Crush, Chapter 1

  • Posted on July 26, 2015 at 11:14 am

By Louisa May

{ This story was originally posted at Lesbian Lolita in January 2005 }

My name is Nora Rollins. I’m a 42-year-old NY actress who has been lucky to make a decent living in the past decade or so working out of town. In my twenties, I was a Broadway baby, appearing in many of the big musical hits of the day. I was a gypsy, a chorus girl, and times were good. But, as any American actress gets to know, show me a woman Of A Certain Age who’s on Broadway, and I’ll show you a star. Or a Brit. So you improvise, and get ‘regional’ work. Or another career. Simple.

I’d just completed the run of a popular musical comedy in a small southern town, in which I played a strong supporting role, and I was at a nearby pub where they held the closing night party. It was a subdued affair, and I had fun just gabbing with the cast and crew I’d gotten to know, and those I’d known before (it was the third show I’d done at this particular theatre.) And among these theatre people were a few children, and their parents, as the cast included some kids. Two in particular were Julie, a precocious, slightly chubby 12-year-old, and her friend Mary, 11, who wanted to be a ballerina. They sat at a table of their own, giggling. I saw they’d finagled their chaperone’s permission for a toasting glass of champagne, and seemed already a bit tiddly.

“Nora!! Oh, Nora, Nora, I need a picture of us! Please??!” Julie bounced, her hands held together prayerfully.

I smiled, and approached them. Mary snared someone, and the two posed, grinning, with me. Then Julie grabbed the camera and handed it to Mary.

“Oh, oh! Me and Nora!” She beamed at me. Her eyes were huger than usual, made-up as they were for the occasion. She was positively aglow. She linked her arm in mine, and I put my other hand on her cheek and pressed our faces together. Flash!

“Cool!” she breathed. “You are so cool…” and as Mary sat beside her again, she sat, now holding my hand. “This woman is my hero,” and as I pooh-poohed her idolatry, she looked back up at me. “No, you are awesome.”

Mary sat, nodding. “I mean, not only are you, like, so so incredibly talented, and smart, and… beautiful…!”

They were both nodding now. Julie was blushing, but soldiering on. I did love her propensity to blush at the drop of a hat. She had the skin for it.

“– but you are like, so cool, and so friendly! You are so aDORable!”

Her eyes danced, and she took a breath. Then, to Mary: “If she was, like, my age, I would SO be like, gay! Like, in a second!” And they both gasped, and giggled, and laughed into their hands. I chuckled, and was drawn away by a producer-person.

The moment came to my mind as I got into my night-robe later that night.

I smiled to myself. Julie. Such a little motor-heart. I’d had a few moments onstage each night with her, waiting for the second act curtain to rise, and had enjoyed her pretty face, her obvious crush; I’d flirted aimlessly, and watched her watch my every subsequent move as the play got under way again…

I’d had a few drinks at the party, and was feeling a bit randy. I thought of Julie’s little big-girl breasts, and how she’d blushed so when Mary had pointed them out in the dressing room. They were quite large for her age, and though she’d kept them covered whenever possible, the few times she’d unveiled them I had to admire their porcelain beauty. And such large, pink nipples…

I felt the silk of my robe caress my own brightenening breasts, and considered. Yes, I had some packing still to do, but I might just take a few leisurely moments on my bed, maybe pack in the morning…

And in the midst of these thoughts, a knock at my door. Light, barely noticeable.

“Who is it?”

A soft, unintelligible answer. I went to the door. “Who?”

Softly: “It’s Julie.”

Well, bust my britches. I opened the door. “Julie! What brings you here?”

She looked hesitant. Her face glowed. “I just… I wanted to say goodbye. But if you’re going to bed–”

“No, no, come on in. I always put on my robe. Come in.” She smiled, and entered my room. I closed the door.

“Wow… you have a nice place.” She was still in her party outfit: denim skirt and peasant halter.

