Bad Like Me, Part 4

by eloquent delinquent

A long wait between chapters, I know, but I hope you'll still like it. Although this part is long, there's no easy place to jump to for sex - it's a garden of sensuality, innocent lust and sexual tension. Enjoy!

In the cramped bathroom Charlotte and Megan furiously fluff themselves dry, bare shoulders and elbows and bottoms bumping as they do, and in moments they are giddy, silly, gusts of giggles filling the room. Charlotte's smile is just stuck to her face, and Megan's beaming right back at her. As they hang the towels, she can't remember ever being so happy. She glows.

With a wild smile, Megan declares, "I'm never getting dressed again!" and runs naked from the bathroom to her bedroom, shrieking with laughter. Charlotte gives chase, thrilling at the delicious feel of the air slipping over her bare body on her brief trip through Amy's house.

She finds the nude 8-year old kneeling on the bed, bouncing on it, blonde curls dancing like crazy. Charlotte laughingly says, "Get your jammies on."

"Never!" comes the defiant response.

"Really?" Charlotte scans through the mess on the floor for Megan's giant blue t-shirt, spots it and snatches it up.

"Never! No clothes on forever!" still bouncing, now on hands and knees, watchfully eyeing her babysitter through the swinging curls.

Gathering the fabric from hem toward the sleeves, holding it out like a net, Charlotte says, "I'll have to catch you then!"

Megan just giggles louder.

Charlotte inches slowly toward the bed, Megan bounces faster in her excitement, and with a rush the naked 12 year old leaps onto the mattress and Megan. The younger girl screams with distress and delight as Charlotte uses her larger body to trap her own squirming one, and gradually, with much rubbing and tickling, wrestles her into the shirt. As the babysitter tugs the hem down over Megan's bottom, the two push apart and sit up at opposite ends of the bed, panting and giggling at each other.

"Megan, Megan," Charlotte says as the younger girl quiets down. "Remember, you have to keep this a secret."

"Because it's sexy, right?"

"What?" She's flummoxed. She never thought about what they were doing with that word. It was something the Reeverend used, and it was always bad. 'Sexy' was how they tempted you to buy stuff on TV. 'Sexy' was something wives did to distract their husbands from Important Things.

"Sexy stuff is a secret," Megan says in a singsong way, scooting a bit and lifting the covers.

"That's right. It has to be a secret. Okay?"

The younger girl shimmies her way into bed, saying, "I like it being a secret. Then it's only for you and me."

Charlotte squeezes Megan's ankle through the covers and gets up. "Okay."

"If secret time means we get to take off all our clothes and touch each other, I wanna have lots of secrets."

Charlotte giggles, very much aware of how naked she is, now that Megan's covered up. "We'll see."

Megan suddenly looks stricken. "I won't see you tomorrow. Mom has saturdays off."

"I'll see you at Congregation on sunday."

"Not like this," she pouts.

Charlotte squats down and rests her chin on the mattress. "I'll check with your mom and see when she works again. I want to babysit you as bad as you do."

Megan smiles in a really melty way and Charlotte leans over and kisses her on the mouth, lingering there for one breath, two, three, and finally parting. "Go to sleep, butterfly."

"You're my butterfly," she replies.

"You want the door open again?"

"Please, just a little." She starts. "My glasses. I left them out in the living room."

"I'll get them." Charlotte pads down the hall, and as she passes Amy's open bedroom she feels this crazy urge to sneak in while she's still naked and just... just... roll all over her bed and press her body against her clothes. It sends a shiver through her. Could I do it? Is there time? She doesn't see the mischievous grin that crosses her face at the thought, her slim gait slowing.

She plucks the little glasses off the coffee table and is stunned when headlights sweep over the front window. She freezes in fear for a breathless moment, then ducks behind the couch, clutching her blouse off the back where it's been hastily thrown. Heart pounding, she struggles to get the sleeves pulled right side out, then wrenches it on. Oh! No bra, no bra! No time!

Peeking up, Charlotte darts around the edge of the sofa and can just barely reach her skirt. She snatches it and squirms her bare rump on the floor as she pulls it up. She hears the muffled sound of a car door closing, pops up, and dashes to her book bag, heaves it onto the couch. Grabbing her white bra and panties, she jams them deep into the bag and zips it shut.

From the bedroom, "Charlotte?"

She gets the glasses and scurries to Megan, setting them on her cluttered nightstand. "Your mom's home," she whispers urgently. "Pretend you're asleep." She snaps off the light and draws the door almost shut.

As she's emerging from the hall, Amy comes in, carrying a couple grocery bags. "Let me set these down and we'll go, okay?"

"Okay, I'll, um, get my shoes on."

Amy nods absently on the way to the kitchen. She's on the sofa tying the laces when Megan's mom comes back to the living room. "How was she?"

So amazing! she thinks, but she says, "Good. A little bit excited, maybe?"

"How could she not be?" Amy replies, settling next to her on the couch. "After that thing with the butterflies? I've never seen her more thrilled."

"Yeah, it was cool."

"It was beautiful, and you're impressive." Charlotte blushes enormously, which Amy notices with an amused grin and it just makes her blush more. "I just hope the pictures come out."

"Oh yeah, you have one of those old-fashioned cameras. The kind with the film."

Amy chuckles, "The kind with the film. I develop them right in the laundry room."

"I'd really like to see them."

"I'll show you when they're done." Charlotte sits up, and sees Amy alertly scanning the room, as if she's noticed something out of place. She desperately tries to think of anything they could have moved and can't, and worry yawns open inside her.

Amy comes back to herself and just says, "Ready?"

____________________

In the car, Charlotte is keenly aware that she has no underwear on. It's another secret, and it feels as naughty as the others, guilty and exciting. If only Amy unbuttoned my blouse, she thinks. If only she pulled up my skirt. Then she would know. She fidgets, presses her bottom into the seat, feels the denim against her tender kitty and a little lusciousness pulses up, like she just ate a spoonful of ice cream.

Amy's telling her about how she got into photography in high school, that she was on the school paper and just kept with it. Most of the equipment she has is left over from when she was a teenager. Charlotte listens, but just barely, while looking at Amy, her image shifting under the streetlights, and she pushes her bottom down again, her kitty sinking into the plushness of the seat. Oh, oh. If only she felt me underneath my top. She does it again. Ice cream. Imagining Amy as a high schooler, imagining Amy as young as herself. She does it again. Mmf. Watching her big green eyes when the glare leaves her glasses, watching her mouth move. She does it again. Secret.

"Would you like that?" Amy asks.

Maybe she was listening less than barely. "What?"

"How to work the camera. I want to show Megan when she's a little older, so she can show me all the birds she's always telling me about." Amy grins. "You'd be good practice for me."

"Sure."

"Was Megan trying to braid your hair again?"

"Hmm?"

"It's still sorta wet, and your updo's falling apart."

Charlotte reaches up, and sure enough it's a total wreck, slouching down lopsidedly above the nape of her neck, long red-brown strands dangling all around her ears and temples. She laughs nervously as she feels around, "Yeah," she says, but she's thinking that with everything she got up to tonight, she's amazed it's still up at all.

"You'd better fix it before I get you home. Your mom will think I've got you cleaning chimneys or something."

They're already partway up Pine Street, so Amy pulls over and says, "There's a mirror on the visor."

Charlotte pulls it down and her eyes widen. "What a bird's nest." She starts taking out the clips, setting them in a little line on the dashboard.

Amy shifts the book bag sitting between them and unzips it. "Do you have a brush?"

