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NEIGHBOR

“They’re fighting again?” I asked Meg when she walked into my apartment without a knock.

“You can’t hear ‘em?  The way they’re throwing things at each other?”

I couldn’t, but that didn’t really matter.  “Well, you may as well make yourself at home like you usually do.  I’m about to watch a movie, so make another bag of microwave popcorn and join me.”

As she popped the bag of Orville’s, she asked me what the movie was.

“It’s called ‘The American.’  George Clooney’s in it.  It’s like a spy movie I think.”

“Does it have sex in it?”

“Well, it’s rated R, so maybe when those parts come up I’ll cover your eyes.”

“You better not.”

I laughed.  She probably knows a lot more about sex than I did at her age, and at ten I didn’t know jack.  I wouldn’t think about not letting her watch any scene.  She brought the bag of popcorn to the sofa and sat next to me.  I still saw the bruises from her last beating.  They hadn’t quite healed yet.  Secretly, I wished her folks would kill each other and get it over with.  She didn’t deserve the crap she got.

“You could’ve at least put pants on before coming over here.”

“Jeez, it’s not like you haven’t seen a girl in panties before.”

I had, but except for Meg it’d been a long time.  The movie turned out to portray Clooney’s character as an assassin, not a spy as I assumed.  The first sex scene came quickly as Clooney’s character visited a prostitute.

“He paid for it, right?” she asked me, keeping her eyes glued to my TV screen.  “Why do men do that?”

“Pay for it?  I dunno, maybe because women don’t let men have enough sex to satisfy them, or maybe because a man is alone and needs something.”

“Do you pay for it?”

“I did a long time ago,” I answered her, thinking about how alone I was.

“She’s got nice boobs.  Hopefully I’ll have nice ones someday although I doubt it since my mom’s are kinda small.”  She wore only a tight, thin t-shirt (along with the previously mentioned panties, which were pink and frilly) and was absently tweaking her little nipples.  She looked up at me and said, “Does watching this make you horny?”

“What do you know about being horny?”

She blushed a bit and said, “I don’t know, I just do.”  I didn’t go any further on that subject.  Meg curled up next to me and soon grew bored with the movie.  “I don’t get it.  Is he like a bad man?  I mean, he kills people for money but it looks like people want to kill him.  I don’t understand.”

I didn’t want to be condescending, so I explained as best I could.  The way she clutched my arm and cuddled said that the explanation itself was what she wanted, as if in assurance of her intelligence.  About half way through the movie, we felt more than heard a bang that shook the walls.  She looked up at me in fear.  I shook my head, in effect telling her not to think about it.  Her parents did get that violent, although it didn’t have to be them making the noise.

The next sex scene affected her more.  She squirmed and cuddled closer, if that was even possible.  Hell, it affected me too.  I hoped she didn’t spot my bulge.

Later, she asked me “Is sex really that good?”

“Yes.  Most of the time it’s special.”

“You must miss her a lot.”  She was referring to my late wife.

“Oh yes, more than you could ever know.”

“Were you thinking of her when you got the stiffie?”

“You’re not supposed to be looking at men’s crotches.”

“It’s not like I couldn’t notice how big it got, Jesus!”  Then, her attention captured by what was happening in the movie, she said “Did someone shoot her?”

“No.  Don’t you remember how when he was making the gun he kinda played with it a bit?  He rigged it so it would blow up on whoever used it, ‘cause he must have known the whole thing was fishy.”

“This is too confusing.”

I liked the movie.  She wasn’t nearly as impressed by it as I was.  “Do you think it’s safe, or do you want to stay here?” I asked her.

She yawned, and then said she’d take her chances and go to her apartment.  At the door, she stood there in her t-shirt and pink panties and innocently said, “You know, whenever you miss her like tonight, maybe, like, I could, you know, have sex with you, or whatever.”

Christ, I didn’t know what to say.  I got down on one knee and hugged her to me.  “You’re too good a girl for them,” meaning her folks, “but we can’t have sex, you and me, because you’re too young, and…and…”

“It’s okay, I just thought…”

“It was a sweet thought.  Knowing you’re thinking of me like that is enough.”

I watched her little buns walk down the hallway and enter her apartment, and I got hard again.  I had to stop thinking about what she‘d just offered.

