Terence Fitzbancroft

Little Karla's Promise: All My Sins Remembered

I.

Since my wife's suicide a year ago, my well-meaning friends made regular efforts to hook me up with various single women. I was apprehensive who the next one night be when I hurried to answer the door. But the person ringing my bell was not my blind date. Karla stood on my porch, looking away shyly, as if she might run at any second. In all the years I had known her, Karla had never come to my door alone, and I found myself looking towards the driveway for her mother. But she appeared to be truly alone. Her simple presence at my door was shock enough, but her attire only compounded my surprise. Karla was an athlete of some renown in our area, and it was widely accepted that she would attend the college of her choice on a soccer scholarship. She was that good, and it was a point of personal pride for me, since I had the privilege of coaching her for two formative years. From the day I first met Karla, standing shyly behind her mother on a soccer field at age nine, I had seen her in a dress one time. Her standard attire was athletic: tennis shoes, shorts, t-shirts, hoodies. Tonight, however, she wore a summer dress of dark blue, with a small flower print. It was lightweight cotton, buttoned from top to bottom in the front, and showed definitively that Karla had transformed from a young girl to a young woman. Her legs were encased in nylons, and she wore sandals with tall heels, which exaggerated the muscles in her calves unnecessarily. Her hair was pulled up and back and she had curled the ends. Though Karla typically did little to enhance her appearance, I always knew she was a pretty girl. Seeing her now, she took my breath away, and all I could say was: Karla.

As greetings go, it was pretty inadequate, my surprise apparent. She turned away slightly, looking completely unsure of herself. Karla was never talkative, and in fact went through a troubled period when she hardly spoke at all, so her silence wasn't completely unexpected, but tonight there was more to it. I was about to make a mistake and I knew it. In a short period I had moved from irritation for having agreed to attend the concert, to frustration at being interrupted when I was already late, to the combination of joy and surprise at seeing Karla at my door, and the emotional roller coaster was disorienting at best. So with some effort I attempted to regain my composure since it was clear there was something was on Karla's mind, and knowing her history better than most, offering her assistance needed to be my first priority. Nevertheless, my next question seemed to be as poorly thought out as my first utterance: How did you get here?

She replied: I'm staying at Tammy's tonight.

Tammy lived on the other side of the neighborhood, and again I found myself looking about, expecting to see her, but Karla was alone.

Is everything all right? I asked.

I could see now that Karla was shaking, and it wasn't until later that I would realize she was simply nervous. Her eyes glistened with moisture, and I thought she might be about to cry.

She said: I just…wanted to say hi.

She bounced slightly on the balls of her feet as my concern for her deepened. Since the loss of my wife I had become detached from the happenings around town, but I understood from others that Karla's mom had settled down in the past year and cleaned up her act. I had helped Karla through many difficult times in the past, all resulting from her mom's behavior, and perhaps the troubles had returned. Stepping out on to the porch to comfort Karla, I reached for her and then I stopped, remembering our history. The realization must have shown on my face and in that instant Karla relaxed somewhat, giving me a weak smile, and I knew for certain. Though Karla was 25 years my junior, I had always teased her about being a day older than I was. Tomorrow was my birthday, meaning today was hers.

She was fourteen years old.

Some say that in certain circumstances time can literally stand still. Standing on the porch, looking into Karla's frightened eyes, my arms extended, two and a half years of memories flashed through my mind in a blur. Two and one half years of regretting, and nurturing, one of the most incredible memories of my life…

II.

Little Karla was starting her second year on the soccer team I coached. I loved the game and got involved coaching at the local association, even though I had no kids of my own. The team had shaped up the previous year into a pretty good side and was very successful, and Karla was well-established as a star striker. This was a particularly significant accomplishment given that she was the only girl on an all-boys team, playing in a boy's league. I broke the rules of convention, and of the club I served in, when I recruited Karla onto my boy's team, but I did it for two reasons; she had the capability, and she was an eleven year old child in need. Her parents were embroiled in a particularly bitter divorce, seemingly unaware or unconcerned about the harm their public displays of hatred and rage were causing their daughter. Then her father essentially disappeared, and her mother expressed her spite for her missing mate by becoming the town drunk, and the town slut. By the time I took Karla under my wing, she was completely withdrawn. Soccer was her salvation, and she poured her spirit into the game. She loved the sport, and it loved her back, giving her the outlet she needed to survive the turmoil that was her life. I could see the lack of focus and commitment that marked the girl's team in her age group simply added another frustration to Karla's list of many, and fought my club leadership for the right to get her the challenge that her abilities, and her needs, required.

