She showed up at the playground, when I first noticed her. My daughter was playing on the structure with the ropes and slide and stuff right in the middle of the place and there was another older girl, probably of middle school age by the look of her; tall and thin with long dark hair running along with my daughter and playing right along, the two girls made good company together.

After a while it was time to leave. The Florida heat was pretty intense and with the clouds building up all day, it was about time for the regular afternoon monsoon. Lightning flashed high up in distant nimbus cloud columns while gathering our playthings, the other little girl being nearby and helpfully picked up also.

“Thanks for hanging out with Alyssa,” I started, “you are guys really play together well. What’s your name?”

“ Ronnie,” she told me as we started to walk out of the park.

“Well, Ronnie, it looks like it’s going to pour any minute. We’re heading home. Will we see you later?” I asked. Our apartment was just down the street, we’d make it in time.

“I live just down the street and around the corner with my mom,” she said. “ But she lets me do what I want in the afternoon. Can I hang with you guys?”

Fat, lazy raindrops landed with a splat here and there; I wasn’t about to argue as we neared our doorstep. As soon as we stepped inside, the heavens opened up as if a tap turned on while the cool air of the apartment instantly offered relief from the intense heat. Getting re-situated at home, I got a better look at our new friend. A bit of the ragamuffin, I thought, rail thin and long bony feet in her flip-flops. Maybe five feet tall, I judged, with nice big brown eyes and generous lips; she’d grow into a beauty some day. And a tall one, if she’s going to grow into those feet.

“All right, who needs some ice cream?” I asked, reaching into the freezer and pulling out some pops for the kids. Occasional thunder shook the windows and lightning flashed frequently through the windows. We lived in a tidy little three bedroom apartment, one for the master bedroom, one for my daughter, and the last bedroom is my office slash studio where I photograph products for catalogs and do my writing. There is just enough room to photograph somebody modeling a pair of pants or a jacket for a catalog, but nothing fancy as far as that goes. The master bedroom was especially roomy since my wife took off. Something about the tropical atmosphere in South Florida changes people, steamy goings on, and the neighborhood here is so transitory; it’s an old story – she met somebody and just needed something without all the responsibility. No, she laid it on me. We alternated weekends with our lovely daughter Alyssa. I cope. We deal. Fortunately I can work from home.

Ronnie stood at the sliding glass door at the back of the apartment and looked across the way. “Oh you can see my place from over here,” and she pointed to the left while I looked at a block of older units which faced their backs towards ours. She was a neighbor. She also smelled, as I stood there, noticing how unkempt she really was, for the first time. Her feet looked practically crusted with dirt and she glistened from sweat.

“Would you like a bubble bath?” I suggested. We headed into the bathroom and once the tub was full and frothy, I averted my gaze while Ronnie quickly stripped without any hesitation and jumped in. Then I took the plastic cup we used for rinsing and dumped water on Ronnie’s head, making her squeal and laugh. She made faces while I massaged shampoo and then after rinsing, some conditioner into her scalp. Running my fingers through her knotty hair, I tried to untangle as much as I could. Handing her a washcloth, I left Ronnie to wash herself, and to play in the water as she wished while Alyssa got dressed and started working on her homework. Gathering up her clothes, I was going to throw them in the wash, because there were even scorch marks in her underwear, if you know what I mean. No sense getting clean and dressing in dirty clothes after. I left her a huge bath sheet to wrap in after she was done.

She was sitting on the couch by the time I same out of my daughter’s room, pulling the door shut behind me. Ronnie had turned the TV on, wrapped in a towel with her long brown hair hanging wetly around her shoulders. There was a hairbrush once my wife’s which I brought over to the couch and, sitting next to her, began to brush Ronnie’s hair, beginning at the very bottom. She allowed me to pull on her head like that, but sitting sideways was awkward, so I asked her to sit on my knees, to make it easier. And it was.

We talked while I brushed out her neglected locks, she told me about her mother, who seems to always be sleeping, according to her daughter, and evidently goes out at night leaving her to fend for herself for dinner and putting herself to bed. Ronnie told me about being in 7th grade but not knowing anybody, not being in any of the cliques and how the kids treated her mean. Being 13 is a tough age, I agreed, sticking a finger into her ribs, meant to elicit a laugh.

“I’m not ticklish,” she announced, prompting me to try poking a gain. A squeeze on the knee. Nothing. “I’m not ticklish.”

“Not even this?” I asked, holding her arm and tracing my fingertip lightly from palm to elbow. Nothing.

“How about this?” I inquire, taking her foot and running my finger along the length of her sole, which only made her wiggle her toes, “or this,” while I try the tracing thing again, this time up her leg to where the towel begins it’s wrap. Not a flinch.

Oh well. We settle back to watch some television and I am idly aware of this girl on my lap as I drowsily continue to trace my fingers along her arm, along her leg, down her leg again. She wriggles a little and I wander back up her leg again. “I’m not ticklish,” she reminds me, opening her legs as far as the tightly wrapped towel will allow, as if allowing me to see just how un-ticklish she was. My pulse beat a little harder when I detoured further up her legs, up along the inside a little more each stroke of my tracing, almost daring myself, a little more further beyond the towel’s border. Soon I am along the softest part of her upper thighs, something very hot radiating not far from my hand as I trace along her flesh.

“ I bet you’re ticklish here,” I said, with my heart thumping in my throat. The back of my hand drifted past the juncture of her legs as she suddenly reached and pulled my hand tight against her.

“Tickle me there,” she whispered, and pressed my hand against her heated skin. Ronnie brought her feet up to the couch’s cushions and spread her knees apart, allowing me better access for tracing the soft flesh along her thighs. Resting her head back against my shoulder, a soft sweet sent drifted towards me; bubble bath with an under tone of something muskier. Hot 13-year-old girl.

