By LesLuv
I’m lying on a banana lounge on the balcony of the seventh floor apartment, it’s hot, the sun has just disappeared behind the corner of the block, a gentle breeze is playing over my naked body – specially my hot, wet cunt – and all is well with the world.
My part of it, at least. Three months of being nanny to my concubine, loved lover of her and her mother, and life is good. Routine has set in, school, study, housekeeping and cooking are being mastered, and I am trusted. Mother and daughter have no qualms about me, and why not? Am I not trustworthy? Am I not a very willing participant? You bet I am.
So, here’s three women, five, seventeen, and twenty nine, living together, having fun together, working, studying, partying, and having the most marvellous sex. I feel myself drifting off, the redness of the sun through my eyelids, the gentle air, the satisfaction all make for soporific snoozing.
Introverted nerd to uninhibited exhibitionist in under twelve weeks. Could I teach that? Can I franchise it?
My doze is interrupted sometime later by the sensation from a small hand pulling on a nipple, then a small mouth sucking on same. Involuntarily my legs open a little more. There’s two hands on this person, I know. She obliges. Fingers in, thumb positioned to caress.
That is so good. A ripple of excitement begins, and my hand reaches out to touch the beauty lying half on top of me. I sense a bum, and of its own volition my forefinger finds the accompanying sphincter and gently worms its way inside. There’s an indrawn breath, a movement away from the probe, then a determined thrust down onto it. She likes that. We’ve both been inducted into the hall of the fingerbutt, joys of which we had been ignorant, and which have become the curry on our chicken, the pepper in our soup, and the chili on our prawns. Spicy, hot, a gasping, knowing piece of heavenly wickedness.
The cunting ceases, her body slides up on mine, lips are planted on mine, and a voice whispers, “I’m home early. Aren’t you glad?” My butt hand encircles her waist. I love this child. I love everything about her.
“What’s the time?” I ask drowsily.
“One o’clock. I wasn’t feeling well so I walked home.” Said so innocently, but I’m not a nanny for nothing.
“What!” She rolls onto the matting as I sit up suddenly. “You’re not allowed to walk home by yourself. Did you tell the teacher?”
“Hey, that hurt.” Pout. “And I did so tell miss Johns I was going, and that I had rung you, and you were going to meet me. But you didn’t answer the phone, so I walked anyway.” Mobile phones are an essential for well-heeled five-year-olds.
Jesus! “How did you get in?’
“Mr Smit let me in.”
The manager. Had an air of untrustworthiness, but nothing was known, as they say. I groan. “You, my poppet, are going to get me thrown out of here. There’s good reasons for you not to walk home alone. There’s a bloke who has been abducting kids, taking them away and raping them. He’s a very bad person. We don’t – ”
” – That’s in Dandenong. Not here; anyway, I’d never let you leave. You’re my nanny, and I love you.”
I grin. True. “And I love you. Very very much. Want a drink?”
We go hand in hand to the kitchen, where I have orange juice and C has milk, as usual. “Were you really sick?” I ask.
Grin. “Not really. I wanted to play with my kitty, but I’m not allowed to do that, so I got this picture in my head of yours, and I just had to come home to play with it. Can we do it now?”
I suddenly realize that to her I am just a doll with real live bits, sobering for two seconds, but real live bits are two way streets. “Only if you’ll let me do it to you too, my little sex fiend.”
“Can we do a sixty nine? You and Mummy do it.” So excited.
We can try. “Let’s find out if we can.” I pick her up and carry her into my bedroom.
Her clothes are of in two seconds, and I lie on the bed. She knows the drill, and climbs on with her back to me, bends over and sticks her head between my legs, which I open, raising my pelvis as much as I can. I lift her bum in the air, curl up toward it, and see her heavenly manna hole in front of my eyes. She has not waited, just in like Flynn and flicking away, so I do the same. It’s good, it’s lovely, and the taste of her twat, the odour of her young body, the silkiness of her skin will never cease to thrill me.
