Chapter 1

I shouldn’t be writing this; if she ever finds out, I’ll be in big trouble. But I have to, I need the story to be recorded somewhere. It can’t just die with the few of us who know. It’s important.

I met Jane for the first time when she walked into my shop to get her basketball team shirt altered. There were two things about Jane that struck everyone immediately; she was gorgeous, and huge. She was only 17 and already over six feet tall, with really big breasts, legs a mile long, and a tight ass too. She was very insecure at first, but putting customers at ease is part of my job.

“I had to order a double extra large so it would be long enough, but it’s like a tent.” She said.

“No problem.” I told her, brandishing my tape measure.

I stood on a stool and wrapped it around her; hips, 36. waist, 24. bust ... oh god... 38. She was staring at my sport bra display.

“Those look like they work.” She said.

My specialty is over and under sized people; I started making clothes for myself. It’s hard to get adult clothing when you’re barely over 4 feet tall.

“For women like you who want to be able to run and jump, they’re the best on the market.”

“Do they come in my size?”

I’d come in her size if I could...

“Absolutely.” I told her. “Large breasts are pretty heavy, so it takes a well designed and well made bra to support them during sport. I have to warn you, they aren’t cheap.”

She looked unhappy at that, but did buy one a couple of weeks later. She came in regularly, and we’d always have a little gossip in between looking after her wardrobe. She was living with an older man, she told me. Because of her height no one realized she was so young.

“I need a haircut.” She remarked as she looked at herself in the dressing room mirror one day.

“I used to cut hair.” I told her, “I could do yours if you want.”

I knew she was on a tight budget. It seemed unfair; her old man boyfriend was wealthy she’d told me, but he never gave her enough pocket money.

“Ok.” She said.

I locked the shop and got my special hair scissors from the back. She sat on a stool and I stood on one behind her. Her hair was jet black and slightly wavy; it felt heavenly as I ran my fingers through it. Her shoulders were so wide and pale, the skin perfect in its luster. I was careful not to let my hardon contact her back. Jane had to know I desired her; every man desired Jane, but most, like me, knew they couldn’t have her.

“What do you think?” I asked when I was through.

“It’s fabulous!” she exclaimed and her bright smile nearly blinded me. Maybe it did blind me because I’m not sure I’ve ever been able to see clearly since then.

She was happy; and I realized that she wasn’t so very often. It seemed wrong that such a magnificent creature should be sad so much of the time. And she smiled at me in appreciation, no longer seeing me as a midget, but as a person. And from that moment, I was in love with her.

Time passed; No, I didn’t fuck her. Do you think a girl like that would let a deformed creep like me make love with her? Well, she did actually. But not right away. I was twice her age too. No, there could be no sex, but there was sexuality. She flirted with me, toyed with my desire, and that was ok. It was what gorgeous young women did.

She confided in me; every Saturday I’d close the shop early, and we’d sit together in the back, talking as I trimmed and styled her hair. Then we’d have coffee and some cake or biscuits. It was the high point of my week, and whenever I was feeling pressured or depressed, I’d just think of the time I’d be spending with Jane on the coming Saturday.

Her sugardaddy was married, and spent weekends at his house in the country with his wife and teenaged son. Jane had been living in his apartment in town since she was 15; he didn’t know she was that young at first. She was already five foot ten then. Jane seemed to be unsure of herself in the world outside my shop, but with me she was always self-confident. She trusted me, she knew I would never betray her. And I never did until this moment.

“You should let me do your nails.” I suggested. She agreed, and that task was added to our ritual.

It was a privilege to serve her, to be allowed to touch her, even just her hands. She had lovely hands. And slowly, our relationship changed; Jane began to take advantage of her superiority, as she realized her power over me.

“I can’t go out tonight with my toenails like that.” She complained, and I filed and painted her toes to match her fingers. It was sexual, but there was no sex, not yet.

“Do you think my legs should be shaved?” she asked me a few weeks after I’d started the pedicures.

“It would look better when you wear short skirts.” I said, “You’re at the age when ladies need to buy shavers.”

“My boyfriend mentioned it.” She said, “He doesn’t like my leg hair.”

She always called him her “boyfriend”, even though he was old enough to be her father.

“You could do it for me.” She suggested.

