Pink Pearl

She whispered to me, almost squeaked. "Can I touch that?" Pointing at the puddle on my abdomen. Oh, I wanted her to lay her hand on me, stroke my cock, I was watching her shiny hands slippery with the lotion. I needed to cum in the worst way. All I did was nod my head.

She pressed her index finger into the little puddle just below my navel and swirled it around, an involuntary growl left my lips. "Ohhhhh," it felt so good. She did not move at all, hovering still as a statue, just her finger drawing a circle there below the head of my cock.

Drawing this circle, I was dripping onto the back of her finger. She was looking at my balls, my thighs, the length of my cock, the head, its tip. And she began to ask questions.

"It's slippery." Holding her finger that had been dipped in my cum. "Um . . . like mine, uh, me."

"It's the same." I said.

She asked, "Are you circumcised or uncircumcised?"

"Circumcised."

"What's the difference?"

"Uncircumcised there is a skin that covers the head of the penis, at the top, there." I pointed. "Circumcised, it is cut off, around the ridge."

I could see her hips lightly undulate as she hovered over me, and lightly squeezing her thighs together. I could imagine her thoughts, the swirling conflict inside her. I was having difficulty controlling myself, I wanted to grab her and pull her into my arms, lay her on top of me. Hold her. Lay on her, and more. What I did do was to simply lay my hand on the calf of her leg as she sat there. Her eyes immediately locking on mine.

"This ok?" I asked.

She nodded, looking at my hand on her leg. "Yeah. If it is with you."

I rubbed her skin as she drew her wet circle on me. She wanted, wanted to ask for more. I could see it, sense that she wished she could touch my cock, wrap her fingers around, lay her hand on me, touch me, stroke me, hold my balls in her hand. I wanted to say, 'go ahead.' But the meaning of that, she knew and I knew. I said nothing, and she watched.

I let my hand slide the littlest bit higher, up around the curve of her knee. I was touching her as she watched, that was alright. She did not react to my touch, I was stroking her thighs and tipping my finger up under her skirt as it hung over her backside, felt the light fabric on the back of my hand. She breathed in deep, closed her eyes. I knew how wet she was, her cheeks were so mottled. She opened her legs a little as my hands curled over the top of her thighs, up under her skirt. She arched her hips and I watched her ass rise toward me, turning, tipping her backside so that I could stroke the underside of her thighs, her skirt rising and I could see her soaking wet puss covered in those light silk pink panties. The curve of her pussy, this wet little peach between her legs. So juicy. An invite? I looked at her, as she watched me. Imagining laying my hand right over her cunny the way I had done before, just the feel of her, just to touch the hairs of her puss one more time. But I resisted, I mightily resisted as I continued stroking the back of her thighs, long soft strokes as she remained still.

She looked back at me every so often, an unreadable loving look, a hungry look. Her hair hanging over her face, hairs sticking to her lips. Inviting me. Inviting . . . But I would take no chances. She was thinking about us. This. Our hermetically sealed world, and I was not going to . . . my one hand sliding up to touch just the edge of her panties, no more, as I held my fingers there a moment and back down.

"Sorry about that," I croaked.

"It's alright. Mmmmm. It's . . ." was all she managed and moving herself away from me now, moving herself so she was sitting now at the edge of the bed, and said, "Thanks."

It was over.

I reached down and pulled my boxers back up, and the alarm clock rang. The one announcing that in another half hour Mandy would be home.

She padded silently into the bathroom, I heard water running. She was washing her hand, and back toward me, slowly sitting down on the bed right beside me, and with her eyes closed she leaned down and gently kissed me on the lips. Soft. Chaste.

"Thanks." She said again, through eyes so glassy they were almost clear. Shining desire.

I reached up and stroked her hair, held the strands in my fingers. Lay my palm over her cheeks and pulled a few strands from her lips. "What am I going to do with you?" I cooed. She closed her eyes again, suddenly shy.

She opened her eyes lightly and looking down at me, smiled sitting there by me. I had to get ready, we had to get downstairs.

I said, "Lay down . . ." She lay back, doing as I asked, clothed on the bed. Arms across her middle.

I continued, "AND I have another request." She looking up at me. "Can we . . ."