Once the club relented, Karla was always the first to practice, and the last to leave, setting the standard for work ethic in a group of boys that included few slackers. Her mother could care less which team Karla played on as long as it didn't disrupt her own pathetic life, and when she became unreliable as transportation, I took the time to pick Karla up and take her home, quite often finding a highly intoxicated and ungrateful mother waiting upon our return.

It was not unusual for a week to go by with hardly a word between Karla and I. She was content in her silence, and I quickly learned not to press. In the course of the first year, Karla made it clear in her own ways that she understood and appreciated my efforts, and ever so slowly, she opened up. The first tiny smiles I got from her were like gold, and I cherished them as I worked for the next one. Then we started to talk, or more accurately Karla did, at times just telling me things at the most unexpected moment, as if the thoughts had to be released before she lost her nerve. Sometimes it was just a sentence or two, sometimes it was more, and I listened patiently, letting her set her own pace. Over time I deduced that her mother was drunk nearly every night and entertaining many different men, sometimes more than one visiting at a time. Her mother apparently made no effort to hide her behavior. While I didn't pry further, I could only imagine what Karla and her baby sister were exposed to in the small three room apartment they lived in. My loathing for her mother gradually turned to hatred, yet I could say nothing, knowing from an early effort that she would respond by taking Karla away. Unable to correct Karla's entire world, I did the best I could with the small part I controlled, offering her simple friendship and the outlet of soccer. As my reward, she started smiling again, at when she was on the pitch. I came to love Karla as if she was my own, and the protective net I cast around her became a personal obsession for me. I wanted to do everything possible to offer her a chance at the joy life should bring to a beautiful girl, now eleven years old.

Karla also rewarded my efforts in another way, one that meant a lot to me on a different level, considering the pride I took in the team I coached. Karla personally ripped apart every opponent we played, as if they somehow were the cause of all her worries. As our leading scorer, she was formidable in front of the goal. Our team traveled quite often, looking for the best competition, and Karla's mom was quick to let her go alone, no doubt eager to have one less child to care for over the weekend. It was never a problem to get one of the other mothers to accept Karla into their hotel room, and whenever we were on the road I looked after her as a father would. The time in question that caused my flashback was different, however. Quite different indeed. It was late in the fall, with State Cup looming big in the spring. When the season resumed after the winter break, we were going to make a run, I could feel it. My team had silently risen from the masses and, in my opinion, had the potential to win it all. To be ready, we needed to play the best competition available. So when I heard that the current state champion, plus the team thought to be a top contender, had both signed up for a tournament on the far side of the state, and that one more team was needed to make a bracket, I changed our plans and entered. Many of the parents howled at the sudden schedule change since it required overnight stays on short notice. To alleviate their concerns, I agreed to organize a way to take most of the players without their parents, since they had already made other commitments. Two other parents volunteered to help, and we split the team, each of them bunking four kids in their room, and me taking seven. My plan was simple: with seven players plus myself, we would rent two adjoining rooms and literally camp out.

Karla was one of the seven, and once we arrived the complications this created were suddenly apparent. Karla had never stayed with me on a trip, and I failed to consider that a budding young girl, even a tomboyish athlete like Karla, needed some degree of space between her and a pack of six rowdy boys. The solution was simple. The boys would use the two beds in one room, plus the sleeping bags they brought, and all stay together. They didn't want to be separated anyway. This left the other room with its two beds and bath for Karla and me.

After a team dinner, we all retired to the boy's room to watch a movie and relax. We had a mid-morning game against the reigning state champion, so with the movie over it was lights out at 10:00 and everyone was required to go to bed. As Karla and I made our preparations for bed, I closed the door between the two rooms to give Karla as much privacy as possible, threatening the boys that I better not hear a sound. Even though I spent plenty of time around girls her age on the soccer fields, I did not have a daughter and felt awkward to be sharing a room with a young girl. As Karla changed in the bathroom and brushed her teeth, I set the clock and read a book, making every effort to become invisible and give Karla all the space she may need. But even with my carefully measured efforts at nonchalance, I couldn't help but notice how cute she looked in the running shorts and T-shirt Karla had chosen for sleeping. She settled in and we said our goodnights, and then cut the lights. Only after it was dark did I remove my shirt, since I can't stand to sleep in one. However, I left my nylon shorts on, which only seemed appropriate…

III.

