Bad Like Me, Part 3

by eloquent delinquent

Another long one with lots of story building at the beginning. Again, if you just want the sex, skip about halfway down.

Behind her, Megan asks, "Will you help me dry off?"

Almost mechanically, Charlotte lays her top over the hamper and reaches up for one of the yellow bath sheets hanging from the bar. Of course she'll help Megan dry off, she thinks, resigned. She'll use any excuse to handle the young girl's naked body; she's the most horrible babysitter that ever lived. Megan's still a little shaky, holding onto the edge of the tub as she climbs out, her sleek golden body posing in such a darling, pouting curve that Charlotte can't help but stare. The older girl fluffs the towel over her hands, stretches out her arms with it draped between them as if to receive Megan in an embrace, which Megan unhesitatingly steps into, her eyes wide and searching Charlotte's face.

Charlotte lifts the towel over the girl's head, enveloping her, separating her, hiding from her. She dries her scalp even though it wasn't very wet, and the rest of the initial toweling is a scrubbing, a little brusque, rougher than necessary, and she's careful to make sure that the terrycloth stays between her and the girl's skin. Megan meekly accepts this jostling. Eventually, it's time to do her legs, and as she wraps a corner of the towel around the girl's right ankle, her careful wrapping comes unraveled, Megan catches it in the crooks of her elbows and it's swathed across her back, and Charlotte is confronted by her body, nude and glowing and smelling sweetly of soap.

She averts her eyes quickly, bending down to focus just on the leg she's rubbing dry. Don't look up don't look don't look at her kitty haven't you done enough? She gropes for the other banner end of the towel, repeats the process on Megan's left leg, starting at the ankle and working up, but quitting just above the knee, unable to bring herself to face what she couldn't resist just minutes before.

She's done all she can. Sighing, Charlotte reluctantly glances up at Megan's face, but the girl's gaze is fixed on Charlotte's chest, where her current position reveals most of her budding breasts in the sling of her training bra. She tries for a second to make eye contact, but Megan is fascinated, and Charlotte is touched and flattered, surprised by the girl's curiosity, is tempted to let herself stare at Megan some more, but that thought curdles into disgust with herself before she's done thinking it.

"Here, finish," she places the ends of the towel into Megan's hands. "Where are your pajamas?"

"On the bed," Megan replies, absently wiping the places Charlotte neglected. "I just wear on of my mom's old t-shirts, she says I outgrow my clothes too fast."

Charlotte stands, picks up her top, and edges out of the bathroom, Megan's gaze following her every move. It's a relief when she turns the corner out of her sight. A little simple deduction takes her to Megan's room, where switching on the bedside lamp reveals a level of disorder that makes the rest of the house look tidy. The sky blue t-shirt is in a rumpled heap exactly where Megan said it would be, so she retrieves it and heads back to the bathroom.

Seeing her, Megan drops the towel, lets it gather around her feet almost like a dare. Charlotte can't help the gasp she makes. She holds the nightshirt out at arm's length, and Megan plucks it from her almost as diffidently, stretches it out over her head, lets it slip lightly over her body, swishing as it comes to rest just below her knees. Charlotte can't help the pang she feels as the girl's body is concealed any more than she could help the gasp. Megan chews her lip and looks inquisitively at the older girl. In return, Charlotte takes her hand and, without a word, leads her to bed and tucks her in.

Folding the sheet down over the coverlet, she can't escape the concern on Megan's face. Or is it wary? Is she afraid of me now? Charlotte's own fears rise up like smoke.

"You can't tell anyone what happened. Not even your mom, okay?"

"I won't tell anyone."

"No, it's important. No one can ever find out. You have to swear."

"Okay. I swear. I won't tell."

Charlotte can't doubt the girl's sincerity. But looking into her troubled face, all the other words just seem to block themselves up, jammed in a snarl. What can she say? What could possibly excuse what she just did? "It's late. Go to sleep."

She darts up from the bed and quickly crosses to the door when she hears Megan timidly say, "Charlotte?" She pinches her eyes shut, but turns, and watches a moment as the young girl hesitates, struggles, and finally says, "Could you leave the door open? Just a crack, okay?"

"Okay. Goodnight, Megan."

"Goodnight," Megan replies, immediately, urgently. Charlotte draws the door nearly closed.

The next hour and a half are agonizing. She goes through the bathroom, trying to set everything back the way it was, but she doesn't really remember, so it's as frustrating as it is useless. So she wraps her hair up into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, staring accusingly at her reflection in the bathroom mirror the whole time. She sits on the couch, chewing her lip, and when she can't stand it anymore, she stands up and looks out the window at the street, and when nothing happens, she starts to pace, and at the end of each length, she's standing in the hallway, looking at the crack left open in Megan's door. Then, she sits back down and gnaws her lip some more.

She's at this point in her anxious cycle when Mrs Carmody comes home, Charlotte feels a hollowness spread through her middle.

"Sorry I'm a little late." Mrs Carmody says quietly. "Sometimes I have trouble getting the car started."

"Oh, it's okay."

"How was she?"

"Fine. She was great, really." Until I molested her.