I tried, but I couldn’t get what she said out of my mind.  She seemed to be worldly beyond her tender years.  Living in that household could do that to a girl, and I often wondered if part of her upbringing included sexual abuse.  Haven’t I read that sexually abused kids act out in a suggestive manner, mimicking their abusers?  I’d have to be cautious of her fragility.

One late night, well after dinner, I heard some banging down the hall followed by shouting, and predictably in a few minutes I had a knock on my door.  It was Meg in an oversized t-shirt nightdress.  She had a cut on her lip.

“What happened now?” I asked as I let her into my apartment.

She was trying hard to be stoic and not cry.  “I tried to stop them, but Ma slapped me and told me to mind my own business.”

I got out some first aid supplies I had, but her split lip wasn’t as bad as it originally looked.  “You want to stay here tonight?”

“If I can, Jim,” she asked, and her outer shell cracked as she began to sob.  I took her into my arms and let her cry it all out.

“You know you’re always welcome.”   She knew this, because she immediately made herself comfortable and at home, raiding my refrigerator, and commandeering my television.  When she began rifling through my DVDs, I asked her what she was looking for.

“Do you have any more movies with lots of sex in them?”

I facetiously answered her with “Yes, but my porn isn’t in there.”

She stopped, turned to me, and with excited eyes said “You HAVE porn videos?”

Now I was trapped.  I had been kidding but I did have a couple DVDs stashed away in my bedroom.  She’d catch me in a lie, so I deflected it by saying “You don’t need to see porn.  Your imagination is wild enough at your age.”  She exaggerated a pout and kept searching through my collection.

She pulled out a case and asked, “What’s this about…9 ½ Weeks?”

We’re not gonna watch that,” I declared.

She smiled, “Ooooo then it’s got good sex in it…whoopee!”

“Why this fixation on sex?  You’re too young for it anyway.”

“No I’m not!  My friend Jenny has sex all the time with her big brother, and she’s my age…and she loves it too.”

Great!  Her friend’s getting molested, with it being incest to boot, and she thinks it’s an accomplishment.  No wonder she offered herself to me the other day.  “Oh, Meg, that’s not right.  Jenny shouldn’t be doing it with her brother.”  I saw the look on her face, and had to ask the personal question once and for all.  “Your father isn’t touching you, like sexually, is he?”

“No!  He may hit me but he’d never do that!”

“I’m sorry I asked.  Will you forgive me?”

Her frown turned quickly into a smile and she said “If we watch the movie I will.”

“You little imp,” I said, and she dashed to my kitchen to make popcorn.  Before the movie started, I explained why I asked about her father.  “I’m worried about you, you know.”

She hugged me and said, “That’s why I like you and like coming over here.  You care about me.”

“Your parents care about you,” I said, though her expression said she believed otherwise.  We watched the movie.  Later, she asked me about the Mickey Rourke character’s motivation.

“It’s not like he loves her or anything,” she said quietly.

“You don’t need to love someone to have sex with them, but it does help.”

She was sitting next to me as she usually did, hugging close with her feet up and tucked under her a bit.  I glanced down to see that her t-shirt nightgown, which had a cartoon logo on the chest I didn’t recognize, had ridden up and she wasn’t wearing panties, her bald puss exposed.  “Oh Meg, what aren’t you wearing any panties?”

She looked up at me and said, “Why are you looking?  It’s not like you’re a boy who never saw a cunny before in your life.”

“That’s true, though I never saw one as pretty as yours.”

“You’re kidding, right?  You think mine is pretty?”

“A man thinks they all are pretty.”

“Yeah, when a man is horny and hasn’t had sex in a long time,” she said, laughing.

“Shut up and watch the movie,” I said, tousling her hair.

We both reacted to the sex scenes.  Her little ass squirmed and my cock swelled.  I noticed her reaction and she noticed mine.  “Why do I feel funny when I see sex?”

“Describe funny.”

“I dunno, it’s like a bunch of butterflies are in my stomach and I feel like I’m hot, you know, like a fever.”

“And you’re wet,” I said absentmindedly.

“Wet?”

“Down there.”

She put a hand at her vulva, and said “Wow!  How did you know?”

“Because that’s what happens to girls, just like this is what happens to guys,” I said, pointing to my bulge.

She tittered in laughter.  “You must be big,” she managed to say between fits of giggles.

“And how do you know anything about what’s big?”

More giggling.  “I’ve seen my dad’s and his is tiny, not like Jenny’s brother’s.  His is way bigger.”