Her heart is in her throat when she says, too loudly, "I'll get it!"

"No, it's okay," Amy soothes, reaching in. Charlotte's hands have stopped, she's looking at the bag with something close to terror. If only she pulls out my undies. This is nothing like her fantasy. She feels her fingers trembling in her hair.

As she's feeling around, Amy's shapely eyebrows knit, then arch, and she pulls Charlotte's brush out and sets it on the dash. "Here."

She tries not to let her breath out in one great gust of relief, and goes back to work. After a few minutes of fingering through the tangles, and snarling passes with the brush, it starts to comb out smooth.

Amy sighs. "You hair is lovely, so long and straight. I always wanted hair like that."

Charlotte grins helplessly and feels the heat in her cheeks again. "Thank you."

"That's what I love and hate about the Church. They tell you not to cut your hair, so it gets long and beautiful, but then they tell you to coop it all up in a knot on your head." She shrugs. "It's kinda full of shhh... shuffleboard."

Teasing laughter bursts from the 12-year old. "You almost said a naughty word!"

"But I didn't!" the young mother defends amiably. "I have to do that a lot. Curbing my naughtier tendencies is kind of a constant thing in my life."

"Yeah, you kinda get used to it here."

"Do you?" Amy playfully challenges, and Charlotte shrinks back, blushing and giggling like a moron. She awkwardly finishes brushing out her hair and it makes her feel a little weird how Amy is watching her. It's not like her own mom. Not bad weird. Fluttery.

She's reaching out for the hair clips when Amy says, "Wait." She hesitates, glancing sidelong, when she feels Amy's fingers in her hair, coursing through the length of it.

"I hope it's okay," Amy says, reaching in and running through it again. Her touch is gentle and firm, tingling sensations run all through Charlotte's scalp and down her spine. "It's just so lovely."

"Um. Um, yeah," Charlotte breathes, feeling so light and dizzy. "It's fine."

"Thank you," she says, continuing to stroke. "Isn't it true, girls with curly hair always want straight hair, and girls with straight hair always want curly hair?"

Charlotte makes a noise that's half chuckle, half sigh. "Your... your hair is pretty, too."

"Aw, thanks. But I can never let it down anymore."

"What do you mean?"

Amy releases Charlotte's hair and reaches up to her own, removing the two pins that are holding it up. She looks at the babysitter and says, "Watch." The 'do tumbles and unfurls in an avalanche of snaky blonde twists.

Charlotte stares with a little pleased smile. "It's really pretty."

Amy gets a wry grin on her lips and then shakes her head. The curls fly everywhere and remind her of Megan bouncing on the bed just a little bit ago. When Amy stops, her face is almost obscured behind a curtain of loose golden ringlets. "It's wild! I look like a sheepdog." And then she shakes her head again and laughs in a way that sounds really girlish to Charlotte.

When she stops, a playful smile behind that wild hair, it's not so hard for Charlotte to imagine Amy in high school.

"You do," Charlotte nods, "Like a blonde sheepdog." They giggle some more, and as they quiet, she finds the older woman's fingers running another long pass through her hair.

"I just couldn't help myself. You're so adorable, but I don't want to make you nervous. I'm not, am I?"

She sees something so sweet, so vulnerable, in Amy's face when she asks this, that Charlotte's heart swells. She stares into Amy's eyes, but no words come. She places her hand over Amy's, drawing it slowly down the length of her hair.

Amy's lips part, and they're just trapped in each other for a moment. Charlotte's heart thumps, her bare, hard nipples scratch maddeningly against her blouse. Finally, Amy withdraws her hand and averts her gaze, head cocking a little like she just remembered something.

"Okay," Amy says. "We're both undone. Let's fix it." She blows a few ringlets out of her face, but they stubbornly spring right back where they were.

They laugh at that, then Charlotte reaches out and takes the clips off the dashboard.

____________________

She never thought a week could pass so slowly.

Amy wouldn't work again when Charlotte could babysit until the following thursday at 4, and since then, she's kept up with her old routine, but it just isn't the same. Now she has something more, and it aches to wait.

Saturday she meets with her best friends Sarah and Bethany after they all have choir practice together. Normally they would go to Sarah's dad's shop and listen to non-religious songs like Taylor Swift or Carrie Underwood or Faith Hill, then sing their own versions. Charlotte likes to listen to Sarah McLachlan, but she can't really sing it. It's forbidden, she supposes, but everybody knows everybody does it.

That day, though, the other girls get to gossiping about older boys, especially the rumors swirling around Noah Watts and Jenny Dwyer, and she just lets herself fade into the background. It all sounds so mean-spirited, as if Sarah and Bethany are almost hoping the young couple will get caught making a terrible mistake. She nods in the right places, but all this gossipy stuff is new to her, it makes her uneasy, and she doesn't really like it. She makes an excuse to go home, and dawdles around the public park, the boys playing baseball on one diamond, the girls playing softball on the other. She kind of pretends to watch, but she mostly thinks about Megan and Amy.

She spends a lot of her time that week thinking about Megan and Amy.

Sunday is Congregation, with prayer meeting after lunch. The sermon is from John 18, when Simon Peter denies knowing Jesus. Reverend Bealing tells them that the denial of righteousness is sin, to continue in sin is to omit Jesus from your heart. Charlotte looks away feeling just awful, twining her fingers together in her lap. But later she sings in the choir and sees her new blonde friends sitting in the audience. Megan smiles at her, a big gleaming smile just for her, and she feels lifted inside. It's all so confusing.

Then it's the school week, and her time is even more regimented. It's spring for real now, and lots of kids are getting rowdy, acting up, making trouble. Charlotte's dreaminess and lack of attention go unnoticed in class.

At home it's different. Charlotte's mom is reprimanding her more than usual, and Charlotte feels terribly guilty because she knows she's earning it. The only night that goes well is monday, because it's her turn to make supper, and cooking is one of the few things she really, really enjoys that her mom approves of. Otherwise, she's a bit of a mess and she can't seem to fix it. Her chores are done sloppily, she's wool gathering when she should be studying. She forgets things constantly. She forgot her Bible for Bible study – Bible study, of all things – and had to go back home to get it, making herself late.

It's all super embarrassing.

Of course, Amy is at Bible study. It's kind of weird to see her now, in her white blouse and ankle-length denim skirt, but when she's at Church she dresses the same as everybody else. They don't speak, other than to say a friendly hello, and at first, Charlotte's hurt by this. But then she notices that Amy doesn't speak much to anyone at study. And no one really speaks to her. They sit in that circle of chairs in the classroom facing each other, but it's like no one sees Amy. As they're following passages in the Scripture, Charlotte occasionally glances up, and once or twice Amy looks back and gives her this little, sweet grin and Charlotte feels all warm and glowy and Amy really likes her after all. What's happening with Amy at study is something strange and grownup, but Charlotte still doesn't know what or why.

It's another kind of secret. Her life seems to be filling with secrets. Gentle and quiet, Charlotte keeps them all. But inside, there's so much confusion and longing and joy and need and guilt, it's no wonder she's distracted. She likes Megan so much. But what she's doing with her is so bad. But Megan liked it and asked for it. But after they did it she knew they had to hide it. But how can it be bad when it makes them feel so good? But what if she's just making Megan worse, by helping her be bad the same way she's bad? But she only wants her to be happy. But what about the way she feels about Amy? But how does Amy feel about her? But what if she found out about Megan, what then? But what if feeling like that about Amy is mean to Megan?

But, but, but.

Even more difficult to manage than the secrets, though, is her body.

