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#Tween #Virgin #Voyeur
By MarcoTambo
Chance encounter in the middle of WW1 leads to an unlikely pairing
OLD DAN (OLD’UN DROVER)
Paedophile may have been a word back in those days, but in all my reading I never came across it, and I certainly didn’t know that I would become one.
*******
The war more or less forced me to come out of retirement in 1917, because all the young men had joined up, hadn’t they? I hired a handful of indigenous stockmen for my one last big drive. We brought a herd of cattle down from Queensland to the railhead at Maree in South Australia. Did my bit for the war effort. The right thing to do, I reckon.
Another case of me doing the right thing happened an hour or two after I handed over that bloody big mob of steers to the Agent at the Maree railhead. In the long run, me doing that second right thing lead to me doing what most people would call a me doing some very wrong things, but I’ll tell you the story and you can judge for yourself.
*******
Glad to be rid of the cattle, I hurried to the nearest bar to wash months of desert dust out of my throat. My filthy clothes made me pause at the doorway. Was I too disreputable to go in? Standing there, I heard that loud-mouthed know-all Agent Bloke holding forth.
“Now they’re calling it ‘The Great War’,” the Stock and Station Agent slurred. Folding his newspaper he announced to his drinking mates: “Only thing ‘Great’ about it is that some people are making a ‘great’ deal of money.”
“You’d be one of ’em wouldn’t ya?” The nosy barman chimed in.
“I’m doing alright,” the agent puffed out his chest, “Just made me a packet on a big herd of cattle that Old’un Drover geezer brought down The Track. ”
“Holden? Drover is he? Dunno ‘im.”
The agent gestured toward the dusty window. “Look! There, by the door. The old feller with a bit of a white beard. One of the best in his day.”
“Still dunno ‘im.”
“Hired himself a crew of no-goods he did, but they got the job done alright. In tip-top condition them steers are.”
The drinking mates craned their necks to peer blearily at me, then the Agent continued his narrative, “Lives around here somewhere. He bought a little place on the outskirts of town from a young buck who joined up to see the world. Always keeps to himself but. Bit of a hermit.”
I’d heard more than enough. I shook my head and turned to walk away, but a la-de-dah voice stopped me in my tracks.
“I say, you there! Drover!” he called.
I looked around and sighted a well-dressed couple with a very pretty young girl hanging way back several steps behind them. Their granddaughter, I guessed, semi-correctly as it happened. Anyway, I didn’t give him the time of day. Just waited for him to make his case, and make it he did. If I told you every bit of bullshit that he earbashed me with we’d be here all day, but the edited version is as follows.
As he flailed about with his spotless white hat in a futile attempt to disperse the flies, the sun flashed on the little gold cross on the front while talked down to me.
“I am The Reverend David Jones, and this lady is my good wife.”
He paused for breath, put his hat on and gestured behind with the kid gloves in his hand. “Adelaide there is my step-granddaughter, if there is such a thing.”
He smirked a little at his own joke, “She is twelve years old,” he paused, then continued with a head-shake that gave the lie to his next words, “and quite the little lady.”
I shrugged, winked at the poor kid, but she just looked at the ground.
The Rev. continued his sermon. “The little lady is originally from a cattle station up north a bit, but for the past six years she’s been boarding at a private school in Adelaide.”
For reasons he didn’t disclose, she needed to go home, so The Rev. and Mrs. Jones, being relatives of a sort, and church people to boot, had been employed by said cattle-station’s solicitor to deliver Adelaide to the property partway up The Birdsville Track. They had been paid well for the task, but the heat and dust were not at all to the lady’s liking. They had heard that I might be heading back that way to fetch more cattle, so sought to offload Adelaide, the kid, onto me to complete the delivery, while they scuttled back to Adelaide, the town. Make sense? I reckon it’s as clear as mud.
The comforts of my little house there in Maree summoned my aching bones. The thought of assuming responsibility for a child and a girl-child at that, churned my guts, but I knew the ‘right thing to do’, because if I declined, God knows who she might end up with. Another thing, I felt for the girl. Her downcast eyes and foot scuffling stance troubled me. From the offhand way The Reverend spoke, I got a clear impression that he and all the people charged with taking care of Little Miss Adelaide took care only of themselves.