I really cannot say what time of night it was when Karla crawled into my bed. Dead to the world, I vaguely remember someone cuddling up to me, their back to my front, and my arm instinctively wrapping around the warm body only to be grabbed and held close. In retrospect, I've rationalized that deeply asleep, I thought it was my wife who curled up next to me. She and I often slept as close as two spoons in a drawer, so it wasn't unusual to feel a warm body close to my own, and it was pure reflex that I pressed close. I cannot say how much time went by, but my first clear recollection was suddenly passing from sleep to total alertness. Perhaps my senses had been trying to send me signals, to pierce the sleep induced fog in my head, for in an instant I knew that it was Karla pressed up hard against my body, her back against my chest, her butt pressed hard against my crotch, our legs intertwined. She had hold of my arm, which wrapped around her, and held my hand firmly against her chest. I nuzzled my nose into her hair. From slumber to panic in mere seconds, I pulled my head back in recoil, stunned by my involuntary but grossly inappropriate and intimate position against Karla. But as I pulled away, her grip on my arm tightened, and just as quickly I became concerned for her. Was she troubled in her sleep? Was she having bad dreams? With my knowledge of her personal life, I realized that she probably crawled in my bed seeking comfort. The entire awakening and reaction took but a few seconds, and my breathing was hard but relieved as I realized that despite the inappropriate nature of the situation, I had not done anything wrong. I needed to wake up and relax, then figure out how to correct things. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest that surely Karla could feel it, and the obvious first step was to settle down. As relief spread through me, I began to slowly unwind my legs from Karla's.

I had no intention of depriving this girl of the comfort she was seeking, but I needed to do it from a more appropriate distance. If anyone were to see us entwined together in bed as we were, there would be no explanation suitable, even to someone who knew how much Karla looked to me for help. As I moved my legs, I tried to determine if Karla was awake, but concluded she was not. Our legs apart, I slid my body back a few inches, and then tried to retract my arm from her grip. My plan was to slip over to my own side of the bed, and leave my hand on her shoulder so she would know that I was there. As I tried to extract my hand, her grip tightened and she pulled my arm to her chest, her butt sliding right back up against my body. No doubt this was an involuntary reaction from a sleeping Karla, but the result was impossible to ignore. Pressing my hand against her chest as she was, I suddenly realized I could feel Karla's tiny right breast under my palm, through her T-shirt. The panic returning, I knew I needed to move my hand, but the sleeping girl was holding on tightly, as if my hand and arm was a favored stuffed animal she slept with. At the same time, I was acutely aware of the feel of her breast. Small as it was, the shape and form were clear to me, and I found myself to be horrified by the tingle of excitement this unexpected and unplanned contact was giving me.

It was not the first time for me to notice Karla's budding breasts. During the previous spring, I had my first glimpse of them, quite by accident. We were playing small-sided games, and Karla sat next to me on the bench after I substituted her off the field. In a style popular with girl players, Karla had the sleeves of her jersey tied up on her shoulders with clips made specifically for that purpose. This left her arms fully exposed to the sun. In this case, with the baggy jersey, this also left a large gap under her arm. Hot and tired, and sitting on my left, Karla leaned forward to watch the game, and when she did I was unexpectedly presented with a clear view of her tiny right breast. At that time it was barely more than a nipple and aureole, but her breast was clearly budding out from her chest and I couldn't help but stare at it. She sat in this manner for a full five minutes, then got up to re-enter the game. Unable to look away and excited more than I wanted to admit, it wasn't until she arose that I felt a sudden wave of shame and guilt for my voyeuristic opportunism.

In the second half, Karla took a seat to my right, again leaning forward in the same manner. My eyes moved to the jersey opening immediately, and I was not disappointed. There was her left breast, tiny and beautiful. Even though I felt guilty about my actions, I couldn't concentrate on anything else, and I couldn't look away. As discreetly as I could, I stared at her lovely immature breast until she moved…

IV.

I sought opportunities to repeat my voyeurism and I found with a little effort they did occur.

I couldn't seem to stop myself.

I even found that during stretching exercises, if I was in the correct position I was afforded a good look up Karla's shorts. On many occasions, I got a good look at her panty covered pussy, and even learned that she favored a certain pair of silky aqua colored underwear.