Since her nights with Megan, it's like the urgency of her body, an almost desperate need to be touched and stroked and gratified, has taken control of most of her waking life. Because woven through these days and nights of routine, hidden away in the moments no one sees, is the touching, or thinking about touching, or wanting so bad not to think about touching, or needing to touch herself and not being able to. She really, really wants to be good (at least when Megan's not around), but she's never needed to be bad in the closet like she does now.

On saturday she snuck in twice; once when it was barely light in the morning, before anyone else was up, and again that night. She's never needed it twice in one day, but that night she was in there for almost half an hour, nightdress up to her chin, face down in her loose shoes squeezing her little breasts while her fingers desperately stroked that slick, delicious, demanding cleft between her legs, and it seemed like barely long enough, even after she got the shock.

Monday at school was the most troubling. She still can't remember what came first - that warm, tender feeling dampening her underpants, or imagining Amy undressing her, caressing what she uncovered. But once those feelings started, they wouldn't stop. All day. She wriggled around in her seat, trying to find a way to sit that wasn't frustratingly sensitive, but it didn't help. In her stall in the girl's room, she felt her little kitty, and it was so wet, so eager for her touch, it was scary.

When she finally got home she scurried through the house upstairs without even checking who was home, and went straight into the closet, pulling the door nearly shut and squatting in the dark, forcing the hung clothes to either side as she attacked her skirt and plunged her fingers into her panties. And oh, oh, the pleasure of her first touch after so much waiting just melted her, she rolled her head back into her clothes and let her hips pump themselves into her waiting fingertips, hardly able to catch her breath, so frantic, so naughty, so bad. And, ooo, uhmm, so close.

She heard the clomping boots approach and she froze, eyes snapping open and staring anxiously through the crack as Jodie came into the room through its always open door. Her 9-year old sister clomped to a stop, and stood there, puzzled. Charlotte's hips, only knowing her body's need, began to gently rock the slick lips of her kitty against her paralyzed hand, and she realized that she couldn't stop, couldn't, not even with her little sister right there. She felt ashamed as her hand began to rub at the hot little button at the top of her kitty seemingly on its own, helplessly giving the bad touching to herself.

Jodie looked over her shoulder at the open doorway, then back, her sandy brown bob swishing around her head, then she tromped two more steps into the room, out of Charlotte's sight and said, "Charlotte?"

Despite the startling intrusion, hearing her own name called somehow only made her more excited, and suddenly and inexplicably she was just as close, just as hot, as before. Jodie stepped back into view, and in that unbearably naughty moment Charlotte thought that even her sister looked touchable, it might just be fun stroking those strong little legs up underneath her denim skirt, Jodie might just be curious if Charlotte slid that skirt up to her hips, she might just enjoy a gentle rub on her panties...

Jodie shrugged and left the room, thumping down the stairs, and Charlotte closed her eyes, lost in her bad, bad thoughts, in the sensations she gave her wet little pink spot, and the shock swept in, hips jolting, thighs shuddering, her face pressed into the clothes to muffle her gasping moans.

Because of her close call after school, over the next couple days she tries to find other options, in the bathroom while showering, or on the toilet, but there's not enough time and it just excites her with no finish which only makes things worse. After monday, she tries to hold off, to keep the thoughts in check, but by wednesday before supper she's back in the closet on her knees, dreaming of Megan's golden body against her, her bad fingers fiddling down there when she should be studying.

Naughtiness of every kind crowds her head, and the more she denies it, the stronger it comes. She never knows when it might happen - walking to school, at the dinner table, with the good book in her lap in the circle of seats at Bible study. Thoughts she never imagined before now flare up, fully formed, without her ever having considered them. Smooth sweaty bodies moving and pressing against each other, hair falling onto her skin, skimming over her. Kisses all over, how they might feel, how they might taste. Sighs and cries and urgent pleas. And the smell, that secret scent that comes from being naughty, rising from between aroused legs or lingering on slippery hands or drifting from a darkened door that's been left open, just a little.

Oh the thoughts are bad, so, so bad, and she never asked for them. They come to her anyway, showing her wicked things, reminding her how bad she really is. But when she's in the midst of them, they seem more like promises. She's humiliated by how much she likes them, how much she looks forward to them.

And all this she keeps hidden from view. Sometimes she hears Megan's little singsong, Sexy stuff is a secret. She wonders where the girl heard it. She wonders if she can do it, in the face of how unmanageable her naughtiness is becoming. She wonders what happens if she can't. And then she gets so scared she stops wondering altogether.

____________________

"What's that one called?"

"It's just a robin."

Birds are singing everywhere, and Megan knows them all. Sparrows, warblers, redstarts, yellow-headed blackbirds. The only bird Charlotte knows by sound is when the woodpecker rattles off in the distance ahead of them. But Megan seems to know everything.

Charlotte tips her head back, smiling up at the high, dappled vault of swaying yellow-green leaves above her. Every once in a while a flat cloud drifts across the sun, but otherwise light slants ambering through the canopy, and the air is sharp with green things growing. She takes deep breaths of the cool, shady air, trying to inhale the spring. And although she's walking slowly, so she'll be quiet and not scare the animals, she feels like skipping.

Ahead of her by a few steps, Megan leads the way, all decked out with a little pair of binoculars hanging from her neck, hair pulled back into an impossibly bouncy ponytail, her mom's blue day pack full of seeds hanging heavily over one shoulder, a pink cap-sleeved tee shirt, faded denim skirt, and a pair of battered green rain boots with ladybugs on them. Charlotte, in her school outfit and sneakers, carrying an empty water bottle Megan gave her for some reason, feels silly and out of place. She never thinks of herself as an outdoorsy girl, and this feels really strange.

Because she knows that somewhere behind them and to the left, probably, is the yard and Amy's house and the whole neighborhood around Whitcomb Circle, and somewhere to the right of them – again, probably – is the expanse of the catchment pond. But they are so deep in the woods now those two places may as well not exist. With the breeze in the treetops, she can't even hear the sound of cars.

Without Megan, she'd be totally lost in this criss-crossing tangle of trails. Some of them so far have been clear and hard packed, but others are muddy and overhung with brush, and one was just a grassy rut and it seemed like maybe only animals used it. But her 8-year old guide takes the turns with complete confidence. She says, "Here's a shortcut," or, "I wanna show you something." The thing she wanted to show her turned out to be a little burbling waterfall. And it was right where she said.

"Oh, a mockingbird," Megan says quietly.

She stops and cocks her head, eyes drifting half shut behind her glasses, savoring the sound. Charlotte listens, but can't figure out which pretty song she should be listening to. So she watches Megan's face until the younger girl is satisfied, and starts moving again.

She's much quieter now. When they first set off the girl was all chatter, pleased to be showing off her favorite place. Very quickly, Charlotte learned that besides birds, the woods were home to deer and raccoons and squirrels and skunks and so, so many bunnies that only came out near dark. Once, Megan thought she found fox tracks, but later she found out that Mr Gomez's little dog just liked to wander off sometimes. But all that talk trailed off as they got out of sight of the neighborhood, and now the little girl is careful, watchful. She seems so composed, so grownup.

They come to a little creek.

"Is this the same one as before?" Charlotte asks, glancing around, trying to get her bearings.

"No, silly. This is the creek that runs next to the baseball park," Megan replies, and with a bounding hop she's on the other side. "It runs all under the streets, and comes out of a tunnel at the end of Hobart Road."

Charlotte makes a leap as graceful as she can manage in her long school skirt. "You've been all the way out there?"