"She's a sweetheart, isn't she? Well, mostly. Did she fight you on bedtime?"

"No, no. She went straight to bed right after, um, she had her bath."

Mrs Carmody gives her an admiring glance, "Well, you must be quite the charmer. I practically have to peel her off the couch and tie her into bed."

Charlotte laughs a little, and it sounds really nervous to her.

The mother shakes her keys. "Come on, let's get you home. I can't imagine what your mother will do if we get you home too late."

In the car, she's mostly quiet as she stares out the window, stealing occasional glances at Mrs Carmody's profile as the streetlights shift across it. She's so pretty, with her strong straight jaw, pouty lower lip and the stray curl dangling along her cheek. Once, Mrs Carmody catches her looking and makes a catlike grin and it's electrifying, Charlotte can't look away fast enough.

"I'll bet you two got along really well," Mrs Carmody says. "You're both so smart, and so quiet in public. I'll bet you're just like her in private, though, chirping away like a bird singing in a tree."

"I guess so. We did have fun talking, and she showed me her drawing. It's really good. Then she wanted to braid my hair."

The mother smiles. "It's like you're friends more than a babysitter. That's okay, though. She's probably old enough to do without, but I just feel better with someone else there. And besides, I'd like it if she had more girls to spend time with. So many of the mothers started keeping their kids away from Megan, after... after Mr Carmody and I split. I think she could use some more friends." She sighs. "I know I could."

They're passing the Church now, a few lights still on in the office area. The darkened windows in front are like eyes as they pass.

Charlotte tries to recall what's happening with the Carmodys. She knows that Oliver... er, Mr Carmody, met Mrs Carmody on mission to a big city, and that Reverend Bealing married them shortly after they returned. Then, a little over a year ago, Mr Carmody moved out, and got a divorce, even though Reverend Bealing counseled against it, causing a lot of conflict amongst the Congregation, at least at first. Less than a month later, though, Mr Carmody married Miss Roeder, the Reverend's cousin, and suddenly all was right between the Reverend and Mr Carmody again, and Mrs Carmody had to move out of the big house on Knoxville Street and into a little one on Whitcomb Circle.

Her Dad gave his passing judgment of the whole thing one night at dinner, when the scandal was just coming to an end: "That's the way Oliver's always been, softhearted, more pity than sense, always taking in strays. But now he's seen the light about that woman, and is coming back to us."

But what happened between them, what scandalized the Congregation? It was never mentioned to Charlotte. She supposes grownups have secrets of their own. What else do they hide?

"Do you have Bible study tomorrow night?"

"No. Only on Monday and Wednesday."

"I've got a few more shifts coming up. Do you think you could come back tomorrow, a little earlier? I'd really like it if you could."

You may not feel that way after you talk to your daughter. "Um, maybe? You'll have to call my mom first, I think."

"Of course, sure."

There's a pause while Mrs Carmody turns up Pine Street.

"Everything okay, Charlotte?"

"Um. Yeah. It's fine."

Mrs Carmody says, "I see you every week at Bible study, and you seem... I don't know, a little sad? Subdued."

She shrugs uncomfortably. "Sometimes, what Christ wants from us seems so hard. I want to be true in my faith, but how can I when it seems like every week we're finding out how full of sin everything is? Especially us. I don't really get it, and I guess I feel dumb."

"Can I confess something?"

Charlotte nods.

"I think sometimes the Church is too harsh on girls. Women. I know I've been in it for a long time, everyone I know anymore is there, but still. Doesn't it seem strange that women have to have their hair and their clothes just so, but not the men?" She sets her chin. "I don't know. I went to church plenty when I was young, and it wasn't anything like this."

"Really? I guess it seems weird, but... what else is there?"

And Mrs Carmody reaches out and she's squeezing Charlotte's hand. "Yeah. Exactly."

They're pulling up to Charlotte's house.

"You're a sharp girl, Charlotte Geist. I hope you and Megan do become friends. Maybe we can be, too." She squeezes her hand again, and Charlotte, against all her shame and anxiety, feels a thrill at her attention.

"Me too. Thanks, Mrs Carmody."

"Call me Miss Wells. No, you know what? Call me Amy." She smiles again and cups Charlotte's surprised face. "I'll call your mom tomorrow. Take care, okay?"

The smile that comes to her own face is also a surprise. "I will. Goodnight."

Charlotte's mother is awake in her armchair and reading God's Plan for You, but doesn't say a word as Charlotte crosses to the stairs and goes straight up to her room. She changes into her pj's (it's still strange undressing in front of the open door) and climbs into bed, but spends a largely sleepless night staring into the dark, imagining the events at the Carmodys that would bring disaster to her. Imagining what her mother & the Reverend would do when they found out how awful she was.

When she finally sleeps she dreams she's standing nervously before the Congregation, but then a heavenly, feminine voice begins to sing, the Song of Solomon 4:10, and with amazement she realizes it's her own voice erupting out of her. And while she sings, her clothes begin to crumble and fall away as if they were made of old paper or ashes. The Congregation is riveted, shocked and rapt. Her mother is scowling, promising dreadful things. To her left, the Reverend has taken the stage, stabbing a finger at her and shouting, but she can't hear it. Her voice rises over all of it, grips her, flows from her, and even as the last of her clothes crumble away, leaving her naked and mortified and judged, she continues to sing. She remembers it when she awakens, drifting in and out as the light slowly creeps in, letting the last hours til dawn pass in a reverie.