Though Karla never seemed to notice me looking down her shirt, a practice that ended when she began to wear a bra to practice, she did catch me looking at her legs and panties a few times. The first time she turned her body so I lost my view, but after that she merely looked away as if she didn't notice, maintaining her position. Even though I noticed this, I assumed she just didn't realize what I was looking at, and each time I moved eventually away embarrassed and trying not to let it show. Knowing Karla's history, I was merciless in chastising myself for exploiting her innocence in my mind. After practice it was pure denial for me, but each session I would again find myself looking for opportunities. Even though the guilt was overwhelming, I couldn't stop. So it was easy to understand my panicked reaction at first finding Karla snuggled intimately against my body, and now finding my hand accidentally on her breast. To feel even a hint of pleasure in this circumstance was wrong, and I knew it, and as I tried once again to pull my hand back, I knew I would remember the feel of Karla's breast forever. Still quite small, she had grown enough that she was developing the full shape of a womanly breast, if not the magnitude. The nipple area was raised and pointed, and the flesh around the nipple was swollen and beginning to take shape. My mind was in turmoil, a mixture of horror and fascination, as I slowly slid my hand away as did my body as my hand was coming free and I felt a sense of relief that I was doing the proper thing. But just as my fingers slipped past her tender breast, she reaffirmed her grip on my arm, pulling my hand once again firmly over her little bud, her butt once again wriggling up against my crotch, her back once again firm against my chest.

Looking past Karla's shoulders, I could see it was nearly 1:00 a.m. I calculated a maximum of five minutes had passed since I awoke with a start, but it seemed like an eternity. I had to make a decision. Do I continue to try and casually remove myself from Karla, while still offering some degree of comfort which she so obviously needed, or do I simply get up and move to the other bed? It was clear I needed to end this now. I was at the edge of the bed and could not move further to put distance between us. Even as I made up my mind to move to the unoccupied bed, a remarkable thing happened. Karla suddenly shifted, grinding her ass hard against my crotch and rubbing my hand tightly against her breast, then shifting it downward so I now touched her left breast. It was if she was stretching in her sleep, but the effect on me was instantaneous and devastating; in renewed horror I felt stiffening in my groin. With my hand pressed firmly into Karla's young breast, and her tiny ass driven tightly against my groin, my cock simply began to stir of its own accord. Willing it to stop, my breathing came to a halt, all my powers of concentration focused on my cock. But it was if I was a teenager again, trying not to get an erection at an inappropriate time, and finding that my awareness of the problem only made it worse.

My penis continued to swell. Had Karla been awake, there was no doubt she would be able to feel the change, and I said a silent prayer of thanks for small favors. I now knew it was time to get up.

I had lost my resolve…

V.

Little Karla's body was lean and muscular, pure athlete. Quite often I had admired her, not in a sexual way, just simple admiration of her fitness, strength and endurance. She could hold her own with any of the boys she encountered on the field, yet that ability was encased in a much lovelier, graceful package. In particular her firm brown legs set her apart from the boys on the field, and I knew from helping her with wraps, or from helping her work out cramps, that they were pure muscle over bone. To now feel my swelling cock pressed against her firm ass and thighs was intensely exciting, and I found my willingness to take advantage of her sleepy state growing much quicker than my commitment to act appropriately. I shifted my position, a prelude to getting up and changing beds. As soon as I moved, Karla wiggled her ass back against my swelling cock, and she rubbed my hand back and forth across her breath. Now I lifted up so I could see her face, certain she must be awake, but Karla's eyes were closed, her breathing subdued, and she looked contentedly asleep. Her small breast suddenly felt incredible under my hand, as I strained my senses to memorize every feature. My cock, now all but totally hard, had worked itself into the crack of her ass, and even if she wasn't aware of it, I certainly was. Rational thought was a thing of the past. My body, and now my mind, had responded to the occasion.