Megan nods. "This one time, I went all the way around the lake, and saw where the forest ends. They built a cliff out of these giant rocks, and the Safeway sits on top."

"Wow." That's at least a mile from here, maybe more like two. All on these little winding trails.

"Don't tell mom, though."

Charlotte smirks and makes a locking-key gesture. Megan says, "You need to fill the bottle now."

The older girl bends down and unscrews the cap. "What for?"

The 8-year old craftily replies, "You'll see."

They amble on through the woods, and after a ways, Megan wades into the budding bushes off the trail to where another feeder hangs from a tree. They're all the same, made of a short black plastic pipe attached to another piece that has two openings in a T at one end, and a some clothesline tied through a couple small holes drilled in the other. Megan and her mom make them in the garage, Charlotte's learned – Amy cuts and drills, then Megan glues the parts together and ties the line. It's cheap, so it doesn't matter if one disappears every once in a while.

"They disappear?"

"Yeah. Sometimes the wind blows them away. Sometimes the raccoons get to them." Megan gives a one-shouldered shrug.

When Megan gets to her tree, she shrugs off her pack, pulls off her boots and scrambles barefoot a little ways up to a low branch. She unties the feeder, brings it down and fills it with seeds from the pack, then back up she goes, her little pale feet gripping the rough bark like a monkey. She emerges from the bushes when she's finished, picking a twig out of her unruly hair.

"Why do you put them all so far back?"

"So I can watch from the trail. I'm quieter that way."

A bit further on Megan leaves the path again, but this time beckons Charlotte to join her. "There's something I wanna show you up here." The 12-year old follows, and after they push through some brush and gingerly skirt the edge of a huge mud puddle, Megan leads them on a climb up a steep, stony hillside. Megan might see a way, but Charlotte can hardly make out a groove in the ground. At the top, Megan ducks in a gap through some dense bushes. Charlotte, however, has to hike her skirt up to her knees and crawl through.

What she comes out to makes the crawling worth it. Opening before her lies a wide field of grass and dandelions, with a lone, skeletal tree standing on a hummock just off-center. As she stands, Charlotte can see spangles of sunlight through the screen of trees on the far side. It's the pond! And best of all is Megan, watching Charlotte's reaction, bouncing on her toes and giggling with unrestrained joy.

"It's my secret place!" She cries. "I found it all by myself. I saw the light through the trees and I figured out it was here and that's when I knew I was the Queen of the Forest!" She flings up her arms in triumph.

Charlotte takes small steps into the open, feeling somehow like an intruder. "Oh gosh, Megan, it's sooo pretty."

"I know! Early in the spring, there were fairy rings of mushrooms up here, and last summer it was all wildflowers," she exclaims, sweeping her arms as if to reveal what she's seen. "And nobody, nobody knows about it but me. I mean, nobody comes out here anyway, except people walking their dogs and those guys riding their big bikes on the weekends. But nobody's ever been here but me," she finishes breathlessly, and then places her hands together in front of her tummy and shyly looks at her babysitter with her deep brown eyes. "And now you."

Charlotte understands the gift she's just been given – another secret, but this one's Megan's – and this feeling blossoms in her chest. She wordlessly crosses the few steps between them, cups the smiling girl's face in her hands, and kisses her blissfully on the mouth. Megan bounces again on her toes, clutching Charlotte's waist, gleeful giggles buzzing against her lips.

They part and happily look into each other's eyes and then Megan's get kind of apologetic and she says, "There's one more thing we need to do. Come on."

The two of them stroll toward the gnarled gray trunk of the dead tree on its little rise.

"I always wanted to build a clubhouse up here. Like a base camp? But I can't get the stuff up here. The hill's too steep, there's sticker bushes all down that side, and down closer to the lake it gets all muddy and gooshy."

It's cute the way she calls the pond a 'lake.' Charlotte's not surprised, though; it's pretty big, especially to a little girl.

"You could come camping," she suggests. "Look at the stars. All you'd need is a tent. We did that when I went to Bible camp last year." She doesn't mention that you could see the lights of the camp buildings from their tents.

"Ooo, that sounds fun. A little scary, but fun. Would you do that with me?"

"Sure," she replies, though she's not sure at all. It sounds scary to her, too.

They reach the tree. Megan removes her pack with a familiar shrug and begins to work off her muddy boots. Charlotte tilts her head back and spies a feeder, high up, almost directly over her head. It looks different from the others.

"Don't tell mom," Megan says, cinches her skirt up almost to her childish hips, and clambers up the trunk with hands and bare feet. She scales past Charlotte and goes much higher, and again she's struck by the little girl's physical confidence. She seemed so mousy and shy, but out here, she's an adventurer.

Reaching the proper height, Megan edges out onto a branch, stretching up to grip a slimmer one holding the feeder, and sidestepping gingerly out to it. Charlotte anxiously watches Megan's little toes clutching the branch, and with each step the 12-year old gets a stomach-fluttering glimpse of the younger girl's satiny rounded legs, parting to reveal her blue and white striped panties. She gets all blushy and the warming tingle of the bad feeling pulses in her own panties, but she can't look away. Or more honestly, doesn't want to.

Carefully removing the feeder, Megan inches back along the branch, Charlotte thinking I never knew there were so many colors of underwear, and returns to the ground. This feeder is different – it's an old glass ketchup bottle that's been screwed into the top of what looks like a lawn sprinkler.

Megan separates the two pieces, squats down to where her pack sits on the ground and says, "I need the water now."

Charlotte absently hands her the bottle she's been carrying. "You know, I could see all under your skirt up there."

The blonde girl's eyebrows shoot up, her cheeks turn pink, but she looks up at Charlotte with a bright smile. "Naughty!" she teases, giggling.

She pulls a packet of pink powder out of her bag, tears it open, and pours it into the ketchup bottle. The water soon follows, and the mixture instantly turns ruby red. When it's reassembled, the girl stands and nonchalantly climbs back up the tree.

While she's tying the feeder up she purposely takes a very wide stance, rocking her hips back and forth. "Do you like the view?" She calls down, and it's Charlotte's turn to giggle bashfully.

When Megan's back on the ground, she gathers her stuff together and says, "Come on," leading Charlotte to another edge of the field, already in the shadow of the tall trees, where a few saplings are gamely growing into the open space. The two girls step into the midst of them, and Megan puts her pack down again.

Charlotte looks at her curiously, and Megan lifts her little binoculars, saying, "Now we watch."

"For what?"

"Hummingbirds," Megan replies, turning to observe the feeder. "I put that up last year, and I do my best to keep it full. They know it's here now, they look for it."

The girls go still, and it isn't long at all before Charlotte sees tiny shapes zipping into the field, darting, hovering, and then dashing over to the bright red feeder where it glints in the late afternoon light. It seems like there's three birds, coming and zooming off again, almost taking turns. Megan lifts her binoculars. Charlotte squints, trying to make them out.

Next to her, Megan quietly asks, "Do you want a turn?" She's taking the strap from around her neck.

Charlotte puts the binoculars to her eyes, scanning, and occasionally she'll catch a glimpse of green or buzzing wings, but they vanish as quickly as they show up. It's frustrating.

"Silly," the younger girl chuckles, "It's like with the butterflies. Don't chase the birds, watch the feeder."

She does, focuses on it, and the birds dip in to feed, and they're so delicate, so pretty, their wings a blur of blue-gray or teal and maybe a streak of pink, their throats silky and shot with brilliant colors. When one leaves and another arrives, a little astonished "Oh!" escapes Charlotte without her even knowing it was coming.