Then she hears the phone ring downstairs. She bolts up in a panic, stumbling into her robe and slippers, dashing downstairs, but her mother's already hanging up the phone and it's too late, too late.

"That was Mrs Carmody," her mother says. "She seems pleased with the way you took care of her daughter. Wants you back today by 4. You should probably head straight there after school, the Church is halfway to their place already."

Waves of relief and apprehension crash around inside of her, and there's a swirl of other feelings beneath them that she barely recognizes yet. She finds herself numbly nodding.

"I'll fix an extra snack for you for after school," Charlotte's mother says.

"Okay, Momma." She turns to head back upstairs.

"Charlotte," her mother says and she stops. "It's good to see you doing something useful with your time."

"Thank you, Momma."

__________________________________

It isn't until she's walking back up Whitcomb Circle that Charlotte realizes that school was a blur, she remembers nothing she was taught, just the occasional rebukes to pay attention, and, of course, the confusion. She could barely sort out how she felt from one hour to the next - the relief at not getting caught being overwhelmed by guilt of having done something that so needed to be hidden, the fear of having to face Megan constantly flipping with the desire to see her, regret at what she'd done wrestling with the excitement of having done it. At this point, she was mostly just exhausted and unsure about everything.

That uncertainty only grows as she goes up the walk to the Carmody's ... er, to Amy's, house. It takes two tries before she's able to knock. She can hear her pulse in her ears when the door open and Mrs, Amy is there, smiling around a peach she's bitten into. Her hair's in a tumble around her shoulders, which are bare since she's wearing a pink tank top. Charlotte sees some freckles there. Her sweatpants are also pink, and all her clothes are just snug enough that they accentuate all her curves, not fat but full and ripe, and make Charlotte certain that she's not wearing a bra at all, and maybe not even panties. Looking at her, the girl twists the toe of one sneaker into the porch step.

Amy wipes away the juice from her lower lip and chews for a moment before she says, "Hi Charlotte. Thanks for coming again. Megan's in back playing, why don't you go around and say hello?"

"Okay," she replies, stepping off without really thinking and making her way across the big lawn to the tall fence that divides Amy's house from the next one over. And that's when she hears Megan laughing. No, that's not quite it, Charlotte thinks, that's more like maniacal shrieking.

Megan's racing around the broad backyard and even into the edge of the woods that back the house, brandishing what looks like a pillowcase over her head, whipping it at random moments, completely caught up. Charlotte can't help but smile as she watches her run full tilt, barefoot, chasing... what?

That's when Megan spots her and comes to an abrupt halt, pillowcase dangling at her side, chest heaving, her mouth open and eyes staring. She stays like this for a moment, as if measuring Charlotte's effect on her. The older girl goes very still, trying to brace herself for whatever accusations might come next. Then Megan says, "I'm trying to catch butterflies."

Charlotte smiles and steps toward her, noticing the golden flitting shapes above the grass for the first time. "Is that what you're doing?"

"The fiery skippers are migrating, I want to get a close at them before they're all gone."

"Any luck?"

"No, they're too fast and they flutter all over like a bunch of stupid leaves." She holds out the pillowcase. "Want to help me?"

Charlotte feels almost giddy, she wants to hug Megan, but she has an idea. She sets down her book bag. "No, but I'll help you. You can't catch a butterfly by acting like a butterfly."

"What do you mean?"

"Give me a minute. In the meantime, pick all the yellow and purple flowers you can find. Just the yellow and purple ones though, okay?"

Megan smiles, intrigued, "Okay." She dashes off to the wildflowers at the edge of the woods.

Charlotte goes up onto the deck, opens the back door tentatively and finds Amy rinsing a plate in the sink. The mother lifts an eyebrow. "What's up?"

"Uh, Amy? Can I borrow one of the yellow towels from the bathroom for a minute?"

"Sure, I guess. Should I -?" but Charlotte's charged right past her, infected by Megan's excitement, by the elation that things might be okay, they might just go back to normal, grateful for this chance to be Megan's friend again. She snatches a hand towel from the bar and is back out the door, barely noticing Amy's quizzical expression.

Outside, she kneels next to her bag, rummaging til she finds the small tube of hand lotion she carries. One of the ladies in the Church makes them special to request, and made Charlotte's with natural lavender oil. She heads over to where Megan is still eagerly plucking blossoms. She's collecting them in her skirt, has it pulled out and up, and Charlotte can see all the way up her legs, the panties just a shadowy hint. It adds another flutter to her excitement.

"This enough?"

"Plenty. Come over here," Charlotte says, leading the girl to the dappled shade on the edge of the lawn. "Now sit down."

Megan plops the pile of flowers on the grass, sits cross-legged next to it, looking expectantly to the older girl.

