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Lolita Syndrome Part 1

Part 1

By T.C. BosargePublished 7 years ago 3 min read
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I never expected to be in this type of situation. Also, I never expected to like it. His hand is on my thigh underneath my parents' dining table. I remain calm as his fingers tickle their way up the short black skirt he'd complimented me on earlier. As I eat my mother's famous baked chicken, I was slowly becoming turned on.

His name is Phil. He was older, 45 just like my father, but I've always liked older men. I'd known Phil for a few years now and he was always nice to me. Phil always hugged me firmly and understood my regular teenage angst when my parents thought I was just being dramatic.

Up until now, I'd never thought anything inappropriate about him until now. Now...Now, his fingers rested on my inner thigh.

When I was younger, I secretly read Lolita for the first time and thought to myself how lucky she was to have Humbert care for her the way he did. I used to fantasize about having Humbert care for me that way. As I got older, I realized how filthy those thoughts were, but I continued to think them.

Now at 18, I have my own Humbert. My own Phil.

His hand stayed there the rest of dinner as a subtle reminder of his feelings for me. How long had wanted to touch me? How long had he looked at me with arousal? I wanted to know these things.

After dinner, my parents go to the kitchen for drinks while Phil offers to help me clear the table.

As I gather everything, I can feel Phil's eyes undressing me. I want to look up at him, but I can't bring myself to. I can't bring myself to see the lust in his eyes or maybe I just don't want him to see the lust in mine.

The thought causes me to knock a fork from the table. Bending over to pick it up, I feel a strong hand graze over my backside. Gasping softly, I stand, smoothing down my skirt.

"Phil," I whisper as I back myself into the table.

He steps closer until his body is pressed against mine. His hands rest on either side of me on the table, locking me in. I can feel the heat radiating off of his body and through my clothes.

"Jessica," he moans.

I look into his eyes as he commands my attention. I want him to kiss me, but I don't know how to say that if I even must say it at all. My parted red lips should be enough permission. I’ve never wanted something so badly in my life.

Phil's eyes flicker down my body and he sighs.

"Do you want me to move? Do you think this is wrong?"

I should say yes. I should push him away and tell, but I do neither of those things. Instead, I press my body against his and look up at him.

"Do you want me to move? Do you think this is wrong?"

And just like that, a blaze ignites in his eyes.

With one hand, he reaches down and slips it between my legs, brushing his fingers over my cotton panties. I've never been touched there before and my initial thought is to move away, but instead I move closer. I press myself against his fingers and he lets out a low groan. The sensation causes my eyes to flutter and my knees to weaken. I don’t know what’s come over me. My parents could walk in at any minute and see this, but now I don’t care.

He applies pressed as I move against his hand and just as I’m about to moan, I bite down on my lip.

"Good girl," he nods.

Hearing that has never made me happier.

taboo
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About the Creator

T.C. Bosarge

I'm a 25 year old writer living in the Deep South. I stumble across vocal and decided to give it a try. I hope y’all enjoy the content I make.

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