Fifteen

Back to Commitments, obligations and the cable company...6

Author's note: These chapters are NOT stand-alones...The story starts here.

The way forward...1

They really are cute. There is no doubt that I am going to fuck them. They all want it and I accept the reality of it. There will be no pushback from me ever again. I will plow them well and good. But I am not going to do both of them at the same time. Who goes first?

I can see rationale for either choice. There is no clear reason to pick one over the other.

Both of you will be with me today. Maybe, both before supper tonight. But one has to go first and the second must wait a few hours. You two need to choose. Who goes first?

It doesn’t take them long to work it out. I am with Katrina now. May will join me later. For all her bravado earlier, Katrina (or Dido¹, as that is her nickname) is nervous and shy. From the moment the bedroom door closes behind us, all the confidence falls away.

Just yesterday, I would have used this as a way to get out of fucking the girl. As I walked down to breakfast this morning, that same intent would still have been present. But it isn’t present anymore.

I simply close the distance between us and commence to unbutton Dido’s blouse. It may be surprising the girl a bit, but she isn’t fighting me.

She isn’t fighting me as I take the blouse off her. She isn’t fighting me, as I unbutton and lower the zipper on her school plaid skirt. She isn’t fighting me, as I lower the skirt down to the floor and have her step away from it. She isn’t fighting me, as I bring her to the bed and place her on it.

She really is a cute kid. And there is ample evidence of her sexual nature from the peach fuzz on her cunt and the small but nicely rounded breasts.

Dido can’t be more than four foot eight inches. But that doesn’t tell me much. Her mother is no taller than is she.

I have not kissed her, and here I am, naked, with my cock in hand, moving up and down across Dido’s virginal entrance, not penetrating, just gathering any secretions should they exist.

Dido’s cunt is dry. It isn’t much of a problem. A few minutes of manual attention resolves the matter quite nicely, and it also helps with the giggles and shyness. Dido is ‘with the program,’ as it were.

If you are wondering if there is a difference when fucking a thirteen-year-old, the answer is not too damned much when compared to a seventeen or eighteen-year-old. But comparing it to a forty-year-old? Yes, a huge difference.

So, can I explain it? As to that, I am not sure I can fully. There are the simple things. Age most assuredly changes all of us. In a way, I guess you can say, in most cases, our bodies thicken. So that is different. These girls are spry, limber, with skin that shows no distress, no signs of wear and tear.

The enthusiasm is different. That is not to say the older woman doesn’t want sex, but the younger one in a weird way is aching for it in a way that diminishes over the years.

The older one will get off, but the level of engagement with her partner isn’t as strong. And you will get off with the older one, but it will be for you alone and not as much for her.

With the young ones, your happiness, your approval, your instructions, your passion for them is truly hard to quantify. It just exists. It frames the entire session. The engagement with her is more complete. It is not just the physical act. There are words, looks, kisses, and most importantly, there is joy.

Dido is a wonder. This being the first time, she has much to learn and is completely inexperienced. We are not going to add much in the way of variety this time. No, this time it is a straight-ahead missionary position face-to-face fuckathon.

I have grown large inside her. Every time I run in to her with a good strong plunge, Dido gasps. My cock is filling her passage completely. There is no additional space to be found. She is so small that she can’t wrap her legs around me and those legs are spread as wide as she can make them. I am just too large a man for a girl her size.

But, that reality is of no importance to her right now. She would start to scream if I were to stop. I have no intention of stopping. None.

Dido’s breasts are very small, but they may always be small. The nipples are dark brown pebbles in the middle of gentle rises. She likes it when I play with them, but there isn’t much breast to cup. The nipples move so completely with the rest of her body as I fuck her that there is no way to cup a breast and play with it as we fuck, on and on.

I get a sense that her body is reaching a limit. Maybe another day, if sensing her need to stop, I would stop. Today all it seems to do is get me into a place that needs relief. I am getting even harder and larger, if that is even possible, and I cum convincingly in her little cunt.

She knows it. She feels the cum. I have no way to know how she really feels about it, but she acts in a manner that suggests she is happy. I hope she is, because I have taken her. One day or another she will likely end up carrying a baby of mine to term.

It is done. I have fucked all three, though May’s time with me needs the second act, which will occur most likely later today. However, now and for all times going forward, I have seven girls and there is no meaningful distinction between them to be made other than of age and scholastic achievement.