"If you act like a butterfly, the butterflies always run away. If you want to see a butterfly close up, you have to act like what it likes. You have to act like a flower."

Charlotte wraps the towel over Megan's shoulder and chest, like a bib. "Start putting those flowers all over yourself," she says, and while the girl's doing this, she takes a daub of the lavender lotion and rubs it on Megan's bare arms, the back of her hands. Megan stops moving and closely observes Charlotte's hands touching her.

"Here," Charlotte says, and when Megan looks up the older girl rubs a little speck of lotion into either cheek. Their eyes meet, Megan's with something of the searching look from the night before, but Charlotte smiles back happily and Megan relaxes and grins. "Now you smell like a flower, too."

They both giggle as Charlotte stands up and begins backing away, "But the most important thing a flower does is sit still. Just stay put, and let them come to you."

Kneeling over by her bag, she watches as Megan finishes with the blossoms and settles. The flowers are scattered in her hair, on the towel, on either shoulder, in her lap, tucked into the crooks of her knees, gripped between her knuckles. She looks something like a fairy in the dappled light as she looks up keenly and waits.

It takes a few minutes, and Charlotte starts to think it won't work, Megan glances sidelong at her more and more frequently, eyes questioning but remaining still. But then, it happens. The little gold butterflies gather, flitting in circles above her at first, then the first one descends curiously onto the top of Megan's head. The girl's eyes widen, strain upward to see what quickly escapes her sight, Charlotte sees her biting the tip of her tongue to contain herself, but she doesn't move, and soon more of the soft-winged critters are lighting on her and her flowers - touching down on her knee, her hair, her shoulder, her thumb. One lights on the rim of her glasses. Megan's face blooms into pure, overwhelming delight. The sidelong glance she sends Charlotte now is dazzling.

Charlotte covers her mouth to stifle the laughter that's boiling up from her, she can't help it. Then she hears the click, and looks up to the deck where Amy is standing with an old camera with a great big lens, snapping picture after picture of Megan. She pauses and looks Charlotte's way, her expression full of admiration, and maybe a little wonder.

Finally, Megan just can't stand it anymore. With a peal of glee, she explodes into motion, wiggling free of the butterflies, tossing the blossoms into the air, leaping to her feet. And before Charlotte even registers it Megan has bounded over to her and slammed into an embrace that nearly knocks her over. Recovering her balance, she wraps her arms around the younger girl, feels her body shake with uncontrollable laughter. Charlotte's smile actually hurts her face a little.

She hears a click, and sees as Amy lowers her camera, gives them a warm, wistful look, and returns to the house.

Eventually, Megan calms down enough to disentangle from Charlotte, but her excited chatter about her experience continues beyond the point where her mom has to leave, and well into dinner, where she finally pauses, and asks, "How did you know to do that?"

"I learned it at Bible camp." She tells her about an older boy named Aaron who was a counselor and nature guide, but doesn't tell her that as soon as he finished school, he left the Church and disappeared.

"He sounds nice. Most boys can't be good with girls, too. They're only good with other boys."

Despite their age difference, Charlotte can't help but agree. She's always found boys to be mostly loud, proud, bossy, sulky, and messy. Girls appeal to her more... and she's suddenly struck by what that might actually mean about her. She's been trying hard not to notice how she gets that deep quiver when she remembers what Megan looks like naked, and when she thinks about Amy, the way she gets when Amy even looks at her... She glances at Megan furtively, her feelings tangling up all over again.

Is she one of those girls? The kind Reverend Bealing say are taunting the Church and turning their backs on Jesus? The kind that want to turn marriage into something blasphemous?

She dwells on this thought through dishes and homework, a whole new dimension of anxiety gnawing at her. Why does she feel this way? Where did she go wrong? Why does she ache to do the bad thing again and again? What makes her want to touch Megan again, to do it to her and make her like it? Why does it have to make her feel so good?

Somehow, Charlotte still manages to help Megan with her homework, the girl's dealing with fractions for the first time, but it doesn't take much explanation before Megan begins to sort out how they work. Charlotte stands behind Megan at the dining room table, leaning over to watch her pencil work its way through the problems, glancing at her mop of blonde curls, bending closer, following the scent of the girl, trying to catch a little more, shampoo and grass and sweat and lavender and strawberry Jolly Rancher. Her breasts gently come to rest on the back of Megan's shoulders, chin almost resting on her head, she feels her nipples stiffening against the girl's warmth.

Megan goes very still for a moment, then leans forward, breaking the contact, turning, meeting Charlotte's eyes and, blinking a lot, she says, "I need to finish."

Rebuffed, Charlotte straightens, dithers, puts her books back in her bag. She goes over to the sofa, plops down, and starts chewing her lip like she did the night before. She can't make it right, can't stop thinking about Megan the bad way. She can't help herself. It would be best if she just went back to the closet, where she could have her bad thoughts and touch herself in that right but wrong way, went in the closet and never came out.

Behind her, she hears Megan set her assignment aside, the chair scrape as she gets up, her bare feet padding as she comes over next to the couch. It takes an effort for Charlotte to look at her, she feels tears pricking at her eyes.