I began to rub her tummy over her thin top, then down the sides of her rib cage, down her abdomen and following the line of her hip and up her sides, over the white top she was wearing and up her middle, squeezing, before openly rubbing her breasts over the white fabric. No bra, I could feel her nipples tighten.

". . . Touch each other over our clothes?"

She looked down at my hand which was openly rubbing her breasts, one then the other.

I wanted to touch her, but more. I wanted her to be able to touch me. To see. To touch.

She looked into my eyes and reaching with her hand, knowing my offer, held the length of my hard cock through my boxers in her hand, squeezing and rubbing its length - through the fabric. Without saying anything, she agreed.

I silently, rubbing her breasts and she silently rubbing my cock, sliding her hands over the wet stain. I wanted this to last an eternity. I could not believe this was happening. My eyes were watering, I was almost crying from sheer pleasure. I wanted to lean forward and just to kiss her there. But . . . we were touching.

The rules.

The rules.

I let my hands wander down her front and pressing my hand down into her skirt, the thin fabric folding down between her legs, I stroked her puss through the fabric, she stroking the length of my cock, her hands wet with my pre-cum. My hands trembling as I lightly lifted the edge of her skirt and began rubbing over the silky panties of her barely covered cunny, could feel the hairs of her puss through the fabric, poking out along the edges. My hand sliding, gliding over the slippery cum soaking her. Our hands were moving together, a single motion over the others body. She was sliding herself against my hand and I in perfect rhythm was moving my cock through her hand as she held me.

I let go. She let go, and sitting forward again, set her hand on my shoulder. We faced each other.

She finally says, "We have to get ready."

I felt her lay her hand on the top of my cock head one last time and press there. It was tenting straight up in my lap. I let out such a moan, to be pressed there like that! To fill the tip of my cock pressed down, that exquisite pressure.

Her low growl as I responded.

Reluctantly we moved from the bed. I got dressed.

My hand was soaked with her, the smell of pussy filled the room, mixed with the scent of lotion.

She followed me, watching me get dressed, standing before me with her hand running over my now clothed body.

"Mmmmm. OK Matthew." And she took her hand away. "I have to go home."

"Yes."

I kissed her at the door. She let me.

And then she was gone.

I ached.

I was in agony. Desire and pleasure, this exquisite pain. The pain of receiving something you should not have. Ever. Pain is when things go back to normal. And I was now standing back in the same kitchen I was in when she arrived, but everything was changed, changing.

Desire.

***************

She wouldn't let me touch her for weeks after that. It was a game, it was playful on her part. Or it seemed to be.

Nonetheless, I became concerned all over again, even though she continued to come over, assuring me everything was all right. But that she wanted to talk, stay downstairs. We had to behave for a little while. She didn't want 'it' to be the only thing between us. I thought I'd die from frustration, but on the surface I knew that I had to behave as if everything was fine, ok. I was biding my time. This test. We still talked, could talk. We still kissed goodbye, in these exquisite soft open mouthed kisses that lasted forever before she left.

But no touching!

She was much freer in her thoughts, she talked about boys all the time now. Which made me jealous, was indicating that she was getting more confident, and the implication was that I was helping her, helping her come out of her shell.

I was jealous. For her part she would ask me questions about Mandy. Was she jealous? I wondered about that. I remembered a conversation we had, and in it she had said something that implied Mandy and I did not have a good sex life, that it was somehow typical or boring, which was the furthest thing from the truth. But I let the implication stand.

I ran through every conceivable reason for the change. Too much too fast, she was scared of her feelings. She wanted me to want her more. Less interest. Somehow she was angry at my ability to follow the 'rules.' Self doubts, new interest in another boy. Getting a little somewhere else. Probably all true.

But I also knew that the feelings were still there, the desire that I cannot describe. The way we looked at each other. How I would reach across and hold her hand as we talked, she letting me. The feel of her skin, rubbing her wrist. The way we played with our fingers, the squeeze of her hand as she made a point. The color of her skin, how she would pinken, as we spent our two hours together.

And the feeling this steady incredible building of desire, like water filling behind a barrier. This movement toward release. I bided my time, until it felt unbearable.

Until . . .

It was a Friday afternoon she came over, right after school, wearing a lovely yellow dress, almost a wrap around, with a tie at the middle. The look in her eyes, her cheeks, I knew.

