Wanting A Girl free porn video

Adjusting my skirt, I settle myself on the wooden park bench, the early July sun a gentle glow on my back -- and a matching glow of excitement quickly building in my tummy. She's here again...

Casually as I can manage, I allow my eyes to drift over to where she now stands, this slim, boyish young blonde of around twelve or thirteen who idly watches a small boy as he mounts the stairs to the top of the slide. Her arms and legs are delightfully bare, and she wears open-toed sandals. No breasts to speak of. Her hair is a thick, somewhat tangled mane of dark blonde tresses. And then there are her eyes -- bright blue and piercing. Hungry, somehow.

The sunlight that frames the girl makes the thin fabric of her short skirt almost transparent, revealing the outline of slender thighs. The steady throb inside me continues to make itself felt, and I savour the oddity of my situation.

A man of any age, seated here often as I am, would surely arouse the occasional look of suspicion from the she-wolf pack of passing mothers, taught to be always on guard against sexual predators. But I, a woman in my late thirties, attract no doubtful glances as I perch on the edge of the bench, my eyes lingering on this flawless nymph. As far as the distracted mommies know -- and that's if they even bothered to give the matter a moment's thought -- she could be my own little girl.

I feel warmth and dampness slowly gather between my thighs as I shift slightly, increasingly aroused by my little Lolita. She suddenly bends down to pick up a discarded flower, lying on the pavement near her left sandal, and a jolt of lust surges through me as I catch a quick glimpse of white panties. Studying the somewhat wilted yellow flower for a few heartbeats, she tucks it behind one ear, grinning hugely, then executes a few improvised dance steps. I quiver inside at the sight of her pale, elegant limbs as she moves to an unheard rhythm.

What brought me to this? Months after I first experienced this strange hunger for young girls, it's still a mystery. At my age I've had my share of men and more than my share of women, but this new, frightening temptation seemed to spring from nowhere.

I still recall that day when this slumbering obsession first awakened inside me. There I was, seated on the bus, thumbing through a paperback novel, when a schoolgirl of about eleven or twelve sat down in the opposite seat. I glanced up at her; and in that first look, felt as if I were falling down a long, narrow elevator shaft.

The girl was incredibly beautiful, projecting a certain delicate innocence that I found enchanting. Her short kilt rode high on her white thighs, revealing a taut triangle of blue knickers. My heart began to thump violently, and I felt a warmth that couldn't be explained by the weather.

I couldn't take my eyes from the girl ... yet somehow she failed to notice me, so I continued to study her. I found myself wondering what she looked liked under her dress -- especially beneath those tight panties. Was her mound bare and smooth, or did she already have a sprinkling of baby-soft down? Would her pubes be the same bright red as the thick, unruly curls that tumbled to her shoulders, or were they of a more neutral hue? Had her breasts begun to bud beneath that white school blouse, or did she have the chest of a young boy? Were her nipples especially pronounced? Would they stiffen if I touched them?

Then my gaze shifted to the girl's mouth, lipsticked pink. It was a lovely, slightly pouting mouth; made for kisses. I imagined myself doing exactly that -- my lips covering hers, penetrating them with an eager tongue, kissing this pubescent child like a lover. I pictured my hand, slipping between those angel-soft thighs to touch the cleft of her sex through those pretty blue knickers, the girl moaning with delight at my touch, parting her legs further to let me have my way...

I came back to myself with a start, shocked to see that I'd passed my stop several blocks earlier. Frantically gathering my bags, I scrambled from the bus at it came to the next stop, not looking back, suddenly afraid that she might be watching.

Dazed, I covered the half dozen blocks that led back to my flat. Fumbling for my keys, I barely made it through the front door before dropping my bags and casting my coat to the floor. I quickly sat myself down on the sofa, reached beneath the sensible skirt I wore and tugged my knickers down and off.

Settling back into the plush upholstery, I begin to masturbate; first teasing my slit until it throbbed, then plunging two fingers deep inside. I was already so wet that thick, warm fluids were trickling down into the crack of my arse. There would definitely be a stain on the back of my skirt before I was finished -- but I needed to come so desperately that I didn't give a toss.

