legs and feels her own warm liquid, sticky between her thighs. She doesn't want to be alone. She wants to be with her Protector.

It takes her a long time to decide to climb out of bed and go to his room. She's scared he will tell her to go away, like he has done in the past; when he'd told her to go back to her room and be a good girl before, it made her a little sad, but she obeyed him all the same. But now, if he told her to go, it would be different. It would hurt now. Still she gathers up the courage, pads to the door of his room, and opens it.

"Protector?"

She can tell by his breathing that he's not sleeping. But he doesn't answer back.

"Protector?"

He sighs and rolls over to face her. "What is it, bunny?"

"I don't want to be alone."

"Neither do I. Come here, sweetheart."

Everything is happening too fast, he thinks. He has tried to simply follow their routine and see what parts of it she still feels comfortable with. She didn't protest when he saw her to bed in her own room, and although a part of him was disappointed, another part was glad to see that she still felt that things were normal and safe.

But now she's standing beside his bed and he has to fight the urge to reach out and pull her into his arms. He has to give her time to find her own way, and still be careful to let her know he loves her. He pulls back the bedclothes and makes some room for her to lie beside him.

But she doesn't get in straight away. Instead she stands in the moonlight from the window and pulls her nightgown over her head and drops it on the floor. His heart is thudding wildly, even before she crawls in and slips beneath the covers. She settles on her side and wriggles back until she's flush against him, and he's spooning her.

His cock is swelling again, and his body vibrates in the warmth of her soft skin. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her to him, feeling his erection nestle neatly and deliciously against the cleft of her beautiful little bottom.

It's far too much. He can't stop himself. His hands seek out her delicate breasts and cup them, teasing the small nipples with the pads of his thumbs.

"You really do like them," she whispers into the dark.

"No," he says, brushing her hair away from her ear with his chin. He kisses it and whispers, "I love them, Anna. You have the most beautiful breasts." He squeezes them gently and turns her onto her back.

"I love them so much, I have to taste them."

He cups them both again, and lowers his mouth onto the one closest to him. Planting a kiss on the nipple, he opens his lips and sucks the sweetness of it into his mouth. Her reaction is immediate and sensuous beyond description. She mews, flings her arms above her head and arches her back up off the bed, pushing her breasts upwards, offering as much of them as he will take. He slips an arm beneath her back to support her and, as he teases the nipple of one with his tongue, he gently pinches the other.

Her body shivers and twitches as he suckles. She sighs and then moans as he applies pressure to them. Trailing his lips down to her stomach, muscles ripple beneath her skin and he forces a deep groan from her throat as he pushes his tongue into her belly button.

"Mm-m. Do it again," she begs.

His tongue dips into the small cavern and writhes there. He can't help smiling at her demands. But when she asks him a third time, he ignores her and, moving between her slender legs, lifts her up to him from beneath, and feeds, open mouthed at her lower belly. His mouth works lower and lower until the smell of her arousal is overpowering to him and he covers her mound with his mouth and slides his tongue between the plump lips. The sound she makes is wordless and melts him to the core. It's a cry of sheer delight.

The taste of her is intoxicating. His tongue works slowly from one end of her wet slit to the other and back. In his arms, he feels her hips tremble and jerk each time he grazes the tiny beacon of her clit. It hides sweetly beneath its protective hood until he uncovers it with tip of his tongue. She cries again and her hands reach down, and find his knees, and clutch at them helplessly.

He raises his head. "Is it good?"

"Yes..." she whimpers, "so, so, so good!"

He smiles and returns to her cunt, taking long, firm strokes along her cleft. As he finds her rhythm, he settles into it and lets her hips tell him how it feels best.

Her sounds have changed now. They are no longer high, sweet, whimpers. They have grown low and carnal and he drinks them in as eagerly as he laps at the copious juices flowing from her. She has become insanely wet and he gently eases a finger inside her as he licks and sucks.

"Ah-h." she groans. Her hips pump in time to the rhythm of his tongue.

He fucks her gently with one finger, until he can feel her relax her grip and then pushes in another. She gasps and spreads her legs further, her hips bucking.

He can’t help it, he gives in to the urge to watch her face in the light from the window as he fills her with his fingers. Her eyes are closed, her sweet mouth open, her whole face a mask of pleasure.

The muscles around his fingers grip him as he moves and, as he begins to lap at her cunt again, she starts to come. Her hips thrust upwards, pushing her pussy into his mouth and she screams. He fights the contractions in her core that threaten to push his fingers out with their violence and then tug at them, pulling them inward. His head sang with the thought of how it would feel to be buried inside her when she came this way.

Nothing has ever felt like this. Nothing. Nothing could ever feel this beautiful. His tongue is so warm and soft and his fingers so hard. She does her best to fight for calm as the sensations start to swirl around her but she can't win. She can't think. She can't speak. All she can do is feel and move and feel more and let her body beg and beg for what he's giving it. And when she starts to tremble and shake, she thinks she'll lose her mind as the hot blanket of pleasure moves up her legs and into her secret places and spreads out over her chest until it covers her completely and she is in his hands and he is the whole world to her.

When she stops shaking, she expects to feel like she has run a thousand miles. But it's as if all the energy in her body is just spinning around and around, trying to find a way to get out. She sits up and launches herself at him, laughing. Wrapping her arms around his neck she pushes him over and climbs on top of him, trying to put as many kisses on his face as she can fit.

He laughs and holds her back for a moment and looks at her. "I take it you liked that?"

