From Assignment 3…

A portion of a story I’m working on for my writing class… 

———-

Richard’s attention had drifted to the backyard of the house behind Bill’s old place, which he could see clearly from his upstairs window vantage point, when something bright fluttered through his peripheral vision.  His attention was pulled back abruptly by the arrival of the new denizens of the house next door.  Son, between eight and ten… daughter – the bright object that caught his attention – between five and 7… He murmured to himself.  Father, somewhere between thirty-five and forty-five, Mother in her early to mid thirties.  He nodded, typical family of four in the suburbs. Then he saw her, a teenaged girl maybe as young as thirteen or as old as sixteen.  While the others had been talking animatedly to each other and pointing out various features of the yard and exterior of the house, the teenager was taking it all in with cool detachment.  She was sucking on a lollipop while strolling slowly up the walkway.  Instead of looking at the house she was approaching, she was looking up and down the street, taking in the neighborhood.  Richard was transfixed, unable to look away from her.  His breath caught in his chest as her eyes swept across the front of his own house, then to the side and up to the window he was standing in.  Though he was staring through a small space between the blinds, held open by two fingers, he felt utterly exposed.  He felt certain she could see him, was staring into his eyes as he looked down into hers.  She pulled the lollipop out of her mouth, it was dark red, cherry, he thought.  Slowly, she rolled her tongue over the glistening sphere, then rubbed it over her lips.  Richards mouth hung open and his pants felt uncomfortably tight.  The feeling of exposure, of having his clandestine viewing station discovered in this way, was horribly uncomfortable and yet he couldn’t bring himself to pull away and break contact with this utterly fascinating creature.

What he couldn’t do, she could.  Her head jerked toward the house’s front door where the father appeared, waving her toward him.  She glanced up at Richard once more and then, popping the lollipop back into her mouth, strode the rest of the way up the walk and disappeared into the house. He groaned out loud when he was finally able to relieve his aching bladder.  He stood for a moment, penis in hand, bladder drained.  His fingers slid up the length of his shaft, his mind’s eye replaying her tongue on the lollipop, the way she pushed it through her pursed lips, popping it into her mouth, the bulge of it inside her cheek.  His cock fully hard, he stared fixedly at the wall tile, mechanically pumping it with his closed fist.  The slideshow in his mind kept playing the images in quick succession until he ejaculated into the toilet.

———–

“Feona!” Father’s voice called out from the front of the new house.  “Come in, you need to pick out your room.  I promised you first pick but you’d better hurry, your brother and sister are getting impatient.”

Fe glanced back up to the window and winked at the watcher behind the gap in the blinds before following Father inside.  She quickly went upstairs and kicked her little brother Isaac out of the bedroom closest to the neighboring house.  Pulling aside the curtains, she smiled, satisfied.  The upstairs window where the watcher had been was aligned with this window.  Not long after, she’d rearranged her room so that her bed was under the window.  The watcher hadn’t come back to the window yet, but she was sure he would.  She was sure the watcher was a he, after taking in the unkempt lawn, the lack of flowers or other ornamentation, blinds shut tight on all the windows.  She’d never guessed wrong before.

After sharing a dinner of delivery pizza with the family, she’d gone back to her room, kicked off her flip flops and sat down on her bed. Leaning back, she pulled up her skirt and pulled off her pink flowered panties.  With one hand she lightly stroked her breasts, bringing them to attention.  The other hand went between her legs, where moisture had already gathered.  Practiced fingers brought her close to orgasm and then she slowed down, delaying the moment.  It would be so much more delicious if he was watching.

Where are you, lonely man? she asked the darkened window above hers.

This content is published under the Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported license.

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3 Responses to From Assignment 3…

  1. Oregongirl says:

    Lolita much?

    there is some of that there. SWW and I had a great conversation about that, actually. Thing is… there are a lot of differences. It made for a good bit of homework and I’ll do more with it in the future. For now it’s on to my final homework assignment and finishing out the class – K

  2. Oregongirl says:

    Oh yeah I just meant it reminded me of that

  3. Oregongirl says:

    I think what is disturbing about this to me is that it smacks of pedophilia. When you write daddy/girl stories you are clear that you are writing about consenting adults role playing. It seems to me that this story is about a grown man and a young teenager. It is also written in a way that is meant to be titilating and that is disturbing to me.

    I’ve obviously thought on this for a few days before commenting in full but wanted to give my opinion since you are posting this in a public forum.

    Well, yes, it is disturbing on some levels. I’ve only given the barest snippet, so you don’t have the whole story yet. I meant to write something that pushed limits. There are a lot of stories in me that are not pretty and nice and neat and tidy. Some of the people populating my head are edge players. Teenage girls who are fully in control of their sexuality in a way that is disturbing to some adults. Reclusive loners who have solitary sex lives. People who fantasize about things they should never, ever do. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea, clearly, and it won’t fit into everyone’s anthology or publication. But I’m going to write the stories nonetheless because this is who I am. I’m a writer and I’m not going to shrink away from things because they’re uncomfortable. Life is uncomfortable, every day we come across situations that are not tidy or neat or always consensual. Some of what I write is for erotic stimulation, and I’m also plotting a move into non-erotic fiction. I’ve got to practice somewhere and yes, I tend to share what I’m trying. I understand you don’t like this piece, I appreciate that you came back to give me complete feedback. K

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