“Of course that’s what Jenny told you.  It’s not like you’ve seen it, right?”

“Duh!  How would I see her boyfriend’s dick?”

“Good question, but you managed to see your father’s.”

“Yeah, because I can sneak.”

“You’re a sneak, alright,” I said and we both laughed.  Her eyes were still on my bulge, so I knew what might come next.

“Jim, why don’t you get out a real porn movie instead of this lame one?”

I chuckled, “That’s not what I thought you’d ask me.”

“I know,” she said, and that got us laughing all over again.

I dug out a DVD called “Cherry Poppins” and loaded it into my player.  I figured, what the hell, if I was going to have a hard-on sitting next to my young friend, I may as well watch something that will get my rod a-leaking.  She asked me about the name, and I had to explain both the title’s pun on Mary Poppins, which she never heard of, and the concept of virginity—and the word cherry in that context.

“If they call it that because it bleeds, does it hurt?”

“It might for a little bit at first, but only for a second, I guess, since if it hurt more no girl would ever want sex, right?”

“I guess so.”  She thought for a minute watching the girl on screen getting talked out of her clothes, “You mean the girls are all virgins, like me?”

“I’m sure they’re older girls pretending to be virgins in the movie, like actors pretending in any film.”

“Cool,” was her simple response, as she was instantly engrossed in the set up of the first scene, which was the quintessential father-tapping-the-babysitter story.   “She doesn’t look old,” Meg said.  “She has braces and her boobs are tiny.”

“I’m sure they picked her because she looks younger than she is.  You have to be over eighteen to be in porn movies.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”  Silence, as we watched the foreplay, for what it’s worth in a porn video, and Meg grew fidgety again.  Give the actors credit in this one.  They played up the “No-Yes-No-Yes” interplay upon the first penetration to the max, including the girl’s whimper when her cherry was supposed to be shredded by the man’s fat cock.  Meg gasped as they began fucking in earnest, first missionary then doggie.  As I knew she would, her hand went for her slit and she gasped again, more than likely because of the moisture she found there.  She had one hand ‘busy’ while the other pulled us closer together.

To me, the best part of the movie’s first scene was the guy’s money shot.  He pulled out after she did all her orgasmic squealing and shot stream after stream all over her ass and back, with his cock nestled comfortably in the crack of her ass.  The cock-fountain made a great spectacle, and Meg was impressed.  A gasping “Oh my God!” was her response.

“That wasn’t what you expected?” I asked her.

“N…N…No,” she stammered, and I went on to explain ejaculation and orgasm in more detail while the movie’s second scene began.

The next scene was a typical boyfriend/girlfriend, “Can we do it, please” scenario.  When the boy pulled off the girl’s sundress up and over her head, Meg whispered hoarsely, “Can you take mine off like that?”

I looked at her for a moment, seeing the intense arousal, and decided I probably had already gone farther than I should have, so why not?  But I was going to get out of my clothes, too.  I stood and undressed in front of Meg, who was both curious and astonished, before I lifted her t-shirt nightie off her slender body as she asked.  She was mesmerized by the sight of my erect cock, as I was mesmerized by her nubile, pre-pubescent body.  I thought she had the same urge as I did—to touch—but we went back to watching the video, sitting next to each other like before, only now skin-to-skin.

With a name like “Cherry Poppins,” you knew what each scene was going to be like, but to Meg it was a whole new world.  She’d watch the sex, and then look at my cock.  Finally, I said “You know, if you want to touch it, you can.”

She looked up at me, wide-eyed, and said in the same throaty whisper as before, “And you can touch me too.  I’m wet again.”

She sure was!

I had my doubts girls her age could get that aroused, but she sure was.  Her natural lubrication felt like liquid silk, and was trickling out of her so much she was practically sitting in a puddle there on my sofa.  We watched more movie sex while we drove each other crazy from the mutual touching.  Finally, I had enough, and I lifted her onto my lap with my stiff dick right up between her lithe thighs and nestled in the folds of her pudgy little labia.  The young actress in the video was getting it doggie.  I mimicked the action by basically fucking her without penetration, rubbing the length of my shaft up and down within her wet, slippery girl-crevice while raising and lowering her ass.   It was probably a natural thing for her to open her thighs but I used my legs to ease them back together and keep them closed, while I reached around and played with her tiny chest buds and nipples.  My—or I should say, our—rhythm mirrored the one we were watching.  Whether or not it was simply her aping the girl in the movie, she really got into it, moaning away and muttering how good it felt.  Damn, it felt good to me!

