A Man of the Modern Era

I am become, without choice, a modern kind of guy though I’m over fifty. I recall the heady days of JFK and his Camelot, when all seemed right with the world. As a kid back then, I had a head full of pie-in-the-sky ideals; everything seemed magical. I later watched men walk on the moon live-as-it-happened, with Walter Cronkite on TV gushing about the greatness of another uniquely-American achievement.

That’s when there was a world to speak of. Not quite such a thing any more.

We grew up expecting Soviet nuclear devastation at any minute. Then the Sovs crashed, and we had peace in our time. Well, that’s what we thought but, as usual, we lied to ourselves and to each other. Sad, really, how Man always finds it as easy and commonplace to fly into space as he would kill his own brother to steal his brother’s land.

I don’t know–maybe God finally got tired of us for all our idiocy. Who can blame Him? If possessing a smidge of His kind of foreknowledge, I’d have zapped us the instant we learned to master fire. I’m a lifelong cynic, though, so never mind that last.

He kept waiting, letting us build both great cities and multi-megaton nuclear bombs to level every one of them five times over. Then last year, maybe to let us know we finally pissed Him off, He hit us with six comets. As penned by an author wiser than me: “Beware the wrath of a patient man.”

Choose your nationality and pick your enemy, if you’re still of that meaningless bent. Earth is fried so none of that matters any more. It’s no longer, “Are you a Jew; or a Mexican; or an African; or maybe a gringo?” Now, someone will outright kill you if you’re not part of his crew.

So I shoot first if I’m spotted. Good thing I carry an M-14 and two Colt .45 autoloaders, with a shitload of ammo for all. My rifle rounds can penetrate thirty feet of scrub to kill a target and likely ice the thug following him. They can even cut through a foot-wide tree to grease the hoodlum behind it. They’re also great for taking down a buck when I have chance at one.

The first comet, a long misshapen orb eight city blocks wide and almost as thick, slashed central Europe. It struck at a shallow angle near Monaco and kept going like the Energizer Bunny all the way to Lithuania. Because it moved at 36,000 miles an hour, heat of its atmospheric entry vaporized aircraft within twelve miles of its trajectory. Shock waves smashed down everything between Moscow and Dublin, and from the Sahara to the North Pole. Greater than the Grand Canyon, that chasm is a new sea after taking in the excess from melted Arctic ice–which probably kept the Himalayas from being Earth’s last remaining land mass.

The one that landed in Siberia put an end to Russia as even Russians knew it, and pretty much turned China and the rest of Asia into a flaming cauldron. Another one clobbered South America, setting the rain forests on fire. After more than a year, much of those lands are probably still burning. That’s why we few survivors often need to wear goggles and filter masks for the soot that keeps falling from the sky. Even falling snow is brown. We didn’t get a nuclear winter like some predicted in the 1980s, but the sky has remained dim and overcast ever since.

The other three comets hit water but they were relatively small. That’s like saying terminal brain cancer is ‘relatively small’ compared to a sudden massive heart attack. The tsunamis washed away what remained of Britain and every other island on the planet. All the continents flooded for hundreds of miles inland, finishing off entire coastal countries. I’m sure no ships at sea survived, including America’s mighty aircraft carriers. If anyone wants to bother remaking our flag, we would be back to having thirteen stars on it.

Then came the plague…

We don’t know, and maybe never will, if the comets brought the rest of that devastation to Earth or if it was some dormant bug at last set free. No life other than human is afflicted, so the animal population is growing at an incredible rate. I haven’t seen any six-legged mutant jackrabbits the size of a Volkswagon, but dogs are treacherous. Unable to survive against their ravenous larger cousins, toy and other small breeds are now extinct. The beasts I encounter are half-again heavier than they used to be, maybe also with a dash of wolf in the mix. What we used to call housecats are bigger, too, and crazed as rabid bobcats. Maybe they, too, have interbred.

The plague hit people differently. A ‘mild’ case at first seemed like the flu. But people’s lungs filled so fast with fluid they died in about a day for being no longer able to breathe on their own. A severe case occurred when a person simply started to dissolve, like with leprosy as not even the Bible describes. That took six hours.

Some, like me, are immune from plague for whatever reason. Not everyone is resistant to stupidity, however, with children being the most obvious cases in point. In vampire lore, it’s not a good idea to ‘turn’ children and set them loose. I see why.

