An Awakening

by Thom

Okay, I admit that I've liked young girls forever or at least since I was a young girl myself—or that is once I reached the age of maybe twelve or thirteen, as my hormones were beginning to surge through my body and sex went beyond my right hand on my pussy to desiring an object outside of myself. I've always liked girls more than boys. No that's nonsense. I've always liked girl; I've never liked boys. Even at a very young age I preferred girls though I think my first girl love was my mother but that's another story.

Around the age of twelve, I did find some girls that were either somewhat likeminded or at least willing to try some things. When we were alone, we would mess around with one another. By messing around I mean mostly that we would get naked and play with ourselves and kiss and maybe we would diddle one another but not much beyond that.

As I got older, through high school and into college, I sort of thought that my being attracted to girls would age along with me and that I would continue to be attracted to girls my age. I thought this so strongly that when I went away to college, I tried taking up with girls in my dorm that were also into girls. Many of them made no bones about being lesbians and it wasn't hard to find lovers.

The problem came though from the fact that as I made love to my eighteen- or nineteen-year-old contemporaries, I was fantasizing being with the twelve- or thirteen-year-old girls that I had initially explored my sexual awakening with. I was stuck desiring younger girls and couldn't get it out of my mind. The sex in college was great, don't get me wrong, and with some of the girls I hooked up with not being very physically mature, it wasn't hard for me to imagine that they were preteen.

Even though I was conscious of the fact that I desired girls younger than my lovers, I wasn't in a position to be around anyone that age or did I think that it was even reasonable for me to hope that I could pull something like that off. After all, they were definitely under 18 and I was definitely over. The pedophile taboo was always on my mind.

The real awakening for me though about who I was and what I desired physically came the summer between my junior and senior year of college. I had turned twenty that spring. I procrastinated finding a job for the summer break for so long that when I finally began to look for one, there were none to be found. My parents were really pissed at me for not having any obvious viable work and I knew that if I didn't find something to do to appease them, I would be persona-non-gratis for who knows how long.

The last summer jobs to go are of the baby sitting/nanny arrangement kind where families with two working parents will do anything to get someone to watch their kids all day. If you're really lucky with these kind of jobs though, you'll find a family that will take you away with them to some really neat place like Long Island, or the Cape, or Maine or maybe even someplace in Europe with them for most of August.

In order to appease my parents and not get thrown out of the house, I landed a job with a pretty rich family in the neighborhood to watch their three-year-old daughter Erin while they worked and it looked like a neat vacation to Nantucket would happen in August. I didn't know much about kids that young but I figured she would be out of diapers, be able to ask for what she needed, probably take a nap every afternoon, and be pretty easy to entertain. Besides, they had a pool and I would have access to a car.

I was pretty much right about how easy it was taking care of Erin. She was a really smart little girl, pretty, and very charming. She knew how to swim so there was not too much anxiety of there being a pool. She DID take a nap in the afternoons, and seemed to know when she was tired and when she wasn't but would spend sometime alone in her room in the afternoons even if she didn't want to sleep.

While her mother was giving me the run down on food likes, food no-no's, TV regulations, etc. she mentioned that Erin had started to diddle herself, "had discovered her cunny," her mother said and that she and her husband were not making a big deal about it but had suggested to her that she not do it in public, that it was quite natural but that people usually did it alone or with someone they loved. I inventoried that item right along with the others, tucking it away and not having a reaction to it one way or another.

I didn't have a girlfriend at home at that time, only at college, so I was on my own sex-wise. For me that is typically my hand or hands depending on how horny I am. If I'm particularly needy I might fill up all of my available holes with fingers and thrash around for as long as I can keep coming. I sometimes use a vib that's in the linen closet for variety.

As a routine, I like to jig off before going to sleep to relax myself if I don't have a lover. My typical fantasy at that time involved a couple of twelve-year-old girls that I had been friends with when I was twelve. What I imagined was doing with them all of the things that I had learned to do since with older girls only we never did it because we didn't know what we were doing.

What I noticed happening to my fantasy as I spent more and more time with Erin was that she was turning up in it. Sometimes she would be older but more and more often as time went on, she was her real age, three years old. At first it was upsetting to me because I was thinking it was already pretty weird that I was stuck with my childhood friends. Now I was thinking of someone really young.

