J. Thorpe - Three Little Naughties - Stories About Three Little Naughty Girls

It was the classic no win situation for me. Push her away and I knew Belinda would feel even more rejection at a very vulnerable time.

On the other hand, I didn't feel right either bringing my arms down and trying to give the young girl even a semblance of a hug with the whole neighborhood watching our embrace in broad daylight. So all I did for a minute or so was simply stand there with my arms extended as Belinda's eyes soaked my oil stained tee-shirt. Standing there helplessly in the girl's emotional grip, I disparately tried ignoring the sensations of her large breasts tightly wedged against my chest as she pulled me closer with her clenched fists. It was just like the proverbial pink elephant however, the more I tried not thinking about the young girl's mature endowment, the more I felt the weight of her womanhood mashing through my shirt. I could feel my willpower to be gentlemanly gradually start to dissipate as my arms started to tingle from a lack of blood as I held them out to the side. Slowly lowering them, I couldn't fight the urge to return her embrace for a second longer. Before I even could close my arms around Belinda's shoulders, the devastated young girl let go of me and hurriedly ran towards her front door with the same reckless abandon that she had ran towards me in the first place with. I could hear Belinda yell 'thank you” to me without turning around, through her muffled hands covering her face as she disappeared into her apartment. My whole body felt the stinging vibration of the Nye's door slamming shut as Belinda went inside to deal with her personal tragedy alone. I finally mustered the wherewithal to turn and make my way back to my car to finish the oil change that I had started. Reaching down to unscrew the top of a new quart of oil, I started to pour it into the engine before my memory was jarred. “You forgot to put the bolt back in the bottom of the oil pan you idiot!” Slamming my rag down to the gravel below in disgust, I knelt down and went back underneath the car to try and clean up my own personal mess. 4. I spent the better part of the rest of that night trying to figure out what had happened between Belinda and I. The rational part of my mind told me that absolutely nothing had, she was just stuck in a moment of weakness and I just happened to be there. I was in bed, unable to fall asleep, the muscle memory of Belinda's arms wrapped around my body and her endowment pressing against my chest brazenly embroiled themselves into my psyche. I closed my eyes and desperately tried forcing myself to sleep, the realization that the embrace with Belinda was the first real female contact that I had shared since my wife and I had separated, six months earlier. Just the simple fact that an attractive young girl had not been so grossed out by me that she was willing to hug me gave me a broad, if not misguided, smile in the “behind closed door” privacy of my bedroom. Those thoughts were even more cemented on a hot August night a few months later when Belinda Nye had a huge party to celebrate her 14h birthday. I couldn't help sneaking a few peeks out the window that night at all the revelers coming and going in and out of the Nye residence. All I could seem to think about was the fact that if Belinda had kept her virginity for those 14 years, there was just no way it was going last through the night with all the booze and pot that was being passed around. I kicked myself for being shallow as my suppressed lust for Belinda waned slightly, loosing some of the appeal, for some reason, if her virginity was no longer in tact. I noticed that there was no sign of Rebecca Nye the whole night and it gave me a small jolt of optimism, as far as the bigger picture went, that with Belinda finally turning 18, maybe she could actually move away and start living out from her Mom's rather messy and devouring shadow. I dragged myself to bed that night with a wry but disappointed smile, imagining what was going through the minds of the lucky guy or guys that might be taking Belinda Nye's cherry.

It was a few weeks later that my phone ringing unexpectedly, jolted me awake at about 1:30 in the morning. I tried swallowing my heart back down into my chest as I clumsily reached over to see who it was. For a single guy with a soon to be ex-wife, the phone ringing that late was never a good sign. I hesitated for a moment before finally reaching down to pick up the receiver. “Hi Dave,” a silent, almost inaudible voice whispered. I knew it wasn't my ex-wife. All she ever did when she called was scream at me.

“Dave, um, this is Belinda…Belinda Nye… from down the street…I…I could really use some help right now,” came the pleading voice on the other end of the line. An hour or so later, I was in a pair of sweatpants and a flannel shirt driving back to my apartment after picking Belinda up from the police station downtown.

She sat stoically beside me, arms folded and scowling, sniffling every few seconds as she bravely fought off the urge to cry her eyes out as I sped her back home. From the story she gave me at the police station, apparently Belinda was with her mom at one of Rebecca's friend's house earlier that evening and the cops had raided the place.

Her Mother along with several of her friends had been taken into custody for possession with the intent to distribute and Belinda had been forced to go along with the arrested party. When nothing was found on her, Belinda was released after answering a few questions.

With the family car impounded however and no money for a cab, Belinda had to scramble for a way home. Not wanting to drag any of her other family members or friends into the mess, she had grabbed the phone book and started calling neighbors until I was the first one to answer the phone. The whole way home, I found myself grinding my teeth, drowning in the cell of awkward silence that permeated the front seat of my car. Always being one to say the wrong thing at the wrong time, I bit my tongue forcefully on a couple of instances, searching for a way to break the silence. “So…how does it feel to be 14?” I asked meekly. For a moment, Belinda continued to just sit there, staring forward into the bleak night. “No different really,” She finally replied. “I feel 38 with all the shit that I've been through lately.” “38 ain't that old,” I shot back kiddingly, more for my own good than hers. “I'm almost there and its not the end of the world.” Not wanting to talk about any of the depressing stuff weighing her down, I tried steering the conversation towards happier things. “I couldn't help but notice the big party you had at your place a few weeks back…was that for your birthday?” “Yeah,”

Belinda said. “Looked like quite a blowout.” “I didn't know half the people there…guys invite their friends who invite their friends and on and on…it got kinda crazy…we didn't keep you up with the music did we?” “Not at all,” and then: “Congratulations,” I said after a couple of seconds, bringing a trace of a smile to Belinda's full lips. A few moments later I wheeled my car into my parking space, cut the ignition and sneaked a peak over at the exhausted expression on Belinda's young but weathered face.

“You're welcome to sleep on my sofa tonight if you don't want to…you know…have to deal with being alone at your place,” I offered, immediately slapping myself internally for the indecent way the offer came out of my mouth. I instantly tried amending the way my offer sounded but before I could correct myself, I saw the understanding look in Belinda's tired brown eyes, signaling that she knew what I really meant. Belinda thought over my offer for about 30 seconds while we huddled quietly in the front seat. “You sure?” she said. “Yeah…it's no problem…get a good night's sleep then see what the fallout is like with your Mom in the morning,”