Megan's mouth is set, her brown eyes serious behind the lenses, she's wringing her hands in front of her pelvis. "Charlotte," she says, "you touched me in the bath last night."

Charlotte finds she can only nod slowly. The lump in her throat wouldn't let her speak anyway. What can she possibly say?

"You washed my back. You washed my back and then you washed me all over and then you weren't really washing me anymore," Megan says, and Charlotte understands that the girl's talking her way through it, wrestling with it even as she says it. "You were just touching me all over. And then... and then, you touched me down there."

Megan looks down at her knotted hands, and what's behind them. Charlotte's gaze follows, and her heart is pounding, with remorse, with longing, with self-loathing.

"You shouldn't have touched me there. No one's supposed to touch me there. Mom told me that place is only for me, it's my private place, and I'm not supposed to let anyone touch me there. Mom says if I let somebody touch me there I could get hurt real bad, but..." she gets lost for a second, turning her hands over. "But you touched me there anyway."

Charlotte's voice cracks when she says, "I know."

Megan doesn't look up, but goes on.

"It was naughty, the way you kept touching me. It was naughty of me to let you keep doing that. And then you pulled up your skirt and let me watch while you touched yourself too, and then you got all shaky and pink and that was really naughty, even though it's your private place, I could still see it, and see you touching it like you were touching mine.

"It's naughty. I know that. You and me, we both were naughty in the tub, I know that. You aren't supposed to touch me there and you did and that's naughty. I know it's naughty."

Megan raises her head just a bit, looks at Charlotte from under her eyebrows, under the rim of her glasses, her eyes big and nervous. "But... could you do that to me some more?"

Charlotte chokes out a sob as she's standing, blinking out a tear from each eye as she crosses the tiny space between them, then Megan's pressed tight and soft against her and Charlotte's arms are around her and her face is in those delicate blonde curls and the secret is hidden between them, exactly where their bodies touch together. She kisses Megan's hair over and over, and after a moment, Megan's arms close around her waist, she feels the young girl's nose press against her throat, and her little, dainty lips kiss blindly all around where the hollow of her neck meets the collar of her blouse.

Charlotte lowers her head, Megan tips hers back and up, their eyes meet just inches from one another, and they stare as their quickening breath mixes, seeing the guilty, exciting secret reflected there, and behind it, a glow, a banked fire that's about to be allowed to run loose. Charlotte's hands run up Megan's back, over her shoulders, until her fingertips run along under Megan's delicate jaw, drawing her closer, drawing her in.

And then there is a fever of kissing between them, on mouths, chins, cheeks, eyelids, breath damp and sighing against each other's skin, their hands running over one another's clothes, occasionally squeezing the tender flesh beneath. They press their chests and tummies more tightly together, swaying awkwardly, trying to get even closer.

Megan lets out a little squeak when Charlotte kisses her ears, but Charlotte feels the girl smiling against her cheek as her lips squish out a trail down the pulsing line on the side of Megan's neck. Megan chuckles softly and pushes the older girl back.

Charlotte shakes her hair back from her face, and Megan has this mischievous look on her face and says, "I want to see you with no clothes on."

Charlotte smiles wildly and she starts unbuttoning her blouse, toppling a bit as she kicks off her sneakers at the same time. "You too."

Megan pulls off her t-shirt, and Charlotte drinks in her plump, pale gold body again, its innocent, sensuous curves, the adorably pink nipples already standing out. Charlotte's wrestling out of her sleeves, haste making her awkward, as the young girl deftly unzips her jean skirt and lets it drop. She stands watching as the older girl bends, lowering her much longer denim skirt, stepping out of it, tossing it on the couch, straightens and faces her.

"Your panties," Charlotte says, pointing, flushing.

Megan sways coyly, crossing her hands over her panties. "Yours first," she smiles.

She doesn't know why she hesitates when her thumbs loop through the elastic at her hips, but she does. Then she sees the young girl's eager face, and the quiver deep down comes harder than ever before, and Charlotte grins slyly, watching Megan's expression bloom as she slides the panties slowly down over her rump, thighs, knees, ankles, and off. She stands, quickly unclipping the front clasp of her training bra and shrugging out of it.

Megan's jaw hangs slack and her eyes dance delighted, and they stand that way for a minute, neither moving at all, and Charlotte feels her excitement tightening inside her. Finally, she stands up straight, shakes her hair back, squares her shoulders and pushes out her chest, her pert, small, hard-nippled breasts jutting, proudly naked, almost a dare.

This seems to jar something awake in Megan, her expression grows intent. Unceremoniously, she dips down, slips her panties down and off, tosses them aside, and steps close enough to Charlotte that each can faintly feel the heat from the other's skin. Megan's hands come up, but hover inches from Charlotte, as her eyes rove everywhere on the older girl's body.

Megan says, "You have hair there."

Charlotte glances down at the dusting of brown hair on her mound, and it strikes her that she's really naked in front of someone else, in front of Megan. The feeling, the anticipation, is indescribable. "A little," she breathes. "Why don't you touch it?"

Megan's hands settle gently, like birds, like butterflies, on Charlotte's belly. One of them slides down, fingers brushing the downy hair tentatively, then more openly curious. Just slightly below, Charlotte's kitty flares with excitement and it races up through her body, making her gasp.