Her fingers fill me, and thanks to some other ministrations that have occurred, she’s able to get half her hand in, which is more exquisite agony for a few minutes – but even worse agony is my back. I have no idea how long I can keep it bent to such a degree, so I transfer my attention to her proto-clit, licking and tweaking that while the top of my forefinger pistons in her cunt.
I know very well that girls any age can feel something like adult orgasms – I have since I was three – and that like all sex, it’s better when done by someone else. Masturbation’s fine, but dual is cool. She proves the maxim by yipping and shuddering for a few seconds, then collapsing. This allows me to do the same, sans orga, sans hand, sans everything.
“Yippee!” she screeches. “We did it!” She lies on top of me and gives me one of her slurpy kisses. “Thank you, Lisa, you make me cum so good.”
“So well, sweetie, so well.”
“I wish you were my teacher.”
“Then we’d get no work done.”
“Don’t care.” She gets up and walks back out onto the balcony. “I like it here,” she calls to me.
I join her, my back having recovered. It is indeed a wonderful view of one of the most liveable cities in the world, and it sure beats the little weatherboard bungalow I’d been brought up in. No noisy neighbours, no one who can look at us, privacy, peace and quiet. A pretty good move, I think. After a few minutes of gaze, I say, “How about getting some lunch?”
We do. “Oh, yes! It’s my birthday on Saturday,” she causally informs me over sandwiches.
“Uh huh, I know.” Reminded every other day, in fact. Have a nice present for a six-year-old as well.
She comes and sits on my lap, takes a gulp of milk, and sucks a breast. I have to say that my boobs are pretty good – a firm, pointy 16 C – so the milk in her mouth dribbles down the curve and runs onto my stomach, before she does it to the other one. My nipples are now so hard and the sight of milk coming from them makes me almost ready to cum.
My sensuous delight is interrupted by the door opening and a voice saying, “Well, goodness me. Nanny and daughter doing nice things again.”
I glance up and grin, but Miss C just keeps sucking and dribbling.
Parcels and briefcase are dropped, and our mother-employer-sex goddess can be heard removing clothes, then appears clad as we are, bends and kisses me softly and lingeringly. I love it. I love her. I just adore being part of her life. I put an arm around her neck and draw her closer.
This disturbs suckling bub who breaks off and says as she continues to dribble milk, “Hello, Mum, Lisa’s got milk. I love her boobs.”
“So do I, pet, and looking at you both has made me wet and very very horny. So Mama’s got some serious sex to have. Would you mind?”
Pet knows good words when she hears them, so stands and begins to play with her fanny. “Only if I can have some too.”
“Threesomes are good. Okay with you, sex-nanny?’
“Fingers and tongue, fingers and tongue, in all the right places they make a girl young.” I sing. C starts to laugh, so I go on, “So suck me and fuck me and finger my bum, and three lovely ladies will scream as they cum.”
Beth is also laughing by this time, but collapses gracefully onto the floor, legs spread, and beckons me, pointing to that beautifully hairy place between her thighs.
I oblige forthwith, and am rewarded with a fountain of bubbling juice laced with the heady taste of ravenous sex, and a tongue up my own twat which I have artfully placed over my lover’s mouth.
We begin our ritual, purloined from the etchings at Lesbos, fingers, tongues, mouths all in coordinated, synchronous action. This is heaven. This is bliss. This is the stuff from the gods of satisfaction. I feel a tropical heat rise, lightning playing across the screen of my mind, and hear the rumble of thunder in the distance.
The storm suddenly comes closer as I feel something hard being pushed into my gyrating bum. Something that is vibrating, something that is so powerfully erotic that my pulse and breathing rate skyrocket, and I know the end – uh, the end – uh the end the explosion the bursting brain bomb has – “Fuuuck,” I scream.
“Yes, yes, yes, fuck fuck fuck – ” echoes my breathless partner before her voice is suddenly cut off.
I drift away, bathed in the glow of a million receptors flush with endorphins, finally hearing my little girl moan.
