The Gospel of Loliguard

From Bibliotheca Anonoma

Gospel of loliguard[edit]

From Wikichan


I used to be normal, not like you guys. I had titty posters on my walls, and had eyes only for women 18 and older. Unfortunately, fate had other plans for me.

Two years ago I worked as a lifeguard for a community swimming pool over my Summer break. It's regulation sized (weirdly ritzy for the tiny apartment complex it's part of) and had four lifeguard towers situated not at the corners but two to a side, evenly spaced. I remember because I was assigned to the side where the sun was always in my fucking eyes.

I don't actually know how to swim, but the landlady told me it didn't matter. In all the time she had owned the pool there hadn't been a single emergency, and she was as well insured as a cautious Jew usually is. She also neglected to repair the elevator because, and I quote, "settling out of court is cheaper than having that piece of shit overhauled." I made significantly less than minimum wage, was expected to do things not formally included in my job description (such as wax her car and clean the pool) but I kept the job because of the one unexpected perk; girls in bathing suits.

Unfortunately (at first) I found almost no girls in my age range. The majority of tenants were fifty or older, and as such the occupants of the pool were always either saggy, old and weary-eyed or young, long-legged and playful. You could spot the two types even more easily because the old fatties always resigned themselves to either the sauna or the hottub (what's all that insulation on their body for, then?) while their crotchspawn ran around the pool (despite the sign) screaming at the top of their lungs. A few fall and cry, but then they notice that their sadsack parents are too busy distributing cans of PBR from a Nascar cooler to pay attention, so they pick themselves up and resume running.

If this sounds cynical, it is. I wasn't really much for kids at that time, not until I met Jenelle. I would later find out that her father, former owner of a local dealership, had been screwed out of his fortune when he divorced his second wife. Jenelle was the one thing that the jury saw fit to award him because she was concieved by his first wife. But I didn't know any of that when I first met her. To me, she was just a gangly blonde girl wading hip deep at the edge of the pool, looking up at me with her big green eyes. I noticed her waiting there some day, as if expecting me to do a song and dance number. All she did, day after day, was show up and look at me. This went on for only three days mind you, but it was still weirding me out.

It was at the end of the third day that I decided to do something about it. She showed up some time around two pm and settled into her spot. I looked her square in the eyes. Then I looked over at the pump shed. Then back at her. Then at the pump shed. I did this until I saw the look of realization come over her face, followed by a sly grin. After climbing down from my perch, I did my best to look inconspicuous as I walked over to the pump shed and slipped inside. I waited. A minute went by. And then another. Had she misunderstood? Just as I was considering leaving, she popped in an shut the door behind her. "What took you?" I whispered. "I had to let some time pass. If we went in one right after the other, it would look weird." She had a point. Here was a girl who could be no older than fourteen, and she had already outsmarted me.

Who are you? Why do you keep showing up and doing that thing?" She blinked. "What thing?" "Staring at me!" I exclaimed, a bit louder than I had intended. She explained to me that she was homeschooled by her father, had no access to television or the internet (things her father had decided would corrupt her) and that I was the most entertaining thing she knew of. I reddened. "What, I amuse you?" She laughed and poked me in the stomach. "You're cute! You're the only cute boy I ever get to see. My dad took away my magazines." (I'll admit porn was the first thing that came to mind until I thought of rags like 'Seventeen'.)

"So go make friends with one of the boys out there. They don't look so bad." Her nose wrinkled. "They're annoying. All they care about are monster cards and videogames. And they don't want to talk about anything that I like." I found myself becoming genuinely interested in the conversation. I had arranged the impromptu meeting to defuse what I felt could become an awkward situation, but the more I listened to her talk, the more I empathized with her. I peeked around the edge of the door. Her father was alone in the hottub, draped over the edge like a dead seal. Surrounding him were empty cans of whatever off-brand beer he had picked up from AMPM. Satisfied that we had time to spare, I sat her down and began to get to know her.

Like I said before, her dad was a "riches to rags" story. The average all-American bumblefuck who fell ass-backwards into money, and then somehow managed to blow it by trusting the wrong pair of tits. He was living out of room 121, one of the smaller rooms in the place (the room numbers denote the floor they're on as well as the size. The first digit is the floor number and the last two indicate somehow whether it's a one or two room suite.) According to Jenelle (who had finally decided to introduce herself after a mere three days of pool-stalking) his modus operandi entailed construction work by day and gambling at night, with visits to the tracks on weekends. This left Jenelle SOL, as she wasn't allowed to leave the room except for swimming. Perhaps the beginning of my descent into perversion, it then dawned on me that she was home alone for a pretty hefty chunk of every week.