Seven. If I were to be required to take a polygraph, should the question be asked, did I intend to bed underage girls as I boarded the plane to come here last January, the honest answer would be an unequivocal no. I had no such intent. I had no intent as regards any female, regardless of age, at that moment.

If the question was asked, did I have a fantasy about having a harem, once again the answer would be a clean and convincing no. I only wanted a place to live out my retirement with the greatest ease. I wanted to live like a pasha on a chimneysweep’s income. OK, so that is more than a little bit of an exaggeration, but the point is entirely accurate.

I have yet to build a house, but I do believe that I will reach that goal. All the signs point to an impending success. And after the money is spent to build it, there isn’t a huge retirement to follow. Yes, we will have enough, living here, … plenty. But living in Boston? No, I would not have been able to live like a pasha.

It occurs to me that I need to consider exactly what I want built. This house is nice, but there are quirks that I don’t understand. Are all the places here equally quirky in the same way? If yes, is there a good reason for it? Are other homes different?

I need perspective and I currently have none. My conservative New England nature tells me to slow down. I need to do more than think about it. I need to check things out and learn all I can. I need to figure out what I want to build before I select a lot to build upon.

That knowledge has flipped a switch in my head. I like planning. I like researching and looking at things from all angles. It may seem like a stodgy and fussy way to be, but those very same traits brought me here in the first place.

I think I am pretty good at looking at the reality on the ground and seeing it for what it is and not what I wish it could be. In a way, that trait is how I was able to wrap my head around the reality that I just needed to bed the youngest ones. Now, I need to apply that same behavior to the house and lot.

I suspect the best way to do this is to contact some of the other expats here and see how they are living. I need to see their places and ask them questions about what they have and how it is working for them.

I think Lyn has a phone number for that Belgian guy I met the first time I was here. That will be as good a place to start as any. As Lyn is busy at the LTO today, it can wait until tomorrow. Today, I will relax and read until later when I will spend time with May.

Mid-afternoon finds me absorbed in a book when May comes to me and asks for her time. I am not really up for it at the moment, but I will get there soon enough.

There is determination on May’s face. It’s not that she is happy or sad; she is neither. She is on a mission and the objective is clear. That I am no longer setting obstacles in her path makes it easier, but no less important, that her mission be completed.

I don’t think I realized how different these three young ones were from each other before. I am only getting a sense of that now. I was so busy trying to keep them at arm’s length that I wasn’t really paying attention to them as individuals.

Now they are, each of them, a bedmate. And now it is impossible not to pay attention to them. This May, this girl who has me by my hand and is leading me up to my bedroom, is clearly a different breed of cat from her schoolmates.

The others hewed to my instructions. May didn’t. She wanted what she wanted and my rules be damned, she saw an opportunity and she took it.

I really don’t think Katrina or Jocelyn would have done that.

Should I be concerned? I am not sure. As of now, she is going to get what she wants without impediment. Are there other things that she has her eyes set on? Will I be one to conspire with or one to conspire against?

Language is a barrier. Sure, she has some English and, on a rudimentary level, we can communicate. But as to her mind, she will not have the language, even if she was inclined to share her feelings. This is not just true for May. It is true for all of them, all seven, to one degree or another.

For me, May is a cypher. They all are at times. Even Jana and Lyn are cyphers in many ways. I know why they are doing what they do most of the time, but not all the time. There is no way I can know them in any real way. Language is the bar.

It’s odd. I can predict what they will choose. I can often know why they have made the choice, but not what they really think of their reality with me. That is unknowable.

We have reached my bedroom and, now, May’s confidence appears to be gone. She doesn’t have a plan for what comes next. Luckily for her, I do.

She is standing five feet from me and looking down at the floor.

Come here, May.

She does, but her eyes are still looking at the floor.

May, do you want to be my girlfriend?

In the softest of voices, I hear, Yes.

Then look at me and tell me yes again.

She is still looking at the tile floor. It is incongruous in so many ways.

Let’s start with the tiles. These are not linoleum tiles. They are not ceramic or porcelain. They are not twelve by twelve inches squares. They are just a shade under 24 inch by 24 inch square at 60cm per side and they are made of marble.

The bedroom is huge and ornate. It bears no resemblance to the design of the rest of the house. The furniture in the room is all in a gilded rococo style.