Every time she came over I asked if she wanted to go upstairs. Whatever she said I accepted without argument. Just, "Ok."

This time I asked, and she said, "Ok."

Rising from the seat, she silently slipped her shoes off and padded up the stairs.

We got upstairs, and moving to the bed she said, "You've been good."

"How do you mean?"

"You know," she crossed her legs as she sat in the middle of the mattress, letting her skirt ride high and turning toward me.

White panties.

I sat down beside her and took her hands. "I just figured, you know the last time. We were going a little too fast."

"Truth is. I've been trying to be good. To see if I could" She moved closer. "We shouldn't be doing this Matthew." I didn't know what to say. She continued, "Should we?"

I needed to be honest here. I wanted her. I wanted her to just lay down, I thought this time . . . "No." I said truthfully.

"You're my brother. I think about that. No matter what I am feeling. Even when we are careful . . .You know?"

She meant the rules. I said, "I haven't done anything that I shouldn't, I've been good."

"Yes, very good. But Bad good," She said. I let go her hands, nervousness flooding me again. She was trying to end this all over again. "No. No." She said, reaching and taking my hands again. "Don't worry. I'm just talking. Yes. You've been . . . Good . . . I'm just very conflicted about this. All this. I'm just being honest."

I took her hair in my hands, and as she spoke, running my fingers through her long hair and down her back. I said, "Last time, you saw me. You saw . . . " I looked down, "For the first time. Lisa. I'll be honest, I liked that. Whatever this is. I like what we have." I held my hand to the small of her back. "When we touch, it feels . . . Good."

She closed her eyes, a deep breath escaping her lips. I brought my hand up over her shoulders and she sunk into my hand as I pressed down her front and squeezed her breasts through her dress. She lay her head back on my shoulder as I stroked her tummy, she sitting there between my legs. I rubbed her thighs, the small of her back and her ass through the silk fabric. I could feel her melting against me.

I continued, "Our relationship is still good. We can go back to what we were before, we have for two weeks now."

She sat back and smiled at me. "Yeah but now I can't stand it anymore." She took my hands and pushed them back away from her body just then. "Can we really?" I tried to touch her again, but she pushed my hand away again and moved down the bed kicking her legs over the edge.

"Sit over there," she said pointing at an armchair against the wall near the bed. I was confused, but rose and did as she asked.

She stood then and turning her back to me said, "You have been very patient with me, and today . . . I want you to see me. I've been thinking about this."

She pulled the dress down over her shoulders in one motion, pulling her arms out of the sleeves and I could see her bare back as she was turned away from me. I gazed at her, standing with the dress hanging about her hips. Knowing her breasts were completely exposed, turned away from me.

She continued to slide her dress lower and I felt myself grow hard again, as she pulled the dress down her legs, standing in only her white panties. I continued to watch as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties at each hip and slid them down her legs as well. Stepped out of them. Her ass coming into view, and then she looked back at me.

I said, "Turn around."

She had this wonderful coy smile, she had thought about this.

She teased back, "First, loosen your tie, unbutton the first two buttons on your shirt." I did as she said. Not taking her eyes off me, she approved as I complied, "Yes. . . Untuck your shirt. Unzip your pants. . ." I did as she said, as she stood with back to me, looking over her shoulder. My hard cock tented out my open zipper. "You poor thing, you've been neglected... ok . . . Push your pants down." And as I did, she turned around.

There she was!

Her breasts were these perfect tear drops, large pink aureoles. God she looked delicious. The dark hairs of her pussy were this wonderful tight little triangle set low between her legs. She glided past me, got up on the bed and lay down. "I wanted you to see me. You like?" She held her arms out. I could only stare and nod. "Ok. Now. Come here."

I rose from the chair, as she quickly corrected, "No bring, slide the chair over. Stay in the chair."

I slid close.

"Matthew. I want you to make me cum."

As I sat by her she was opening her legs, I could see her pussy lips opening, the white shine of cum opening between her legs, her slit opening.

She continued, "These two weeks. I haven't masturbated . . . at all. Not once. I am very horny. I want you to make me cum. But . . . you can't touch me at all." She held her legs and playfully set her feet on my shoulders, as I leaned in between her legs. "The only way you can touch me is by telling me how you want me, by fantasy. How you want to touch me. How you want me to lay, sit, stand, whatever you want. With your words Where you want me to touch myself, how fast, slow, soft, hard."