About ninety-three percent of the remaining adults died from plague while near half those younger than eighteen survived. Of that last, I estimate three-quarters are dead either by misadventure or because they were murdered. Adult men–and especially women, believe it or not–are now fully free to indulge their most demented sexual fantasies with unwitting victims they can finesse or, barring that, outright capture. You’d shit to know how many times I (sometimes cruelly) executed a woman who just orgasmed after torturing some little kid to death, with me always arriving too fucking late to be a hero. Women are NOT always the ‘gentler sex’ by any measure. In my experience, they’re the more depraved when let loose. Because of them, I have buried many tiny broken bodies and stumbled through lame graveside prayers I don’t know how to make eloquent.

The smart, surviving kids also know all this. They have seen too many friends and siblings die because of some predator (human or animal), or by daring stupid things–like a twelve-year-old trying to drive a car sixty miles an hour around a tight curve and losing control. I saw only the aftermath, with the car’s speedometer stuck forever at its final reading of that instant of impact.

There are other incidents of idiocy to be expected when few adults are around to teach basic physics and overriding reality–like a kid using a bed sheet to try parachuting from the roof of a school building. Or, which seems all too common, kids building a ramp on one roof and daring friends to make a bicycle jump to the next roof fifty feet away.

Can you say ‘splat’?
Then there are the stoner teens who thought it would be just fucking dandy to experiment at getting high by mixing pills from an abandoned drug store. I don’t know which smells worse–their hardened vomit or their rotting corpses.

Those smart kids of earlier mention, those true survivors, also know to stay out of sight. But happenstance has its own inevitable way; the kid will eventually be spotted.

That’s how I met Danielle.

What kind of 21st Century name is ‘Danielle’? The only woman I know with that name was mother of a girl in my Kindergarten class back in 1963. If she’s alive, she’s probably ninety. What about modern sexy names like Britney or Courtney? But I digress…

I found Danielle while aiming to raid a grocery store about a mile from home. I and surely others picked clean both the grocer and derelict deli nearest my place. So I had to range wider.

Approaching the store, I heard a boy sing, “Come out, come out, wherever you aaaaarrrre!”

Snickering that I heard told there were at least three others with him. So I went for cover.

“Gotcha!”

I heard a girl scream, followed by a din of heavy cans falling and the shattering of glass. Then the sound of slapping bare feet.

Danielle jumped through a broken-out window and bolted to her right. I was tucked down in a clump of overgrown bushes about fifty feet away. Four ragtag boys followed her, chasing fast as they could. I estimated their ages between thirteen and fifteen, the oldest kid in the lead and closing on the girl as she ran hell-bent across the parking lot. Danielle looked to be about eleven.

With nonchalance as if sipping lemonade on a lazy Sunday afternoon, I flipped my rifle to full auto and wiped out the three boys trailing their leader. What my bullets can do is horrifying.

Boss-boy reached the girl and grabbed her, but a single shot at his feet stopped his further intentions. He was too close to her for me to take more direct action–like killing him on the spot. If they were all friends playing together, I’d have let them alone. But I know, by experience and instinct in this ugly world, the scream of a frightened girl. The boys hoped to capture Danielle to make her a fucktoy, her miserable life thereafter lasting long as they willed to let her live.

“Piss off, old man!” the pipsqueak warned, drawing a big knife and pointing it at me when I came from cover. “This ain’t nunna yer bizniss! I’ll fuckin’ gut ya!”

Seems no one ever told the punk it’s stupid to menace with a knife when your opponent has a high-power auto-loading military rifle. Laughing, I locked the bayonet I also carry to the muzzle. The M6 blade is six and a half inches long. If the pipsqueak wanted to spar with cold steel, I could put my M14 on ‘safe’ and still ruin his day.

The girl broke loose, and that’s when I fired from my hip. It was a lucky shot, really, since I’m not expert with guns. The boy’s left leg below the knee all but flew away, and he collapsed in a splash of blood. I never before heard anyone scream like he did. The punk wailed so bad his intended victim paused to watch what might come next.

Face-shooting that punk even with one of my pistols might ricochet the bullet off the macadam when it exited his skull, maybe into me or Danielle (I didn’t know her name at the time). Gutting him with my bayonet would be messy, splattering me with blood and further horrifying the girl. Using the only neat and clean option I had, far as such can somehow be ‘neat and clean’, I crushed his throat with a hard smash of the butt of my rifle to put paid to the repulsive affair.

Except for his quiet choking, he died in silence.

“Please don’t hurt me!” the girl cried, seeming too exhausted to run. She fell to her knees and covered her head with her arms.