She was a bony little girl, with long limbs and not a bit of fat on her. My tracing fingers ventured along her pussy, exploring gently and rubbing her naked mound. At the top of her slit was a prominent bump where I focused some gentle pressure with the palm of my hand, drawing a small intake of breath from between Ronnie’s parted lips. Her eyelids were half-closed and her gaze vacantly aimed at the television as I stimulated this bump, her clit. It was not hard to miss actually, a pretty big bump on an otherwise smooth expanse of lower belly, two of my fingers rolled the nub between them, her knees jerked a little further and her hips began to rock slightly back and forth on my lap, in time to my squeezing and tickling.

“Is it okay tickling you like this,” I wanted to know, “does it feel okay?”

My hard penis was stuck against my leg, with this little girl wrapped in a towel gyrating rhythmically against it; I was in guilty-pleasure heaven. She nodded yes and a soft reply, “uh-huh” escaped her lips.

“Are you ticklish here too,” I asked while my free hand moved to unwrap her upper half, taking her small raisin of a nipple in my fingertips and pinching gently. Ronnie took a quick intake of breath and lifted her hips off my lap, pushing into my hand twiddling her twat and gave me the answer I sought.

Parting the thin outer lips of her vagina, her protruding clit was really pretty big for such a small girl. Pulling back the covering hood, it felt about as big around as my little pinkie, and almost half as long as that finger. I grasped the swollen nub and pulled back and forth on it, as if jerking off a penis. Ronnie kind of moaned small “oh – oh – oh’s” with each stroke I made, going faster and slower as I matched her breathing pattern, touching lightly and then firmly, until she was panting, practically gasping and pushing wildly at me. I could feel her heat up, a flush spreading across her little body as she wiggled and squirmed, dancing with pleasure on my lap. My fingertips caressed and controlled this writhing little sexual creature on my lap until she grabbed my hand and pressed down while I felt her nub pulse rapidly, Ronnie sighed and her knees quivered; she moaned and giggled. Wet squishy sounds emanated from between her legs as I touched her tenderly and explored the very slippery folds of her small pussy. Bringing my fingertips to my own mouth I tasted her juice, sniffed her scent, savoring the erotic moment as Ronnie’s breathing returned to a normal pace.

“Oh you sweet girl,” I whispered into her ear. “You are so beautiful.” Moving a strand of hair away from her neck, I kissed the soft damp skin behind her ear and trailed kisses along her neck. She arched her neck for me to kiss along to her shoulder, and with a quick turn of her head, gave me a kiss on the lips. We sat together in the growing darkness, the rainstorm drifting away, thunder dying off, watching television and cuddling.

Our reverie was broken by the buzzing of the dryer; her clothes were done. She slid off my lap, saying she had to pee and went into the bathroom, holding the towel around her. I checked on my daughter and found her asleep on her bed, schoolwork scattered all around. So I turned off the light and closed the door behind me.

Sitting back on the couch, I hear the toilet flush and my little guest made her way back over to stand next to the couch, looking at me. She glanced down at my lap, now showing a definite wet spot where my throbbing penis was held captive against her bottom, and then back at me, kind of seriously.

“Do you need some relief?” She asked.

“What?” I was incredulous.

“I can see your bulge,” she said. “Mommy told me men have needs and a woman has to take care of their needs. She said when men have a bulge, it needs to be drained for relief or it really hurts them. I’ve seen her doing it for her boyfriends and she explained it to me.”

This must be some kind of mom, I thought to myself. But my thoughts were hijacked to someplace else when Ronnie reached over and touched my cock through my shorts.

“When was the last time you had some relief?” she asked, opening the snap at the top of my fly and unzipping me. I was speechless to stop her and could only watch as she knowingly took hold of my penis and let it pulse and throb in the palm of her hand. She had a good grip around my muscle and pulled up and down, squeezing blood into the head and making it swell and purple. A dewy drop of pre-cum emerged from the tip and she bent her head to lick it, making a smacking sound with her mouth while tasting it against her palate. Ronnie looked up at me and, seeing my approval, proceeded to jerk and play with my rod; I placed my hand on hers and gave her a little coaching now and then.

My balls were giving me little tingles and twinges, I had to stretch my legs out and felt my toes beginning to point straight out with the impending orgasm building up within me. Ronnie dipped her head now and then to scoop up stray droplets of my jizz seeping out. Her pouty lips would embrace the tip of my cock and she’d squeeze me from the base up, her tongue swiping the sensitive glans and make me flinch. She was enjoying jerking me off as much as I was, and I had to let her know I was about to make a mess.

“Oh sweetie, watch out…I….I’m…oh, oh look out,” was all I could muster to say but Ronnie surprised me and, as the head of my cock expanded and throbbed about to explode she opened those luscious lips and brought her mouth down upon it just in time to catch the first jetting pulse of my hot cum. With just the head captured in her warm, wet mouth, she milked my spasming cock for all it was worth with her tongue and lips, letting me fill her mouth, catching all the gooey stuff before pulling off and swallowing it down with a loud gulp. She licked her lips and went back to sucking the tip of any remaining juice, flicking and swiping her tongue to get it all while I rested a hand on top of her head, stroking her silky hair and making happy noises.

“Do you feel better now?” she asked, “Is it empty ?”

“Oh yes, sweet baby,” I sighed to her, “that was very nice.”

“Mommy says when you relieve a man, it tames him,” she explained. “She said nature made sure a man’s juice is good for a woman and makes her sexy. I wanted to be sure I got all of it, “Ronnie told me as she held my deflated penis between her lips, still playing and rolling it around with her tongue. “Are you tame now? Do you belong to me?”
“You can do anything you want with me,” I confessed contentedly, “I am all yours.”

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