I fucked myself violently, wrist pumping like a piston as that familiar sensation spread through me like oozing syrup, gradually building in intensity. All the while, I pictured that exquisite girl from the bus -- imagined her undressing for me, eagerly revealing her naked body. I saw myself in bed with her, equally nude, the two of us making passionate love. I fantasized of licking her, exploring that baby-smooth cunt with my tongue. Finally, when the ache grew almost painful, I allowed the other hand to steal between my thighs, lightly pinching my throbbing clitoris. My scream echoed from the paneled walls as the mother of all orgasms crashed down upon me.

Afterwards, I sat dazed for a long while, sticky hands resting on my thighs. What in God's name had I just done? I'd brought myself to a convulsive climax, all the while fantasizing about an adolescent girl -- that's what I'd done.

Oh, I tried to explain it away -- told myself that, after all, it had been a couple of months since I'd gone to bed with a woman; that this child's beauty just happened to strike a certain chord inside me at that particular moment; that perhaps she simply reminded me of some other, older woman who tickled my fancy.

Deep down inside, though, I knew that I'd opened some locked chamber, hidden in a dark corner of my soul ... and a monster had emerged, one who would not easily be coaxed back into its cell.

Pedophile. The word burned in my mind, filled me with unease.

Rousing myself from this troubling reverie, I shambled into the bathroom, stripped off what clothes I was still wearing and climbed into the shower.

I only intended to wash myself; but as I slathered my body with scented soap, lewd images of that cute little redhead began to scroll though my head all over again. I pictured her naked and on all fours, smiling at me over a bare shoulder, daring me to take her.

Soon I was slumped against the side of the shower cubicle, fingering my pussy in a renewed frenzy beneath the streaming water until I came again, nearly fainting from the intensity of it.

From that day forward, I was a changed person. Oh, I still hooked up with the occasional adult sex partner -- casual girlfriends, or women I met at a local lesbian bar -- but my new obsession was young girls. I'd quickly discovered that the little redhead from the bus was only my entry point into this realm of forbidden lust ... and that the world was filled with nymphets aplenty to arouse the beast in me.

So that is why, several days a week, you can find me at this neighbourhood park three blocks from my place of employment, taking lunch in the early afternoon. And as often as not, I'm there after work as well, with a magazine in my lap that I only pretend to read. There, I watch for young girls at every opportunity -- and since the park is next to a school, there are usually plenty of them to see.

They have to be the right age to satisfy my craving, though -- say, somewhere from ten to thirteen. Old enough to have an awakening sense of their sexuality, but not mature enough to be called a young woman. Once their breasts have grown in, my interest begins to wane.

Nibbling at a sandwich, or turning the page of my magazine, I study these preteen lovelies as they play, chat amongst themselves, argue with parents and lick ice cream cones. I take in the shapes of their bodies, the fresh youthful faces, their boundless energy. Warm weather is best, when limbs are delightfully bare in summer dresses and cute shorts. I gorge myself on the sight of beautiful girls until my body throbs with lust, then hurry home to indulge myself with a hour or two of frenzied masturbation.

Then, about a month ago, while seated on my favourite bench, I spied her -- the rough-and-tumble princess who stole my heart at first glance.

I still recall that first sight of her; barefoot, in yellow shorts and a purple t-shirt adorned with the faded face of some pop star I didn't recognize. She was bounding through the grass with other children, engaged in some war game in which she was clearly a squadron leader, ordering her underlings about.

I was instantly smitten. Her brashness, her energy, her youth; those flying tresses of dark blonde hair, the flashing of her bare limbs as she strutted and pranced from one end of the park to the other. I longed for this wild angel, ached to kneel before her and tug those lemon-hued shorts down to her feet, then press my mouth against the front of her knickers to nuzzle the crease of her slit.

Since that afternoon, I still watch the young girls play, my head filled with lustful thoughts ... but she is the one who brings me to this park nearly every day, where I pretend to read while seeking her out in the shrieking gaggle of kids. And when I spy her -- sometimes with the little boy in tow, most often on her own -- it feels like a benediction.

I come back to reality with a jerk. The boy is now scooting about in the sand pit, and my nameless little doll is approaching this very bench.

The girl flings herself onto the seat beside me, her firm thigh briefly touching mine. She turns to flash me a smile, and I catch a glimpse of white teeth just before she speaks.