“I won’t hurt you,” I promised, approaching and peeling off my backpack. Stopping about ten feet away, I slapped a fresh magazine of twenty rounds into my rifle and opened the satchel, offering her a can of Ravioli. “You hungry? I have plastic forks, too. Let me find one…”

Keeping my rifle ready, because girls roam in packs like do boys and are just as deadly in their numbers, ferocity, and weapons, I finally found a fork. But Danielle had already gobbled the entire can and was licking her fingers.

So I tossed her another can.

To make a long story short (too late, I know), we raided the store for what we could carry. Danielle found a duffel bag in the office, which let us bring home more than what we could stuff into our backpacks. We also took the few T-shirts and football jerseys that happened to remain in the stock room, so Danielle could wear better than the dirty tatters that barely covered her. Plus, someone had left behind a pair of sneakers two sizes too large for her, but at least she wouldn’t have to roam barefoot for a while.

Danielle stands shy of five feet and is slender, likely in part for lack of decent food for more than a year. If she somehow weighs ninety pounds soaking wet it’s going to take a lot of water. She has black hair halfway down her back, cut in ragged bangs over her forehead.

The kid is really cute. She’s also bright, so with a little training she will one day be able to better survive just fine on her own.

“I’m scared,” Danielle whispered after we went to bed. We had washed with soap and filtered rainwater I collected from the last storm, then eaten a relatively decent meal of beef jerky (the only ‘real’ meat I had) and powdered eggs cooked on my camping stove. I also served powdered milk and powdered mashed potatoes. Too bad no one ever came up with powdered butter.

I had Danielle take the couch while I would sleep on the floor of the small apartment I don’t want to abandon. It’s been home a long time, so I’m quite attached to it. Good thing it has a fireplace. The luxury cost a premium when I rented the space, but it now pays a handsome dividend no one could have anticipated. Especially when there’s no longer a landlord to require rent.

“You’re safe,” I assured. “We’re on the third floor. The door is steel and it’s locked.”

“Can I come sleep by you?”

“Okay, sure.”

Because nights are cool for all that soot in the air, we both had sheets to cover us. I wear a T-shirt and scrub pants when I sleep. Not a fashion statement, to be sure, but I’m comfortable.

When Danielle slipped under the sheet with me, I realized she wore nothing except underpants despite the faint chilliness. Cuddling close with her back against my chest, she pulled my arm over her waist. Then she started playing “This Little Piggie” with my fingers.

“You have rough palms,” Danielle noted. “Not soft like my grandma’s.”

“That’s ’cause I chop a lot of wood for the fireplace for winter,” I said, leaving out the added fact I have used a shovel more times than I want to count to bury brutalized, murdered children.

“I like it. You seem like a tough guy.”

“I’m just an average Joe.”

“With a big loud gun!”

“Somebody’s gotta protect you.”

Giggling, and with my hand still in the soft clasp of both hers, Danielle guided my fingertips slow over her chest. My first instinct was to pull away, but her skin felt so soft and silky I didn’t want to stop. In this awful world, pleasant sensations are hard to come by. Even my own skin sometimes feels like sandpaper after I wash with the sooty rainwater I can capture, no matter the filtering I use to make it cleaner. I won’t dare pet the hair of a buck I just culled so I could eat a few more days, because that would make it so personal I’d never shoot a deer again. I saved animals when the world used to exist–stopping at pet shelters to make an anonymous cash donation; or feeding stray cats; or buying an occasional loaf of bread or bag of seed for little birds in the park.

Next thing I knew, Danielle was circling my calloused palm over one of her nipples. The bud felt erect and tight, the muscle beneath her velvety skin delightfully firm. She snuggled closer as she used my hand for a play toy.

Without thought, I started kissing and suckling her neck.

“Mmmmmm!” Danielle cooed.

Spreading my fingers, I massaged both her nipples while nibbling across her shoulder. If not for what she began, I’d never have touched her. Danielle won’t tell her true age for some reason, but she promises she’s ‘legal’.

Whatever the fuck that means, nowadays. If the world and all its laws still existed, I’d have escaped the budding encounter three seconds after Danielle started the play; she looks like she never graduated middle school. But there’s little left of the world I once knew, and all its laws have gone into history and maybe even to hell.
“That feels so nice!” Danielle whispered. “Pinch me?”

I gently kneaded one of her nipples between my thumb and forefinger.

“Tighter!”

When I squeezed more firmly, Danielle rolled her hips. She began rubbing between her squeezed thighs, over her panties.

