From the minute I saw her at the pool, I knew she was going to be number twelve, to give me a nice round dozen virgins I had popped and enjoyed this summer.

She was a really extra cute kid, still kind of soft around the edges, but sexy as hell. I doubt that she weighed a hundred pounds, and she wasn't much over five feet tall, but she was prime with curves in all the right places, and she walked and stood like she knew what she had, what she looked like. Slim hips, great ass and cute little boobs that jiggled when she ran and, best of all, a nice soft belly for me to bounce on.

I found out who she was, a visitor with the Jones family, and by the time I did she had accumulated a bunch of drooling imbecile boys who were crowding around and trying to look through her dark tank suit.

I caught up with her in the pool after I watched her make a clean dive and saw her strong strokes. The kid could really swim. I paddled up beside her and asked if she was on the swim team.

"Back home," she said, "I do backstroke and freestyle."

"They could sure use you here."

She shook her short, blonde curls, "Sorry, just here for a month while my folks go to Europe." She chuckled. "I'd be a ringer."

"Maybe I'll see you at lunch," I said and stroked away as if I were not interested in pronging the prettiest thing in the pool.

Anyhow, I took her to the lunch wagon down at the construction site, and we bought hotdogs with chili and then went to the park. She was still wearing her skintight one-piece suit with a colorful sarong wrapped around her hips. I had on my swimming shorts and an old t-shirt with the arms cut off. We both wore flip-flops. I was also wearing my industrial strength jock strap because I knew my big ram was going to get exited; it always did at the pool. It had a big enough pouch for a baseball cup so there was plenty of room for my massive root.

So we sat side-by-side in the shade at an old table and chatted and ate and drank weak lemonade which was all they had. The conversation got around to boy friends, and she grinned and admitted that she had a bunch of them. I asked if she modeled.

She laughed. "I'm too little. They want girls with yard-long legs."

I told her she was as pretty as any model and she blushed.

We finished, got rid of our trash and went back to the car hand in hand. I asked if I could see her when she was done swimming.

She nodded and said she guessed so, that she did not have to be back to the house until five.

So we went back and rested some and swam some and then around two she'd had enough and her pale skin was showing some sunburn.

I got some sodas and took her back to "our" bench and pretty soon we were hugging and kissing, and I was peeling down the top of her suit, which she told me was all she had to wear; she had worn it to the pool.

I squeezed, licked and sucked her cute little tits, and she whimpered and tried to push me away, but not very forcefully.

When I sat up, she blinked at me and said I was going too fast as she hiked up her suit. That no boy had ever seen or touched her breasts.

"Damn shame," I said, "they're lovely."

"But," she sniffed, "They're so little."

"Just your size," I said with a laugh as I peeled her suit all the way down to her slim waist and pulled her to my chest.

"Put your hand on this," I urged, putting one down on my rigid cock. "That's how pretty you are."

She took it away quickly and then put it back as I stripped off my t-shirt and undid her sarong.

"Stop," she squealed after our tongues tangled, and she squeezed my excited ram. "We can't do it here. There's nobody home at the Joneses. Let's go."