Karla once again pressed her ass hard against my cock, the thin nylon of my shorts doing little to contain my excitement. Her hands slid my own palm off her left breast and back to the right. This time as my hand passed over her breast, I cupped it slightly, then released it quickly for fear she would notice. But her only reaction was to hold my hand more firmly against her. Unsure of the meaning, I once again leaned over her, looking for signs of awakening. But in the faint light of the room, it seemed she was still asleep. On reflex, and without thinking of what I was doing, I lightly kissed the side of her head, only realizing what I had done when the clean smell of her hair filled my nostrils. Karla let out a faint sigh and I kissed the side and back of her head a few times; light, gentle kisses. Almost without thought, my hand started to move slightly against Karla's small breast, now feeling her by my own actions, not hers. It was subtle, but obvious to me what I was doing, and probably to her if she was alert at all. I had a fear that if she was dreaming, than if she suddenly awakened there would be no explaining my actions. When another small sigh passed from her lips, however, all caution was cast aside. Again I cupped her small breast, gently kneading her flesh and reveling in the small, firm hint of future womanhood. Her grip on my wrist lessened, and either consciously, or in her sleep, Karla was allowing me do what I was doing. Growing bolder, I dropped my hand downward, covering Karla's left breast again, and Karla shifted slightly so I had more room, and her grip lessened even more. That was it; I was now officially over the edge.

I pulled my hand from her breast, this time with no resistance, and started to work my shorts and underwear down. Lying on my side, with my left arm tucked under my pillow and head, it wasn't easy, yet slowly and carefully I eased my shorts down across my thighs, my calves, then off my feet. Drawing the clothing from under the covers, I dropped them to the floor beside the bed. Having been horrified by the situation I was in just a short time ago, I was now, by my own intent, totally naked, and sporting a raging hard-on, as I lay in a hotel room bed snuggled up with a beautiful girl. As I pressed against Karla once again, I wasn't disappointed. She wormed her ass against me just like before as she guided my hand back to her chest. Now unconstrained, and hard as steel, my cock extended straight out, pressing into the crack of Karla's ass, the head rubbing against her bare thighs. Karla squirmed some more, and when she settled back down the end of my cock was trapped between her muscular thighs. I could feel the heat of her skin against my cock, and I could feel my heart pounding in my throat.

Certain now that she must be awake, I leaned forward once again, but in the darkness it was impossible to tell if she was feigning sleep or not. She gave no indication of being awake. My nakedness against her did not seem to trouble her, and it damn sure didn't trouble me. I kissed her cheek, and then her ear, then once again nuzzled into her hair as I rubbed my cock ever so slightly in the vice formed by her legs, stroking her right breast gently. I was very aware that what I was doing was wrong. I was very aware that what I was doing was illegal. And I was very aware that I did not intend to stop. Having come this far, however, I was content to lay naked against Karla and hold her breast until she awakened, or decided to move. To be honest, although I had noticed Karla's youthful body, and had enjoyed, albeit amidst my denial, the voyeuristic opportunities I had around her, I really didn't know what to do. I had never considered having sex with someone a third my age, and I didn't know if an eleven year old girl could experience sexual pleasure as I understood it. Thinking back to my own youth, I must have been 13 or 14 years old when I first came to understand how much fun sexual release could be. Confused as I was, the thing I knew for certain was that I would like to touch more of Karla's body, to feel her youth and her strength, and to reach my hand into places I had scarcely the courage to consider. But I was afraid that she would come fully awake and be terrified by my behavior. So I settled in against her hard body, wedged my cock slowly back and forth between her thighs, and tried to understand every feature of her tender breasts under her shirt…

VI.

Karla escalated things. Her head tilted towards me slightly, and in the dim light filtering through the heavy curtains, I could see her eyes were now open, and I could swear a faint smile touched her lips. Her head settled back to the pillow with a sigh, and then her right hand released my wrist. I held my breath as she reached down, thinking for a second it was a reflex action and scared what might happen next. Then her hand settled on my hip, her fingers spreading across my bare skin. She should have contacted my clothing, but instead she was touching me, and in a place where no eleven year old girl should touch a grown man, clothed or otherwise. I was almost certain it was deliberate, and was trying hard to decide, when she confirmed it. With the slightest amount of pressure, she encouraged movement in my hips, and I quickly realized she wanted me to resume the slight movement of my cock between her thighs.

To say I was incredulous would be a gross understatement. Not only was this young girl aware of my deviant behavior, she was actively encouraging it. It would only be upon reflection much later that I would realize she knew what she was doing from the very beginning. I'm not trying to say that Karla seduced me, that it was all her idea and not my fault. That would be unfair. She probably didn't exactly know where things would lead, but when I looked back I knew she had rubbed against me, and pulled my hand against her breast, on purpose. That I acted on it was my fault, and my fault alone, and all my weeks and months of recriminations that followed were well earned by my actions and lack of good moral judgment. My hip movements became more pronounced, and the feel of my cock slipping between Karla's silky smooth and firm thighs was simply intoxicating. My hand on her breast became bolder as I no longer tried to conceal my behavior, and I moved from breast to breast with total abandon. They were so small, but so delightful.

