by Kellis

Summer, 2013


“What was the riskiest fuck you ever had?” said Collier, the accountant.  “I wonder because all of mine have been pretty tame, in bed with the house quiet.  Mabel blew me once at the ballgame when she was drunk, but that wasn’t what you’d really call hazardous.  You ever have a close one?”

His friend, Archer, the engineer, looked into the distance.  “Oh, yes.  I once risked everything and very nearly got caught.  I still shiver about it.”

“Well, keep that tongue flapping, for god’s sake.”

Archer nodded.  “Tongue flapping was part of it, all right.  A few years ago I was spending a couple weeks with my younger brother’s family, when one day …


The guest room door was offset by a tiny foyer so that I was already well into the room before noticing that the bed was occupied.  Tristran, my tender and bubbly twelve-year-old niece, lay atop the coverlet, wearing my earphones and nothing else, knees drawn up, hand busy between her legs and eyes closed tightly.  I froze but not before passing between her and the window.  She detected my shadow.

Her hand stilled.  Eyes and mouth popped open.  She tore off the headphones and smiled, still bubbly even now.  “Uncle Archie, you caught me.”

Momentarily the irony impressed me.  She was the reason I had extended the stay in my brother’s house.  Just on the cusp of adolescence, her body was filling out to velvety perfection, previously revealed to me by short-shorts and bikini, and her behavior, had she been older, would have been unmistakable provocation.  Now I was seeing the rest of her charms for the first time ― pink nipples on shallow tits and the first faint curls on the pubic pad above reddened and puffy pussy lips.  I had jerked off to this imagined sight, including radiant auburn hair spread on a pillow, every day for the past week.

Her hand fell away, removing all concealment.  She said, “The question is, will you tell Daddy?”

I sighed and shook my head, “No, Trissy, I won’t tell him.”

“Who else?”

“No one.”

“Can I believe you?”

“Would you feel better if you had something to tell on me?”

Her eyes twinkled.  “Like what?”

I loosened my belt and shoved down both sets of shorts.

If I was expecting surprise, I would have been disappointed.  She studied my equipment.  “Is that a big one?”

I said, “It gets bigger,” which under her intense gaze it was rapidly doing.

“It really does,” she said after a moment.  “Wow!”

“What were you listening to?”

“The Hoagies playing Do Me.  It has a beat that gets louder and faster.”

“Like Bolero?”


“That disk is in the stack.  I’ll play it for you sometime.  What in your opinion should we do now?”

“I know.”  She actually giggled.  “Let’s go to my room.”

Her parents were gone for the afternoon to a political rally.  I stepped out of my shorts, turned around and went out into the hall.  Her footsteps followed me.

She brought her clothing and folded it neatly on her dresser.  Grinning at me, she said, “You too.”

“Me too what?”

“Get naked.”

“In your bedroom?”

She giggled at my expression.  “Don’t worry.  We’ll hear the garage door motor when they get home.”

So I removed my T-shirt and stepped out of the flip-flops I’d worn to shine my car.  “I need a shower.”

“You can take one after they get home.”  She looked me up and down with a smile.  “You’re a real hottie, Uncle.  46, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes, I’m old enough.”

“So am I.”

“No, you aren’t, but God help me, I don’t care.  When did you get interested in hot men?”

She giggled.  “Years ago, ever since I figured out where the lump in Daddy’s lap came from when I squirmed around.”

I had to chuckled at that.  “I’ll bet you squirmed on purpose too.”

“Sure did.  It made me tingle.”

“Come on.  How old were you?”

“Eight, I think.  I guessed what to do after the kid next door showed me her daddy’s magazines.”

“Eight!”  I shook my head.

She came to me, put her hands on my shoulders and looked up with a smile and puckered lips.  We slipped into each other’s arms and kissed, deep and long.  She was certainly man high.

If I was going to do this despite the terrible risk, I meant to do it right.  I lifted her by the buttocks and laid her over the edge of her bed.  Dropping between her legs, I spread the puffy lips and began to lick around the clit.  She moaned softly.  Her thighs tightened on my ears.  Hands behind my head pressed my face into her, which was interesting.  Obviously this was not her first cunt-licking.

Very soon her body tensed and the moaning intensified.  She forced my head back by the hair and lay staring at me.  Her hands caught my shoulders and pulled.