“Well, only the best for the stars, you know.” She grinned. “Where’s Mary?”

“She’s downstairs with Lynn. Her mom said we could stay with Lynn tonight.”

“Oh, so you’re all having a big slumber party downstairs?”

She nodded. “Except they all wanted to watch Four Weddings and a Funeral, and I already saw it.”

“Ah. Hugh Grant?”

She nodded again. “It’s okay. The woman kind of looks like you.”

“Yes. Kristin Scott-Thomas. I’ve heard that before.”

“Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t mean–”

“Oh, no, no, believe me,” I smiled. “I take it as a compliment. Really.”

She smiled. “Good. ‘Cause…” and she swept her golden hair behind her ears, “you’re actually prettier than her.”

“Oh, Julie, stop.”

“No, really! She’s… I don’t know, kind of mannish, you know? But you’re not. But, you do look like her. I mean, SHE looks like YOU.” And she blushed. Adorably.

“Well. Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I was just going to make myself some tea. Would you like some?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

“But of course.”

As I prepared our tea, I watched her in a mirror above the sink (Mirrors were rather ubiquitous in this room.) She stood by the table and perused the sketches on the wall. “Did you do these?”

“Yes. I get bored sometimes.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“Thank you again.”

“You’re so talented, I can’t believe it.”

I saw her looking at me as I poured the water. She wasn’t aware of the mirror, apparently. She was looking at my lower half. Hm. It gave me a pleasant little feeling, a light warming.

I turned with the stocked tray.

“That’s a pretty robe. Is it silk?”

“Mm-hmm.” I nodded. “Twelve dollars on Canal Street. In New York.”

“Oh. It looks Chinese.”

I lay out our tea on the table. “And so it is, I think. Feel.”

She put out a hand and lightly fingered the hem. “Ooh, soft.”

I lay a finger on her lips. Her eyes widened. Then I got up and took a few steps to my clothes drawer. I bent at the waist and opened the bottom drawer. I realized, as I rummaged, that I was giving Miss Julie a glimpse, if not of my nude sex, then of my very upper back thighs. Another warming.

“Here,” I said, shutting the drawer and straightening up. I held another robe, crimson. “This, my dear, is for you.” And I held it out to her.

Her face held a very endearing mixture of all the feelings she’d experienced in the past few seconds. From my finger at her lips, then her little glimpse of me, to her surprise and gratitude. Added to her already fraught state, I loved seeing her now blush and even begin to tear up.

“Ohhh! Oh my God…” she took it, and held it to her mouth. Her eyes were so big, and so pretty. Glistening.

I sat back down and sipped at my tea. “Please. Twelve dollars, remember. I’ll pick up a bushel of them when I get back.”

“No, but…” and she rose, and leaned down and hugged me. So warmly, gently.

“Thank you,” she whispered. I touched her face as she looked at me. And I kissed her.

Not long, but not a peck, either. “You’re so welcome, Julie,” I whispered back. She seemed a bit dazed. “Now,” I continued whispering, “don’t let your tea get cold.”

She smiled, and sat back down. We talked for awhile about the show, and her aspirations, and my career. I told her of my earlier chorus work.

“No wonder,” she said, “’cause you have those legs.” She looked at them, and I raised them, and flexed. “Your legs are like, amazing. Do you still dance?”

“Sometimes. I keep in shape with classes, and teaching.” I lifted my leg higher, pointing. It WAS a good line. “But I always hated my ankles.

They’re fat.”

Julie almost choked on her tea. “FAT??! Oh yeah, and I’m, like, a skinny model!”

“Julie, you could be a model.”

She palmed her bare belly. “Yeah, for full-size teens!”

“Julie, you are NOT fat.”

“I am too! Look at me!”

“Come here.” I put down my teacup and held out my arms. “Stand up and come here.”

She put down her own cup and stood hesitantly. “What?”