Pressing my face into her hair, I began to nibble at the edge of her ear, earning a small sigh for my trouble.

Through it all, Karla said not a word. However, as she guided my hip with her hand, pressed her ass against me, clamped down with her thighs, and arched her breasts forward to meet my touch, the communication was clear. We were both enjoying what was happening.

I knew what I wanted to do next, and it only took me a moment to make up my mind. Yet still I hesitated, until I forced myself to act lest I chicken out. Reluctantly leaving Karla's breasts, I slid my hand down in search of the hem of her T-shirt. When my hand slipped under and touched Karla's belly, we both froze. For me, it was a watershed event, a contact with Karla I could scarcely imagine.

I had touched Karla's stomach before, either wrestling around, or perhaps helping her work through a drill on the field, but this was sexual contact. I froze to savor the moment, and to gather my courage. When Karla stiffened against me, I had no way of knowing what she was thinking. So I held my position and waited for her reaction, aware that if she stopped me here, it would be wise and unsurprising. However, she made no move stop me, and in the stillness I could hear her breathing, and it had an excited edge to it. Knowing that I had to press on before I lost my nerve, I started to slide my hand upward ever so slowly. Karla was as physically fit as any person I knew, and as my hand encountered slight ripples in her hard stomach I knew it was the outline of muscles that I could only envy. My movements were slow, partly to savor the experience, and partly to give Karla a chance to stop me. I was powerless to stop myself, and a part of me hoped that Karla, the child, would make a mature and wise decision that this had gone far enough. It was the only hope I had, the only possibility to keep me from doing something so wrong, so against my belief system. I needed Karla to save me, and I must confess that I was very aware of this as I reached for her youthful breast. Stoked by desire, yet disturbed by an undercurrent of fear, my mind was in turmoil. I never wanted something so badly, and at the same time I never wanted to be denied so badly…

VII.

Karla did not stop me, and I did not stop myself. My hand encountered Karla's rib cage, and I pressed on more urgently. It was a race now to touch Karla intimately, my mature hand against her immature breast, before the guilt and shame I was feeling could take root and bring me to my senses. Karla rolled slightly, invitingly, towards me, offering me access and making it plainly known she wanted it to happen as well. And I did not disappoint her. With greed and determination, in defiance of the rational part of my brain, I covered Karla's right breast with my hand. It was so tiny under my large hand, hardly more than a swelling in her skin topped by a small nipple, but it was heavenly. I cupped her gently, my fingers mere collateral as my palm totally covered her, and in that instant I was born again. The guilt and the shame, having suffered an embarrassing and total defeat, retreated quickly, and like a spoiled child that always gets what he wants, I relished the immoral victory.

Not the least bit troubled by my actions, her hand once again compelled my hip to move as I caressed her budding breast. It was a fabulous feeling, touching her in this way, and even though it was an inappropriate touch between a grown man and a preteen girl, I unconsciously did all I could to express the tenderness and love I felt for her through my hand. This was not the groping, threatening sex between a child molester and his victim. It was true fascination and adoration, and I could barely breathe. When I eased my hand over to her left breast, Karla once again shifted to give me better access. It was a subtle move, but it was reassuring, letting me know she did not mind. That I, the adult and chaperone, was requiring reassurance from one of my primary charges, was totally lost on me at the moment. Her tiny left breast was my total focus, every bit as divine as the right, and I carefully studied every square millimeter with my fingers.

Small as it was, I could still detect the outline of a budding breast, the soft flesh in distinct contrast to Karla's otherwise rock-hard body. Using my fingertips to tease her young nipple, it did not respond and stiffen as I was accustomed, and I assumed this was due to her age and immaturity. But there was no doubt that area around her nipple puffed up in response to my stimulation, and this turned me on. The immoral beast in me, whose existence I did not even appreciate until this night, had taken over completely. I was naked and aroused, my cock as hard as it had ever been, and I was in bed with a beautiful and willing girl. That she was significantly underage and totally inexperienced was no longer a concern, it was a source of excitement. Leaning in I kissed Karla's cheek as I fondled her budding breasts, then I nibbled and licked at her ear, causing her to giggle. Then I simply did what had to be done.