I had to say it.  “Trissie, if you’re a virgin this will hurt.”

“I’m not.  But I don’t want you to jizz down there.”

“I’ll pull out.”

“Just tell me first.”

My cock slipped easily into a well-lubricated passage.  Saliva from clit-licking only makes the outside wet.  The inside was pure Trissie-juice.  Her moans resumed immediately.  A crier, not a screamer, this girl was a twelve-year-old prodigy.

Also a giggler.  After she came half a dozen times the giggling began infectiously.  Curiously the thrills in my cock rose to match the giggles in my throat.  But I remembered before they became unstoppable and pulled out.

Her eyes flashed at me.  “I want it!” she declared and whipped her butt out from under me.  Her head went down and suddenly I was fucking her mouth.  Her arms encircled my ass.  She held on and sucked me dry, sucked until I had to push her back with the pop of broken suction.

I sat up and looked at her panting beyond my knees.  “God, Trissie!”

She blew a jizz bubble and giggled.  Licking her lips and dribbling cream out the corner of her mouth, she said, “About what you expected?”

“That was a wonderful fuck,” I avowed.  “One thing I’m sure of: you didn’t learn it from some magazine!”

Working her elbow, she sat up to match me, one bent knee inserted between mine, and swallowed ostentatiously, asking with raised eyebrows, “Where else, Uncle Archie?”

I nodded.  “That’s a fair question.  I refuse to believe any of the boys around here could teach you so well.  Have you got your period yet?”

She grinned.  “Twice, so far.”

“When will you be thirteen?”

“Next month.”

“I’m glad I pulled out.”

“So am I, but not for that reason.”

“Why then?”

“Why else?  I love it in my mouth.”

I shook my head.  “I might believe an old slut claiming she loved the taste, but a twelve-year-old?”

She frankly laughed, eyes alight.  “Who said anything about taste?  It’s what it is, Uncle: man soup.  Twenty million half-babies.  Awesome!  Real life!”

“‘Twenty-million …’”  I choked.  “Where’d you hear that?”

“In hygiene class.  It’s the part of us that gets passed around, and only men can do it.”

“Huh!  And you prefer it in your mouth?”

“I know.  Perverted, right?”  Her giggle had returned.

I pulled her to me, her bumpy nipples tight into my chest.  “You’re crazy, Trissie.”

“But you love me, don’t you.”

“Oh, yes.  And if you keep taking it there, you probably won’t get into trouble.”

She giggled.  “As long as trouble gets into me.”

“That’s what I’d like to understand.  You say some magazines — explicit ones, I presume — turned you on to sex.  Huh, at age eight!  Even so, it doesn’t explain your appetite for it.”

“It makes its own appetite.  All you have to do is find the right friends.  Grown men love little girls, Uncle.  You know they do.  The tricky part is getting them alone.  After that it’s easy.”

“I begin to see.  That’s why you were frigging in my bed.”

She giggled again.  Her hand cupped my balls.  “When will these be ready to pop some more?”

“After a nice, slow fuck.”  I squeezed her.  “You’re the hot one, Trissie.”

But she didn’t get the second pop.  We were indulging in that nice, slow fuck when the house timbers rumbled with the garage door rising.  Her eyes went wide and she began to giggle.  I got out of her in a jiffy, grabbed my T-shirt, raced to the guest room, jerked on shorts and buckled my belt.  The rumbling had hardly ceased before I was smoothing my hair in the bathroom.


“What happened?” asked Collier after a moment’s thought.  “She swallowed all the come.  Did you leave something else in her bedroom?”

“Not a spot.”

“Then what?  A giggler, huh?  Did she rat on you?”

“Not directly.”

“What does that mean?”


After my ex won the divorce I had moved in with Judd, a good friend who worked with me at Davidson.  Judd liked to download free porn from Usenet and keep it to study, segregating videos by girl stars.  One night some months after my visit with Trissie he appeared in my doorway.

“Archie, you’d better come look at this.”

I followed him into his room and watched over his shoulder as he started up a file on the computer.

The video opens upon an obvious teenager’s bedroom.  A smooth hand and arm recede, probably having started the recording, and shrink back to become a naked and very young female body.  She turns around to face across the room with an expectant look.