“Oh, I love that. It makes me feel so good. Thank you, Mama.” Sounds of kissing. Then, “But I don’t do it like you two do. I wish – ”
“Only another few years, dear, can’t hurry your body into things it’s not ready for.”
‘But when it is,’ think I, ‘it’s wonderful.’
*****
Take four little girls, two adult mothers, one handy randy teen, streamers, balloons, cakes, lemonade, and an enormous pink birthday cake, put them all together, shake them all about, and the result is funny, touching, hilarious, and worth waiting for.
About-to-be six Miss Cecelia, better known as C, may well have just arrived home from Sunday School, so wholesome was she. Manners, decorum, deferential – all these show me what she could be when she chose. As I watch her interact with the others I realise that we all adopt the persona to fit the occasion. I’d be the same as C if I went back home. Present opening and boisterous games from three o’clock until four, food and drink for however long it took, stories and adults entertaining until it was time to go.
Melanie, the smallest four-year old I’d ever seen, gave her a popup book of fairy stories, Abigail, a five-year-old discus thrower in the making, a doll’s house construction kit, and Birgit, the most beautiful just-turned-six blond I had ever seen, make up the visitors. Birgit hands over a bracelet with, I assume, glass bead adornment, but which Beth informs me is made of the real thing, worth a mere two to three thousand dollars, but normal for that family. Some circles I’ve come to move in, eh?
And Melanie’s mum, almost as small as her daughter. They have to leave early for some reason, and by four thirty have indeed gone. Both Melanie and Abigail are friends – soon made – from school. Abs goes at five on the dot. Birgit is the daughter of one of Beth’s co-workers, said Mum not being scheduled to return until late, which fazes the family C not a bit. I find it hard to take my eyes away from her; Nordic blonde, ravishing already, lively, funny, kind and unafraid to show her white lace knickers. I catch myself licking my lips. Watch Beth do the same. Smile conspiratorially.
Mum and Dad have given their daughter clothes and vouchers for swimming lessons. Dad is delayed once more, a little sadness, no tears, and I have held firm on the giving of my present. But now?
“Lisa, I want my present.” No please, no pretty giggles, just a frown and a ‘do-not-mess-me-about-any-longer look.’
This is difficult. It’s not something that other kids can or should see, and earlier I’d had no notion we’d still have a visitor at the time I’d planned to give it. I look at Beth for guidance, but she just shrugs her shoulders.
“Please, Lisa. Don’t be mean.”
“Well, I don’t think Birgit should see it. It’s a bit – um – naughty.”
Her eyes light up. “Oh. Well, I won’t show it to her. Give it to me in my bedroom.” That settled, she traipses off to said room.
I do too, package in hand.
Paper off in seconds, lift-lid pink coloured cardboard container revealed. Opened instantly.
“Oh, wow! My own vibrator. It’s beautiful. Two way, just like Mum’s. But smaller. Pink. Soft and smooth. Oh, thank you, thank you, Lisa. I love you.” She kisses my hand, the only part in immediate reach.
I kiss her head. “For the best, sexiest girl in the world.”
“What’s that?” The voice of Miss Birgit peering past me at the object in C’s hands.
Now I can never tell if C is psychic or just careless of another’s inhibitions, but she holds it out to her new friend and says, simple and direct as you like, “It’s my new vibrator. Isn’t it lovely?”
“What’s a vibrator?”
“It’s something that – oops, um – ” She looks at me, embarrassed, pink of cheek, and not knowing what to say next.
Three months on the biggest learning curve of my life – forget surgery, that’s a doodle – plus my hunger for tiny twat have reduced my propriety to zero. “Why don’t you show her?”
C’s mouth drops open. “But – what if she doesn’t know? What if she tells her mum?”
Beth, who has been listening outside the door – I’d caught a flash of silk blouse – comes into view. “Go on, pet, show her. It’ll be alright.”
“Oh! Come on then, we’ll go into the big room.”
We move as one, randy females, curious child, and birthday girl instructor together.