I was torn. Then two things tipped the balance. The first was the money. The bloody Department of Defence, hired me for the cattle drive and although they paid extremely well, it would be many a long day before they got around to doing so. The Reverend offered a pretty penny to rid himself of his obligation to the girl and palm her off her onto me. The other thing that sealed the deal was the Reverend’s hat.
I took a shine to his headgear so I kidded him, “Throw in that big swanky hat and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
White hat on my head, roll of cash in my pocket, I asked the child. “Where’s your stuff Girl, your luggage?”
She didn’t answer, but looked to her hatless former guardian, who enlightened me. “Oh, yes, back at the railway station. Follow me, my man.”
Not being his man, I deliberately ignored his order and walked away with a terse over my shoulder, “I’ll need the wagon.”
From my newfound wealth I purchased two pairs of pants and three new shirts, plus enough food supplies to last me, my small passenger and my four horses for many a long day. We lit out of Maree about noon, with the sun trying to burn a hole through my dirty old shirt. Miss Adelaide perched up beside me on the seat of my covered wagon, dressed in her city finery. The hot breeze ruffled her skirt about her black-stockinged knees and fluttered the ribbon on her little hat.
In my own clumsy way I felt real sympathy for the poor kid, shoved from pillar to post, and then stuck with a disreputable looking old bloke she’d never even been introduced to. “I’m sorry for your predicament Child,” I told her, “but I give you my word I’ll look after you. You’re Miss Adelaide right? And you can call me Dan.”
She didn’t acknowledge that she’d heard me.
“Another thing, I’m used to living alone, with only the horses and my kit and kaboodle for company.”
Still no response.
I continued, “Thing is, I talk a lot. Talk to myself. Half the time I dunno if I’m thinking or if I’m talking, so you’ll have to get used to that. Would help to pass the time though, if you contributed to the conversation. I’m aware that you are very well educated, but you’ll find that I’m not an ignorant man. Not much formal schooling, but I read everything and anything I can get hold of.”
She widened her blue eyes. “You can read?”
“I can indeed. I’ve read hundreds of books in my time, thousands even, maybe. Everything from The Holy Bible to Shakespeare.”
“But you’re so…”
I grunted. “Smelly and dirty? Yes, I know, I apologise. Hazard of the job. I’ll take care of that when we stop for the night.”
She offered, “I love to read. Have you read ‘Robinson Crusoe’?”
“I’ve not had the pleasure.”
“It is wonderful. I finished reading it on the train. It’s in my trunk back there.” Adelaide gestured to the tarpaulin covered load behind us.
I nodded, the ice had been cracked, if not broken, “I’ll halt to rest the horses in a while. I’d be obliged if you fetch your book and read aloud to me a couple of pages.”
She began reading from the beginning, proud to show off her ability. “I was born in the Year1632, in the City of York, of a good Family, tho not of that Country, my Father being a Foreigner of Bremen, who settled first at Hull….”
She read well and I helped her with pronunciation a few times. “Spell it out for me”
“E-x-p-o-s-t-u-l-a-t-e-d”
“Expostulated, it means expressed one’s disagreement.”
Her lips made a silent “Oh,” then she continued reading aloud, “Ex-pos-tulated …”
In late afternoon, several chapters completed, we arrived at the place I had decided on for our first overnight camp.
I rambled on, talking to put myself at ease as much as her. “This here is the first of the artesian bores dotted along the three-hundred odd miles of The Track between Maree and Birdsville. The government rushed to get ’em finished to provide for the cattle drives because the army needs meat.”
The sun sank lower but still had a bite to it while I unhitched the horses and saw to their needs first. I got a cook-fire going before unpacking some of the recent purchases.
In my defence, I did warn the girl, “Miss Adelaide, you’re to stay on this side of the wagon because I’m going to the other side to take what passes for a bath out here.”