"I knew you'd like them," Megan says, satisfied. Charlotte lowers the binoculars.

"Oh Megan, they're so beautiful," Charlotte gushes, feeling like she might cry. "All of it, everything, it's so beautiful."

Megan smiles proudly and Charlotte hugs her, the binoculars bonking between them, making them laugh. Charlotte takes them off and sets them on top of the bag.

"At first, I thought that hummingbird beaks were like straws," Megan says when they part. "But I found out that they have really long tongues, and they sip the nectar all the way through their beaks," and she demonstrates by pursing her lips tightly and poking her pointy pink tongue out in little darts. It's so, so cute that Charlotte can't help but beam. Megan giggles and continues, being a goof.

Charlotte leans in quickly and closes her lips around the little girl's mouth, feeling Megan's tongue kind of lick her lips. It was only supposed to be cute and funny, but the sensation sends tingles all through her body. Megan must like it too, because she keeps doing it, so they kiss like that for a minute, and Charlotte feels the 8-year old's tongue getting softer, less pointy and more curious, wet and soft and warm.

The older girl extends her own tongue, just a little, and their tender tongues make contact and it's just crazy how good it feels. Megan makes a surprised, excited little noise through her closed lips and presses in, her hands clutching Charlotte's hips. They stand there in the saplings, the birds forgotten, enthusiastically licking each other's tongues, as Charlotte gently holds the girl's shoulders to steady herself against the onslaught of pleasure she's experiencing. Each can hear the other's breathing getting deeper, faster.

Megan pulls back with a cheeky, open-mouthed smile, reaching down and pulling one side of Charlotte's skirt up, up. Charlotte holds her gaze but doesn't try to stop her, just to see what she's doing. Then she feels Megan's knees pass around her calf, and her hot, plump, panty-clad kitty snuggles up against Charlotte's thigh just above her knee.

Still smiling, the young curly headed blonde releases the skirt, and her hand immediately comes to rest on Charlotte's boobie, spreading knee-weakening joy through her shirt and training bra, making her realize how aroused and sensitive she already is. When Megan tilts her head up, Charlotte has no resistance to offer.

She strokes Megan's neck as they kiss, their tongues venturing out again to lick each other, and she feels Megan's hips start to move, her kitty rubbing against Charlotte's leg with a need she feels herself.

But somehow knowing this, where it's quickly leading, snaps her out of the dreamy sensual reverie she's in, and she realizes she has no idea where she is, shadows have almost covered the field, and the sunlight is getting very slanty. She doesn't know how long it's going to take to get back, and she certainly doesn't want to be out on that maze of trails in the dark.

So gently, reluctantly, she pulls back from the dizzying kisses, lifts Megan's hand from her happy breast. Megan's eyes open partway and meet hers, challenging, with a determination set in her jaw that reminds Charlotte of Amy, and she pumps her kitty more forcefully against Charlotte's thigh, she can sense the damp heat building there, but the older girl draws her leg away from that insistent rhythm.

Megan's disappointment is hard to bear. She adjusts her glasses back into place and pouts.

"We have to get back," Charlotte explains.

"But... but I wanna."

"You've got homework, and I have to make dinner. It's getting late."

The younger girl scowls, plucks at her massively unruly ponytail. "Don't you wanna?"

"We can't here. It's almost dark."

Megan lowers her head, quiet, then looks at Charlotte sidelong. "But you'll touch me when we get home, right? You'll touch me all over?"

It's all she can do not to attack her right there, it's so adorable. "Yes."

"You promise?"

"Promise," she replies with an assuring peck on the lips. "Now let's get going."

Megan shoulders her pack while Charlotte smooths her clothes, and then they head out of the field the way they came. On the trail back to the house, Charlotte comes to learn that Megan took her all over the woods today, showing her everything. The walk back only takes about fifteen minutes. They hold hands most of the way.

____________________

Megan's got homework but Charlotte doesn't. Or at least, none she can remember; at school today her bounding feelings made her lessons feel like a fuzzy distraction. It's been like that all week.

But when they're done with supper Charlotte gets up from the dining room table and crosses the few steps over to the kitchen counter and offers to do all the dishes, washing and drying, so that Megan can focus on her studying. It sounds very motherly and grownup when she says it, but she knows the bad part of her is calculating how much more time she'll have to touch Megan if she divides the effort.

Oh, that's a wicked thought, but something in her seems to just brush it aside. In this moment all the overcast of confusion and fear about the bad thing seems to clear away, burned off by her desire. She knows it's wrong, as wrong as ever, but she wants it and Megan wants it and soon they'll be undressed and look and touch and she will make them both so happy. Sexy stuff is a secret, and they have a secret little space, and it's going to happen. Excitement glows warmly in her tummy, and she has to admit that right now she doesn't feel guilt or shame, only anticipation.

Working in the sink, occasionally Charlotte casts a glance over her shoulder to Megan at the table, and she looks so lovely in profile, head down, absorbed in her work. She's doing vocabulary, which is really easy for her, so Charlotte is kind of racing, hoping to finish first. She puts in an effort, wiping and drying and setting everything in the dish rack faster than she thought she could, getting a little flush with the effort, but then she's twisting off the faucet and wiping her hands with a grin and turning around. "Finished."

Megan's sitting sideways in the chair, facing her, one arm slung over the chair's back. Her knees are wide apart, bare feet dangling just above the floor, and her blue and white panties hang in a soft little knot from an ankle. Her other arm is extended down between those open legs, and though Charlotte can't see the little girl's hand up under that skirt, she can see the gentle rocking motion of her wrist.

The glow inside Charlotte's tummy flares, melts, surges, when she sees this, and heat spreads prickly all over her skin. She sways back until she bumps against the counter, dropping the dish towel.

She watches Megan being naughty to herself and doesn't know what to do with her hands. With a shaky sigh she breathes, "Oh Megan. Now you're bad just like me."

A few curls have got loose, and dangle over a face gone dreamy with pleasure. Her cheeks are pink and a sheen highlights her skin. Her glasses have slid down her little nose. When her brown eyes laze open and slowly focus on her babysitter, they widen apologetically. "I couldn't wait any more."

All Charlotte can do is stupidly nod.

Megan shifts uncertainly, but her wrist keeps its rhythm. "My homework's all done, promise."

"I know, sweetie. You're a good girl."

She grins and shrugs and looks down at what she's doing to herself. "I'm naughty, too."

"Do you like touching down there?"

Distractedly she replies, "Since you showed me how. It's okay to do it, right? It's okay?"

"Do you like it?"

Her face squinches into a hugely gratified smile. "It's so yummy! I used to like the tub, having the water on it. But this is sooo much better. I wanna do it lots and lots."

Charlotte shudders a little. "Do you do it lots and lots?"

"Mmmm. It's fun. I never knew I could feel so good."

Without looking up, Megan brings her arm around from the chair back and uses the free hand to lift her skirt as she raises her knees, and Charlotte can see between the girl's flawless plump legs, see her fingers rubbing up and down the tiny pink slit of her kitty. "There's this one spot, this little hot spot, it feels so pretty when I touch it."

Heat radiates from Charlotte, her body's thrumming. "I think I have the same spot. Will you show me?"

Megan obediently traces up the smooth shiny cleft until a fingertip comes to rest in that place, that same perfect naughty place, that tempted Charlotte to touch herself in front of her bedroom mirror last year. They're the same.