"It's so soft," Megan whispers, looks up at Charlotte's glowing face and sees the reassurance there, encouragement, and her gaze drifts down to the older girl's breasts. Her hands begin to graze their way up over Charlotte's belly, and she looks back up, her eyes questioning.

Charlotte nods.

Megan gasps in amazement as her fingers touch the silky, yielding warmth of her breasts. Charlotte groans, and Megan moves closer, cupping them, her hands covering them completely, the hard little nipples grazing her palms. Charlotte's eyes droop shut and her chest heaves, pressing her boobies more firmly into Megan's grasp, their bellies touching, Megan feeling Charlotte's nest of soft fur against her navel.

Megan's hand lifts off Charlotte's left breast and her eyes snap open to see Megan removing her glasses, setting them carefully on the magazine-strewn coffee table. She replaces her hand, then strokes the older girl's breasts deliberately, sliding her palms in circles over the top and around the sides, coming to rest by cupping them from below.

Then her head dips and her small, hot mouth closes over one of the nipples before her, and Charlotte shudders, fire surges out through her chest and a deep happy ache opens in her stomach. Megan's doing something with her mouth, sucking or kissing or licking Charlotte can't tell which but the feeling overwhelms her and she falters back, her leg striking the couch and she collapses sitting onto it. Megan follows her right down, her lips and hands fixed to the girl's breasts despite the slip, bending a little forward to adjust, her cute pale rump jutting up into Charlotte's largely unfocused gaze.

Megan plants little kisses across Charlotte's chest, then begins doing the same thing to her other nipple. The older girl's body rocks once, involuntarily, and she gasps, "Wh-what are you doing, Megan?"

The young girl pauses, her mouth still deliciously close to its desire, and Charlotte can feel her warm breath on her breast when Megan replies, "It's like I'm a baby, I'm your baby and I'm tasting your pretty boobies." She sighs, "It's so nice," and her lips close back around the nipple and Charlotte's head drops back with a groan.

Charlotte's never felt this, never imagined feeling this, someone else touching her, giving her the feeling stronger than she ever gave it to herself. But it's happening. Her nipples tingle, they prickle, they ache with pleasure, and she finds her hand tangling in Megan's curls, holding her there, pulling her closer. Megan does something with her tongue and Charlotte heaves and her bottom slips off the couch, and slowly, helplessly, they both slide down until Charlotte's behind bumps against the carpet and Megan sort of falls on top of her, their legs tangled together between each other. They both giggle.

Megan meets Charlotte's eye, watches the older girl's reaction as she places firm, popping kisses all over her boobies. Charlotte's eyes light up with each one, she's breathing hard, her cheeks are bright pink, Megan can see her tongue when she smiles. She likes the feel of Charlotte's body squirming a bit beneath her, trying to make more contact.

Charlotte runs her hands over Megan's back, relishing the feel of her, then puts one hand on the back of her head and forces her back down onto the nipple. Megan fidgets a bit, and one of her thighs slips between Charlotte's legs, the young girl's firm flesh squishing up onto her hot, wet kitty. She lets out an "Ah!" at the surprising pleasure, and her hips rock upward into it, sending out a flare of gratification. She knows this is the touching, another kind of the delicious bad touching, only this time its Megan's satiny leg doing it. Her hips start that rhythm they know so well. Megan's so intent on mouthing her tender nipple, she doesn't seem to notice what's going on. Charlotte draws one of her knees up, feels her thigh sliding up along the inside of the girl's legs until it bumps into her bare little kitty, and she's surprised how slick and puffy it feels against her, how hot. Megan goes, "Mmph," her mouth stops sucking, and Charlotte lifts a little more, putting pressure on the tender wet morsel between the little girl's legs.

Charlotte untangles her hand from the girl's hair and runs it down the smooth curve of her spine, coming to rest in the crease where the pert swell of her bottom meets her thigh. She pulls, putting more force, more sensation, against her own kitty, pulls in time with the rolling of her pelvis. Now Megan picks up on what's happening down there, and flexes her own hips against Charlotte's thigh, uncertainly at first, but as the sensations rush in she develops a rhythm of her own, thrusting against the older girl's leg with increasing urgency.

They lay there for some time, writhing naked on the living room floor together with an animal eagerness. Charlotte grips the young girl tight, grinding her kitty against her, even though she's overheating, sweat beginning to run along her back and making their bellies slippery. Megan is lost in her own pleasure, eyes shut tight, thrusting her hips mindlessly into Charlotte's firm thigh, one hand clutching the older girl's waist, her breath a series of happy grunts as she drools onto Charlotte's breasts.

Charlotte pants and strains, but as she pushes her damp hair out of her face, she realizes it isn't enough. This delicious pressure is maddening, exciting her more and more, but offering no hope of giving her the shock. And she needs the shock, she feels more wound up and naughty than she ever did in the closet, more than last night in the tub. Having Megan on her, against her, being as bad as her, feeling the same, wanting to feel the same. This was some kind of guilty, sensual paradise. And she needed the best feeling, the naughtiest feeling, right now.