With a bucket I filled the big new galvanised tin dish and set about cleansing myself of weeks of sweat and grime. The artesian water comes very hot from the pipe, but the mineral content makes it hard and working up a lather is a slow process. Hair and beard and underarms done, I started on my crotch, then from the corner of my eye I saw the kid peering between the spokes of a wagon-wheel. Surprise made me hesitate in my ablutions momentarily, then hiding a grin, I carried on as if unaware.
A further surprise awaited me. My loose balls tightened and my limp old cock started to swell in my soapy hand. My appetite for women and sex had faded away over the years, but illogically, my cock reacted to a mere child. So be it, I told myself, I hope you’re enjoying this Girlie, because curiously enough, I am. I washed myself longer than I had intended too, until she’d crept away, leaving me with my cock hanging unusually thick and heavy. I whistled a little tune while I laundered my filthy clothes before dressing in my new shirt and pants.
I cooked us a meal of bacon and damper bread and made a billy-can of hot sweet tea, before I suggested Adelaide might like to bathe too.
“If you want, I can fill the little tub with more hot water for you?”
“No thanks, not tonight,” she replied hastily, I’ll just wash my face and hands.”
I rigged up a makeshift double bed in the wagon, making a lumpy mattress of the big bags of horse feed. “We sleep here tonight.” I informed her. “It’s still warm now but the desert gets very cold in the night. Far too cold to sleep in the open.”
I don’t think she liked the idea very much, so I tried to set her at ease. “We’ll keep all our clothes on, except our boots. Maybe you should take off your stockings too.”
She blushed, “Oh I cannot. You’d see my legs.”
My anger flared at her hypocrisy. “You just saw a damn sight more than my legs.” I reproached her, then reminding myself of her youth, I thought better of my outburst and conceded, “Doesn’t matter. I really didn’t mind.”
Her blush deepened and contrite tears filled her eyes. “I’m so sorry. The boarding school is all girls and women and I have had no contact with men or boys. I was curious.” She hung her head and whispered, “Please, don’t be angry with me, I know I’m far too inquisitive for my own good. It got me into trouble at the school.”
“Don’t fret,” I grinned, “I kind’ve liked having you watch. We’ll do it again sometime if you want.”
Relief and bewilderment muffled Miss Adelaide’s reply. “Oh…Mm.”
We slept soundly, with scarcely an elbow nudge and woke in the chilly the dawn. I readied the horses and harnessed them to the wagon. I didn’t want to waste time with a fire, so we ate cold damper and drank cold water. We journeyed all morning, hot and uncomfortable, but no more so than our first day. Adelaide breathing gave way to hiccups as she fidgeted and tried hard not to cry. I had no experience with children, so no real idea as to what I should do. I swapped the four sets of reins into one hand and despite the heat, I pulled her in to me with a rough one-armed hug. When she clung tightly to me, the tangy aroma of her girl-sweat filled my nostrils. I dropped the reins altogether to splash cool water from the water-bag onto her face and mine. Soon she calmed enough to sit back in the scant shade. Obviously the heat was not her only problem, but we didn’t speak about her feelings. The beginning of a bond had been formed.
With the dawn start we made it to the next bore by early afternoon. The very moment we arrived she politely asked. “Mr. Dan, would you mind very much getting the bathing things ready for me, I’m so very hot and dusty.”
I was struck once again by her adult manner of speech, and though I would’ve preferred to tend to the horses first, as I always did, the earnestness of her request decided me to oblige her. I knew she’d be apprehensive about getting naked with me around, so I lugged the tub and bucket around behind the big water-tank, well out of line-of-sight from the wagon. After filling the tub I came back and made a lot of noise, talking to the nags, whistling and banging their feed stuff about so she’d know I wasn’t spying. I would have dearly loved to and it would’ve served her right wouldn’t it? Plenty of time for that further down the track I reasoned. The idea that I might one day get a look at her immature body made the old nuts tingle again.
A fresh looking but timid Miss Adelaide returned, bare-legged, bare-footed and clad in some sort of an undergarment. Perhaps a shift? It was white flimsy stuff, knee-length and sleeveless. She shyly sat near me in the scanty shade cast by the wagon.
She was clearly embarrassed. “I was terribly hot before, and upset about my uncertain future and … other things, but I feel so much better now, thanks to you.” Then gestured towards herself. “It’s not too immodest, is it? It would seem that if one is to survive out here, keeping cool is the top priority.”