"There's a little bump," Megan says quietly. "It's not always there, but sometimes? But that's the yummiest, when it is." She demonstrates, pushing down and rubbing there, and it makes her gasp, her body jerks a bit. She whines and bites her lip.

Charlotte is entranced. Her moral compass is spinning, knowing that she did this to Megan, that she showed her all these bad things, made her do them. But no one's forcing the little girl now, and here she sits, contentedly pleasuring herself with her skirt up at the kitchen table, her untroubled face revealing nothing but joy in sharing her new feelings. Looking at her makes Charlotte melt. She watches her body gently writhe in the chair, and wonders: Is this what she looks like, when she's in the closet? Is this how Megan saw her, that first time? It's beautiful and naughty and unbelievably exciting.

She remembers last week, in the tub, the words Megan used. "Do you get the pretty feeling when you do it? The really good one?"

"Uhn, mmm, yeah, I do, but it's – mmm - not as good as when you do it," the little girl replies, her body winding up tighter. She looks back up to her babysitter, brown eyes bottomless with delight, and holds the older girl's gaze, "Just having you here makes it better. I don't know, the way you look at me?"

An electrical feeling zips through Charlotte's middle, hearing that, and she wants to please her friend so badly it's like an ache. "How do I make it better? I'll do whatever you like."

Megan stares at her boldly, still rubbing down there, as if she's waiting for her kitty to tell her what to do. Then it does. Making a sound that's between a grunt and a giggle she says, "You should have all your clothes off."

Charlotte fumbles with the fasteners on the skirt in her haste to undo it. As she wiggles it down past her hips, she glances to Megan, sees her watching raptly, her legs lowering, fabric hiding her little treasure again and the fingers steadily strumming it, focusing only on her babysitter undressing.

Unbuttoning her blouse more slowly, from bottom to top, she does her best to catch Megan's eye. This circuit of wonderful excitement closes when their gaze meets, each girl thrilled to be watching the other do something so naughty just for her. But the 8-year old's eyes never rest on Charlotte's face for long, hungrily roaming over all the exposed skin she can see. The blouse comes off, each sleeve pulled away with a teasing flourish, and she can't see the impish grin she's giving Megan.

She undoes the front clasp of her white training bra and shrugs it off, letting it flop onto the rumpled skirt around her ankles. The air is cool on her little high-riding boobies, her nipples tingle. Megan gasps, and her body shifts around her rocking hips, leaving her little feet swinging slightly.

Charlotte pushes her white panties down to her ankles, still grinning, still a little drunk on this feeling, whatever it is, that makes it feel so good to show her nakedness to Megan, to share her secrets.

And it makes Megan a little crazy too, she can tell, as the girl's arm moves faster and her mouth falls open as if in endless surprise. Between deep breaths, she tells Charlotte, "Your hair should be down."

That's a little more complicated, partly because there's four clips holding it in place, and partly because she wants to touch herself so badly, her exposed body desperately waiting for a caress. She twists a bit at the waist as she reaches up both hands to undo them, and Megan starts to go, "Uh, uh, uh," and her touching grows firmer, her legs twitch and spread wider. She leans back, forcing her hips down against her busy hidden hand, and her free arm reaches back to grip the edge of the chair.

But her gaze never leaves Charlotte.

The clips go on the counter, and her reddish-brown hair spills over her. She smooths it down, past her collarbones to drape over the slopes of her little breasts, leaving her stiff nipples peeking through. Her deep breathing causes her tresses to slide gradually toward her shoulders.

She asks, "Should I touch myself for you?"

"You wanna?"

"So bad."

Megan nods, and Charlotte's palms immediately make contact with the smooth warm skin of her bare tummy, sweeping over her hips and up her sides, kind of hugging herself, and after all this waiting it feels luscious and soothes the tingly ache down between her legs, at least for now. Megan smiles, watching her eagerly, and Charlotte smiles back. She knows what the girl wants to see.

Tossing her hair back, she lightly brings her hands to cup the pert little swell of her breasts, and they're so tender that even that slight touch sends great whooshing sensations down through her tummy. She strokes them, and those feelings get stronger and it's almost unbearable but there's no way she can stop. She sighs deeply and rolls her head.

When she touches her nipple for the first time, she's looking right at Megan, letting the girl know she's doing it just for her (well, mostly for her), it's like it goes straight to her kitty. Megan doesn't look back, though. Her gaze is focused intensely on Charlotte's boobies, and her palms caressing them, and her fingers gently pinching them. In the chair, Megan's hand wrist moves frantically, her mouth slack and face almost pained by its need.

"You're right," Charlotte says softly, still fondling, her voice coming from a place deep down that she barely controls, "it does feel better with you watching me. I like it with no clothes on."

Megan starts to tremble, all over.

"But I like watching you be naughty, too." Thumbs brushing her nipples.

Stiffening in the chair, Megan gasps, "It's so pretty, so pretty... uh! Uh! Oh Charlotte oh!" and her voice squeezes into a high-pitched whimper. Her legs clamp together around her wrist and stick straight out, toes curling. Her eyes pinch shut, cheeks rosy, mouth wide open and frozen in the overwhelming delight of the shock. She seems to vibrate.

Charlotte watches, pinching her nipples hard. She's throbbing down there, swollen and wet. Seeing Megan get the shock fills her with emotions and sensations that are so beautiful, so complicated, so much bigger than her. Looking and being seen, naked and naughty, it all adds up suddenly to a great, gleaming word.

Sexy. This is sexy, and what sexy feels like. It isn't a thing that happens to other people. It's what they're doing, right now. It means something to her.

Megan gasps to catch her breath, body starting to relax. Her wrist isn't jerking now, it seems to gently stroke. She smiles, face shiny and hot and elated, eyes closed as if dreaming. Charlotte finds her fingertips stealing into the fine hairs above her own kitty, petting.

"Oh, Megan, you're so sexy."

Megan comes alert, looking to Charlotte. Their eyes meet and Megan grins hugely and makes a slow, elaborate, one-shouldered shrug, trying to take on this entirely new kind of compliment.

She finally replies, with a deep, throaty giggle. "When you were washing the dishes, I kept looking at your butt, it's so cute, and it, and it.... I don't know, it made me all crazy down there."

"My butt?" Charlotte says, surprised, but she turns quickly around to show that to Megan, too. It's pale and small, just starting to round with her hips, and rides high just like her breasts. "Does it still look cute?"

"Sooo cute," Megan says, sitting up, but not quite taking her hand out from under her skirt. "You should never be allowed to wear clothes. You're so pretty like this."

Charlotte looks back over her shoulder, and reaches around to rub the firm cheeks of her bottom for Megan. The effect on the girl is adorable. She smiles brightly, like she's seeing a delightful show. Which Charlotte supposes she is.

"Show me your butt hole," Megan says, caught up in the moment. Equally entranced, Charlotte bends at the waist, almost touching the counter with her tummy, and spreads her cheeks apart. It's a little weird, but as her hair drifts past her face, she can see Megan leaning forward to look at her most secret place, and it thrills her.

"Touch it," Megan whispers, and Charlotte keeps playing along, fingertips tentatively slipping into the groove of her bottom, exploring up and down that soft, sensitive crack until they settle on her little pucker. She instantly sees why Megan's so curious about it, the feelings from there are ticklish at first, but quickly grow luscious, going deep deep into her belly. Her back seems to arch on its own as she rubs, her bottom rising, and touching here makes her kitty purr really hard, like they're connected somehow. And it's so dirty, so naughty, and Megan can see all of it, wants it. She shuts her eyes and gets kind of lost in the sensations for a minute.