Trying to hide my engaged lust, I crossed my legs and pushed back my hardened cock between them. Rapists abound nowadays, and I’m too conservative and (hopefully) decent enough to not be counted among them. Danielle is super-mega-thermonuclear cute, but she looks so young!

After some moments of roaming her silky body as she guided me–going almost insane trying to keep my own lust in check and with her masturbating–Danielle suddenly stopped. With some sense of relief, I figured that was the end of it. “I don’t want to cum too soon,” she breathed.

“You’ve had orgasms before?” I asked.

“Like I told you, I’m legal. Besides, I’ve been playing with myself since I was eight.”

“Are you still a virgin?”

“Just shut up and snuggle me closer.”

I did, and the play resumed. Danielle’s hand guided mine all over, pressing me time and again to pinch and tug her nipples. I also kept kissing her, finally reaching her mouth. For a while I would just peck her soft lips, expecting she might freak if I tried to French with her.

Instead, I wound up the one to be shocked when Danielle wrapped both her arms tight around my neck and shoved her sweet tongue into my greedy mouth. The kiss lasted…I don’t know how long. I found it a little terrifying, with me trying to strike some balance between the belief she’s way so underage for sex that I really should stop but also that I didn’t fucking care.

“Why don’t you take off your shirt?” Danielle suggested.

“Umm…” I delayed.

Danielle breathed an irritated sigh. When I sat up to peel off my tee, she moved fast to yank down the waist of my scrub pants and take my cock into her mouth. I flopped back, my long-deprived hardness being sucked like no woman before ever managed. At first I figured it simply had been so long that any blowjob no matter how inexperienced would feel great. In seconds, though, I realized I’m dealing with an expert. Danielle also knows how to tease a man’s balls just right, and is aware of that sensitive place behind them.

On the edge in moments, I tugged her long dark hair to stop her. I didn’t want to cum too soon, either, if I was going to let myself cum at all. I still wanted to know what she meant by ‘legal’.

“What’s wrong?” Danielle asked.

“I’m going to cum,” I answered.

“That’s the idea, Big Daddy. What–you don’t like girls?”

“I like girls plenty, but you look so…”

“I keep telling you–I’m legal. Besides, there are no more laws or any cops left to enforce them even if I’m not.”

“How did you get so good at that?” I wondered, trying to glean some clue about the secretive girl. “And you’re really damned good!”

“You don’t much like mystery, do you?” Danielle sighed. “Very well: I got good by years of giving regular blowjobs to my older brother and three of his friends.”

“When did that start? Your brother should have pro…”

“I made the first move. We were all in the basement one day after swimming, talking about sex. I pulled the shorts off one boy and went at him. My brother tried to stop me, but I didn’t need or want his so-called protection. Every time he let go after pulling me away, I went right back so he finally gave up. He wouldn’t let me touch him even though I tried after finishing his friends, but I later won his surrender after mom and dad went to bed.”

“How old were you? How old were they?”

“I got invited to lots of slumber parties my last few years in grade school,” Danielle dodged. “I’m really good with pussy, too. We girls experimented together a lot back then.”

“I guess that answers my question about you being a virgin,” I laughed.

“No boy ever fucked me, and I never came with one because I was too shy. Instead, I would go masturbate for an hour after finishing with them. I don’t count the girls and the things we did, even though I would easily cum when we played. So, yeah, I guess your question is answered.”

“Are you still too shy to cum with me?”

“Doesn’t masturbating in front of you and stopping before I cum too soon give you a hint?”

Sitting up, I pulled off Danielle’s panties and gripped her hips to bring her with me when I lay back down. Giggling, she straddled my head. I ran my tongue along her slit when she took my cock into her mouth, her shiver at my caress making me smile. I had felt her panties to be rather moist when I stripped them away, revealing how turned on our play had made her.

I’ve been down on women who shave and even wax down there, but Danielle had the smoothest softest little pussy I ever touched or tasted. With my hands on her hips, I maneuvered her so I could lick, nibble, and penetrate her with my tongue at will. Her moans of pleasure vibrated in my cock and balls, driving me crazy. But being at her sex kept my focus off my own need.

Danielle stopped sucking me, resting on her elbows. She breathed harder and deeper as I savored her perfect tasty pussy with slow ministration. When I inserted a thumb into her, she sprang up on her hands with her elbows locked and her back arched. By crushing her pussy to my face, Danielle forced my thumb all the way into her. She took my free hand to make me pinch, pull, and twist her nipples.