I pasted on what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “You’re right about keeping cool and you look charming. For this climate your attire is perfectly appropriate.” Her very formal speech was inspiring me to follow suit.
She sighed with relief and smiled back. “Thank you.”
We ate our evening meal in silence as we watched a glorious sunset, each lost in our own thoughts. For my part, in view of what happened the previous night, I had been thinking somewhat eagerly about my approaching bath time. I had decided on a bold course of action and fetched the tub and positioned it next to the fire.
“Night’s drawing in and it’s getting a mite cold for my old bones,” was the transparent excuse I offered, “so I’ll bathe here to keep warm.”
Miss Adelaide made no attempt to move away while I filled the tub with steaming bore water. I tried to be oh-so-casual, but my heart was hammering and I was half erect with anticipation by the time I stripped my clothes off. I stepped into the soothing water and stood boldly naked, facing my little audience of one. As before, I started by washing my hair and beard, gradually working lower. I pretended nonchalance even though I was feeling strangely weak and shaky. My pulse was pounding in my ears and my breathing was shallow and ragged. In all my years I’d never ever experienced such an excess of sexual arousal. I could hardly credit that a little slip of a girl, a child, had induced such euphoria. I flicked only an occasional glance in her direction, observing that her face was a study in rapt attention when I soaped my nether regions. By the time I’d finished, my erection had acquired teenage hardness and was standing proudly horizontal.
On completing my grooming, I draped the damp towel around my hips and realised I was indeed starting to feel the evening cold descending. “Bed time, Miss. Another early start tomorrow to avoid travelling in hottest part of the day.”
The above reasoning was certainly true, but mostly I was keen to get under the covers with her sweet, freshly bathed little body close to mine. Who knew what might transpire in the middle of the night? In the gloom of the wagon, we clambered into our makeshift bed, Miss Adelaide in her shift thing and me, lecherous old bastard that I was, totally naked.
In the chilly darkness I broached the subject of her tears during our journey. “You were troubled earlier today, but I’m not one to stick my nose into a person’s private business. It’s fine with me that you don’t want to talk about it,” then I baited the trap, “but I sense that you’re still lonely and sad, so feel free to snuggle up near me. It’ll be warmer and it will make you feel safe.”
With a wordless sob she rolled toward me, I opened my arms and enfolded her, with her cheek against my chest. I patted her narrow back as one soothes a baby. Her delicate body shook with quiet weeping for some time. As she calmed, my exploratory hand strayed, seeking out and massaging every bump of her spine through the thin cloth of her garment. The soft sounds of her distress changed to a contented little humming, so I dropped my questing hand lower still, beyond her tailbone, onto her meagre bottom.
My fingertips told me she wore nothing at all under the shift. That knowledge caused my newly rejuvenated cock to surge fully erect with hope, pulsing against her little flat tummy. With her chest against mine I could feel the squashy softness of her barely-there titties crowned by the rubbery hardness of surprisingly large nipples.
I was losing control. I slipped my hand under the back of the shift and stroked the smooth cheeks there, then, impatient, I tugged up the front so nothing separated my burning erection from her smooth satiny skin. The realisation that I could probably orgasm like that made me begin to softly hump against her. In a little while, the fluid copiously seeping from my cock-slit produced a sublime slickness. I groaned and thrust my knee between her skinny legs until my thigh snugged up under her bare cunny. I continued to rub against her tummy, more urgently as I felt the onset of my hoped for orgasm. Awareness that she was moving in unison with me, sliding her damp little-girl cunny-lips on my thigh slowly infiltrated the fog of my delirium. That realisation proved to be my trigger and long unused muscles buried deep within my guts clenched and spasmed until my thick hot spunk was lavishly smeared between our heaving bellies. My child-lover, my victim if you like, bucked in my arms, wailing a long rapturous cry. She sinuously arched her back like a cat stretching itself, then subsided bonelessly, semi-dazed and panting open-mouthed, drooling on my chest.