Moving my hand from her breasts, I took hold of the bottom of Karla's shirt and lifted it up her body. My left arm was still trapped under me, so it was once again awkward, but Karla merely lifted up and helped me out. Her T-shirt fluttered to the floor as she settled back against me, the warmth of her naked back feeling heavenly against my chest. She was now topless, and my hands moved freely from breast to breast. However, I had not yet achieved my objective.

Disengaging my cock from Karla's thighs, a place it surely did not wish to leave, I rolled her flat on her back, lying alongside my body. We were now eye to eye, and with my eyes well adjusted to the darkness, I could easily see the expectation on her face. I looked deep into her eyes, trying to express the love and caring I felt for her, trying to let her know that this was as much an earth-shattering event for me as it was for her, and she did not look away. When I leaned in to kiss her lips, she turned her head slightly and our lips met gently, but with a passion that I could easily sense, and was certain she could as well. It was a sweet kiss, so tender, and we repeated it over and over. Perhaps Karla had kissed a boy before now, but I seriously doubted it, and I was fully aware that this may be the first romantic kiss of her life. I could say I put so much effort into making it memorable because I wanted her first kiss to be special, but in reality it was the most romantic kiss of my life. The moment our lips first touched, it was electric for me, and the subsequent kisses were instinctive, reflexive, and quite honestly out of my control. I couldn't help myself, I wanted as much of this as I could get. When I finally held a kiss, then parted my lips and touched hers with my tongue, Karla wasn't totally surprised. She parted her lips and let me in, unintentionally mocking my efforts to indoctrinate her to passionate kissing gently. As my tongue sought out hers, I remembered the stories she once shared of her drunken mother bringing guys home and not caring what Karla and her sister saw. So perhaps she knew what to expect, but I was certain that this was more loving than anything she had witnessed. Or at least I tried to make it so.

At first, kissing Karla with my tongue was sloppy. Ever the smart girl, Karla made no effort to act as if she knew what to do. Instead, she followed my actions, and before long we were kissing deeply and passionately. It wasn't perfect, but it was incredible. My right hand played at her breasts, and my throbbing cock lay across her thighs, my hot skin touching hers, and I felt I could kiss her forever. But my cock ached for attention, and I had other plans, so I broke away, tracing a line of kisses under Karla's chin and around her neck. Trying hard to see my targets in the dark, I lifted up to shift my body down the bed. As I did, Karla's hand, which had been lying across her stomach, reached out and came into contact with my cock for the first time. I froze as her inexperienced hand fumbled at my member, wanting to shout with joy when her young fingers wrapped around me. But as it was, I was committed to the move I was making, and now knowing that Karla was willing to touch me sexually, I had the confidence of knowing her hand would be back. Pulling away from her hand as I slipped down, she let out a small groan of disappointment, but I suspected that in a matter of moments her regrets would be forgotten.

Barely able to breathe, barely able to think straight, I resumed my kisses at Karla's neck, then traced a line across her breast bone. She sensed right away what I was up to, and I felt her body stiffen, not in fear I now knew, but in anticipation. Teasing her as I rubbed my aching cock against her legs, I kissed all around her breasts, drawing near, but each time turning away. Her chest began to rise in anticipation, then collapse with a sigh each time I changed direction. She was imploring me to consummate the act with her body, and I loved the power I felt at arousing a young girl, this young girl, in this way. My right hand traced lines along Karla's stomach as I teased, dipping down often to follow the elastic at the top of her shorts. Finally sensing she was ready to pop, and unable to resist any longer, my mouth smothered her right breast…

VIII.

It was intensely erotic, suckling this tender, immature breast. The moment my mouth touched her, I was hooked. My lips traced the swollen flesh that would one day be a full, womanly breast, and my tongue teased a nipple that would one day stand up rigid and proud. Moving from left to right, I devoured her breasts with complete abandon as I ground my cock into her legs and rubbed my hand across her stomach. Focusing now on Karla's right breast, I dipped my hand down, allowing my fingertips to trail down under the elastic band on Karla's shorts, testing the waters. She stiffened, but again I knew it wasn't a bad thing. Not a word had passed between us, but we were communicating well, and with absolute confidence that Karla was willing, I slid my hand down into her shorts.