Danielle’s every muscle seemed to tremble and ripple when she came seconds later, with soft moans between her frenetic panting breaths. I thrust my thumb best I could, barely able to move it for how hard she pressed her pussy to my face. Then, still cumming, she began jerking and thrashing like a caged cat on an electrified floor. Danielle yelped several times before falling over. As if in some sort of fit, she flailed until her body could no longer continue. In the dim moonlight shining through the window, I saw her eyes had rolled up into their sockets.

That scared the shit out of me, because I never before saw a woman cum like that. I rushed to check on her in fear she might be epileptic or something, with an orgasm triggering a seizure.

“Oh, wow!” she finally breathed with soft twittering laughter.

“Are you okay?” I worried.

“Of course!”

“Do you always cum like that?”

“Pretty much, yeah. I guess you can say I have full-body orgasms; I feel them in every nerve even to the tip of my nose. Now you know why I wouldn’t cum in front of my brother and his friends. You’re older, so I trust you won’t make fun of me. With the girls it was okay, because girls understand each other while boys are usually jerks. My orgasms are another reason why I was such a hit at slumber parties. I fed their egos when they got me off, even though they were envious they can’t cum like I do.”

“The way you came,” I said, “I’m surprised you didn’t scream your head off. I have never seen anyone orgasm like that.”

“I screamed the very first time I came,” Danielle confessed, propping up on one elbow. “My parents all but flew into my bedroom wondering what was happening to me. I told them I just had a bad dream, and that was the end of it. So I instantly learned to keep quiet, which also worked well during sleepovers so my friends’ parents didn’t know what we girls were up to.”

“You scared the shit out of me, you know.”

“Don’t sound so serious. You should be honored, because you’re the first guy to ever get me off.”

“You’re really precocious, you know. Maybe too damned much.”

“Tested IQ of 143, here. You know–smarter than the average bear!”

“Should I start calling you ‘Yogi’, then?” I teased.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Danielle laughed, cupping my face to pull my mouth to hers for a crushing kiss. “And don’t call me ‘Dani’, either. That’s a boy’s name and I’m all girl.”

We sixty-nined a long while in various forms–her on top again; her on bottom; and side by side. She came every time, but I also enjoyed teasing her with lots of foreplay in between. I explored her body with my mouth as well as my hands, finding every place that turned her on. Danielle has especially sensitive nipples, and likes a bit of roughness with them. In addition to having those small buds twisted, pulled, and pinched, she loves having them sucked and nibbled. She often wanted me using my teeth more firmly, but I remained careful not to actually bite.

So is the same with the cheeks of her little round ass, where I nipped much harder as she demanded. My attention there made her squirm and coo with delighted abandon. When I wouldn’t touch her pussy or work her nipples, she did it to herself. Danielle well knows her body, and is more unrestrained than I’ll yet dare try.

What got her off the fifth time and probably the most powerfully–after all those sixty-nines–was when I nibbled the smooth soft mound of her pussy while working her nipples with one hand and finger-banging both her ass and flowing love tunnel at once with the other.

Danielle unchained one short, sharp, and quite-loud screech. I worked her as she bounced in spasm all over the floor, seeking to squirm away. But I wouldn’t let her escape for a long while. When I finally stopped, suddenly as if pulling an electric plug, she continued the fit some minutes like I hadn’t freed her at all.

I got her a bottled drink after she calmed enough to ask for one. I gave her orange juice.

“We have been at this for hours,” Danielle said after some needed time to collect. “You’re still hard but haven’t cum no matter how much I suck you to get it. And you admitted I’m good. So what gives? Are you sure you like girls?”

“I’m having too much fun getting you off. Call it my pride.”

“Just like the girls at those old sleepovers. I hope you know I swallow. Or are you really hoping I’ll let you fuck my pussy, or maybe my ass?”

“Well, your pussy would be preferable.”

“That’s good, because you’re not getting my ass tonight. Maybe one day, since I love having it penetrated as you just found out by making me into a six-pack with a finger in each of my holes. But it’s not going to happen our first time together.”

“That’s fine.”

“So, which is it–my mouth or my pussy?”

“I haven’t had a virgin since my first girlfriend,” I answered. “We were sixteen and I was a virgin, too. So…”

Danielle pushed me onto my back. Gripping my cock, she straddled me to easily impale herself on it to the hilt, her delicious pussy so wonderfully slick with lust. “Oh, wow!” she gasped, sitting up straight with her hands clasped behind her head. “I’ve had lots of things in there, but nothing hard has ever felt so soft! It’s all been plastic and bony fingers, not skin that feels soft to mine. What the fuck did I let myself miss?”