I gasped.  She was the spitting image of Trissie.

“Recognize her, do you?” said Judd.  “Just hang on.”

I opened my mouth to demand why he should think I knew her, when …

I walk into the picture ― unmistakably me, including the T-shirt with Davidson Industries emblazoned on the chest.

She grins and says, “You too.”

“Me too what?”  The audio was clear; our voices were only too identifiable.

“Get naked.”

“In your bedroom?”

She giggles.  “Don’t worry.  We’ll hear the garage door motor when they get home.”

Off goes my T-shirt and in a few moments I am eating her out on the edge of her bed.

I watched the rest of it, mouth hanging open, noticing Judd glance between me and the screen.

It ends with me grabbing my shirt and rushing out of the picture.  You can hear background rumbling.  Giggling, she gets out of bed and approaches the camera.  Her enlarged hand comes around and the screen goes dark.

Judd looked at me with a smirk and asked, faking innocence, “Do you know any of those people?”

I felt a little short of breath and remedied it with a sigh.  “Where’d you get that, Judd?”

“Downloaded from alt-binaries-erotic-webcam.”

“A newsgroup?”


“My god, Judd!”

“Your god, all right!”  His eyes twinkled.  “That girl looks a bit young.”

Of course I didn’t dare to confirm it.  I said, “What are you going to do with it?”

He chuckled.  “I don’t know.  What’s it worth to you?”

My shoulders slumped and I shook my head.  “No way to destroy all copies.”

“No way at all.  Would you like a CD of it?”

“No thanks.  If found in my possession it would be the final nail in my coffin.”

He nodded.  “You’re right about that.”

“I guess I have to ask.  Do you mean to call it to anyone else’s attention?”

He studied me.  “No.  On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Tell me who she is and how you seduced her.”

So I had to do as he wished and fill in the details.  But I guessed already that everything was cool.  He wanted to know about it the way a reporter wants background for a story.  Obviously for him it was prime vicarious titillation.

I said, “Can you tell who posted that video?”

“Oh, yeah.”  He did a little typing that produced a lot of encoded text.  Pointing to a “From:” line, he said, “See: from ‘anon99 at CYA dot com.’”  Pointing to another line, he added, “Posted originally at ‘wildnews dot com dot TL.’  I think that’s a server somewhere in the South Pacific.  You’re covered that way.”

Back in my room I called my brother’s telephone.  Of course he answered.  I asked to speak to Trissie, claiming I had an answer for a question of hers.

“Uncle Archie,” she said with a giggle, “you’ve got an answer for me?”

“Yeah, to your riddle.  Remember: ‘What tastes sweet and turns a line into a circle?’  It’s Pi.  Now I’ve got a question for you.  Can you talk freely?”


“Okay.  Call me back.  My number is in your cell, right?”

“Yes.  I will.”

“Good.  Bye-bye.”

Five minutes later my phone rang.  It was Trissie.  “You’ve made me curious, Uncle.”  She giggled.  “What’s your question?”

“How did you make a video of our little adventure in your bedroom?”

Little!  It was awesome, Uncle!”

“How, Trissie?”

She giggled again.  “My smartphone was docked on my dresser.”

I digested that.  “You can’t leave it recording all the time.”

“Oh, I turned it on when I put down my clothes.  Wasn’t it a clear video!”

“It was clear, all right.  Trissie, I thought you liked me a little.”

“I love you!  As anybody can see in that video.”

“You can’t be that innocent.  This could put me away and tag me for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t worry, Uncle.  Nobody can trace it.”  She giggled.  “Just don’t brag on it to too many friends.”

“Don’t worry.”

“When are you coming back to see me?”

“That probably depends somewhat on when I get out of jail.”

“You’re the one who shouldn’t worry.  I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Thanks, Trissie, I think.”


“Wow!” declared Collier.  “That is true risk!  I take it they haven’t come for you yet.”

“Not yet.  The Democrats don’t seem to care as much as the Republicans.  But that damned video is still out there.”

“You don’t have it, do you?”

“Definitely not.”

“Too bad.  I’d love to see it.  Did you ever get back with Trissie, even after she was of age?”

Archer shook his head.  “I hope she wasn’t right.”

“About what?”

“About me bragging too much.”