The thing that nailed my fantasy of her to the inside of my head and that I couldn't get rid of was that I saw her playing with herself one day at the end of her afternoon nap. It was just a coincidence and I hadn't gone out of my way to catch her or anything. I had really not thought about it once since her mother told me about her new found habit. I was coming back from the bathroom when I happened to peek into her room.

She usually took her nap in a T-shirt and panties. What I spotted was her lying on her back on her bed, panties down onto her thighs at her knees, and her fingers working on the top of her little bare mound. With her eyes closed, I had the luxury of being able to watch for several minutes before I felt compelled to sneak away.

I couldn't get that image out of my head. It was so erotic and I finally realized I was falling in love with this little girl. I wasn't yet willing to let myself completely give into what my body and my heart were telling me was so. My head was still resisting those urges for the obvious reasons. It didn't stop my fantasizing though. I mean what are fantasies after all? Just that, not realities. I wasn't actually acting anything out was I?

I couldn't wait to get to bed or someplace private every evening after Erin's mother came home. I no longer even tried to attempt to suppress Erin's image in my mind as I jigged myself off. These were definitely two hand sessions where I would have a finger up my back hole and more than one in my front hole while I used a spare thumb to push on my clit, either directly or over my labia. Thinking about her little body, especially with her hands on her mound pushing away at her clit, I could come over and over again.

Going beyond the fantasy though changed a little bit after my watching her masturbate. I have to admit that I began to do things differently. To begin with, I started to pay more attention to her. I really couldn't keep my eyes off of her. As well I was way more attentive about her dressing and undressing than I had been and more attentive about my dressing and undressing around her when I had the opportunity.

Before my enlightenment, when it was time to get our suits on for the pool or to shower and dry off and get our clothes back on afterward, I would mostly go through the motions. Now I couldn't get enough of seeing her naked or being naked around her. Unconsciously, or maybe not so unconsciously, I wanted something to happen that would take our relationship to the next level without my actually initiating it.

The incident that happened came about so smoothly, so effortlessly, so transparently, it was as if it was meant to occur. I won't be so brazen as to actually take credit for manipulating it but I have to believe my being open to Erin's needs, not to mention mine, and trying to be in synch with her, difficult as it might be given our 17-year age difference, had to have contributed to it.

We were in the bathroom after a swim. We decided we needed to run through the shower. Erin's mother had said a hair wash and cream rinse was in order. Did I say she had blond, curly hair that fell below her shoulders?

We stripped off our suits and threw them in the corner for hanging later in the shower to drip dry. We jumped into the hot shower. Her head came up to my sex. They were perfectly even. I could have grabbed the back of her head, and for sure I wanted to desperately, and pushed it into my slit and told her to start sucking and licking. I would have been off in a nanosecond. Instead, I sat down in the shower next to her and proceeded to scrub her down with soap as I usually do and then dump a bunch of shampoo on her hair and lather it up. I followed that with cream rinse and made sure it was saturated in her hair so that we could attempt to get a brush in it afterward. We rinsed all of the soap off and climbed out of the shower and dried off.

After we hung up our towels and our wet suits, both of us still naked, I picked Erin up and held her on my side, her legs wrapped around my waist, to carry her into her room so that we could get dressed. I typically would tell her to scoot across the hall on her own steam and follow behind her. In my new found state of awareness and arousal, I was hypersensitive to the fact that her cunny was against the side of my waist, that my hand was under her beautiful little baby bum, cupping both cheeks of her ass.

Whether it was my arousal that I was feeling acutely being communicated at some level to her or just the fact that I was pushing her cunny into me by firmly holding her bum, I don't know. Either way, she began rocking her hips, obviously rubbing herself on me. I asked her what she was up to with the rocking and the pushing. Was she rubbing her cunny I wanted to know? She confirmed that was indeed what she was doing and was that okay?

I told her it was perfectly fine and asked her if she wanted to do that next to herself for a few minutes until she had taken care of the feelings she was having. She agreed that she would like to do that but would I stay with her while she did it? My cunt gushed at the question before I had a chance to process it. I stammered that of course I would stay with her if she wanted me to. Whatever made her feel comfortable was what was best.

I released her after standing her on the bed and she quickly scampered to the pillow and lay down on her back. I got into bed next to her and also put my head down on the pillow. Erin promptly snuggled up next to me, put one hand on my breast, caressing it, and the other on the top of her mound and started to press her pussy lips with a couple of fingers.