I was somewhat stuporous myself, but sleep eluded me for a long time. Miss Adelaide lay on my arm and slept the sleep of the innocent, while I, the evil old paedophile, tossed and turned with remorse. I must have slept finally, because morning woke me, alone in the wagon, my belly and pubic hair crusted with my dry ejaculate.
I dragged on my pants and shirt and stepped outside. “Miss Adelaide! Good morning!” I tried to make my tone jovial.
“Why good morning to you Mr. Dan.” Her reply was girlishly cheerful.
I heaved a silent sigh of relief, but felt impelled to enquire. “Do you feel well rested?”
She blushed like a lady and giggled like a kid. “Oh Mr. Dan, I do believe you are teasing me.”
I grinned at her. “Yes, I suppose I am.”
I informed her that I’d changed my mind about an early start, lit a fire, brewed tea and cooked oatmeal porridge with powdered milk and raisins. Silence reigned during my activities, but Miss Adelaide was fidgety. She roamed about aimlessly looking at things without seeing them. When we had breakfasted and once more aboard the jolting wagon, she gave voice to her thoughts.
“Mr. Dan, in view of … everything, I feel the need to tell you a bit more about myself. I am an orphan, and my late father’s partners run things now. The station’s solicitor paid my fees at the boarding school.”
She paused, searching for words, then took a deep breath. “The headmistress gave me permission to use the school library whenever I chose because I was a prime student. I was dismissed, sent home in disgrace, because, I confess, I broke the rules and borrowed books that were for the tutors eyes only. Medical texts, racy novels and so on. Much of what I read I could only guess at the meaning, though of course,” she reflected, “I understand a little better now.”
I smiled and nodded, not wishing to interrupt.
Having gauged my reaction, then continued, “The school had many rules and frequent punishment. No one was helpful or in the least bit kind. Here, with you, Mr Dan, it’s all so different. You are thoughtful and gentle and last night … it was magical, far beyond anything I had imagined from what I read. I know it is vulgar of me to speak thus and my tutors would be scandalised at my forwardness, but I can’t seem to help myself. What I’m endeavouring to say is I am impatient to learn more about … things.”
I inclined my head in what I hoped was a wise nod, trying to live up to her ‘thoughtful’ label. “Miss Adelaide, you are not alone in your surprise. I have lived much much longer than you and I too had no idea that an encounter could be so ‘magical’, as you put it.” Then, no longer able to contain myself, with a broad grin I added, “I must admit I too am rather eager.”
Blushing prettily, my little nymphet murmured, “Mm … Hmm.”
The trip to the next waterhole seemed interminable. I was anxious for the day to pass, hoping to resume our illicit affair. Miss Adelaide was keen too, judging by the way she behaved during the blistering comfortless ride. She asked my permission to waste a little water from the water-bag, before dousing her head, sighing with relief as the front of her shift was soaked. I sighed too, but not from relief, but rather from frustration at not being in a position to touch, when I saw the transparent wet muslin plastered to her beautiful little titties.
“You sure do look pretty Miss Adelaide,” I quipped.
She looked down at herself with a laugh and playfully splashed my neck with a cupped handful from the water-bag.
I laughed with her. “Thank you Miss, that does feel good.”
She suddenly took on a serious demeanour. “You’re the kindest person I’ve ever known Mr. Dan. You’ve helped me so much and taught me so much. I wish … I wish this journey could last forever.”
We rode on in silence for a minute or two, during which time I could sense her agitation.
Miss Adelaide made a throat clearing sound, but couldn’t look at me as she made an extraordinary declaration. “Please don’t go to all that bother with my bath things tonight.” She borrowed my excuse, “it’s sure to be very chilly, so I’d rather be by the fire.”
“Will do,” I agreed, inwardly exulting, outwardly straight-faced. It seemed she and I were tarred with the same brush.
After our dinner, damper bread and bacon again, the ruddy glow of the fire blended with the sunset and transformed our unrefined camp into a classical painting. Adelaide hitched the skirt of her diaphanous shift to mid-thigh and stepped daintily into the steaming tub, a juvenile ‘Venus Anadyomene Rising from the Sea’. The hem raised and lowered several tantalising times before, with an audible breath she flung it off. I worshipped her pale adolescent beauty, long slim legs with a exquisite cleft at their junction. A pretty dimple for a belly-button, and the sublime wee tits! Each a slight dome topped with a ripening protrusion, unsullied as yet by lip or tongue.