"Hi, lady! You're here every day, aren't you? I see you a lot. Who are you with?"

I'm temporarily taken aback -- who'd have thought she'd have noticed me? I tremble at the warmth of her bare leg as it brushes against my thigh again. Keep cool, Lesley, I tell myself. Keep cool.

Taking a calming breath, I reply. "I'm not with anyone, love. I just enjoy watching children play ... like your little brother over there!" I gesture toward the boy, now gleefully pouring sand into one of his shoes.

The girl wrinkles her nose, then gives a derisive snort of laughter. "He's not my brother ... he's our next-door neighbour's kid. I'm kinda s'posed to take care of him sometimes." She frowns, firmly crossing both arms before her. "I hate boys. I never want to have anything to do with them unless I abs'lutely have to."

I chuckle at that. "I'll bet you won't think that way in a few years, honey ... anyone as pretty as you will have boys hanging all around, dying to ask you out."

My words make her turn and stare at me, her lower lip thrust out defiantly.

"My name's Josie, not Honey ... an' I won't ever want a boyfriend!"

Not wanting to upset this enchanting child, I give her a great big smile, as if she'd simply introduced herself. Touching her shoulder, I softly say, "My name's Lesley ... it's nice to meet you, Josie."

Mollified, she nods at me, then shifts her gaze to study the boy. Her charge is now burrowing into the sand and looks a mess. Josie places her small, soft left hand on my leg, then points at him with the right. "Why would any girl want to be with ... with someone like that?"

I shrug, trying not to let Josie see how strongly her touch affects me. "Well, even little boys do grow up, eventually."

"Not enough!" she retorts.

The warmth of her hand upon my thigh has raised the heat between my legs considerably ... and I'm ready to find any excuse to keep Josie company for awhile.

Then she gives me the opportunity to do just that. Stretching herself, giving me an enchanting glimpse of her soft underarm, Josie grimaces. "I have to take Tommy home now," she mutters, nodding toward the sand-covered kid. Then she quickly turns to me, her face alight. "Hey, wanna come with us? We can hang out some more. I like talking to you!" She bobs her head eagerly, that short skirt inching up a little further to reveal more of her snowy white thigh.

As you have no doubt guessed, I happily agree to accompany Josie and her young charge, feeling a surge of excitement when it strikes me that I might just get to find out where my brash little nymph lives.

We leave the small park and set off along the bustling street. On the way, I learn a few things about my new friend. She is twelve -- "nearly thirteen!" -- has two cats, named Spartacus and Gopher, loves curry and lemon tarts.

"Not together, I hope!" I reply, and she giggles.

Then, tilting her head in a most fetching way, Josie asks "So, Lesley ... tell me 'bout you!" Her cheerful smile makes me lightheaded, stokes the building warmth in my knickers.

Rather than go into detail about my tedious office job, I tell her about the things in my life that truly mean something to me -- my love for old black and white films, my collection of blue glass figurines; and most important of all, my poetry. When she learns that I've had two volumes of verse published, Josie's awe is a wondrous thing to see.

"I never knew anyone who wrote a book before," she marvels ... and I'm surprised to find myself blushing.

"Actually, they only printed a few hundred copies," I confess. "I've still got some left -- you can have one of each if you like."

"Cool!" she squeals, her eyes dancing. As for me, I was thrilled, having invented a plausible excuse to meet up with Josie again.

We stop at a run-down but nicely maintained house, where Josie rings the doorbell and waits, impatiently tapping her foot all the while. Nobody comes.

"Crap," she sighs, clenching her jaw. "His mum must be out. Now I have to take him home and wash him myself." Seizing Tommy's hand, she leads him down the short flight of stairs to the sidewalk, then up to the house next door. Taking out a key, she unlocks the door and pushes it open.

Realizing that our time together is over, I'm trying to work out how to ask her when she'll be at the park next when she turns to me hesitantly.

"Um, Lesley? Could I ask you a big favour? Mum's not home to give me a hand, so ... could you maybe, uh ... help me wash Tommy?"

Though I've never had kids of my own, I did grow up with younger brothers and sisters, so I do know how to bathe a little boy ... and Tommy is certainly is in need of a major washing! But I'd have said yes even if I didn't have a clue what to do, just for the chance to be with my beautiful Josie for a little longer.