My cock was so wet and slippery that it indeed felt like I was fucking her, penetration or no penetration.  I came the moment the boy did in the movie scene, spewing string after string of pent-up cum onto her belly, lap and thighs.  She squealed with delight when it happened.

“It felt so goooooooooood,” she moaned, then she looked back at me and asked why I didn’t “put it in” her.

“I thought we covered that.  You’re too young for sex,” I said in reply.

She pivoted around quickly to sit on my lap again, facing me.  “It’s so hot and gooey, and wow, that’s what makes babies—the sperm!”

“To be exact, the gooey stuff is semen, with the sperm in there, though you can’t see ‘em.”

“Oh Jim, you’re so nice to me, showing me all this, like, about sex.”  She hugged me tightly, with my ejaculate as a squishy layer between us.

“You’re welcome, but don’t go running off telling Jenny about all this.  What we did has to be kept a secret.  Promise?”

“I promise,” she said solemnly.

“Okay, now for your next lesson, kissing.”

“Kissing isn’t sex.”

“I bet I can convince you otherwise,” I said.  I placed a hand at the nape of her neck and pulled her to me.  When our lips met, I insinuated my tongue between her lips and probed for hers.  She was unsure at first, but soon got into it and was wet-kissing me back.  As with watching the movie, our kiss got her ass squirming, and in turn got my cock growing again.

When we stopped, with a big exhale she said “That’s good kissing!  I think I got wet again.”

“Let’s see,” I said, and pushed my hand down between us until a finger slid between her warm, swollen labia.  “It sure is,” I declared, and she liked that.  She also liked the feel of my swelling cock poking at her ass. 

In the midst of our fooling around, the movie ended.  Meg looked into my eyes in the most seductive way and asked, “Can I sleep here tonight.”

“You won’t get into trouble if you don’t go home, will you?”

“They don’t care.  They know I’m over here, like always.”

“They don’t think…?”  I left my question unfinished.

“Naw, they like you so at least I don’ think they suspect you’d like touch me or whatever.”

“So, they don’t know their horny little girl, do they?”  She giggled and I laughed along with her.

We showered together like it was the most natural thing.  As I washed her I grew stiff once more and she touched and stroked me.  “Are you sure I’m too small?” she asked me.

“Take a look at this thing.  What do you think?”

“It is very big,” she said, and left it at that.

After toweling dry, she had a glass of milk before we brushed our teeth together.  She glanced at my still semi-erect cock, and seeing the dribbling pre-cum, said “What’s that juice?  It’s not pee.”  I explained it was like her wetness, and she bought it without more explanation, or questions.  “I sleep naked, you know.  Is that okay?” I asked.

She giggled and said “You’re naked now, so it doesn’t matter, as long as I can stay naked too.”

I couldn’t believe I was going to spend the night with a naked, prepubescent Lolita in my bed.  She wanted a goodnight kiss.  She learned her lesson well; the french kiss was deep and wet, and my erection was back.  I’d have to sleep on it, I surmised.  I slept well enough, though it was extremely arousing to have a naked girl hugging me practically all night.  I know I had some sex dreams, but I hardly ever remember my dreams when I awaken so I didn’t remember these.  Actually, while still dark, I thought it was a dream until I woke lying on my back with a crying Meg impaled on my cock and blood everywhere.

“Oh Jim, it hurts, it hurts!” she cried.

I slowly raised her off of me, my cock covered in more blood than a shredded hymen should produce as I extricated me from her tiny vagina.  “Why did you do that?” I said as I carried her to the bathroom.

“Your…you were big and sticking up and I wanted to feel like the girls in the movie.”

I said, “Oh sweetheart, I told you you were too young yet for penetration,” as I sat her on the toilet seat and began administering to her injuries, for that’s what they were.  Not only had she obliterated her hymen, but my cock produced a stretching tear in her vagina wall that was bleeding, though not as much as I feared based on the blood I saw in bed.  “I don’t know what to do.  If you see a doctor, then I’ll go to jail.”  I thought of a tampon, and told her I’d make a run to the 24/7 convenience mart around the corner.

I didn’t know what I was looking for, and I’d be damned if I’d ask a clerk, so I scanned the shelf of limited selections and found a small size that implied it would be a perfect ‘starter’ application.  I bought it and headed back to my apartment.  I had to go to work soon but I still had time to help Meg, though I was extremely nervous about what would happen next.