“Come here, stand here.” I motioned to between my legs. She came forward.

I put my hands on her bare waist. “This,” and I held my hands against her warm skin,” is NOT fat. This is a healthy, pretty, attractive girl.”

She held her arms out slightly, and smiled doubtfully. My hands slid down to her thighs. “Really? You think so?”

“Honey… of course I think so. I think you’re a very attractive girl. I was attracted to you from the first time I saw you.”

Her eyes lit up. “You were??”

I nodded. My hands lightly stroked her thighs, up and down. I looked up at her. “Did you ever think about me when we weren’t working?”

She let out a breath. “Are you kidding? Only like, all the time.”

I smiled, stroking. “Really? Like what? When?”

“Ohh…” She swallowed. “It’ll sound stupid.”

“Honey, I guarantee it will not sound stupid.” I held her eyes. “Believe me.”

My hands stroked a bit further up her thighs. They were so warm, and so soft.

“Well,” as her fingers interlaced at her belly, “sometimes, I just… I like, dream that… that we’re doing stuff… together…”

“Uh-huhh…” my hands caressed her thighs, moving up, slightly rumpling the hem of her denim skirt. “Doing what?”

“Umm… like… kissing, and… just…” Her hands went up to cover her face. “Oh, I sound like such a stupid little squirt!”

“Shh, shh…” I lightly gripped her thighs. “Look at me, Julie.” Her hands came down to her mouth, and she looked at me. “We CAN do things together. If you want.” I felt her thighs tremble in my hands. “You’re not at all a stupid little squirt. I think you’re a beautiful, sexy girl, and I’m here for you. What do you want?”

We looked at each other a long time, seconds that seemed like minutes.

My hands massaged her thighs, lightly. Finally, she took a deep breath. “I dreamed… that you were teaching me things…”

My hands travelled upwards, up… I felt the curve of her hips under her skirt as my fingertips touched her panties. Our eyes remained locked. “I can… if you want me to…” And my hands continued, now circling towards each other, as each palm slid up to hold, then lightly squeeze her bottom cheeks over the warm cotton panties.

Her mouth was slightly open, and her eyes widened. I watched her blush fully, then swallow again. She nodded. “I’m kind of scared,” she breathed.

“Of course you are, sweetie,” I smiled. “My brave girl.” I was now kneading her bottom under her skirt, feeling the slightly loose panty fabric give as it was pulled up between her thighs. “I mean, here’s Miss Kristin Scott-Thomas sitting in front of you and feeling up your bottom!”

Julie giggled unsteadily. “Yeah…” She shifted on her feet, her legs parting slightly. “It’s so weird… I feel like I’m dreaming or something.”

“Well, you’re not dreaming. I’m really here.” And my hands gave a little welcome squeeze.

“You’re really here.” She smiled.

“And… you do want me to teach you… stuff?”

The girl nodded solemnly. “And… just… tell me what to do.” She held her small hands against her chest. “I’ll do whatever you want me to. Just… tell me what to do.”

What a darling. “Ohh, my dear…” and I leaned in and kissed her belly button. “Want to let this pretty skirt down, hon?”

She blushed, and reached down to unzip the side. As it fell to her feet, I was greeted with a sign of her innocence. “Tweetie! Hello, sweetie.” I tickled its chin.

Julie, of course, blushed again. In a small voice: “I didn’t know this would happen…”

“I love Tweetie, honey.” I stood, and stroked her face. Her face glowed as she gazed up at me. “I’ll tell you a secret, Julie.” Her eyes grew. “Right before you arrived, you know what I was doing?”

She shook her head.

“Well,” and I leaned in and kissed her cheek, then drew back, “I had just decided to lay down on that bed over there and have a nice little masturbation session…”

Julie’s eyes grew wider.

“And you know what I was going to think about? While I touched myself?”

A barely perceptible shake of the head.

I touched a finger to her little snub nose. “You.”