It was just a bit on her calves; but she hitched up her skirt, and I got to run my hands over her magnificent legs as I lathered and shaved them.

“He noticed!” she gushed the next week, “He was SO passionate, like he hasn’t been for ages!”

My heart burned with jealousy; “That’s great.” I said.

“He says I should shave all the way up.” She continued. That threw me for a second.

“You mean your groin?” I asked.

“Yes; do you think that’s weird?”

“I think it’s fairly normal these days.” I said, as if I had the slightest idea.

“How can I even do that? I’d have to use a mirror.”

“I’d be happy to do it for you.” I said. I didn’t mean it seriously of course.

“Really?”

“Sure.”

“Wouldn’t that be...”

I shrugged “It’s up to you.” I said, as if getting my stubby fingers between her legs was no big deal. She hesitated, and I realized that she was actually considering it.

“It will drive Sven wild.” I prompted.

“You think so?”

“He’ll want to ... well, it will probably be nice for you too.”

“Oh Sam, you’re wicked!” she laughed. I loved to make her laugh, because her huge tits would shake in my face.

I looked up at my goddess and laughed with her.

“So do you want me to or not?” I asked.

“Well ... Ok then.”

She sat down on the easy chair I’d put in for her, where I sat at her feet to do her toenails and legs. I did the usual tasks first, my hands tingling as I ran the fingers across her smooth pale flesh. She was wearing a knee length skirt, and I pushed it up higher. I reached my short arms up and hooked my stubby fingers around the band of her panties, the hem of her skirt against my throat. She looked down at me; her glorious black hair framing that beautiful face, those electric blue eyes hesitant.

“Well do you want it done?” I asked her.

She sighed and lifted her behind as I pulled the thin white garment down her long legs, which she then spread. Kneeling on the floor at her feet, I stared up into that heavenly valley; the pale smooth muscular thighs, and the secret little island where they were joined to her torso. The black furry bush that framed her pink young vagina. It was terrible to think that great young Jane let an old man in there; she seemed so innocent, so girlish when she spoke, laughed, and flirted. But I’d be in there in a second would she let me. I was no better than him. Just shorter and less rich.

“Open your legs wider.” I told her, and she did. I took my hair cutting scissors in one hand, and stroked her bush carefully with the other, snipping away the hairs that protruded through my fingers. The fingers that contacted her vagina, so inadvertently.

Cautiously, I cut closer, taking away all that I could by scissor before sweeping away the debris with my little brush. I couldn’t resist giving her snatch a few extra strokes with it. She didn’t make any sign of encouragement or discouragement. I lathered and shaved her. I thought she might be getting a little wet; or was that just the foam? It must have been because it couldn’t have been her getting turned on by me.

Some women are; that might shock you, but it’s true. A small percentage maybe, but there aren’t many midgets around anymore now. Medical science has been able to treat the problem for decades.

Oh, sorry; we’re supposed to say “little people” now, as “Midget” is derogatory.

What rubbish, the word is derogatory because it means “little people”. Banning the word won’t solve the problem of height discrimination. Anyway, lots of my comrades are ... well, ugly. Lots have medical problems too, so guys like me do ok, for sex at least. I’m basically healthy and I have a nice face. Companionship, relationships, and love are a different story. The women do tend to flee afterwards. They don’t want to go out with me or anything, they enjoy a weirdo fuck alright, but wouldn’t want to be seen with me.

But back to Jane; could she be one of those sweet women with the perverted maternal instinct? Did she harbor a secret little desire for a little guy? She’d been my friend for years, and she’d never shown any sign of it. I puzzled over it all week. I knew she was unhappy in her relationship; not that that has much to do with whether a woman harbors a kinky secret.

When people first meet me [or any odd looking person I suppose], all they can see is my dwarfism. But after some time, they usually see me as a person. Still, that’s a long way from being aroused sexually.

The Next Saturday was when it happened. Well, sort of. We chatted as usual while I touched up her hair, did her nails, toenails, rubbed her feet, and shaved her amazing legs. Jane was a bit upset that her lover had gone on vacation with his wife instead of her. She was excited about starting school again soon, to study nursing.

“Take off your undies, dear.” I told her casually.

Without breaking off from her monologue, she lifted her rear, pulled them off, and spread her long legs wide, her long skirt hitched up around her waist. I ran my fingers across the stubble, brushing her vaginal lips as if by accident.