I could see cum running down her puss, I could see the little hood of her clit opening. I wanted to lick a line down her center. I wanted to lift myself up and fuck her right there.

She was still talking, "Make me cum. But you can't touch me, okay?"

She leaned back then. There was a wicked gleam in eye, held up by her elbows and laying back on the bed. I could have done anything just then, what could she do? Her body was laid out before me, so close, soft white flesh, all of her. Naked. What I had been fantasizing about.

I wanted to be bad, I wanted her to WANT me. "What do I get if I make you cum?" I said smiling back at you, raising the stakes.

There was this pause as she thought, a light smile on her face. "You can have me for fifteen minutes. Once. However you want. Wherever, when you want. Any part of me, all parts of me, as much as you want. Nothing is off limits. I will not say no."

I leaned back against the pillows of the chair, taking in her words. Part of me thinking, this is getting out of hand. I was so aroused. I could barely think. Lisa laying back, reaching up and grabbing the pillows, adjusting them under her head, laying so open for me. Anything.

I had been in agony, for the past two week as Lisa remained downstairs, would not let me touch her, would not go upstairs, until today. And now here she was, spread out on my bed not a stitch on her. God what she did to me. And I know. I know how hungry she was, knew that she could not go much longer. She was lying on the bed, pillows up around her looking at me, waiting.

I moved the chair back a little and kicked my pants the rest of the way off and slid my underwear off as well, she lifted herself up, watching as I did that. I sat there with just my shirt on, my legs open so she could see my cock sticking straight up. I swear my tip was blue. I began to rub the pre-cum on the tip of my cock in a circle, and I could see her flick her tongue around the edges of her lips. Hungry. She said I could not touch her, but said nothing about this.

Soooo........The words began to flow. I really don't know what came over me.

I looked her in the eye, rubbing my hand over my cock. I started, "My little girl wants to cum? does she. You have any idea what I'll do to you after....your offer?"

She closed her eyes, and squeezed her thighs arched her back. So delicious.

I continued in a low voice, "Open your legs......" I watched her scootch her knees open a little as she looked at me again, watching my hand on my cock. "Wider! You're so wet little girl, so pink." My eyes on her body, looking down between her legs her open puss, that line down between her legs. She loved my eyes on her.

"Slide closer, I want to see you."

She did, as she whispered out. "You can NOT touch me."

I ignored her protest, looking down between her legs leaning forward, oh god her little pussy. I wanted to lay my mouth right over her, six inches from my mouth, suck on her, pin her to the bed. God damn I almost did. I could have pinned her, fucked her. I knew she would have let me.

"Pull yourself open." She reached down with her hands and pulled at her labia, pulled herself wide. "Mmmmmmm. So wet....... Already getting wet. You see how wet you are? Do you like looking at yourself when you masturbate, you like looking at yourself down her, watching your fingers slide inside."

I was watching her close her eyes, nodding her head, as she slipped her hands up over her body and lay them on her abdomen. Undulating her hips, I could see how she wanted to touch herself, keep touching herself.

She cooed out, "I've been wet for two weeks."

She was being soooo naughty.

"I should spank your little pussy for being so bad." I raised my hand and held it just over her open legs, letting the hairs of her cunny just touch my fingers, saw her flinch. I could see her creaming out her little hole.

"You can't touch me," she said again.

"I could lean up over you right now and ride you hard, fuck you. You wouldn't move a muscle. You wouldn't stop me. You'd let me. . . Tell me how you'd let me."

I watched her hand slide lower, brushing the hairs of her cunt. "Uh, uh. You can't touch yourself either, unless I say. Tell me."

She was squeezing her thighs and nodding her head.

"Mmmmmm, You'd like it, holding your legs open for me, letting me fuck you..... " I watched her as I said that, watched her one hand slide a little lower and press right at the mound of her puss, pressing down. "No further," I warned. I allowed the little indiscretion.

I continued, my voice low. Deep, almost a growl now, "And......I'd like watching you get fucked." Her eyes opening, eyeing me. That look of doubt on her face. So delicious. "With one of those little boys you are after, you letting me hide in your room as you lay with your legs open, getting fucked . . . God you are wet, show me how wet you are, open your legs wider."