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Thoughts of a Dirty Old Man
Filename: Thoughts of a dirty man.txt
Title: Thoughts of a Dirty
Author: Writers Cramp
Keywords: Mf, dreaming, cons, teen, rom
***********************************************************
From the Author:
Be warned that this involves the sexual interest of an for a
young teenager so if that offends, read no further.
Story is copyright by Writer’s Cramp with all rights reserved and must not
be posted to any commercial or pay site whatsoever. Individuals may
archive the for their own personal use but the should not be
reposted to any other site without the author’s permission.
All names are fictitious and do not intentionally relate to any person, either
living or dead. Neither the author nor any acquaintance of the author, has
ever indulged in situations described in this story; they are solely based on
fantasy of the mind.
************************************************************
THOUGHTS OF A DIRTY (Mf, dreaming, cons, teen, rom)
©November 2002
SEXUAL FANTASY FICTION
By WRITER’S CRAMP (writer_s_cramp40REMOVE@hotmail.com )
I’m much than I should be.
Giselle, aged 14 going on 15
Her aged 8
Her aged 6
We’d been friends for some time, visits and outings together and we
all got on so well; her mother, a single mum, and my hit it off and I was
the unofficial Grandpa to her three kids.
They are wonderful kids, full of life and loved me as if I was really their
Granddad. I love to keep joshing them, telling them tall tales, knowing full
well they never believed any of it. Plenty of tricks, plenty of games together,
table tennis, throwing ball, playing chasey; all the stuff kids love and I loved
every moment of it too.
But there came a time recently when I began to notice Giselle as more than
a school kid. It struck me one evening when the three were playing table
tennis together with me; they were all hopeless, but as usual I kept on
encouraging them and their eagerness became infective and soon there were
shouts of glee when they beat me at a shot or when my partner hit a lucky
shot over the net.
Suddenly I began to take notice of Giselle’s maturing personality and her
developing curves in an entirely different light. This skinny kid, who
was usually quiet and subdued, suddenly blossomed into a woman
with bright cheeky eyes and a fun-loving life of the party intelligence.
In the years we had been friends I’d probably spent more time with the two
young ones, who of course, sought my attention most of the time. But
Giselle seemed less inclined to join in the nonsense, probably because she
was much than her and and thought herself above the
juvenile foolishness of her siblings. I guess it was natural too for my efforts
to be concentrated on the youngsters as they continually pestered me with
their presence. Giselle, nearly twice their age seemed to cling to her
more than the others.
But this night, as she played table tennis from the other end of the table, still
in her school uniform, she became a different girl. She was cute, coy, happy,
and playing up to me far beyond anything she had done before, glancing at
me after she hit a good shot, laughing mirthlessly when I hit a bad shot. She
was making me the focal point of her thoughts, or at least that’s what I
thought.
That was when I took notice of the curves she had developed that I’d
overlooked until now. From a skinny, flat-chested kid, to a teenager with
breasts, waist and hips all swaying before me, no doubt in total innocence of
what I was thinking, now real dirty thoughts, much to my shame.
But was her showing off all in innocence? What was she thinking? Was she
playing up for my attention? Were those glances a signal meant only for me?
Damn, I was thinking things no honorable should think.
How big were her really? They weren’t large by any means but for a
girl nearing fifteen I suspect they are close to being fully developed. And
her nipples; they could be teeny little things or large and puffy. Oh, I hoped
they were the latter. Imagine stroking them; running the tips of my fingers
over them, making the teats spring to life. No, there was no sign of that kind
of arousal showing through her school tunic but that could be because the
bra that came with the uniform was so and clumsy.
Arousal? Oh, damn, what did she do when she snuggled under her blankets
each night? Nearly fifteen so hormones must be racing through her veins
with the speed of light. She was a sexual being; she had to have thoughts
that were not meant for anyone but herself; naughty thoughts. Thoughts of
what she might do with boys; of what might do to her. Exciting
thoughts; thoughts of touching, of kissing and then…
Yes, she had thoughts. Were they directed towards me as she played her
little eye games? Those bright eyes that seemed to glow with excitement
when she gave me those knowing little glances as she hit the ball back to
me. Did she think about me touching her? Oh, God, what would happen if I
brushed my hand against her breast? Would she scream or would she
become flustered and embarrassed? No, she probably wouldn’t even notice
such an innocent act but my cock certainly would. Why do I have to have
such a filthy mind?
She’s fourteen for goodness sake; she an innocent, still growing up, still to
learn the wicked ways of evil men. Or is she? Damn, she’s beautiful.
Her sister, in a fit of spite as her hit her with his bat, retaliated and
hit the in the groin. Even at eight, that’s not a pleasant feeling and he
hunched over holding his crotch and groaning in pain.
Giselle immediately berated the girl. “You can a guy doing
that,” she said with all the authority of an adult.
“Why?” The youngster asked innocently.
“Because it could damage a guy for the rest of his life,” she said.