"Of course," I assured her with a big smile. "I'll be happy to help you." So into her home we went, then upstairs to the bathroom with Tommy.

The dirt-covered little imp is a rambunctious four, and like most kids his age, a shower can quickly become a game. That's how Josie and I get completely soaked when he grabs the detachable shower head while we're washing him and sprays us. Josie catches the brunt of it, and I get the pleasure of seeing her wet clothes plastered to her body, the girl's small, hard nipples clearly outlined under the thin cotton of her t-shirt.

Once clean and dry, Tommy is dressed ... and Josie marches him next door once again while I wait in the front room. One of her cats is sprawled lazily on the couch, and I bend to stroke his back. Pleased, he purrs audibly, rubbing his face against my hand.

This time, Tommy's mum must be home to take charge of him, because Josie returns alone. She shuts the door behind her and leans against it, a mysterious grin on her face. "So, Lesley ... what do we do now?"

Suddenly, I'm acutely aware of the fact that a luscious little girl and I are alone in her house. My body is throbbing with desire for this childish enchantress, standing before me in wet clothing ... but my mind is apprehensive, imagining what could happen if I put a foot wrong. Lust or fear, stay or leave -- what to do?

Then the decision is made for me when Josie wanders a few feet over to the entryway to a tiny room, one with a washing machine and tumble dryer inside. Reaching down to grasp the bottom of her t-shirt, she casually peels the damp garment off, dropping it where she stands, then unzips the brief skirt, letting it fall to the floor before stepping free. I gape in disbelief as Josie strips before me without a hint of modesty.

Now wearing nothing but a small pair of white knickers, she cheerfully says, "You should get out of those wet clothes, Lesley, an' I'll put them in the dryer with my stuff." Before I can respond, she adds, "I'll get you Mum's bathrobe to wear while we wait. She'll never know, won't be home for hours yet."

I find myself unable to speak, much less move ... I'm hypnotized by Josie's flat chest and her startlingly large pink nipples that stand firmly erect. Then -- oh, God -- she grasps the elastic of her damp panties and slowly slides them down her pale legs. My eyes drop to the neat, pink crease of her slit, bereft of the slightest hint of hair.

Josie makes no effort to cover herself ... in fact, she stands before me for a few heartbeats, giving me every opportunity to look before turning away, declaring "I'll be back!" She pads down the hallway, turns right and vanishes into a room.

I stand rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do now. Should I really undress ... or was that far too dangerous an option to consider? The sight of naked little Josie had left me trembling inside, as if from a raging fever. How much worse would these mingled feelings of lust and terror be if I was nude, too?

At any rate, Josie leaves me no time to think about the matter. Instead, she merrily struts back down the corridor to me, the promised bathrobe draped over her arm. She stops, then frowns. "Well, go on, Lesley. Take your clothes off!"

My heart stutters frantically as I step out of my shoes, then begin to undress with clumsy fingers. She openly watches as I remove my dress, making no effort to conceal her interest. In fact, her eyes widen in what appears to be excitement as I unhook and slip off my bra. Taking a deep breath, I tug my knickers down and off, removing the very last stitch between us. That task accomplished, I straighten and stand awkwardly, stark naked and clutching a bundle of my soggy clothing.

Drawing near, Josie offers me the plush robe with one hand, taking my wet clothes with the other. She turns, bending down to scoop her wet things from the floor, then strides into the closet-like room where the dryer waits. Opening the metal lid, she packs our mixed clothes inside, reaches to twist a knob, then presses a button that sets the machine to rumbling.

With a glance and a "C'mon!" she pads naked down the hallway. The sight of her flawless little bottom, jiggling slightly as she walks away, leaves me lightheaded.

Somehow I manage to break from my temporary paralysis and slip into the bathrobe before following my nude little nymph into the master bedroom. Still somewhat dazed, I watch as Josie hops onto the bed and reclines among the pillows, her legs lewdly parted.

Josie is studying me, the strangest expression on her face -- almost predatory, if a word could be applied to it. I shiver, still caught up in this dizzying mixture of terror and excitement.

Is the wolf going to devour the lamb? I wonder, not knowing what is supposed to happen next.