“I don’t know if once a week is often enough.” I said.

She giggled nervously.

I brushed the foam carefully, making sure not to get her vagina wet. Then, as I worked, I put my thumb on it. It was damp ... it was wet! Jane, big tall Jane, was turned on! My heart was pounding so hard, I wondered if she could see it through my shirt. I was amused at my own excitement. Did I dare? What if she got angry? She might not let me serve her anymore. As my right hand slowly shaved her groin area, the thumb of my left rotated ever so slightly, gently stimulating her clitoris.

“What are you doing there?” she asked.

“Nothing!” I squeaked, pulling my hands away.

“It was nice.” She said, “Keep doing it.”

I was surprised to see my hand was shaking as I put it back between her legs; this was sex, of a kind anyway. Was it me, or was it the midget? I was ready to go for it either way. Just to touch her, to stroke her statuesque magnificence.

I am a “disproportionate” dwarf; that is, some parts of me are “normal”, some aren’t. My arms are very short for instance. So my face was close, so close ... I could see and smell her, her precious secretions glistening at the surface of her vagina, tempting me closer. Drawing my mouth to her like a vortex that no man could resist. Closer I brought my face, closer ... her skirt fell over me so I was hidden below it. Her legs stayed open, she must be able to feel my breath against her I was thinking, but I didn’t dare close the last small gap. I loved her too much, and I knew how easily I could lose her. And then to my total surprise, I felt her hand on the back of my head, and she pulled my face against herself.

I’d licked women before; but it was somehow tainted, wrong. They were perverts, they didn’t know me and they didn’t want to know me. They just wanted to do it with a midget. Why? Like pedophilia I suppose, their mating instincts were mixed with their maternal ones. They wanted sex with someone as small as a child; or, somewhere deep down, with an actual child.

I buried my face in Jane’s sweet wet groin, smoothly shaved, delicious. I licked, I sucked, I drowned there in the valley of her great young wonderfulness.

Jane knew me. She was my friend ... and good god it was exciting to have my tongue in her box. I held her tight, I felt her hands holding my head through her skirt, I licked and sucked her, until at last ... she came.

Jane; six foot tall Jane, the most magnificent woman I’d ever seen, came as I, a four foot midget tailor, licked her clit. She pushed me away, and I stumbled back, drunk with endorphins. I fell onto my rear, looking up at her. She looked shocked for a moment, shocked at what had just happened. She stood, filling the room with her greatness.

“I’d better go.” She mumbled, and she left quickly, two strides of her long legs sufficient to propel her through the door.

All week the incident was rolling through my mind; would she come back on Saturday? I was thrilled by what I’d done, and horrified. I’d gone too far, revealed my lust, how could we be friends now? But she’d had an orgasm! Maybe she was thinking of someone else as I licked her sweet young snatch, oh I was so confused.

Saturday came, and so did Jane.

Sheepishly, she took her chair and lay back.

Hardly saying a word, I did my tasks. I snipped off any split ends in her hair, brushed it and combed it. Her fingernails were polished and retouched, then her toenails. I massaged her feet a little, then went on to shave her long legs, my fingers stroking gently as I searched for any rough spots. When I was through, she pulled away her underwear, and sat there waiting, skirt up around her waist, legs wide.

Silently I repeated the actions from the week before. But there was one difference this time; she kept her skirt out of the way and watched me. Carefully, slowly, I scraped away the stubble, my free hand holding the top of her thigh, or stretching her open a little as necessary. I looked up at her face; she looked back blankly, waiting. I brought my face slowly into her groin, waiting for her to push me away, to reject my outrageous advance. But she didn’t. The statuesque teenager just sat still, waiting for me to service her. Knowing her superiority, her power over all men, tall and short, rich and poor, old and young.

My tongue touched her; she jumped slightly and closed her eyes, but didn’t move away or object. Slowly at first, I licked her, pushing my tongue against her sweet young clit, pushing the tip into her lovely vagina. I looked up at her face, and she opened her eyes and looked at me. At me, Sam the midget, the tailor to the deformed. I was her friend, her confidant, and now, to some extent, her lover! What if her “boyfriend” would know? That tall, rich bastard. He kept her for a pittance, she slept with him, lived with him, and he treated her like shit. I treated her like the star she was; and now I was allowed this treat.

