Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
I knew she was mine before I descended the stairs, but it was confirmed the moment I entered the crowded, noisy room. My gaze landed on her where she sat at the end of the bar. She took my breath away with her pale complexion and hair. I nearly chuckled at the way Fate matched the two of us—one dark as night, one light as a cloud.
Her skin is stunning. It’s nearly translucent. My cock stiffens further every time I stare at the contrast of my hand against her body.
She’s perfection in every way. Her hair is soft and long, the curls tamed by whatever products she uses. After I bathe her, the locks will dry naturally, allowing me a glimpse into what she will look like in the future.
The only makeup she’s wearing is the black mascara nearly all females on Earth seem to wear. I’ll wash it off, revealing what I suspect are pale lashes. They will never be covered with artificial color again.
Her lips are shiny and smell sweet. She’s wearing some sort of gloss on them that makes me want to taste her mouth. I won’t, though. I’ll wait until that artificial product is also washed away. It’s transparent, not hiding the fact that her lips are full and pink. Pouty at times. Adorably so.
The pucker of her nipples is small against her dress and the bra underneath, leading me to believe they will be hard tiny points. My guess is they’re the same shade of pink as her lips.
Already I’m picturing the stones I want dangling from the swollen tips. Cryptolite. It’s a deep red the same color as those cherries she likes. It will pop against her pale skin.
She’s daintier than the average human female. Five-two I’m guessing. Small boned. Her fingers are so precious. I could hold her hands in mine and stare at them for hours.
A deep inhale reminds me that her pussy is creaming for me. It will be pink and swollen, too. I remind myself she will have hair there. Curls. Most likely blond like the hair on her head. I’ll permanently remove it soon, but I’m looking forward to seeing it before I do so. Rubbing my cheek against it. Perhaps I’ll take a picture so that later I can look back and remind myself what my Little girl’s pussy looked like when I met her.
There’s something so pure about her. Innocent. Adorable.
I push her dress up to expose her tummy and the precious pink, lacey panties she’s wearing. Setting my hands on her inner thighs, I use my thumbs to stroke the elastic edge of the soaked material.
“Papi…” she whimpers in that tiny voice of hers.
“Shhh. Be a good girl. Stay still for Papi. I want to open you like a gift.”
I love the way she trembles. I know she needs to pee, but that fact makes her squirm even more, which drives me out of my head with lust. My cock is so hard it aches.
I don’t care if she loses control and wets herself. It will endear her to me even more. It would also embarrass her, but I’m starting to believe she might thrive on that level of submission.
I have questions. I’m going to ask her now before I peel this dress over her head. Sliding the tips of my thumbs under the edge of her panties, I meet her gaze. “How many men have seen this pussy, Baby girl?”
Her face turns dark red, and she bites her lower lip.
I grip her thighs, digging my thumbs into her tender skin.
“None, Papi,” she whispers.
For some reason, that pleases me greatly. It wouldn’t matter either way, but I like knowing she’s all mine.
“What about you? Do you play with this little pussy when you’re alone, Baby girl?” I reach over the gusset of her panties and stroke the soaked fabric.
My Little girl whimpers and bucks, digging her heels into the mattress so she can lift her hips. She would slam her legs closed if I weren’t holding her thighs. Her small hands are fisted together above her head.
“Answer my question, Allisa. I want to know everything about you. There’s no right or wrong answer.” I press my thumb against her clit.
She cries out, arching her chest this time. “Papi…”
“Tell Papi what experience you have, Baby girl.”
Her head rolls back and forth.
I need to narrow my question to specifics. She’s too tongue-tied to answer broad questions. “Have you touched your pussy with your fingers, Baby girl?”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispers. Her cheeks are bright red. With her skin, she’ll never be able to hide her flushed face.
“What about up inside your cunt, Little one? Have you pushed your fingers into your tight channel?” I’m aware that I’m using very vulgar language. Cunt is a word humans are sometimes averse to. I’m feeling her out. She didn’t cringe at the term.