She screeches in glee and attacks him once again, kissing his eyes and his cheeks and his nose. When she reaches his mouth, she settles on top of him and, moaning, sinks her tongue into his mouth, kissing him passionately.

The kiss quells her crazy energy and sucks it in like something turning from rushing water to slow, sticky syrup. Her mouth is so hungry for him, as if it will never stop wanting to taste him. His arms slide around her and pull her tight to him. Her breasts press and slide over the hairs on his chest, and she feels his big, hard thing trapped between them. She writhes and moves against it as they kiss.

"Oh, Anna. I love you. I adore you."

She loves him too. She's never loved anyone else. Maybe there's no room in her to love anyone else. But now, right now, she wants to make him feel as good as her. She wants to pay him back.

"M-mm. More," she whispers. "More."

She wriggles her hand between them and curls her fingers around his thing. It springs and jumps in her hand. "What is it called?" she asks, sliding the flat of her hand against it.

"It's got a lot of names."

"What do you call it?"

"It's my cock."

"It's nice. I like it."

"The name?"

"No. The thing. I like your cock," she said, grinning.

"It likes you, too."

"Can I kiss it? Like you did to me? Would you like that, Protector?"

"I'd like that very much."

Anna slides off him sideways and, without any more ceremony, kneels by his hips and plants a noisy kiss on the crown. He looks down at her in the half-light. She grasps it with one hand and examins it before kissing it again. This time with gentleness, pressing her lips against the head and then smearing her lips over it in a circle.

"Mm-mm."

"Does it feel good?"

"Yes, it does. It feels better if you suck it gently, though."

Her giggle rings in the room before her warm mouth covers the tip and he feel her slide her tongue over the top and begin to suck.

"Oh-h Anna.!" he gasped.

She wriggles her little tongue against it and sucks it again, taking more of it. He can feel the head of his cock being enveloped by her lovely, laughing mouth. He wants to crawl out of his skin and, though he'd like to feel it deep inside, he's careful not to thrust for fear of gagging her or scaring her. He grits his teeth, clenches his fists and pants. But she has no fear at all, tonguing and sucking him with dedicated abandon. It takes a minute or two before she's brought him so close he's shaking.

"Anna?"

She raises her head. "Doesn't it feel nice?"

"It feels like the nicest thing in the world. But I'm lonely up here. Won't you come and lie on top of me?"

"But then I can't kiss it."

He pulls her on top of him and kisses her lips once. "You can always do that another time. I would like to do something that makes us both feel good, together."

"Can we do that?"

"We were made for it, actually."

She grins and slips out her tongue and licks his lips. "Show me."

He moves her, so that her legs are straddling his hips and the tip of his cock is nudging the lips of her wet pussy. He sighs, and pushes her down just a little, so that the head slides between and grazes her furrow.

"Oh-h," she purrs.

"Oh-h. Feels nice, doesn't it?" He takes hold of her hips and begins to move her, so she can feel the tip sliding over her clit.

"Yes. Oh it does! It does!"

"Now move your hips, Anna. Make it feel good."

"Ah-h..." Her little hips begin to move, sliding his cock head back and forth through her sopping cunt. "Does it feel good to you, too?" she whispers.

He moves his hands onto her buttocks and helps her move. "Mm-m yes, it feels wonderful. God yes."

She has her elbows on his chest, holding herself up, as she humps him. Harder and harder each time, until his cockhead sticks at her entrance. She's moaning and panting as he grasps her slim hips and pushes her down onto him, just enough for the head to pop inside. It makes them both gasp.

"Anna? Is it okay?" He can feel her muscles clutching around him crazily. She feels impossibly tight and he's worried he'll hurt her.

"Oh… it's okay... it's good," she whimpers.

He moves just a little, pushing slowly into her by tiny amounts. Her legs, on either side of him, are shaking and she's breathing fast and shallow.

"Still okay? Does it hurt?" he asks.

"Mm-m. Yes...no. It feels so…oh-h…full…good…oh-h."

She's helping him, pushing down onto him as he presses in. Being inside her is exquisite. There has never been anything so sweet in his life. He's swelling, even as he enters.

"Move, bunny. Move, Anna."

And she does, with his help, begin to fuck him, slowly, with her beautiful face inches from his. Her eyelids flutter as she pushes onto his cock and moans. He rolls over, holding her tight, until he's on top of her, kissing her, fucking her.

She opens her legs and moves beneath him. His cock feels bigger than anything in the world but, oh, it feels so good as he moves it inside of her. And every time he does, it feels like her heart is exploding. She wants him inside her like this forever, and never to stop. His kisses are talking to her about how good he feels doing this and she tries hard to make her kisses speak back, so he knows. She was wrong about before, she thought that she could never feel better, but this does. And knowing that it must feel just as wonderful to him makes it the best of all things.

He puts his hand between them and presses her with his fingers and makes her cry out.

"Come for me, Anna."

She doesn't know where he wants her to come to, but anyway, there is nothing she can do because her body is on fire and the pleasure is going to make her head pop off. She pushes her hips up as hard as she can, and makes him groan, before the beautiful shivers come to take her away.

"Yes, yes, yes...." she whispers. She can't stop.

"God, Anna," he moans. Every nerve ending in his body is pulsing in time to her spasms. She takes him over with him and, unable to stop himself, he thrusts into her hard and deep and shoots into her sweet hole, as if everything he is, is pouring into her.

He has waited a long time for this moment, the bliss of being bonded with someone so completely. As the years went by, he worried that she would not love him, would not come to him on her own. He kisses her softly, now that her shudders are over.

He gazes down at the gift he was given fourteen years ago, and opened today.