“Why.”
“You’ll find out when you grow up,” the now blushing Giselle said in a half
whisper, ending the subject. Again a coy glance towards me before
returning to the game.
She knows more than her innocence betrays. She is a teenager who has
learnt a hundred times more things about sex and and all their goings
on from her girlfriends at school, than her ever taught her.
Imagine having her stand before me, while I looked up into her face from
my chair. She not knowing what was to happen, me about to explore the
body before me. I reached out and clasped a hand around her hip, pulling
her a little closer. Then both hands ran up and down her sides. She stood
still, a look of doubt rising but she never moved. The edge of my palms
touching the very edge of each and the tips of my fingers smoothing
over the globe of each bottom cheek with every journey back and forth.
She never made any move to stop me, standing still, her eyes looking down
at nothing in particular, hands clasped behind her back. Did she just spread
her legs a little wider?
Loud shouts broke my reverie as Giselle and her at the other end
shrieked with joy when I missed her unexpected return. Damn, my mind is
playing tricks.
Oh, God, look at those virgin breasts; firm as ripe apples and not much
bigger.
Did she touch herself in bed? Yes, of course she did. She’s a sexual being,
she has urges; hormones. An orgasm? Who knows but I secretly hoped she
never has felt that incredible feeling. Oh, to be the one who trains her in
that way. She’ll want more and more. Imagine the moans of pleasure as the
first climax builds. Imagine her writhing. Innocence fulfilled and once
fulfilled, the need for more.
She’s blushing. Can she read my mind? Does she know what I’m thinking?
Have I given myself away?
“What is it?” I ask making the blush all the deeper.
“Nothing,” she says, looking away but I know something has happened.
“Giselle just farted,” her shouted aloud with glee.
We all laugh, Giselle, buries her head in her hands then looks at me as
though some secret has passed between us. I love her. I want her. I want to
touch her, to be her lover, to stroke her, to trail my fingers through the
secret tuft of hair, to annoy that special place all have, to invade her
preciousness. Damn, I’m dreaming again.
Then I decide to do something I would never have imagined before today.
The risk is great so the final outcome has to be hers alone; there can be no
forcing on my part but she may just want the same things I want. Is she
thinking of what I have between my legs? Does she think about and
the things do? Does she look on me as more than a mere boy? I
certainly hoped so. Well, maybe tomorrow will be the beginning.
It was easy to choose the diary. It had to be pink; all love pink and
Giselle’s definitely a pink girl. I bought a small diary and matching pen set,
lock and key and all. Now I had to catch her alone; it had to be done in
secrecy. Would she tell her mother? Is she the kind that tells
everything? I think she has a mind of her own and nearing her mid-teens,
she must have secrets of her own. So I decide I will go through with my
scheme.
I wait for her at the school gate along with all the other parents. They live
nearby and rarely calls to pick her up as she is already waiting for the
young ones at Elementary school. Her eyes lighten up when she sees me and
runs to me, taking hold of my arm.
I explain I was just passing so it was a nice surprise to find her. She hugs
my arm. Man, I love her.
When we are further down the street away from the other I confess
my being there wasn’t a coincidence. She looks at me, her eyes wide with
questioning looks.
I say something stupid like telling her I’d noticed how much she has grown
up when she was at my house yesterday and she giggled.
“I’ve got boobies now,” she reminded me of the obvious.
“You think I never noticed?”
“I wondered…,” she began then stopped.
“Oh, I noticed alright. I wouldn’t be much of a if I didn’t. In fact I took
a lot of notice of you yesterday, Giselle.”
“You did? Why?”
There was no way I could answer that question honestly just yet. “Because I
saw that you have grown up. You’re a woman now, not the skinny
little I once knew.”
“A woman?” she queried with happy eyes. “I’m only fourteen,” she
reminded me.
“Well I think of you as a woman, Giselle. A very beautiful
woman at that and last night I started thinking,” I tried to begin my plan.
“What about? About me?” She gushed as her brain raced along.
“Oh, indeed about you. I thought to myself that now you are reaching the
age of a woman you might need someone to talk to. I mean someone
who’s not part of your family, who you can trust and if you wanted, who
you could talk to about things. Personal things that you mightn’t want others
to know about.”
She remained silent for quite a time as we walked slowly on.
“You mean about…?” She hesitated. “About sex things?”
I could see she was weighing up my suggestion as only a youngster could.
“About sex if you want or other personal things. Things other might
say that you don’t understand. Things that are happening to your body that
you think are so personal no-one else in the world could ever think about.
About your thoughts and dreams. About and what they think.”
“I know what they think about,” she said disparagingly. “All they want is to
look up my skirt or down my blouse. And try for a touch if they could.”
“Does that worry you?”
“No, not worry, but are so gross.”
“Want me to make a suggestion?”
“Yeah, I suppose so,” she replied nonchalantly but I could see there was
anticipation in the air.
