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An adorable room for an adorable girl, Andre thinks to himself, taking a good look around the pastel-pink dreamland surrounding him that’s now shaded from the darkness of the summer night. He slowly, carefully moves the crotch of your undies off your pussy. It matches your room, he notices, being blush-pink, frilly, dainty, innocent, and best of all, youthful . He’s fantasized about your cunt ever since Cal introduced you to him, and now he finally gets to see it with his own eyes. And, like the sick fuck he is, he’s instantly fallen in love.
He’s usually blunt. Often rude. Sometimes brash. Always pugnacious. But now, he’s sickly gentle with the flesh in his hand. It’s as if you’re too precious for him to ruin, or maybe it’s just because you’re asleep. Whatever it is, the fingers that normally type away at a keyboard or stick bullets into a gun are now caressing a part of your body that he was never meant to touch.
Andre finds every important part fairly easily; it’s definitely a lot easier to navigate when you don’t have any pubic hair yet. Everything feels so soft. He dips his finger inside, and it almost breaks him. It almost feels like satin. He wants, no, he needs it wrapped around his cock.
God, what the fuck am I doing? he asks himself. I’m supposed to be asleep in the basement but instead I’m touchin’ a seven-year-old! A fuckin’ seven-year-old! Eleven years younger than me! … Fuck, I’m disgusting. I swear, if this kid wakes up, I’m blowing my brains out right in the middle of this goddamn room.
He glances back to the plush folds between your legs, and he remembers why he’s here. This time, he can’t resist the temptation anymore. Like a moth to a flame, Andre stealthily kneels down on the side of your bed, leans over, and takes a nice long lick. You taste like pure prepubescence, and it turns him on more than anything.
He bites back the urge to moan. The room is suddenly stifling hot, and his tongue takes the brunt of the heat. He’s savoring you, drinking in the sweet, chaste flavor of your cunt and lapping up his own saliva in the process. He palms the bulge in his jeans, finding it increasingly difficult to keep it confined to the fabric it’s trapped in as his tongue slips into you, his breath hitching in his chest. And all the while, you’re blissfully unaware of what he’s doing.
Soon, he’s hitting his climax as silently as he possibly can. His cock is no longer in his pants anymore; instead, it’s dripping with cum, and so is your bedroom floor and your princess-esque bedding. Pink ribbons and frills stained with the mark of a predator. It’s so saccharine that it could rot teeth. Andre looks up at you, making sure you’re still asleep. The view of your pussy above him is heaven on Earth. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to have this be the only thing he sees for the rest of his life.
“You’re such a good girl,” he whispers, a one-sided thanks for being so obedient as he violated you. He leans down and leaves a delicate kiss on your forehead, mind racing with all the details of what he’d just done.
God, I love her.