Then Josie speaks. Her voice has the same childish lilt as before, but these are not the words of a little girl.

"Do you want me, Lesley? I've watched you at the park, y'know ... I see the way you look at me, an' I think you want us to do stuff together." She places both hands over her nonexistent breasts, covering those dark red nipples. "Sexy stuff."

Smoothly as an uncoiling snake, Josie rises from the bed and up on all fours. We stare at one another as she crawls closer, inch by inch until she is kneeling before me, gazing up with those bright blue eyes -- the eyes of a girl who knows exactly what she wants, and means to have it.

Through dry lips I stammer, "How d-did you know?"

Again the predator's smile as she sits on the edge of the bed, unfastening the belt of the robe I'm wearing, spreading it wide open to reveal my bare body. "Oh ... it's the way you look at me, just like this other lady I know -- she likes girls, too." Her face is nearly touching my belly. "We became lovers last year ... an' that's when she showed me how to do this..."

Suddenly her little hands are cupping my bottom while the tip of her wet tongue flirts with the dripping folds of my labia, sending these exquisite darts of fire coursing through me. I shrug the robe to the floor, then tangle my fingers in Josie's damp tresses as she licks a long, slow path through my vaginal cleft.

I have imagined this before with dozens of young girls, never believing I'd ever have the courage to realize my tawdry fantasy. But now a child of twelve is going down on me, and at that moment, it feels like destiny. Yes, I tell myself, this ... this is who I am.

One, two, and then three slim fingers slide inside me, stealing the breath from my lungs for a dizzying instant. Then Josie is fucking me, thrusting hard and deep while her tongue licks circles around my inflamed clitoris. I spread my thighs to allow her full access to my vagina, whispering "Harder ... oh, Josie, d-do it harder..."

And she happily obliges, suckling my clit like a tiny nipple as her arm churns to and fro, fingers spearing into me with a relentless rhythm. I sway, but somehow manage to remain on my feet.

My orgasm astonishes me when it comes crashing down, like a collapsing roof, the room ringing with the sound of my choked cries. My juices flow freely, coating Josie's face as my little lover continues to service me with her mouth. Her thin arms are wrapped tightly around my waist to hold me steady -- no easy task, as I'm barely able to keep my legs from buckling.

She finally pulls away, and I collapse onto the bed in a sodden heap, head whirling like a top. Somehow I manage to crawl up to where a very inviting pillow waits and bury my head in its cool embrace.

Without a word, Josie nestles into me, her arms twining around my back. I can feel her warm breath caressing my left nipple. I'm out of breath, heart still thumping in the aftermath of climax; but when Josie's naked body presses against mine I am instantly renewed, every inch of me pulsing with animal lust.

Sitting up, I shove Josie onto her back, crawling on top of her. Now I am the predator...

Her eyes are alive with excitement, lips parted in startled surprise. I press my advantage, dipping down to cover this naked nymph's mouth with mine in a French kiss; penetrating those soft lips -- still moist from my pussy -- with a thrusting tongue. She responds immediately, kissing me back with an ardour one wouldn't expect to encounter in a girl of twelve. It's as if she was born to make love.

Were I my normal, everyday self, I would certainly take things slowly with Josie, mindful of her youth. But the heat rages within me, and I am ravenous for this girl, needing to have her, all of her. As I fuck her mouth, using my tongue like a tiny cock, my hand glides down her body, slipping between thin thighs to cup Josie's sex. I don't know what I was expecting to find, but the warmth and wetness of her bare slit surprises me.

She wrenches her mouth from mine, panting, "Oooohhhhyeah ... fuck me, Lesley!"

I hesitate, my crazed lust forgotten for the moment. Surely this -- this child couldn't mean... "F-fuck you?" I stammer.

Grinning, she covers my hand with hers, pressing it into the moist flesh. "Put a finger inside me. It's okay, I'm not a virgin anymore ... it won't hurt." She is pinching her swollen nipples, twisting them. "Don't b-be too gentle, either," she demands, "do it to me hard an' fast -- that's what I want!"

The beast in me is rearing its head again, fed by this luscious adolescent and her craving to be taken like a slut. So little Josie-pie wants to get wild, does she? I'd show her what a woman on fire was capable of ... but first, I'd make her beg me for it.