When her eyes drift open she sees Megan with her knees apart again, soles of her feet touching together over the floor, her wrist pushing back up underneath her skirt.

"Wait," the babysitter says, straightening and reluctantly withdrawing her touch from these strange new pleasures. "It's my turn now."

Megan looks a bit crestfallen as Charlotte turns and steps out of the pile of clothes at her feet. She crosses to the table, then moves a chair over so it's facing Megan and gracefully slips into it. The vinyl seat feels cool and pebbly against her bare bottom. She settles in, hands on knees, and looks down to see her blue sneakers and white toe socks.

Lifting her legs, she wiggles her feet in front of Megan, smiling. "I forgot about these. Should I take them off?"

Megan looks at her kind of drunkenly, trying to focus on her moving shoes but still taking in the rest of the naked girl sitting just across from her. "No," she says, "leave them on. It's kind of cuter that way."

Charlotte giggles delightedly and perches her heels on the edge of the seat, right at the corners, and parts her legs. Her hands start to glide down her thighs, opening her legs wider as they get closer to where they meet. She can smell herself, she's so excited now. Megan's reaction amuses her – the girl goes completely still, a thunderstruck look on her face, looking right at Charlotte's exposed puffy slit.

"Okay, now you," Charlotte says softly.

Megan looks like she's been unexpectedly called on in class. "What?"

Charlotte cups one hand over herself down there, and even this mild touch sends surges through her overheated body, making her gasp. She settles into the feelings like a warm bath. "I get to watch you take all your clothes off."

The 8-year old gives a cheeky grin, and kicks off her dangling panties in her babysitter's direction, where they flop to the floor under her chair. Charlotte giggles.

Megan doesn't make much of a show – she mostly seems interested in getting undressed quickly, pulling her shirt up over her head even as she stands. It must be a little tight, though, because she has to wrestle it a bit to get it off. Charlotte has a moment to admire the little girl's round tummy, the soft pads on her chest topped with tiny, pointy nipples that are so hard. The fingers between Charlotte's legs stroke slowly, lightly, along her very slick, very tender kitty, as all that satiny, pale golden skin is uncovered, so innocent and perfect, and the shirt pops off and Megan's curls swing all around and there's nothing left but her faded denim skirt.

Dropping the shirt carelessly on the floor, she twists her skirt around to get at the zip, head down, hair curtaining her face, focused. Charlotte lazily touches herself, enjoying the building pleasure, a little surprised at herself because she knows how aroused she is, can feel the tightness in her tummy and the thumping of her heart and the heat in her cheeks, but she's not tempted to attack herself the way she does in the closet. She's content to wait, and watch, and kind of tease herself down there, until Megan is ready to watch her do it. Until she can share it with her.

The skirt drops and Megan playfully kicks it away, her pouty bottom and chubby hips and that smooth little vee and the hint of lips so pink and wet between her legs all revealed to Charlotte's hungry gaze.

"Should I take off my glasses, too?"

"No," Charlotte replies, "It's kind of cuter that way.

They smile at each other, both delighting in their near nudity. The younger girl sighs, stroking her flanks absently, just enjoying the feel of herself. She looks so comfortable.

"You like having no clothes on, don't you?"

Megan nods, glancing down at her bare body. "It's better. More natural? Animals don't wear clothes, and they do all right."

"Do you go around naked a lot?"

"Maybe..." she replies coyly. "Mom says when I was little, she couldn't keep me in my clothes. She'd put them on, I'd take them off. I don't remember that, really. But I do remember when I was four or five, she drove me out to the country, just us, way out. And she drove off the road across a big rolling grassy hill to some trees and when she stopped she said, 'Now it's okay. Go ahead and run around.' And I knew just what she meant and I just threw off everything and just ran everywhere, so happy.

"She watched from the car, and that's when I learned what private meant. And since then, Mom doesn't mind," Megan says, then she tips her head back and shuts her eyes. "And it feels so good to have the sun on you, all of you. We were meant to be like that."

And she pictures Megan frolicking completely naked in the sunshine, and pictures Amy watching her, seeing her the way Charlotte is now, and not being mad, but accepting. Understanding. And now she finds herself rubbing her kitty more firmly, testing her hot little button, without even thinking. It's hard to catch her breath.

Megan looks at her, first at the hand moving between her legs, then up her quivering body to her face, and she sees Charlotte's expression and smiles knowingly at her. "You like it too, don't you? You were scared at first, but now you like it."

"I do," she admits in a halting breath, just managing to hold her gaze.

"That's okay," Megan says, sidling closer. "When you first touched me there I was really scared. I didn't know what you wanted, what you were doing. But then you kept doing it, and I got those pretty pretty feelings and I knew you were doing it because you liked me."

The 8-year old gets as close as she can and stands there, and some kind of crazy mysterious signal goes off deep in Charlotte's mind, seeing her poised between her parted legs, and suddenly she's so excited she can't see straight. She can feel the wamrth coming off the girl's bare body. Megan looks solemnly down at Charlotte's busy, increasingly urgent stroking, and lifts a hand to her mouth, gently touching her lower lip.

"So it's okay to be scared, sometimes," Megan says very softly, wrapping an arm around Charlotte's slim thigh, and Charlotte feels Megan's hot sweaty cheek lean against the inside of her knee, kind of hugging her leg. "Because now..."

She trails off, and through heavily lidded eyes, Charlotte sees Megan alternating between looking down at her naughty hand rubbing at her kitty, and up to her blushing, pleasured face. Down, then up. Down, then up. Watching, encouraging, sharing. She knows Megan is excited, too, and more than the shock now, Charlotte wants this, this secret time, these secret glances and touches, this secret she's willing to keep all the others to have.

Megan looks up again, her eyes big and nervous this time, and in a little voice she asks, "Will you let me help you? I know how to do it now."

Charlotte's hand shivers to a stop, and she looks at Megan wide-eyed and panting as she draws that hand shyly away. She nods slightly.

Gingerly extending her arm, Megan doesn't break eye contact with Charlotte until her hand is almost there. She glances down, and there is this wonderful, awful moment of anticipation as the little girl works up her courage. Then she murmurs, "So pretty," and gently touches Charlotte's kitty.

The sensation is so electrifying Charlotte actually jumps in the seat and groans a little. Megan glances back up to Charlotte's face, alarmed, but Charlotte takes her wrist and holds it where it is, trying to assure her. Megan gets a little grin and keeps touching, still watching Charlotte's response, and oh, oh, her fingers are so tiny and their touch is so light and she's timidly exploring the slick, tender surfaces of Charlotte's little lips and mound, and it's not like she's teasing but it feels just the same and the 12-year old's tummy is flipping in frustration and joy.

So she lets go of Megan's wrist, goes "Ooo," and opens her knees wider, tipping her hips up into the younger girl's hand.

And Megan starts a stroking rhythm, up and down her eager kitty, so dreamy slow. Charlotte's mouth drops open and her eyes roll shut and all of her is focused on what's happening between her legs. She never thought about what this would be like, having someone else touch her the bad way, and it's so much more intense than her own touch, so exciting. She can feel Megan growing more confident, certain that she's pleasuring her babysitter, her little fingertips adding more pressure, sinking into the delicious slippery flesh in her cleft, rubbing around the entrance to that still-mysterious soft hole she knows is her vagina, and then gliding up, up, to her swollen hot spot, where she begins to rub.