“I’ve bought you something Giselle,” I said, handing over the diary and pen
set. After she looked at it for a few moments and a smile grew, I added, “I
just thought that you might like to write down all your personal thoughts in
here and we could get together from time to time and talk about them. Or
you could hand the diary back every now and then for me to read and then
give you advice.”
“What kind of things?”
“Secrets. Things you’d hate anyone to know about. Things that are very
personal. Things you do that you don’t want anyone else to know about.
Private things. Things you wouldn’t even talk to your about. Do you
understand?”
Silence again then, “But then you’d know about them. It wouldn’t be
private anymore.”
“How could I talk to you about those things if I didn’t know what they
were? I promise I wouldn’t tell anyone about anything you wrote or about
anything we discussed.”
“Do you mean about sex things? It would be very embarrassing,” she told
me, her face aflame with blushes. God, it made her look so beautiful.
“Wouldn’t you like to have a confidante? Someone you could tell anything
to without fear of being judged? Someone who could help with all the
worries and doubts a woman has. I know you think of private things,
Giselle. All do. So do and so do I,” I confessed feeling rather
smug.
“You? You think about… about sex?”
“Of course I do.”
“About me?”
The question was so unexpected, I was lost for words. I just looked into her
eyes and nodded.
“Oh,” she gasped almost silently. We walked several hundred yards without
saying another word.
“I do think of things I’ve told no-one about. I’d like to tell you,” she said,
not daring to raise her face.
“So you’ll do it then?”
“Yes, as long as you promise not to laugh.”
“I will laugh with you but the day I laugh at you at your expense, that’s the
day you can kick me in the balls,” I said gallantly, knowing that she knew
what I meant. Her blush grew brighter. Yes, she knew.
“Then I’ll do it,” she said at last. I was sure my cock was standing at full
mast but dared not look.
“Two things you must promise.”
“What?”
“First, our agreement must be kept in absolute confidence between us. You
can’t even hint to anyone that you are your thoughts or sharing
them with me. Secondly that you cannot ever let your know what you
are doing and Moms often rummage through their daughter’s drawers and
cupboards, so you’ll have to find somewhere she would never look. Make
sure the diary is always locked too.”
“I wouldn’t want anyone to know anyway, especially Mom. She’d have
kittens.”
“There’s one other thing. You’ve got to write down all your thoughts and
all the things you do that are so personal, you could never talk to anyone
about. Everything. Do you know what I mean?”
“Even when I go to the loo to take a pee,” she grinned impishly.
“Even when you have to change your you-know-what each month.” I added
on the spur of the moment then could have bitten my tongue. It could surely
have blown my quest in the twinkling of an eye.
“Oh, I’ve got Mrs. Lewis right now. are so lucky,” she told me
sheepishly.
Mrs. Lewis? Hmm, I’d never heard it called that before and told her so.
“Mrs. Lewis was my teacher when it came the first time. She took me to the
dispensary and showed me what to do,” she explained when she saw my
questioning look.
“Cute,” I agreed. “So, when do I get to see your writings?”
“Oh, what about every two weeks? Or I could do it all on my computer and
send it weekly with a password only you knew.”
I thought for a few moments, wondering why I hadn’t thought of that. Then
she continued, “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course you can.”
“Will you do the same and send it to me?”
This left me absolutely stunned into silence. Me write my filthy thoughts
down and send them to a teenager? She could spread them right across the
internet. So could I about her, but I was pretty sure Giselle never
contemplated that at all.
“What, write down my thoughts for you?”
“And about the things you do in private. I know do things to
themselves so I suppose…,” she stopped in mid-sentence making the
meaning all the more prominent. “And with your wife; I’d like to know.”
Her eyes were searching mine.
The little witch, she’s turned the tables on me. But then, it adds much more
spice to the whole scheme of things.
“It’d embarrass you,” I suggested.
“I want to learn,” she said simply.
“Alright,” I capitulated. Her password was to be mrslewis and mine back to
her was mrlewis. So my dirty man’s thoughts were about to go public
with all the inherent risk that brings. But I just couldn’t wait for her first
incoming message.
I went home and fucked my wife, imagining it was a fourteen, going on
fifteen year-old writhing under me. I prematurely which was
nothing new to my wife. She accepted my loving with a kiss on the lips as
she bade me goodnight.
The End
This is my first try at Short writing. I hope you like it – please let me
know if you do. I can be contacted at:
writer_s_cramp40REMOVE@hotmail.com
(Don’t forget to remove the “REMOVE” to make the address work.)
All my other book-length can be found at:
ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/WritersCramp40
in both text and Word 2k2(zipped) formats. Titles so far are:
Family Fantasy Book 1
Family Fantasy Book 2
Family Fantasy Book 3
Neighborly Tutor Book 1
Neighborly Tutor Book 2
The Learning of Gemma Book 1
The Learning of Gemma Book 2
The Little Schemer
Training the Twins Book 1
Uncle
Good reading.
Writer’sCramp40
End