I think I went cross-eyed when Danielle took me into her. Being petite, she is naturally tight. But her nectar flows like the River Ganges. So I relished clear, easy, and natural entry into her. I’m not ‘hung’ but I have nothing about which to be ashamed. I would have thought a girl her size–under five feet–might have a problem. But she didn’t. As a matter of fact, she clearly loved being spread far as my cock opened her.

The experience was an odd thing. I wanted to go slow, maybe kinda-sorta make love while Danielle wanted to just plain-old fuck. Which she did like a tiger in the wild.

When I would kiss her sweet mouth, she attacked like my tongue was a snack. Hell! The way Danielle went at me, I wondered if I might be her lunch. All that seemed missing was the serving platter.

“I’m dying to cum!” Danielle announced. “Tell me you’re ready, too!”

“I am,” I breathed. “Really fucking close.”

“Cum with me! Make me cum and spill in me at the same fucking time…Five…Four…Three…”

We never finished the countdown.

The instant I came, I swear I went fucking blind. Danielle almost exploded with her own climax as we released together, sharing ecstasy and pure bliss. She flopped onto me, in throes so wild I think she might have forgotten all but her very existence. I heard only snorts from her, and felt a trembling in my enveloping arms that an earthquake beyond the Richter Scale would be hard pressed to match.

My rapture ended as happens all too quick among men, but Danielle didn’t stop. She’s like a nuclear pile gone critical. Her orgasms, once started, don’t abate until she can’t take any more.

“You felt nice and warm shooting into me,” Danielle at last said, combing her fingers through my gray hair. I think it took ten minutes for her to recover after an orgasm that lasted at least that long. “I’m glad you’re the one who had me first. You don’t make fun of me.”

“Your orgasms,” I assured, “fill a man’s pride.”

“Good, because you’re the man I let pop my cherry. You damned well better be happy about it!”

“But there are things I need to know.”

“You’re still going to bitch, nag, and moan about it, aren’t you?” Danielle complained.

“Count on it,” I countered.

“I’m nineteen. I hit my last birthday this past spring, but I stopped counting dates last fall. Without a calendar, I have no way of keeping track. But I promise, I’m nineteen and legal like I keep telling you. As if all those old laws mean a thing any more.”

“Then why…?” I started.

“Why do I look eleven, maybe twelve at best?

“When I was fifteen, a doctor finally diagnosed why I never developed. It’s called hypogonadism. The ‘rents got second, third, and fourth opinions but the result always came back the same. My ovaries don’t produce the hormones I need to reach puberty, and it’s a permanent condition unless I go on hormone therapy the rest of my life. That’s dangerous of itself, so I refused the treatment. I will never develop breasts or grow pubic hair. Which would have saved me a fortune on razor blades for my legs, underarms, and pussy if the world didn’t go to shit. Maybe the end of the world worked for me, because high school was hell. I was in my senior year but still looking like a fifth-grader.

“I will never be able to get pregnant. I don’t have periods, which is one less thing to worry about. Who the hell needs to have one start when running away from some crazed gangster crew?”

“I never heard of that.”

“Now you have. I’m still an intelligent adult woman who simply won’t have tits of any size and a hairy pussy. But when I reach thirty, my age will show in my face even though the rest of me will remain looking like a pipsqueak child on a girls’ little league soccer team.”

“Why didn’t you tell me all this in the first place?” I asked.

“I wanted to make sure you’re not some pervert who likes little girls,” Danielle answered. “When you had chance to rape and kill me after shooting those four boys but still didn’t touch me, I allowed you a little more confidence. You fed me instead, which increased my trust. Then we gathered food, clothes and shoes for me, and you brought me home to fix a meal. I look like a little girl and you didn’t try to molest me. That’s why I made a move on you, to just give you a blowjob. If things worked as I originally intended, you’d have gone to sleep and I’d have played with myself later. Instead, you won all my trust. That’s why I gave you my cherry.”

“So now what?”

“You kiss me, snuggle with me, and we finally get some sleep. After six orgasms, I’ve had it for the night.”

We kissed long and deep, snuggling together for a good rest. Fully refreshed in the morning, Danielle wanted another bout. It went longer and was more wild than our first one, especially because she’s a big show-off and exhibitionist who best likes sex in the light of day.

But that’s another story.

END

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