Our heads snapped upward in unison when we heard her father call. Resembling the amorous mating bellow of a water buffalo, his summons saw her up on her feet with a swiftness that suggested fear of discipline. "I have to go! I'll be here tomorrow and probably on Saturday too!" Before I could respond, she kissed me on the cheek and bolted for the back door. I heard muffled yelling, followed by the chirpy but unintelligble sound that I knew was her, concocting some pacifying lie about where she had been moments prior. It would have been easy for him to storm into the shed and find me hiding there like a sitting duck, but if he had any suspicions regarding his daughter's explanation he didn't act on them. I waited until I could see him entering the complex before I left the shed.

The next day we repeated our rendezvous, this time on more familiar terms. She had shown up because she had what I believed to be a harmless crush on me. I showed up because whether or not I would admit it, I had really enjoyed the feeling of her soft little lips against my stubbly cheek. We did the slumber party dealie, with truth or dare and nearly an hour of telling each other our condensed life stories. I don't know what compelled me to open up to her, but something about her bright, attentive eyes made me feel as though for once I had an interested audience for which to perform. I may have boasted a little here and there but for the most part I gave her an accurate account of how I had spent my life up until that point, and I could sense her hanging on my every word.

When I glossed over my first experiences with girls, she started to hound me for details. I still had some self respect at this point and didn't really relish the idea of relating my sexual conquests to a junior highschooler (Well, she ought to have been anyways.) but I played through, and the descriptions left her literally panting. I began to ask her to reciprocate when she leaned forward on me (I guess 'pounced' would be the word), her arms around my neck and her face an inch or so from mine. "Do you think I'm pretty?" Her face was red and her breathing was hard and fast. "I...think you'll be a very pretty girl. Some day." She started to sort of wriggle against me. It took me a moment to figure out she was clumsily attempting to dry-hump my legs, never having seen it done right before. Despite my best efforts, I found myself fully erect in under a minute. There's something about the slender, warm body of a young girl wriggling against yours that I firmly believe no man on earth can resist.

I kept thinking "I have to say something. I have to tell her to stop." You know how you can convince yourself that you're an ethical person, and that even if you found a hundred bucks in a wallet you would return it to its rightful owner? And then something like that does happen, and you pocket the cash? Yeah. People are so good at believing in their own morality, but when the time comes to choose between personal pleasure and doing the right thing, people always choose pleasure. That's my rationalization, anyways. I didn't stop her. I lay there quietly getting to orgasm along with her, (okay, I came first. By quite a margin. But I enjoyed the hell out of watching her catch up.) and when she finished I just sort of lay there with her on top of me, both of us breathing heavily. "It's not really wrong," I thought, "I didn't technically DO anything. I just lay here, minding my own business. You might even say SHE molested ME." I envisioned myself making the defense in court, decided it was ridiculous and came to the nauseating conclusion that Jenelle had turned me into a pedo.

I showed up the next day with a big grin on my face, expecting a repeat performance. Of course she wasn't there, and I spent the next few days not paying attention (lol go ahead and drown, suckers) daydreaming about the sex we'd had. It counted as sex, I figured, because we had both gotten off. That brought the number of notches in my belt up to six. Of course thinking of her as a "notch in my belt" was just a way for me to ignore the fact that I had enjoyed sexual contact with a little girl. Well, eleven. She was eleven, and I had let her dry-hump me to climax. I knew that if anyone ever found out it meant my young life would be over, and I was none to eager to dwell on this. Rather than worry about the implications, I sat on my little wooden tower for two straight days doing nothing but fantasizing about Jenelle.