The view for me was fantastic and having her little body next to mine, deliciously squirming while getting herself off, was so arousing I was beside myself. I knew that it would only take a brief push on my clit to orgasm but I was totally frozen in the moment. I was, of course, concerned with the consequences if my giving into my urge were observed and reported but even more arresting was the confusion I was having over who I was or who I was becoming that could be desiring so immensely someone Erin's age.

The physical urge soon overwhelmed the emotional one and I moved my free hand to my pussy as slowly as I could so as not to distract Erin from her duties. As I suspected, I only had to touch myself and push my labia into my clit once to come. I bit my tongue so as not to scream out and pushed my thighs together tightly to keep my body from shuddering. Selfishly, I repeated it. I knew I was so turned on by the circumstances that I could have repeated it a dozen times but, a bit relieved, I knew I would be able to repeat this if I didn't make a big scene of it this time.

Erin worked on herself a few more minutes and then lay back, seemingly relaxed. I didn't move or speak. I didn't want to break the magic that I was feeling being with her. Finally, she came out of her revelry and climbed up on me, straddling my waist. She put her arms around my neck and brought her face to mine. She told me she loved me and gave me a quick kiss on the lips and then said that she really liked to be with me.

I told her that I loved her too and that my time with her was the best time I had ever spent with anyone. Erin laid her head down on my shoulder, cupping my breasts with each hand, and cuddled with me for several minutes. It's possible we both napped just a bit.

Her wanting to rub her cunny while I lay with her would become a regular part of our afternoon routine after we got out of the pool and showered. After a few times, I decided that I would report what she was doing to her mother so that she would hear it first from me and that if her mother was going to freak, it would be over quickly. I didn't, of course, intend to tell her I was getting off too.

Contrary to what I expected, Erin's mother seemed fascinated but not at all upset. I think what I sensed was a bit of jealously because she said how nice it must be for me to be so intimate with Erin and how comfortable Erin must be with me to share her cunny playing. I expressed my gratitude in no uncertain terms. I only hoped she didn't think I was the pedo I was certain I was becoming, in fact already was.

Apparently, I was able to fool her completely or she didn't judge my relationship with Erin as a problem because I was invited to go off to Nantucket with them for a two week vacation the beginning of August. The house they rented had only two bedrooms so I would be sleeping with Erin. Imagine my elation when we arrived and we discovered that both rooms had double beds. I would not only be sleeping in the same room as Erin, I would be sleeping in the same bed.

Despite her young age, Erin must have sensed the private nature of our relationship and I remain grateful and in awe of her to this day for her discretion. Even though we often showered and got dressed after a morning at the beach, she didn't insist on our cuddling sessions where she diddled herself. Instead, those intimate times together happened after we had gone to bed.

Erin's mother often asked me if I didn't want to stay up a bit after Erin went to bed but I told her I thought it was best for me to sleep when Erin did and be up when she was up so that I would be in the best condition to take care of her. This position was well received and appreciated by both of Erin's parents since they expected as much freedom and flexibility during vacation, more even I think, as I was giving them during the rest of the summer.

They hinted that it would be agreeable to them if I decided not to return to college for my senior year (at least not right away they suggested) and became Erin's live-in nanny. I have to say, I was certainly tempted to take them up on the offer but somewhere inside me I knew I had to be away from Erin in order to fully understand what these feelings I was having about her were all about.

The two weeks in Nantucket were simply scrumptious. When it was time for Erin to go to bed, maybe around 8 or sometimes as late as 9, we would say goodnight to her parents and go off to our room. We would both strip naked and climb into bed, taking with us a T-shirt and panties that we would put on later.

I would put one arm around her and tuck a hand under her bum caressing it as I held her. She would put her inside hand on my breast (sometimes her mouth, sucking on my nipple) and her free hand on the top of her mound and jig herself to her heart's content. When I knew she was completely absorbed in what she was doing, I would take my free hand and masturbate myself to wave after wave of terrific climaxes.

Saying goodbye at the end of the summer as I headed back to school was the hardest thing I've done. I needed several months, maybe the whole of my senior year, to sort out what that experience had meant to me and what its lasting effects were. Going into it I knew I was a lesbian and not likely to be anything else. I also knew I liked young girls rather than girls my age—or I think I knew that but maybe I was still coming to grips with it when I fell in love with a three year old.

In the very end, I concluded that age didn't make any difference and that love and relationships were what they were when they were and that if you let them go by and didn't take advantage of them then you were the fool and you had defeated only yourself at your own game.