My urgency was greater now, but it was still an easy matter to make myself move slowly. The love I felt for Karla, the awe I felt at touching her beautiful young body, was real and easily expressed. My hand slipped into her shorts, and my fingers then slipped beneath the elastic of her panties. In the darkness, I wondered if they were aqua, then I wondered if I would ever know. It didn't matter; the sense of touch was all I needed. As soon as my fingers felt the rise of Karla's mons veneri s, I paused my explorations and merely savored. My hand was inside Karla's shorts, inside Karla's panties, and mere inches from her young pussy. It was intense, the mere mental imagery of what I was doing enough to push me over the edge. If I stopped here, I knew I would happily jerk off for weeks just thinking of what would have happened next. However, I knew I wouldn't stop, and I knew Karla wouldn't stop me. My mouth was still on Karla's breast, but my sucking had stopped, my concentration lost. Karla seemed to have stopped breathing. The Earth may well have quit spinning. My fingers had not encountered pubic hair, and not sure at what age a young girl developed hair on her pussy, I was tempted to rush my movements to learn if she was still totally bald; I instead moved sideways, tracing my fingers off Karla's mons into the valley created by the rise of hip bone. I ran my fingers from hip bone to hip bone, relishing the warmth of her skin and the silky feel of her panties sliding across the top of my hand.

I could wait no longer, and when I shifted my movement downward, the exhale of breathe from Karla suggested she felt the same way. My fingertips found the top of her slit, and then followed it downward until I cupped her tiny pussy. Karla, in an instinctive act of submission eventually learned at some age by girls the world over, parted her legs to make space, giving herself over to me.

I paused yet again to consider the moment. I was no longer troubled by the shame and the guilt, and too impassioned to realize that those feeling would return later in earnest. I was naked in bed with this pretty young girl, whom I loved and protected as my own, and admired in ways she would never know, my mouth on her bare breast, my hand down her pants covering her hairless pussy. There was nothing wrong about this moment; this was pure love and adoration, from which is born the greatest passion, and pure passion is what I felt. I wanted this tender young girl, and I needed her. I felt more love and more devotion in my heart than I had ever known, and it only served to make my cock throb incessantly, my lips to suckle more urgently, and my fingers to explore sweet, untouched flesh more tenderly. Heaven could take me now, my life was complete. Nothing to this point in my experience compared to what I felt. As Karla squirmed under my touch, sighs of pleasure now escaping her lips, I realized that this pretty young girl, who sadness had enveloped for so long, was in truth a sensual being, and was offering herself to me as her first.

And I knew what I had to do next…

IX.

Pulling my hand from her pants, I hooked my thumb into the elastic of her shorts and pushed down. She lifted up without hesitation, and one-handed once again I removed her shorts and panties. Tossing them on the floor with her shirt, I was fully aware that we were now both completely naked, in bed together, and for the first time I longed for a light so I could see her. Instead of returning to her breasts, I sought out Karla's lips and we kissed deeply as my hand went straight to her pussy. Marveling at the smoothness of a pussy that had not yet grown hair, I left Karla's lips and began kissing down her neck once again, my next goal firmly fixed in my mind. Karla cooed softly as I lightly brushed her breasts, then she stiffened yet again when I passed them up and kissed down across her abdomen. She now knew what was coming. My tongue delved into her belly button, causing her to squirm in ticklish response, then continued south. When I reached her hips, I paused. Pushing Karla's thighs apart, I moved between her legs, kneeling. In the faint light I looked up her body, but all I could see was outline, the detail obscured. Her legs were spread wide to make room for me, but her hips were girlishly narrow. She had wide shoulders, and I could see that her head was lifted as she also tried to look back at me. I could not see her breasts clearly, yet it was a deliciously enticing image, and I soaked it in. But my patience was slipping. Easing my hands under Karla's thighs, I reached around and took a slender hip in either hand. This caused her knees to bend, and with her legs spread she was open and inviting. When I leaned forward she tensed, but I bypassed her pussy and kissed her lower belly once again, more to prolong the moment for myself than to tease Karla. I marveled at the steep rise from Karla's stomach to her elevated mons. There was no fat on her body to smooth out the contours, and I carefully kissed around her pussy, exploring and memorizing lest I never travel here again. Karla squirmed beneath me, clearly trying to move her pussy under my mouth, and I was delighted by her urgency since it matched my own.