Finally Saturday came. For once I appeared to be doing my job, scanning the pool intently as though ready to save lives at a moment's notice. Of course I was just looking for Jenelle. I finally spotted her, absolutely dwarfed next to her father. I did my best to look uninterested while they approached, eventually parting ways at the pool. Jen's dad headed for the sauna with a 24 pack, so I rightly wrote him off for the next four hours. Jenelle and I met in the normal spot. Being young(ish) and stupid, I spilled my guts. I told her how I had been thinking about her for days, and how what we had done before made me feel a little weird, but that I had enjoyed it more than I had ever enjoyed sex before. She seemed a little surprised and hurt that I had been with girls other than her, but apparently realizing that it was because of my age, she said nothing. We spent the first few minutes talking excitedly about our last visit, and eventually horomones took over and we kissed. It had been forever since I had enjoyed her lips, so I let myself lose control and explore her mouth the way I had been wanting to for nearly a week. The first difference I noticed between her and my exes was that her mouth itself was alot smaller, and her lips were fuller. I gently bit one, and she made this passionate little cross between a sigh and a yelp that did more to arouse me than a sound ought to.

I suddenly felt something cold and wet on my stomach. I started to draw back, then noticed that she was running her hands up my tummy. I am not super muscular, but weight training was a mandatory gym credit in highschool so my stomach had (and still has) pretty good definition. Stomach muscles were something new and wonderful to her, and for the first time I felt like my marginal fitness was good for something other than hauling tiles. (That's a whole different story, and a whole different summer job) She looked up at me and made a sort of wordless gesture with her head, the "I didn't say to stop kissing me" thing. I happily obliged, and resumed sucking on her bottom lip as she ran her cold (but gradually warming) hands over my stomach and chest. I didn't realze the psychological line that touching her represented until I crossed it. I put my hands palm down on her cool, wet thighs, and it hit me. I was enjoying this too much. More than with any other girl in my past, even. This was me. It's who I was, and am. I won't say it's a legitimate sexual orientation but it was at least a fetish for me, and a powerful one. Even just sliding my big warm hands along her long, thin, firm little legs did more to excite me than the entire act of sex ever had with my ex.

I suppose I owe you a description. Jenelle was perhaps 5'6", very tall and thin for her age. She had a butt that wasn't really flat despite her height, but it didn't stick out alot either. I'm focusing on her rear end because it's spectacular. Firm, round and resembling two ovoid shapes leaning against each other at the tops when viewed from behind, she had the picture-perfect ass you normally only see on swimsuit models. To top it off, her legs were thin enough that she had "the gap". You know, that little empty space between her legs at the very top, where they meet her pelvis? Oh, how I loved that spot. I'll tell you why in a bit. Her hair was long and dirty blonde (her father had black hair. I presume her mother had full blonde) and her eyes were a dark, rich shade of green. Her waist was thin, her stomach flat and taut, and her chest was as flat as a board. Her skin was also worth mentioning, simply because it was completely smooth and free of acne or any other kind of marks, except for a few moles. It's easy to forget how perfect skin can be until you see someone like Jenelle.

Like two horny teenagers (which I guess we were, if you averaged out our ages) we fumbled with each others' bodies. We were standing at this point in anticipation of undressing, and it had dawned on me to finally feel the ass that had been tantalizing me all this time. As I gently kissed her and she caressed my back, I put my right hand behind her and clutched her left 'cheek'. She gasped, looking up at me for a moment before pursing her little pink lips into a coy smile. It became a game of one-upsmanship, a contest of daring to distract us from our nervousness. She slid her hands into my trunks and grabbed my butt. I took that as a go-ahead to do the same, and found myself overwhelmed with the sensation of squeezing two of the smoothest, firmest ass-cheeks I have ever had the privilege of getting my hands on. Of course they were a little small and I already have Xbox sized hands so it took a little positioning to cup them in such a way that my fingernails didn't dig into the crease where her butt met her legs, but she was apparently too busy going to town on my stomach and heiney to care. I stepped back and slipped out of my trunks. She stood there, shocked. I felt pretty manly until I realized it probably had nothing to do with size. This was likely to be the first PENIS she had ever seen, after all. She took her time and got an eyeful before she began to untie her bottom.

It was one of those fashionable bikinis where the bottom is tied shut at the left and right hip. The mood declined a bit and we had a brief laugh as she spent the better part of a minute fiddling with the ties before she gave up and just pulled them down. She stepped out of her bottoms and went to work on her top while I stood there, hypnotized. There, nestled in her sweet little gap, was the most beautiful bald pussy you can imagine. No visible labia, (on the outside anyway) plump pink lips, and not even a wisp of hair. She had a very slightly prominent pubic mound that framed her vagina nicely, and I can honestly say that while a great many girls have an unpleasant 'situation' down there, hers was as close to flawless as I've ever seen.

