Who Is Calling the Shots?

by Sheilamuffin

I am fascinated by the dynamics of seduction, about who seduces who. Here is story on this theme.

It's so difficult to know what to do.
A really young girl needs a cuddle, so you give her a cuddle.
And the next thing you know, she is nuzzling into your boobs like a suckling infant.
And you try to disentangle yourself.
And then she puts her hands on your boobs and starts kneading them like she wanted to turn them into loaves.
But you know the poor wee thing is really in need of affection. Really.
So, you indulge her.
You let her fondle your boobs. OK, through your clothes, but she's getting more and more insistent.
And she pushes her face into your bosom, moving your breasts from side to side as she snuzzles into you.
There's no such word as "snuzzle", but there ought to be. A mixture of nuzzle and snuggle.
And that is what Clare was doing to me no more than a few hours ago.
Snuzzling.
Because she needed to.
Because she needed to feel she was loved. Not alone.
Something we all need to feel.
And I didn't resist. Why should I?
I love Clare, and I love feeling her snuzzling into my bosom.
I am not much. Just an ordinary middle-aged biddy, disappointed in love and trying to make the best of life. But when a young girl needs love the way Clare needs love, why shouldn't I give it to her?
She's a sweetie.
Well, in fact she isn't a sweetie. She is a very spiky kind of girl,
quick to take offense, so I am always on my guard with Clare.
But when she is working her face into my bazoom, it's like she is drugged, she becomes so dreamy, so pliable, I feel I could do anything with her..
No, of course not. I would never take advantage.
But you know how it is.
You hold her to you. You hand on her back. And you start to caress.
And she responds.
And you increase your massaging, letting your hand rove over her back and down over her waist and, very very very gently, over her butt.
And she snuzzles even more.
And looks up at you.
And smiles.
And purrs, like a contented cat.
I don't know about you, but I have NO control over my cunt.
Oh, you don't like the word "cunt"? Sorry, I love the word.
And I can feel those indescribable trembly twitchy spasms and I know that I am already poised to become moist.
And that's when my other hand comes to rest on Clare's thigh. Gentle,
featherlight touch, nothing more.
She's thirteen and she's totally innocent, right?
Wrong!
She is totally aware of what she is doing, where this is all leading.
Of course, I don't know at this precise moment that she is seducing me, I always assume that I am the wicked seductress, the predatory dyke on the lookout for young girls to corrupt.
But it isn't that way.
Really it isn't. Really.
Clare parts her thighs as my hand comes to rest on them.
An invitation.
Please, Auntie Sheila, caress me! Slide your hand between my legs!
No! Surely, it can't be! It's just my usual feverish imagination.
Isn't it?
And then.....
......fingers.....
....impatient fingers.....
....undoing the buttons of my blouse....
Clare! What are you doing?!
She doesn't reply, but continues to open my blouse and nuzzle into my naked breasts.
OK, you spotted that, didn't you?
Why wasn't I wearing a bra.
Well, it's not some malice aforethought.
The truth is, I avoid a bra whenever I can. And I didn't know Clare was calling round.
OK, you don't believe me?
Tough.
It happens to be true.
And now, my little sweetheart is snuzzling into my naked breasts.
Oh god!
If you want to turn me on, play with my boobies!
(Just for future reference, dear, in case you ever call round with malice aforethought!)
And I am trying hard to retain a grip on reality.
Without success.
My hand to God, I was fingering her pussy without even realising it.
Totally unconsciously.
Is it an automatic thing with me?
I swear, I cannot remember how my fingers came to be insinuated under her panties and working their magic on her sweet young pussy.
It was NOT premeditated!
I am capable of being a wicked seductress, but in this case, it was as if I was being swept along on a wave of events over which I had no control.
A greedy mouth now sucking on my nipple.
A sigh.
A moan.
More Sighs.
More moans.
Me, not Clare.
Clare is totally focussed on sucking the hell out of my nipple. She has no time for sighs or moans.
Me, I am losing it.
You know how you start making humping movements even when you are not humping anything or anyone?
Weird, isn't it?
Hell, we ARE weird. Not because we are lesbians, but because we are human.
No, let me repeat, I did not set out to seduce Clare.
Even though she is the substance of my fantasies in the small hours when I am alone and the whole world is just me and my fingers and incoherent images of, well, I think it's Clare, but it could be any young girl ripe for experience.
And then I feel her teeth teasing my nipple.
Wheeeeeeeee!!!
And my cunt takes on a life of her own.
That's right. Cunt. Beautiful word! And "her own", because she is beautiful and female like me. Like you.
And I lose it.
I can't even remember what my fingers were doing to Clare's pretty little kitty.
OK, cunt, but in one so young, kitty is a nice word for that sweet slit surmounted by puffy labia, and not a hair in sight.
Well, I can now tell you that Clare has nine pubic hairs at the last count. Not because I counted them, but because she told me.
Proudly.
Yep, and before long that pride will be replaced by the blade or the wax.
Don't do it, Clare!
I LOVE that you have nine pubic hairs. Please grow more, and then we can talk about trimming, ok?
And at that moment, I go into spasm.
Damn.
I want CLARE to go into spasm.
But, as I say, I have lost it by now.
And I am gone.
"Are you all right, Auntie Sheila?"
Oh darling, if you only knew how ALL RIGHT I am!
"I like your fingers inside me, Auntie Sheila."
Oh God, I have been masturbating this child, and I wasn't even aware!
I mumble some kind of reply.
"Will you do it some more, please?"
Another orgasmic surge causes my toes to curl and my thighs to go rigid. "Will you do it some more, please?"
No, young girls don't say that. Not in real life they don't. Only in stories and fantasies.
Right?
Wrong!
Clare knows what the name of the game is, and she wants to play some more.
It is at this moment that it hits me.
Pow!
Like Saul on the road to Damascus. Or whatever.
My little Clare, my sweet innocent....
...is not innocent at all.
She has been here before.
She knows the name of the game.
It makes sense now.
Unbuttoning Auntie Sheila's blouse.
The sucking.
The teasing bite of my nipple.
Accepting the fingers in her cunt.
For, believe me, it is no longer a "kitty". It is a cunt.
This girl is AWARE.
Streetwise.
I want to fuck her now.
I mean, I want to have her in my bed and go thru my entire repertoire of nice things a woman can do with a girl!
She is delicious.
Pretty.
Budding breasts.
Curvy where she needs to be. Already at 13.
A butt you never want to take your hands off.
Her mouth? Kissable.
Fuck, I am horny!
For the first time, I feel horny, I feel like the hungry dyke I am.
"Clare, let's go to bed. Much more comfortable."
"Yay! But only for an hour. Mom is expecting me back for tea."
Well, sure, let's not upset mom!
But in the meantime, there are a few things to explore......