I looked into her eyes as I did it to her, into her angelic, deceptive, innocent face. She took my head in her hands; she was surprisingly strong. I remembered she told me that in addition to being on the basketball team, she’d wrestled competitively in high school. Her eyes widened, then closed. She moaned and quivered. I licked harder, frantically, holding on to her thighs as best I could as she bucked upwards, her great beautiful long body heaving in orgasm!

To me, it was as satisfying as any sex I’d ever known. Like I said, I was no virgin. I’d had sex with women, both vertically challenged and “normal”. But this was different; we were friends. And I loved her, loved her with a passion that could destroy me. I knew that I might even have a full sexual relationship with her, but she would never be mine; she would never be my wife, my partner, my equal. She was too much woman for me to ever keep.

After she came, I pulled away, and pulled her dress back down over her legs. I brought fresh coffee and some cheese cake for us. We talked about things, but not about sex. That, we didn’t mention. It was a secret so secret, it would not even be referred to out loud.

For the next few months, nothing much changed. I bought a vibrator, and that really seemed to help. Sometimes I could make her come twice. A couple of times, she pushed my head away as I was about to start licking her; “Not today.” Was all she said. But most Saturdays, I made Jane come in my mouth.

I had a one night stand with a young professional woman I met at a bar. But mostly I was content to masturbate, looking at a picture of Jane. Just her face was enough. I made clothes for her; basic dresses, bouses, and, I made trousers but it took a few tries to get them to fit her. It was my joy to see her wear my creations. To know she wore them during the week, when she was with others, her friends and her “boyfriend”. I’m mostly self-taught and these works were stretching my abilities. Dressing Jane was good experience, but costly to me. I made her a party dress in green satin; it took three tries, countless hours, and a lot of wasted fabric. In my little shop, she stood at a big mirror, looking at herself in it.

“Sam, it’s completely gorgeous!” she said with such happiness, that all the work was paid for in that one second.

“You’re gorgeous sweetie.” I said, straight from my heart.

I got a deep sense of satisfaction from clothing her. Most of my business was alterations and repairs, which was mind numbingly boring. To make real clothes, a dress like that for a woman like Jane, filled a need in me.

“Take your clothes off.” She said quietly.

She remained dressed but for the lack of panties under her long skirt, as I disrobed, slowly stripping myself as she watched silently.

“Stand on the coffee table.” She told me, “Stroke yourself.”

I looked into her face and did as I was told. She reached out her hand, and cupped my balls. I let my cock go and it fell on her wrist. She shifted her grip and took it in her hand.

“You’re cock isn’t small.” She said.

“Eight inches when erect.” I told her.

“Hmmm.” She said, “Not bad, Sam. You could do some good with this.”

She leaned forward, and I thought she was going to take me in her mouth; but she took me in her lovely hand. The sensation was incredible, beautiful young tall Jane was fondling my rod, looking into my eyes with a smile. Her hand was no different to my own; but when Jane tickled my rod, the sensation was incredible, mind numbing pleasure that filled my small body like a drug.

“You have a beautiful cock.” She told me softly, “And your face is really handsome too. You’re so nice to me, Sam; If I wasn’t with Sven, I think I’d go all the way with you.”

She stood up; even while I was standing on the table she stood taller than me. She brought her face close to mine, looking deep into my eyes as she worked my cock. Her eyes sparkled and her mouth opened just slightly, revealing strong even white teeth.

“I love you Jane.” I groaned, “You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I know.” She said, spitting onto her hand. “I decided long ago that I wouldn’t let height affect my choices. But Sam, you and me would be a bit extreme, don’t you think? And you’re 15 years older than me too. Well, my boyfriend is 40 years older than me, but he’s ... well, no use beating around the bush Sam. Sven is wealthy.”

She masturbated me, her beautiful face just inches from mine, looking down at me unflinchingly.

“Maybe I’m a whore, Sam; it depends on your definition. Whatever, I’m not ashamed of how I live.”

Her hand slid up and down my penis as she talked, her other gently tickled my ass, her eyes looked through me as though I were glass.

“I’m no good, Sam. I use people, I use you. I come here and tell you my problems, eat your food, drink your wine, let you serve me, and I give you nothing.”

“You always give me something.” I grunted, “A smile, a laugh ... a handjob.”