Her lips parted. “Me?” She breathed.

I nodded. “You, Julie.” I held her chin in my hand, and leaned in for another, longer kiss. I broke away slowly, and her eyes were still closed. They opened, dazed.

She spoke softly. “I think about you, too.”

“You do?” My hands slid down her bare tummy.

She nodded. “A lot,” and smiled weakly.

I smiled, my hand brushing her panty-front lightly. “What are we doing, when you think about me?”

A small intake of breath from her as my fingers found and gently pressed her soft, puttylike mound above the cotton. Right below Tweetie. We still held each other’s gaze.

“Ummm… like… you’re kissing me… and, umm…”

“Like this?” And I kissed her. And this time my tongue slid along her lips, and her mouth opened, and I tilted my head, and we began Kissing. And she made tiny mewing sounds, as my hand pressed against her warm, warm little puss, and my fingers drew circles, feeling the soft crevice give and squish under me.

I broke the kiss, still close, our saliva roping between us, and whispered, “what else, honey?”

She breathed heavily, her eyes misty, unfocussed. “Huhh… I… ummm, see you naked…?” And her eyes slid away from mine, embarrassed, and looked down.

I smiled. “Hmmm…” I held her chin again. “Let’s adjourn to the bedroom, shall we?”

She smiled, and nodded. I turned her around, and patted her bottom. I watched that pretty plump little butt move.

At the bed. “Now. Sit right here.” I went to the foot of the bed. “Face me. Good, sweetie. Now take off those pretty Tweeties and show me yourself.”

An immediate an inevitable pinkening, but she dutifully slipped those panties down, and opened her white thighs to me. I breathed deeply. “Ohh, Julie… what a pretty pink flower, honey…”

She smiled, holding herself open.

“Now, hon, I want you to masturbate for me, while I get naked for you. Would you like that?”

Her lips pressed together, and she nodded. My hands went to my robe belt, and hers went to her open, pink-lipped pussy.

“Just touch yourself like you do when you think about me, honey. I’ll just be really here! How ’bout that?”

Julie’s head just shook back and forth slowly. “It’s so…”

I opened my robe. “Like a dream, huh?”

A deep breath from my girl. I watched her hips raise slightly to meet her hand, as it rubbed inexpertly but efficiently against her shiny clit.

“Ohh, Nora… you are so beautiful…”

I smiled. “Thank you, dear.” I held my well-formed tits in my hands and squeezed. “For you.”

Her little hands worked a bit faster, and she swallowed.

“Would you like to see my ass, sweetie?” She nodded, her knees swaying, opening wider. I turned, and stroked my full, trim derriere. I was quite proud of my ass, and aware of how luscious it would be for my Julie. I looked back, and saw her mouth open.

“OH!” She breathed, as her fingers flitted frantically now. A rosy hue suffused her entire upper half, from hairline to belly button. I bent, and parted my ass cheeks for her, revealing my well-cared-for anus, its tiny musculature open, ringed, and glistening.

“Mmmm, mmMMMMMMMOHH, OH, OH! OH! Nora, mMMMmmm… !” And Julie was flailing now on my bed, her hips bucking upwards. I turned quickly and climbed down to her, leaning in to taste her. As soon as my mouth engulfed her wet sex, she let out a cry, almost a wail, high and vulnerable.

Her taste! Oh, her taste, so wonderful-girl, so salty, and meaty, and slathered with her excitement, feral almost. Intoxicating. And, indeed, new to me.

My tongue worked, strumming that now-red clit bud, my lips taking those melting, pink little puss lips and sucking, and sliding along my teeth, gently, devouring.

And Julie continued to wail, and pant, and writhe on my sheets.

And soon, she was slowing, with little spasms of delight on the downswing. And soon I was moving to her, and she opening her arms to me, and we embraced, her peasant blouse still between us. Well, that would soon go.

Continue on to Chapter 2

 

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