She let go of Megan's bottom, shifting to get access to her own sloppy kitty. "Unf, Megan. I have to - I have to touch it."

Megan looks up, curls spilling heavily across her flushed face, her eyes plead as she gasps, "Touch me too. Please, touch me too. Please."

The younger girl lifts up and Charlotte wriggles her arm between them, her fingers finally cupping Megan's slippery kitty, as she poises her hand between her own sweaty legs. The two girls never lose eye contact, and when Charlotte's hands start the touching, oh, oh yes, the wonderful perfect touching, they not only feel their bodies shiver together, they watch those same feelings wash over their faces. Megan's eyebrows arch even as her eyes go drowsy, she licks her lips again and again, panting. Charlotte's gaze intensifies with her pleasure, her eyes blazing as she nods, slowly and continually. Yes. YES.

As she finds their tenderest, most ready spots, she speeds up her fingers, racing over their kitties, electrifying them both. Charlotte moans and Megan sighs, "Uh-huh, uh-huh" as their tummies coil tight, Megan arching her back into her babysitter's pleasuring hand.

Megan begins to tremble violently. Her eyes widen in alarm, "Oh Charlotte, ah, ah! It's gonna, it's gonna~" then her face turns bright pink, her eyes pinch shut and her mouth opens wide enough to scream, and her whole body clamps down on those playing fingers, bucking and spasming, forcing herself down until she's practically sitting on Charlotte's hand.

Watching Megan get the shock, feeling her little body writhe against hers, causes Charlotte's own pleasure to suddenly spiral up and up, her body straining, going rigid, hand strumming fervently on her kitty, and then the shock gets her too, hugely, and she grabs Megan's bottom and pulls the girl close, humping through the delightful convulsions against her, loving the sensation of the weight of her soft, sweaty body, hot sleek flash pressed together. The sounds that get wrung from her are almost like sobs.

Gradually, they both come to rest, Megan drooping onto the older girl's steamy body, breathless, while Charlotte's arms fall limply to her sides, her eyes rolled shut in bliss. They are still for a few moments, little moans of contentment escaping them. The sweat begins to cool, Charlotte absently kisses Megan's shoulder for a bit, then her head drops back.

Then Megan begins to giggle.

It's a deep, thoaty giggle, her whole body shakes with it. Charlotte lifts her head and props it on one hand, her blue eyes amused but quizzical. Megan opens hers, and they are sparkling with joy.

"Oh, Charlotte. That felt so pretty. I don't care if it's naughty. So pretty. It's my private place, and I say you can touch me like that every time you come over. I want you to. Mmm," and she nuzzles into the softness of Charlotte's breast.

It's Charlotte's turn to giggle, "You're bad like me," she says, "You're so naughty." Then they giggle in turn, the tickling sensation of one girl's laughing body setting the other one off, back and forth.

Sitting up with a start, Charlotte realizes it's dark outside now. "What time is it?!"

Megan, twists to look at the wall clock. "Oh! It's almost ten!"

Charlotte begins disentangling herself from Megan, and they woozily get to their feet. "Come on, pick up your clothes. We gotta get you in bed."

"Ew, no. I'm all sweaty and gross. I need a bath."

"There isn't enough time. If your mom comes home and you're not in bed, she might not let me come back."

"I can take a shower. I'll be really fast."

"Do you think so?"

"Yeah," Megan's gathered up her clothes and holds them against her body, but instead of taking them to her room, she just stands there. Charlotte sits in the couch, one leg crooked in the air, ready to get back into her panties. "What, Megan?"

"Come take a shower with me," she grins. "You're all sweaty too."

Charlotte looks doubtful, but the panties don't get any closer to going back on.

"It'll feel good to get all soapy. We can help each other."

And just like that, the wet swollen feeling is back in her kitty, the naughty excitement rising like they hadn't done anything yet. Charlotte laughs in spite of herself. "You're so bad," she says, dropping her panties back on the couch.

Megan blushes. "It feels so pretty though. Come on."

"Get your clothes to your room. I'll start the water."

The shower is steamy and cleansing and as wonderful as Megan promised, but in no time their hands are wandering all over each other's slippery smooth warm wet bodies, and they're so excited that even though Charlotte tries to keep track of time, there's no turning back for either of them.

Charlotte kneels down under the stream, so Megan bends a little as they kiss and soap each other. Megan focuses almost entirely on Charlotte's breasts, which feels so good it's hard to breathe, but Charlotte soaps the younger girl all over, and in the end Megan's arm is around Charlotte's shoulder, and the older girl spreads lather all over Megan's tummy and chest with one hand, while the other is behind and beneath and between her legs, fingers diddling her soapy kitty, while her thumb rests in the tight groove of her bottom.

Megan squats down a little, rocking her hips against Charlotte's hand, breathing deep, her face blissful. Her eyelids open halfway and she looks dreamily at her babysitter. "I like it when you touch my butthole." Charlotte doesn't know why this causes her stomach to flutter, but she moves to comply, the pad of her thumb rubbing the wrinkled, sensitive flesh of Megan's most private spot. Megan responds be arching her back, lifting her bottom into the pleasure Charlotte's giving her.