“I’m sorry, Jim, I’m really, really, really sorry.”  She was crying as I opened a tampon and, after she said she hadn’t been told about them yet, I explained its usual purpose and why I believed it to be a good first aid solution now.  I spread her labia again and looked inside her as best I could.  The bleeding had abated somewhat.  I helped her insert the tampon, and she seemed rather pleased to be doing something “grown-up” even if it wasn’t sex.  I had her read the instructions on the package, and once more warned her about the consequences if she told anyone about what happened.

“Even if it was all my fault?” she said.

“You slept in my bed, naked.  It would only be my fault no matter what you said.”  She seemed to understand the gravity of it all.

She went back to her apartment, and I dressed for work.  I couldn’t concentrate on a damned thing all day.  I kept imagining that police cars would be waiting outside, or at the apartment when I got home.  As I drove home, my knees were literally shaking.  No police waited for me, and though nervous I began to relax.  I wanted to see Meg so badly, to see how she was doing and if she was still okay with last night, but I knew she’d eventually come over.

When she showed up at my door, smiling, she told me how she asked her mom about her first period.  “She said I’d have it soon enough and would make sure I had some pads.  Are those different than tampons?”

“First off, how are you feeling?  Still sore?”

“Oh yeah!  This morning I almost couldn’t sit down it hurt so bad, but now it’s not as sore.”

“We should change the tampon,” I said, and she dutifully followed me to the bathroom and dropped her panties like it was no big deal.  What had I created?  The tampon wasn’t that ‘full’ though she did wince a bit when we extracted it.  Another one was applied without further wincing.  I explained pads versus tampons, and when she declared “these are better,” I tried to explain the whole toxic-shock thing, but maybe it was too much for her to grasp right away.

No fooling around that evening.  She was my TV-watching companion, and our clothes remained on.  My little neighbor continued to visit me, especially when her folks went berserk or her father hit her.  Over time I saw her breasts begin to poke at her t-shirts.  One day, though, everything changed.  She appeared at my door and told me that

“I’m having my first period!  I can use tampons now for real!” she happily declared.

“Was it a surprise?” I wondered, being ignorant about the onset of menstruation.

“Kinda.  I mean, like you told me a lot when you got the tampons for me when I…em…you know.”

She raided my fridge like always, asking whether I bought some of the snacks for me or her.  I could not tell a lie.  She thanked me.  We settled in to watch TV like some old married couple.

When she said it, I knew she’d been thinking about it all day.  “Jim, because I’m having a period, does it mean I can have sex now?  That I’m not too small anymore?”

“All it means is that you can now get pregnant if you have sex.  Being big enough is a whole other issue.”

She was silent for several minutes, then said “Can we try when my period is, like, done?”

I looked into those big eyes and once more fell in love with her; so worldly, and yet so innocent.  “Only if you kiss me,” I said.

“I like kissing.” She replied, and she demonstrated just how much she liked it.

I was hard, and she was panting, but the moment would have to wait on Mother Nature.

“You let me know,” I whispered when we finished kissing.

The following day, I bought a box of condoms and some lube.

She came to me one evening.  I could smell the musk of her arousal like cologne.  It must be pheromones because my cock twitched and all I could think about was tasting her little pussy, before she even settled down on my sofa.

“Can you put that movie back on?  It’ll be my first time for real, not like before.”

Cherry Poppins got another screening.

She stripped for me, and I lavished praise on her budding breasts and the peach fuzz beginning to grow at her pubis, telling her how grown-up she was becoming.  My praise was followed by my hands and tongue.  She tasted divine, especially after she graced my tongue with a trickle of pussy-juice.  She was visibly panting, and could only blurt out one word per breath when she said, “I… want… to… do… it… now!”  I reminded her of the different positions she saw in the movie, and asked which one she liked.  “Like… I… did… that… time…” meaning on top, as she tried when she impaled herself on me and ended up hurt.

I unrolled on a condom, a process she found utterly fascinating.  I let her straddle me on the sofa, and after I spread some lube on the condom she slowly lowered herself onto me.  She grimaced, and I said “Still too tight, huh?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” she answered, though her facial expression told me the penetration was an ordeal.