“Gotta see this,” whispers Beth with a grin.
When the students are settled and quiet, the teacher says, “now you cannot do this with your pants on.” Dress is pushed up, a finger placed under each side of the pantie elastic, and said garment slowly removed, the universal girlie hip wiggle assisting. Contrary to normal practice, pants are gently picked up and placed on a nearby table.
“Now this,” a little smile here as she brandishes the unit, “operates on batteries.” Turning to me, she says seriously, “It does have batteries in it?” I nod. “So you turn it on like this at this end,” holding up the larger of the two plastic pieces and rotating the gnarled section at the blunt end, “which makes the tip here,” she puts a finger on the tip, ” vibrate. As well, the small piece, which as you can see is connected by a cord to the big piece, begins to vibrate as well.” She looks up to see that her class is absorbing this information.
Birgit has her mouth open in astonishment.
“Having turned it on, you can also alter the speed.” She shows how this is done, then goes on, “and it is ready for use. Like this.” She sits on a chair which I have pulled out from the table so that she can sit directly opposite her guest, and opens her legs as far as she can.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, putting the vibrator down and standing up, “It’s easier without a dress on.” She removes that garment and drops it on the floor. One piece of tidiness is enough.
Resuming both her seat and her posture, she picks the vibe up once more and looks at Birgit. “You want to see me do this?” What a thoughtful question.
Mouth still hanging open, Birgit nods.
“The tip of the bigger end is put here,” she says as she does so, “and held near you clitoris.” Pause.
“And moved about.” She demonstrates. “Or the small end can be pushed inside a little way, like this.” More demo.
Silence as we all watch. Presently the teacher moans and says “I’m cumming. Yes. Ah….”
Birgit’s eyes have bugged out, but her mouth is closed.
C, having regained her breath and her composure, hands the object of her joy to her friend and says, “Here, you have a go. It’s really lovely.”
A hand goes out, but is immediately withdrawn, as though she might get bitten. But, as C continues to proffer it, and says nothing, the dare is taken. Not before a timid little voice asks Beth, “It is okay, isn’t it? What will Mama say?”
Beth nods, smiling. “Mama will be happy, I’ll see to that. We’re friends. And it hasn’t hurt C, or me, or millions of others who use something like this. You’ll be fine.”
I get up and go to squat beside young Birgit. “I know all about them. I’ve been using one for years, and they are wonderful. How would you like me to help you?” Clever, aren’t I?
She nods, and hands it to me. I take off her shoes and socks, then, as I unbutton the dress, tell her to raise her arms, then slip it over her head. I point for her to stand, and slip those pretty white lacy panties down. Her body is exquisite. I feel myself begin to leak the good juice. I’m going to have my mouth into that delectable twat ere long. I can’t wait.
“Okay, ” I tell her, “sit down and open your legs. Just like C.”
After a little hesitation she does. Savouring the sight of those pubes, the slightly gaping slit, the beauty of six-year-old sex, I put the end of the magic vibrating tip in my mouth, then apply it to the apex of her outer labia. I watch as a look of alarm crosses her face, to be replaced by a puzzled smile. After a few moments I begin to slide it gently up and down, working it inwards, alert for the reaction as it touches the home of a million nerve ends.
It does. She gasps. I rub it up and down. She gasps some more, then begins to make little squeaky sounds. I angle it so it is also exciting the entrance to her vagina, and within another two minutes she is panting and moaning, her eyes are closed, mouth open, and then comes that long sigh of satisfaction.
I slowly and gently remove to vibrator, and, god help me for I can’t, put my mouth to that place and lick it dry.
She opens her eyes and looks at me. “That’s nice,” she says, smiling. “I like that.”
C has come up behind her, and now puts her arms over her shoulder, and gently rubs a tiny nipple. “Good, isn’t it?” She whispers.
Birgit looks up at her and grins. “Thanks, C, you’re the best friend I’ll ever have.”
She look at Beth and asks, “Do you think Mama would buy me one of those?”
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