Charlotte matches the motion of the girl's hips, only firmer, forcing more out of each thrust, and Megan's excitement grows. Charlotte recognizes that giving the feeling and the touching to Megan is as satisfying as having it herself, and she relishes as the 8-year old abandons herself to the naughty delights in her kitty and her bottom, grunting and moaning as her pelvis flexes harder, grinds down, legs trembling, and then she throws back her head and her wet curls as the shock takes her, harder than the first time, Charlotte feels the contractions in the hand that strokes Megan's belly, around the thumb in the crease of her bottom. Megan clings to Charlotte as she loosens, unwinds, gradually comes back to herself. She nuzzles Charlotte's neck and Charlotte strokes her gently, all the while feeling her own urgency.

She shuts off the water, and as Megan watches, she sits on the edge of the tub facing her and parts her sleek legs, showing the young girl all of her kitty, the cute pink spot that she'd once looked at in the bathroom mirror, until all the trouble started.

Megan is clearly fascinated, and to have her kitty studied so closely gives her a feeling that's almost like touching. Charlotte's excitement emboldens her, she puts one hand on her knee, spreading herself wider, and with the other she strokes her own breast, sending tingles and waves through her. Her hips roll a little, on their own. She looks steadily at Megan.

She hears herself say, "Will you touch it for me?"

Seemingly mesmerized, Megan immediately moves forward, her hands taking Charlotte's thighs, sliding up, her eyebrows climbing in amazement as she gets closer and closer. Charlotte's trembling with anticipation.

Then, with a gust of nervous giggles, Megan shies away, backing against the tile wall, pushing her hands between her knees. With an apologetic smile she says, "I can't."

Charlotte doesn't feel any real disappointment, only the need, the blood singing in her ears. Caring about the time has vanished. She slips her own hands up her thighs until they both come to rest on her aching kitty. "Just watch me then. Watch me do it."

Megan whispers, "Okay."

She starts the touching again, the pleasure teasing and warm at first, then settling deeper, taking hold, filling her up. She's never done it with her legs spread so wide, and she finds surprising sensations as her fingers play over her sensitive kitty, pressing and stroking and rubbing. But the strongest sensation is what she gets from Megan watching her, curious and aroused and utterly absorbed by what she's seeing. Her hands seem to move absently, touching her mouth, stroking her tummy.

Megan's voice is shaky, "Are you getting the pretty feeling?"

This is also new. "Uh-huh. Oh, it's so - so pretty, when I touch my kitty."

"You wanna touch your kitty a lot, huh?"

"Yeah. Mm. I'm not supposed to, but I do it too. I'm, uhn, I'm naughty like you."

Megan's hand is drifting down her belly, lower, lower. "I like how you're naughty."

"You like watching me?"

The little girl nods. "I can see how it makes you feel pretty, when you do it."

"I like you watching. I feel, ah, uhn, extra naughty." It's almost impossible to speak now, the pleasure's filled her up, and is still growing. Her knees shake in the air.

Megan touches her own kitty now, and Charlotte watches the wave of pleasure move up through her body, rocking it gently forward. She gingerly mirrors Charlotte, squeezing, stroking.

"Yeah, Megan. You can touch yourself too."

"It's nice. Do you like watching me?"

"Oh, oh yes." Her stomach and her hips are both beginning to buck, she's finding it hard to perch on the tub, uses one hand to steady yourself.

"The feeling's coming, isn't it Charlotte?"

"Uuuhhhn, ooo, yes."

Megan's hand is busier between her legs, but all her attention is on Charlotte. "I wanna see you get the pretty feeling. I like it when you do."

Then Megan kind of goes out of focus and she overflows and the shock comes and she's out of control still stroking her kitty and it comes harder, and Megan's still rubbing herself as Charlotte slides off the edge of the tub and back into the basin, shuddering, humping her own hand, making heaving sighs.

Her eyes flutter open as she recovers, her body relaxing and starting to feel chilly. She sees Megan still lightly touching herself, intrigued by the feelings she's getting from it. The girl grins down at Charlotte. Charlotte pulls her fingers out from between her own legs and, watching Megan steadily, lifts them to her mouth and sucks on them, tasting her own kitty. It's bad and wonderful and she can't believe she's showing Megan how naughty she is.

Not missing a beat, Megan removes her fingers from her kitty, lifts them up, and after a brief sniff, sticks them into her mouth, going "Mmm," when she tastes herself for the first time.

Charlotte gets unsteadily to her feet. Megan offers a hand in support.

"Let's get you dried off and into bed. And hurry up, there's only ten minutes left til your mom comes home."

In reply, Megan wraps her arms around the older girl's waist, squeezes her tight. "Oh, Charlotte. That was all so pretty. Thank you!"

Charlotte pulls a towel from the rod and gently begins drying Megan's hair. And as the girl lets her go, allowing herself to be towelled innocently by her babysitter, Charlotte smiles lopsidedly. "Yeah, it really was. Pretty," and something very light, light as a butterfly, climbs from her heart right into her head.