I snapped out of it when the top came off. Prior to my..."awakening"? I was a big breast man. However, Jenelle certainly made a persuasive argument for the superiority of delicious flat chest. Remember when I told you how flat she was? Well I left out her nipples. The aereolas weren't obscenely big or anything (about the size of quarters) but they stood out by perhaps a third of an inch, forming little pink cones that terminated in what looked like little red pencil erasers. We stood there admiring each other until I got the sense that she simply didn't know what to do, and I took the initiative. I circled around behind her, slipping my right hand around her waist and tucking it into her crotch. With my left hand I played with her nipples, while licking, kissing and biting her neck and ears. Eventually it got the best of her. She relaxed, and became weak in the knees. I took the opportunity to position my member between her legs, saddled right up against her vaginal entrance. She closed her legs in silent understanding, sandwiching my erect PENIS in her 'gap'. I began to grind, and the sensation was beyond belief.

Things got a little noiser than I had planned for, but never so bad as to give us away. I could tell it was difficult for her, too. I've always been quiet during sex but while I couldn't see her face, I could hear her muffled, broken breathing that told me she was doing her best to keep her mouth closed. She put her hands against the wall and leaned forward, her hind end jutting up in the air as though beckoning me to penetrate. It came as a huge disappointment to both of us, but she was simply not developed enough to accomodate my PENIS. Believe me I tried, but despite the natural lube she was supplying in generous quantity, the fucking thing just wouldn't fit. The opening itself was extremely narrow, like it hadn't formed completely or something. I don't know if this is typical of girls her age or if it was a disorder, but when she realized I couldn't penetrate her she was on the verge of tears.

I remembered how insecure about my body I had been at that age. I kissed away her tears, and told her that there was nothing wrong with her body. This was actually the truth, too. I mean, assuming that the narrow vagina thing was normal. I told her, perhaps prematurely, that I was falling in love with her. That seemed to be the magic ticket. She threw herself at me, pinning me against the wall all hot and sweaty, and wrapped her legs back around my PENIS. We were facing each other now, me up against the wall of the shed and her faux-humping me, using the friction of her legs and pussy lips on the shaft of my PENIS to get both of us off. We came within seconds of each other, me tensing up and biting my lip and her shuddering violently and letting out a loud whimper. My cum ran down the back of her legs as we caught our breath, embracing one another as evenly as we could given the half-foot difference in our heights. "If it didn't count before", I thought. "It does now."

She got into a regular habit of visiting my room when her father was at the tracks. I could detail those encounters as well, though I think I'll save them for another thread. You're not really missing much as we could never go very far (for reasons I already explained) but I still see her from time to time (they live in a different complex now) and we talk online. She's about the right age now, and I really miss those legs....and that ass....oh man, and the gap. The gap, you guys. So how does this story end? Well as I said, this series of incidents more or less converted me. I couldn't see a fit, pretty girl around 13 without associating her with my experiences with Jenelle and getting an insta-boner. This didn't really pose a problem as I'm sure most other men already react the same way, but my newfound appreciation with young women came back to bite me later that Summer when I was on duty at the pool.

Here's what happened: I was sitting there doing my regular routine of checking out hot girls instead of working when, for the first time in the entire history of that pool, someone actually needed my help. I swim about as well as a brick, but the emergency was in my partition of the pool so I leapt into action without thinking about it. Luckily it's only four feet deep on my end, so I was able to basically *walk* to the distressed patron. It was a girl, maybe ten years old wearing a one-piece that did a particularly bad job at hiding the various curves and crevices of her body. I was a little too aware of this as I carried her up out of the pool, and it was only when I didn't recieve the heroe's applause that I realized what was wrong. The other lifeguards, the girl's parents and a handful of spectators stood quietly, staring at my swimsuit. I was holding a ten year old girl in my arms, and sporting the biggest and most obvious boner in the history of inopportune erections.

The landlady sorted things out with the girl and her parents, and then fired me. I've since found a new job, and a new apartment complex that is within ten minutes of Jenelle's new digs. Her father remains blisfully unaware of my existence, let alone my covert correspondence with his daughter. She's on track to graduate from highschool early, and I'm considering taking a few classes at the college she's told me she wants to attend, so that we can see each other without raising any eyebrows.

In other words, life is good.

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