Miss Adelaide shampooed her long hair, with her eyes closed against the suds, and against my hot stare. I watched a while, then slowly doffed my own clothes and soaped myself using water from a bucket.
“I’ll pour from the bucket to rinse you Miss,” I offered.
She nodded, then made a spluttery shriek when I upended the bucket over her head and mine. We blinked the water from our eyes, each of us studying the other, focusing on the differences.
“Your … down there,” Adelaide began.
“Penis,” I instructed, “or cock, in more vulgar language.
She giggled, “Your down-there penis-cock. It is fascinating how it grows and shrinks.”
“It is because of you that it grows. You know that don’t you?”
She smiled. “Mm. And I know the stuff that came out of it last night is what makes babies.”
“Yep. Semen, the common word is spunk.”
Again a thoughtful, “Mm,” then a dynamite question, “But where, how does it come out? May I see it happen sometime? Is it something you could show me?”
“Easily!” I happily agreed.
I began to masturbate with a slow rhythmic cadence under her watchful gaze. “Is it, the semen, uh, the spunk, is it going to come out now?”
“Not just yet, I have to rub myself for a few minutes.”
Her little pink tongue wet her lips. Washcloth in hand she sponged her hairless cunny. “I rub myself down there too, I figured out how to do it a while ago. Mm, feels so good.”
“Clever girl. Your down-there, it’s your vagina. Your cunt.”
“My cunt? What a strange word.”
Hearing her say that drew my nuts up, so I moved closer. “You saying dirty words will make my spunk come out sooner.”
She increased the intensity of her wash cloth manoeuvres ‘down there’ in a skilful manner, “Ooh your cock! Uh, uh, spunk. Mm mm mm … my cunt!”
I bellowed a frenzied, “Yes!” as a thick jet of said spunk spurted up onto her darling little tits.
Adelaide’s face distorted as if she was about to cry at the hot spatter on her skin. She grunted and quivered as more gobs of my essence defiled her pristine torso.
A quick rinse in the still warm water and we recuperated by the fire, naked as the day we were born. Modesty had completely evaporated.
An indefinite time later, Adelaide broke the silence. “I’m a little puzzled,” she said, looking at my shrivelled cock with a frown, “When that’s big and hard, it’s far too large to fit inside me, to make a baby.”
“You probably could wait a while before you become a mother,” I chuckled.
Adelaide smiled with me, “You’re teasing me again.”
I chose my next words carefully. “Women your age are outside of my personal experience, but I believe that part of the anatomy of both ladies and gentlemen is very, um, elastic, shall we say.”
“You think so?”
Laying groundwork in hope of proving that point at some stage, I asserted, “I’m quite sure of it.”
My hopes were dashed, as the very next morning, after a short journey, Adelaide’s proposed destination hove into view. Silence reigned, each of us pondering the end of our time together. All too soon we rumbled to a stop outside a large well-built house, surrounded by outbuildings.
A middle aged gent bustled out before we could get down. “I say, where is Mrs. Jones?
“Too hot for ‘er.”
We’ve been expecting you Reverend! ”
“Oh I’m not … ”
Mr. Pompous talked over me. “We had a letter from the solicitor you see, telling us he had suggested you bring the girl here. The thing is, we have no place for her. We cannot take care of a child, my good man. No, no. Quite impossible.”
“But … ”
“You and your wife are the girl’s grandparents are you not? It would be far more befitting if she were to reside with you.”
I swept my new hat off, kissed the cross on the front and announced in my most theatrical manner, “Ephresians 1:19 ‘God hast made His will known unto us, according to His pleasure.’ Amen.”
Our pompous friend looked relieved. “Er, yes. Amen.”
I grinned at Miss Adelaide, “So be it, my dear. Shall we go home?”
The angelic little devil murmured, “Yes please Grandfather.”
*******
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By MarcoTambo
#Tween #Virgin #Voyeur