And here on these marble tiles, surrounded by the opulence of the furniture, is this young female whose mother really was so concerned by the cost of tricycles and lunches that she gave her daughter to me and is eagerly waiting for a pregnancy. Was there anything but dirt on the floor of their shack?

This young girl, who has previously sneaked her way onto my cock like a pickpocket lifting a wallet, is too embarrassed to lift up her head and find love eye to eye.

A cock in her cunt? Sure, that is good. Being with me in a romantic manner, that is something else entirely. God forbid if I try to kiss her.

I place my hand, fingers open, under her chin and lift her head up toward mine. I smile. Her lips show me a semi-smile before retreating from the expression.

May, I am going to undress you. And then, I am going to undress. OK?

Yes, Sir.

Good.

She isn’t fighting it. Her help is passive at best. It’s more like she allows it to happen. This is not a case of ‘be careful what you wish for, as you might get it.’ She wants this. It is more about how to do it, and what it feels like inside. She is completely unsure of herself, and what she should be doing.

If we were in Dorchester, this simply would not be happening. Someone from that culture might be shouting right now, ‘stop!’

I don’t think May wants to stop, but I hear the shout inside my head too, even though I now know that such a shout is misplaced here.

May, are you sure this is what you want to do?

Yes! Her answer is screamed out in almost a hysterical fashion. She really wants to be here. I am a jerk for falling into the trap of thinking this is wrong in any way. She just doesn’t understand the romantic part.

We are both naked and I move her to the bed. She gets on it without any inducement from me.

May is sweet, small, with light chocolate colored skin. Her skin is lighter than that of her two schoolmates. Her teeth are bright white. Her smile is huge when smiling, which she isn’t right now. There are small studs in her ears. Her nails are painted pink. Her breasts exist, but are very small. The dark area around her nipples is about an inch in diameter. The nipples themselves are dark brown and rock hard.

Her hips flair a bit. She clearly has shaved her pussy today as it is baby smooth and glistening with some lotion that she must have applied. I doubt she weighs eighty pounds or wears larger than size four shoes. May is small.

I place one arm around the back of her shoulders and one hand on her cunt. May spreads her legs. Her cunt isn’t dripping wet, but as my index finger spreads the labia, I find moisture. She spreads her legs yet a bit wider.

Inserting my finger a little deeper into her elicits a moan. I shove two fingers deep into the girl. Her eyes are wide open as is her mouth. No sound comes forth, but there is surprise on her face.

I try to find her G-spot, but May is feeling some discomfort. I withdraw. I mount the girl and, pushing her legs wide with my hands, I enter her, neither very fast, nor particularly slowly.

May is a small girl, but her cunt accepts me without complaint.

I don’t ask her if she is OK. Her face tells me she is doing just fine and I proceed to give the kid a good and long ride. Having just cum only six hours earlier inside her friend, I am not going to unload in the girl quickly.

I am having a fine time with May, but it seems that she is getting sore. We have been at it a good forty-five minutes. That is just more than May can handle.

I should be a good guy and stop. But I am not feeling like a good guy right now. I am at the edge. Rather than back off, I start fucking May with more powerful strokes and a sense of urgency, until… I cum in her cunt.

And now I am done. May is wiped out, but far too proud to admit that I took her too far for too long.

I pull May to me and just hold her for the better part of an hour. It is done. All the girls have now been bedded. No one is outside and looking in.

Will anyone else become pregnant this year? All three of the young ones will return to their regular school in just a few days. Which ones, if any, will need home schooling is unknown. Will they be the only non-virgins in their class? Probably not. But then, I doubt all the young ones in the States are virgins. Some things just don’t get talked about.

Dinner is courtesy of the young ones as my other four are stuck at the LTO until five in the evening. The meal is edible if not inspiring. However, that is just fine as we are not thinking about what we are eating. We are talking about the craziness of the hours spent at the LTO.

The girls didn’t have any inclination to bribe anyone, and so, they got pushed to the back of every line and there were a lot of lines to negotiate. Eventually, they couldn’t be stalled any longer without the staff having to work overtime, and they got their permits. Each is now legal to operate the motorcycles.

One more item off the list. This was a big one for me as school starts in ten days. We needed the permits before school started. I am not crazy about Lexi riding on a motorcycle in her last two months of pregnancy. I wish she would just stay home, but the girl seems intent on doing the semester.

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1 - dee-DOH

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The way forward...2