Dark Side (2)

He looks so angelic as he sings his solo. His voice soars like an Angel, and I am transfixed by his looks. There is just the slightest hoarseness in his voice and it isn’t as pure as it was last year. The choirmaster has told us this would be his last solo, and the whole church sits there enraptured. 

Apart from me. 

I have worked out why his voice isn’t quite what it was. Puberty. His voice is beginning to break, in fact, his speaking voice is quite deep even though his singing voice can still soar to the heavens. 

Lots of people are waiting for him after the service, so I deliberately leave it until everyone has gone but me and him. I congratulate him and hug him. I feel his hands around my waist and his chest pressing against my boobs. I move my pelvis so that my crotch touches his. I call these my “cunt cuddles”. The name flashes through my mind and I begin to tingle. 

He doesn’t seem to want to pull away and I feel something stirring in his pants. We are safe in the music room next to the choir loft and can’t be seen. I tell him I’m sorry his soprano days are over, but I’m sure once his voice has settled he will be back in the choir. Our choirmaster doesn’t let the boy trebles sing once their voice charts to break. It’s usually a year off, and then they rejoin. We stand there, hugging. 

Then I kiss him on the lips. A kiss that becomes passionate, open mouthed and with tongues. He isn’t experienced at this and it shows, so I take the lead. 

I take his hand and place it up my t shirt. Thank God I didn’t bother with a bra today. He gets his first feel of a girl’s boobs. I feel his erection now rock solid pressing against me. I don’t want him to cum in his pants. I reach down and quickly unzip him and get it out. 

I notice that his growth of pubic hair is still very light and I have no doubt of his virginity. He begins to push into my hand but I tell him to slow down. I take his hand off my boob and guide it into my undies. I teach him how to feel me, and then finger me. He starts to tremble so I sit him on a chair. It’s one of those wooden high backed things that we used to use as choir chairs. He sits there, wide eyed, his cock sticking out of his pants as I slip my undies off. I hold them in my left hand as I lift my skirt. “Look. Look at my cunt,” I just know he hasn’t seen one before. His idea of a cunt is confined to his imagination, or maybe a porn channel. 

Again he reaches for me and I stand with my legs apart ready to let him. He is a quick learner. His thumb rests on my clit while two fingers explore me. I squeeze my muscles and he snatches his hand away, wide eyed, terrified. I giggle and tell him  it’s just a little trick we can do. 

Then, quite simply, I straddle him. This beautiful, pure boy. I guide him inside me and lower myself. I move a little, but I’m not expecting him to last long. I wrap my arms around him and continue my gentle movements. I feel his tension. He is already so close. “I....I.....don’t want to get you pregnant.” He stammers. I tell him That's not possible, and then I hold my panties to his face. “Smell me. Smell my cunt.” Is it my scent? Is it me talking dirty? I neither know nor care, but I feel his hands on my bare bum and he cums deep inside me. 

* This fantasy of deflowering a young boy has numerous variations for me. Just as some men find the idea of an underage girl exciting, so do I with boys. I would never do it for real, but then fantasy isn’t reality, is it?