Chapter 19

Joyce threw the deadbolt and came right back to where I was now sitting. I'd been standing beside my bed when she had gone to lock my door, but I'd taken a seat on the bed, right before she finished throwing the deadbolt. She saw me sitting there as soon as she had turned back to me. She approached me with that same strange look in her eyes, and on her face. Again, it looked familiar to me, but I still couldn't place where I'd seen it before.

She stopped walking when she reached the foot of my bed. I watched her carefully. Now, she started looking shy again. I thought it was seeming like she wasn't sure about what she should be doing next. I started thinking that we'd taken things as far as we should take them.

"Joyce, if you're getting nervous about this, we don't have to do anything. Maybe it would be better if we both slept on it. Don't you want to think about it some more? Why don't we wait until tomorrow?"

"It would be easier if you went in the bathroom for a minute, Kenny. It isn't nerves, just that I'm still shy around people. If you left for a few minutes, I could take off my clothes, and get under the covers. I really want to see it tonight."

I stood up and walked into my bathroom. I already was hard. What I should have done was undo my jeans, and show her my dick. I knew it would have been better if I just did that. If Joyce was only curious about a boy's anatomy, she could take her good look at it, and then, be able to leave with her curiosity satisfied. By delaying showing it to her, I was bringing the situation further forward than it ever needed to go. In spite of having a hard on, I still believed it was more for the situation we were in, than for any sexual interest I had in Joyce.

Part of what drove me to play the whole thing out with her, was the fact that Joyce had previously shown interest in me sexually, with some of her previous questions, and then she had retreated every time I had questioned if she meant what she'd said or had asked. I wanted to know what her true feelings were, and the only way I'd find out, was if we acted on one of her requests. I didn't want to do anything to harm Joyce, but I did want to know what it was she really hoped for from me.

When I opened my bathroom door to come out, about five minutes later, I had already gotten undressed, except for a thick bathrobe that I'd put on. It had always been hung on a metal hook on the inside of my bathroom door, but I almost never wore it. Joyce was under the bed covers, with them pulled up until they were up under her chin. Next to the nightstand, on the floor, were all of Joyce's clothes. I walked over to the other side of my bed, pulling the covers back, but only just enough for me to slide in beside her, without uncovering her body for me to see it. I didn't want to cut off any possible escape Joyce might try to attempt. As soon as I was under the covers, I removed the robe, holding it up for Joyce to see, before I threw it on the floor, on my side of the bed.

"Are you naked underneath those covers, Joyce?" I had turned, so I was facing her. Some part of me was still hoping that she'd be intimidated or overwhelmed by this, and decide to leave. She looked right at me, a smile playing on her lips. She looked more relaxed and comfortable than I would have imagined she'd be.

"Why don't you look under the covers, and find out for yourself, Kenny?"

Instead of doing that, I reached my hand over to grab hold of my penis, lifting it up, so that it raised a small tent beneath the covers. I watched as Joyce turned her gaze towards the sudden rise below my waist.

"I guess it got hard all by itself, Joyce. You can peek under the covers now, if you still want to, and then we both can sleep in tomorrow morning. Turn out the lights when you let yourself out." I put it that way to allow her to make her own decision. She knew she now had my permission to look. If she wanted anything more to happen, she would have to be the one who initiated it.

Instead of answering me, Joyce pulled the covers up over her head and sat up so that there was room for her to look at my dick.

"Kenny, it's too dark for me to really be able to see much. Pull your side of the covers off, okay?"

I used my free hand to pull back my side of the covers, again, being careful not to accidentally expose Joyce's body to my view. I still had my other hand on my cock, and I'd been squeezing and releasing it enough to keep it erect. When Joyce threw back her covers too, I was surprised. The first thing I noticed was that her face had gotten a little flushed, and that her lips were parted, like she needed to breathe through her mouth. Her tiny breasts had two mini-sized pencil erasers protruding from the small bumps of her breasts. Before I got a good a look at her, she had moved to where she was on her stomach, with her feet partially off the mattress. Her head was raised, because of her weight being supported by her elbows. Her butt was now plainly visible to me. I didn't see any sign of her butt having been developed through puberty. It was a child's butt, without any of the definition or swelling of the hips you saw in post pubescent teen aged girls. I started to lose my erection.

I think Joyce realized what was happening even before I did, because she turned over and presented me with a view of her pussy. Unlike everything else I'd seen on Joyce so far, her pussy really looked fully developed, and like it belonged on an adult. She had a light brown, thick curly hair, that started right under her navel, and covered her whole pubic arch. I could see her pussy lips were opened slightly, but she had quite a bit of hair on either side of those pussy lips. It appeared she didn't do any trimming of her pubes. I heard myself drawing in a deep breath when I first saw her pussy. I looked up at Joyce's face, and once again noticed that strange look from her. Her look was starting to make me a little uneasy.

I felt the blood flowing back into my hard on, or what was becoming once again a hard on. It was difficult to describe the contrast between Joyce's pussy, and the rest of her. She had a woman's pussy, but it was on the body of what appeared to be a twelve year old girl. It was fascinating to me, and I wanted to ask her some questions about it.