Charlotte's legs tremble, her chest heaves, and these little whimpering noises are coming out of her mouth and she can't help any of it. She's helpless, defenseless in the face of the bad thing, and it's kind of exhilarating to be free of being the one doing it. The feelings erupting up through her are so strong and wonderful, and it's someone else doing it to her, so she can't predict it or control it. All she can do is surrender to Megan's delightful touch, which she gratefully does. Her tummy tightens, closer to the shock.

Perspiration breaks out all over her skin.

Megan sees this and her naughty fondling fingers move more quickly, harder, more insistent. "Like this?" the little girl asks, and Charlotte tries to answer but every short breath escapes with a girlish cry attached to it, and Megan's grin gets bigger. And her hand is rubbing over her entire kitty now, thrilling this place then that one, but then her small nimble fingers turn somehow and she's touching her hot spot, tickling it as if from underneath now, steadily pressing it against its little fleshy cover, over and over.

Her pleasure doesn't so much build as suddenly multiply, she's never touched this part of herself, and it's like she's turned to liquid and all of her is running toward this little pink morsel, filling it more and more and getting better and better. Gripping the edges of the seat, her knuckles whiten.

Then Megan gives her the shock, cute little Megan, naughty little Megan, and it's so tremendous and agonizingly blissful, it's never felt like this, never, never. Her breath gets caught, her chest turns as pink as her cheeks, and her hips jerk and buck wildly at first but then roll firmly against Megan's little hand. Every spasm sends another blazing wave of ecstasy through her head like white light, and she's taken by the pleasure, tossed by it. She vaguely senses Megan's hand withdrawing and the shock begins to subside.

Taking in air in huge gasps, she looks dazedly at the little girl between her legs. Megan is sniffing the fingers that stroked her kitty, and as Charlotte watches she slips them into her mouth, eyebrows arching over her glasses as she contentedly sucks on them.

She reaches out and pulls Megan to her, pressing her lean quivering body against the girl's smaller, softer one, slim legs closing around her, heels settling onto her plump bottom. Charlotte holds her tight, but still feels Megan's hands stealing up to her tender little breasts which she starts to caress and kiss, and Charlotte feels her body loosening and she just dissolves into it, sighing. Megan's attention to her body leaves her in this floaty place, where she's drifting down from the shock but not really landing, the sensations from Megan's lips and hands on her boobies arousing her all over again. A swell of affection rises in her, for this free little girl who's doing things with her she never dared imagine.

And when she ducks her chin down, Megan's soft little mouth is there for her.

When they touch tongues this time, they're both breathing heavy, mouths open. The wet tips slip delicately together, but Charlotte wants her closer, sinking her hand into those curls brings her in until their parted lips meet. Their tongues continue to play, their breath mixes, and Charlotte feels Megan's tongue slip into her mouth and she slides hers into Megan's, and the feelings are delicious and crazy and they push their lips together harder, kind of chewing on each other, and their tongues dance and dance.

They can't get enough, and they kiss like that, naked against each other, and quickly they're as excited as ever. Megan's little moans buzz all over Charlotte's mouth, and her hands squeeze her babysitter's boobies, the rubbery stiff nipples brushing beneath her palms. Charlotte's hands run all over the girl's silky back, and her heels push her butt as she raises her hips, pressing her wet kitty against the yummy smoothness of Megan's belly and beginning that sweet rub.

Megan feels the same urge and thrusts her hips too, but there's nothing to please her and she starts pulling at Charlotte's waist, making plaintive, "Mmmf, mmf," sounds between their locked lips. Soon these two motions conspire to throw both girls off balance, Charlotte's legs quickly and awkwardly unwrap from her willing little prisoner in an effort to keep from falling, and they both slowly tumble to the carpet, still clutching each other, their kissing finally breaking apart.

They giggle heartily, but Megan wastes no time, gently forcing Charlotte onto her back and straddling her soft thigh, cuddling her hot hairless kitty right back where she had it this afternoon. She looks down triumphantly at the older girl, then starts her yummy slippery humping and bites her lip.

Charlotte sits up on her elbows and simply observes Megan for a bit, feeling the sweaty heat rising where the little girl's privates grind against her leg, as she leans forward and rests her hands on Charlotte's hips, bracing herself so she can please her kitty more, head drooping, eyes shut in concentration, seeking out more of the bad thing without hesitation, shamelessly naughty. It's so exciting.

She's also excited by the way Megan's knee bumps against her own kitty as she thrusts away, riding her leg. Each bump is like a gentle little rub down there, but like before it's only enough to excite, not satisfy. So she reaches down and slips her hand between knee and kitty and touches herself, with Megan's knee adding a little unpredictable force to her own strokes. The feelings grow for both of them, their sighs and grunts fill the little dining area, and then Megan opens her eyes and sees Charlotte's hand down there.

"It's so yummy," Megan pants.

"Uh-huh."

"I'll touch you whenever you want. I liked it."

This makes Charlotte roll her hips, her fingers play more quickly in the wet folds. Her thighs lift a little, putting more pressure on Megan's kitty, and the little girl groans.

"I liked it too, sweetie. I want you to touch me more. I want to touch together, both at the same time, you touch my kitty and I touch yours." Picturing this sends sizzles through her.

"Ooo, I want that. But first I wanna, I wanna..." she trails off, captured by her feelings, her humping thoughtless and totally carnal.

"You can do whatever you want with me, Megan. I'm your secret."

The girl nods, damp curls swishing past a face that turns to surprised, overwhelmed delight. "Oh, ooh, uh-huh, uh-huh! Uh-Huh!"

And Megan's hips start to jerk against Charlotte, her head lolling as if she didn't control anything below her waist. Charlotte increases her own pace to match Megan's peaking excitement. Then Megan stiffens, shivering, grabbing fiercely at Charlotte's hips as the shock takes her, and Charlotte rubs hard at her own little hot button and it only takes a few seconds of feeling this and watching Megan's face in delirious ecstasy before the shock sweeps over her, too. Her hips push down against Megan's knee and the rushes of pleasure strengthen. It's still gentler than before, but so much sweeter because they're both having it at the same time, they're sharing it.

Charlotte lies down on her back, catching her breath, and Megan sort of wilts on top of her. They lie still for a few minutes, recovering, Megan kissing Charlotte's tummy while the older girl tangles her fingers in the sweaty 8-year old's hair. Somewhere in the house a clock ticks. It's gotten dark outside and there's no lights on, the house is filled with this soft purple gloom.

She senses Megan smiling against her belly. "I knew I could do that. I wanted to so bad."

Charlotte chuckles softly. She's so wonderfully naughty.

"I love how it feels," Megan murmurs against her skin, "I feel like I'm made out of birds, all bunched together, and they sing louder and louder, and then they all fly away at once."

"It's like my favorite food," Charlotte finds herself confessing. "I can eat it and eat it, and even though I'm full I still want more."

Megan giggles and Charlotte feels her little hand dip between her legs again, and her kitty purrs, insatiable. Megan turns her head to face Charlotte, eyes wide and playful. "You can have more."

Charlotte sits up, breaking the contact and mildly surprising Megan. She looks at the glowing clock on the microwave. Her heart starts to thump, and she feels a little wild. "We've got an hour and a half. I say we stay all undressed til then, looking and touching and kissing and being naughty all we want."

"Yes!"

"Just remember, you can't tell anyone what we do."

"Sexy stuff is a secret. I know."

Charlotte nods, mollified. "Now, I think it's bath time."

Megan's eyes sparkle. "For both of us?!"

"For both of us."

The girl clambers to her feet, bouncing impatiently as Charlotte gets up, then taking her by the hand and practically dragging her naked into the bathroom.