Without a word I stretch out between my nymphet's spread legs, gazing hungrily at her childish sex. Homing in, my nostrils flare at the thick, earthy scent of her. The labia are seashell-pink, slightly puffy, and glistening with moisture; the vulva silky smooth and innocent of the slightest trace of pubic down, inviting my touch.

Extending a finger, I trace along the sticky cleft with the lightest of caresses. A tiny whimper escapes Josie's lips, her hands now balled into white-knuckled fists.

My mouth waters at the sight of my new lover's cunt; the warm, fleshy banquet that awaits the caress of my mouth. But not yet ... no, not yet. Pursing my lips, I lightly blow between her thighs, bathing Josie's sex with my cool spearmint breath.

"Ohhhhh..." she moans, impatient for pleasure. "What're you doing, Lesley? Lick me, touch me... something, damn it!"

"Hmmm ... I don't think so," I purr, in control and liking it. "You're a demanding little girl, aren't you? And quite lacking in manners." I pause to blow once more, and she shivers. "If you

really want to be fucked, child ... ask me nicely."

Josie is quivering with excitement, but clearly unwilling to plead for what she craves. Her right hand begins to slowly glide over the tummy and down, straying onto the rise of her mound. I give it a sharp smack, and she snatches it away with a startled cry.

"No," I calmly say. Well, I sound calm, but deep inside, the beast writhes, straining at the leash, desperate to be free. "You're not going to come until I allow you to, missy ... and that's not going to happen. Not until you prove to me that you can behave like a good little girl." I punctuate that by trailing a fingertip through her slit.

Josie's hips buck as if she is trying to impale herself upon my finger. But I have already withdrawn from her. She cries out in a mixture of anger, frustration and sexual heat, pounding the bed with her fist. "What? What?"

"Beg me," I tell her, my heart pounding so stridently that it seems to echo in my ears.

She stubbornly clenches her jaw, giving her head a tiny shake. Her defiance only excites me, makes me all the more determined to win this battle of wills. I begin to delicately stroke the insides of Josie's thighs, barely touching the pale skin. The effect is like fanning a flame, a violent shudder running through her thin form. A droplet of fluid oozes from her glistening crack, trickling down to pause just an inch or so above her anus. I lick my lips, poised to capture that droplet with my tongue.

Josie takes a long, shaky breath. "Please," she says, almost inaudibly.

"Please what?" I fire back. "Say the words..."

Her eyes are frantic, flickering wildly about the room. "P-please fuck me, Lesley. I -- I'm goin' crazy, I need it so bad!"

Satisfied, I move in for the kill. At the first brush of my lips on her slick flesh, she shudders and squirms on the counterpane. I press an open-mouthed kiss into her, seeking out the vaginal entrance with my index finger, easing the tip inside.

Slipping into her warmth, I'm able to smoothly penetrate Josie right up to the third knuckle. Sure enough, there is no hymen to bar my way. I move in and out of the lust-slicked canal, eyes widening in amazement as I feel her internal muscles grip at my probing finger.

Raising her upper half onto her elbows, Josie stares at me, eagerness and excitement written on her face. I'm expecting her to tell me how good this feels, and then she shocks me for the second time in minutes.

"Please, Lesley ... p-put another finger in me. I can take it, honest I can! Please..."

Licking my lips as I break away from kissing the sweet, sticky flesh, I withdraw almost completely from Josie's vagina, then carefully placing a second fingertip alongside the first against the moist opening. Taking a deep breath, I press forward. My twinned digits enter her, filling her, stretching her just enough to make me wonder if she really can take it.

In reply, she thrusts her hips against me, impatient with my cautious penetration. "Don't do it so slow, Lesley ... you w-won't hurt me," she blurts. "Please, oh please -- fuck me hard!" She lies back, bracing herself.

The madness is on me now, so I thrust my fingers deep into her and begin to piston them in and out, giving this luscious slut-child the crazed fucking she wants. She is soon shaking like a sapling in a gale, her hands seizing bunches of the bedding, face contorted in a mixture of unimaginable pleasure and joyous pain. Her cunt seems to gush thick, warm fluids, and my hand is soon dripping with them. Unwilling to allow such sweet nectar to be wasted, I fasten my mouth to Josie's vulva, drinking deep of her essence.