"Joyce, you were right about your pussy, it's developed. How did that happen?"

"You mean how come I developed there, and still stayed little everywhere else?" I nodded that this was what I meant. "I don't really know why. It just happened like that. Maybe it was because of what happened to me. The doctor didn't say anything about it when he examined me. I started getting my periods about five months after those rapes happened, and everything just kept being normal for me there. It's know its unusual for me to have hair there, when I have none under my arms, but I still don't have hair under here." She lifted up one of her arms, to show me there wasn't any hair under there.

"Did everything about it develop normally? I mean do you get wet and excited when you think about boys and sex?"

"I play with it a lot, but, I usually don't think about boys or about regular sex too often. Usually, I just think of making it feel good. I like to make myself cum a lot." She moved a hand over to her pussy, and started slowly caressing herself. At first, it was just the sides of her outer lips, and running the backs of her fingers over her thighs and her lower stomach. I watched her as she did that, aware that I was beginning to stroke myself as I watched. "I'm not scared like I thought I'd be. I think its because I trust you, Kenny. I never trusted any other boys to see me like this. I'm glad seeing my pussy helped you get hard again. That really makes me feel good. I hoped so bad that you'd act like this when I showed you." I watched her begin seriously rubbing herself, running her fingers inside her very pink pussy lips. She acted like she was all alone, except she was carrying on a conversation with me as she did it. "You know what I want you to do next?"

"What?"

"I'd really like it if you'd eat me, Kenny. I've been thinking about that since that time, in your office, when you were talking to Brenda. I think about you doing that when I play with myself at night. If you'd do that, I'd do you after."

"If I did do that, it couldn't ever go any farther, Joyce. We shouldn't even be thinking of doing that much."

"Can I come over and sit on your chest, Kenny? I'd like that, even if you decide not to lick me. I always think about sitting on your chest when I make myself cum. Let me sit on your chest, and I'll just rub myself until I start to cum."

She didn't wait for me to respond, getting up quickly and throwing her right leg over my prone torso. When she eased her little butt down on my chest, I felt the wetness of her juices. From the amount of moisture they had been running out her pussy and down between her legs for awhile. She settled in, straddling me, with the back of her butt on my upper chest area, with her pussy posed near my neck. When she came to rest, her pussy was less than two inches from my chin. She had two fingers busy working in and around her pussy. When she took them out of her pussy, she deliberately pulled them out so that they ended up scraping across my chin and touching both my lower and upper lip. When I made no objection, she pressed herself forward until I felt her pubic hairs surrounding my mouth. I kept my mouth closed, curious about what her response would be when I failed to start licking her. It was simple, she started moving all over me, washing my face with her pussy.

She didn't require my assistance, or so it seemed. For her, it was apparently enough to be using my face as a source of pressure for her pussy. Several times, she would hump herself up against my nose, before sliding back down again, past my chin. I raised both hands and grabbed her at her bony hips. I lifted her up slightly, before running my tongue all the way through her opening, finishing up right on her clit.

When I did that to her, she started whimpering, and then she again started trying to increase the friction from my tongue by moving her hips back and forth. I needed to breathe, and I wanted to concentrate mostly on her clitoris, so I prevented her moving somewhat at first. When I felt her starting to cum, I rolled her over and attacked her pussy hole with my extended tongue, pausing, several times to suck on her little inner butterfly pussy lips.

I can't explain what took place next. She was still convulsing, and I could see her stomach expanding and contracting with her spasms. I lifted myself up onto my hands, and moved over her until my throbbing cock was poised near her opening. I looked right at her face as I stayed poised above her, obviously in a position to fuck her. I wasn't thinking about her rape when she was eleven. In fact, I wasn't thinking at all. It was a primal need I felt, not any thought. Having that primal need would have surprised me, if someone had described it to me twenty minutes before. I don't know how long I might have stayed like that if Joyce hadn't uttered those fateful two words.

"Do it!"

She might not have had a fully developed or grown pussy like she claimed, but you could never prove that by me. Unlike my first time with Emily, Joyce had absolutely no problem with accepting all of me. As I said, I wasn't thinking. I was driven by a need that has driven men for countless centuries. I wanted to plunder her, to drive myself into her, and release my seed inside her body. I wasn't thinking, I was fulfilling a primitive urge, one far stronger than what I could have resisted. It was minutes after I'd flooded her passage with my cum before I started becoming aware of the seriousness of the act I'd just performed. I had taken a chance on getting Joyce pregnant. I'd taken a chance on complicating both of our lives in a way that simply boggled my mind. This thought was quickly followed by the guilt and remorse appropriate for my having taken advantage of a relatively innocent young girl.

The fact that she was squirming around excitedly beneath me, giving me sloppy wet kisses, wherever she could reach, and shouting out, "Thank you, thank you, thank you," didn't in any way lessen my guilt. I should have known better, I knew it was wrong, but I just went ahead and did it anyway. I was a miserable excuse for a man.