I let her work me in while I played with her breast buds.  There’s something about a girl’s initial growth, the little cones of tissue, not yet rounded into form, topped by cute little nipples.  I kneaded and squeezed and otherwise teased her small breasts as she managed to get most of me into her.

“You think that’s it?  Just getting it in?  What about those girls in the video?  Was that all they did?” I kidded her and she greeted me with the most darling smile in return.

Precociously she said, “Can you wait a minute, I need to get used to this first.”  I couldn’t believe that came from Meg’s mouth.  She then said, “But it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

I cupped her ass cheeks and got her to slowly rise and then fall for the first real thrust.  She was incredibly tight, but the lube helped.  “How is it now, better?” I asked.  I still wasn’t sure if we could actually fuck without her being hurt again.

She lifted herself up again and said “I think so…hold me.”

I held her, and helped her rise and fall to take my cock.  She made little cooing sounds.  I didn’t notice the exact moment, but her expression changed after a few minutes of slow, rhythmic penetration to one of pleasure instead of discomfort.  The transition also showed up in her contribution to the rhythm, as she began taking over, going a little faster on her own volition.

“Oooooooooooooooooooooooo!”  The sound escaped her lips and kept getting louder.

My cock exploded inside the grip of her tight vagina.  I knew she felt me cumming for her closed eyes flew open and met mine.  Her big eyes, now open, rolled back a little as her cry grew louder still.  She was experiencing her first orgasm.  The feel of her convulsing vagina walls managed to draw a couple more spurts of cum from my throbbing cock and balls.  Our lips and tongues came together once more as the movie’s soundtrack of moaning and groaning sex filled the room.

“How does it feel not being a virgin anymore?” I asked her, while my spent cock slowly wilted within her.

She smiled the broadest of smiles, drenched in sweat.  “It felt real good, but like, different than I expected.”

I lifted her sweat-glossed body from my lap and together we removed the condom.  “You know what would’ve happened if I didn’t wear this, don’t you?”

“Oh yeah, now I can get pregnant, right?”

I let the semen drip from the condom onto my belly, and said “And with this much you would’ve been pregnant for sure.”

“That looks like you squirted more than last time,” she said, gazing in wonder at the spilled volume.

“It’s because you’re more beautiful today than ever.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so,” I said as I lazily caressed her chest bumps, tweaking the nipples taut again.

“Can we do it again?”

I explained a man’s need for recuperation after sex.  We showered, and then I sent her home with another warning against telling anyone, and a personal warning that she’d probably be sore later; those ‘tween vagina walls can only be stretched so far, after all.

Meg was now the fuck buddy of my dreams.  She’d come to my apartment as often as she could.  The first time I did her doggie, she immediately said it was her favorite position.  She was a skinny little nymphet who always wanted more, and I loved her for it.  Occasionally she’d spend the night, more often than not because her parents were fighting, and I’d teach her more and more about the infinite joys of sex.  On those nights we didn’t get much sleep.

One night after a marathon of sucking and fucking, she said “I almost feel like I’m your wife.  Do you feel that way about me now?”

I cried.

“I’m sorry for saying that,” she said, and looked worried that she hurt me.

The hurt was only the memory of my lost love.  The rest of my tears were in the realization that she was close to the truth.  I loved her more than I knew, and more than I could ever put into words.  She was the daughter I never had, and the lover I sorely missed.  We fell asleep in an embrace tighter than usual, metaphorically not wanting to lose each other.

Meg remained my lover well into her high school years.  I watched (and gloriously felt) her breasts mature as she did.  She remained a sexual dynamo long after that first time, insatiable to experiment and to learn.  I helped her shave the first time, and she remained a baldie so, in her words, I could “always be reminded of fucking that little neighbor girl.”

One night she confessed she had a boyfriend, before saying, “I love you Jim.  More than anyone.  I’m afraid to love someone else.”

“Sweetheart, I love you too, but maybe it’s time to stop the sex.  You don’t need to love someone more than twice your age.  You need to find a soulmate, and you won’t find him clinging to me.”

“You sure?”

“As sure as anything, but don’t forget, I’m here for you and always will be.”

Friends, not lovers: that’s what we were from that day forward.  Like she never could with her parents, she told me about her boyfriends, her school accomplishments, her joys and heartbreaks, but I never once told her about the emptiness in my bed.

I never could replace that little neighbor girl who once wanted to learn so much, so quickly.

 

© 2011   Dog Star         karenthefreespirit@yahoo.com

 

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