Innocent Celine (Part 7)

5.08.2012 | By: Miriam

Ariana entrusts the care of her barely legal cousin Celine to Miriam. The girls get very intimate.

(PhotoXpress)

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Ariana calls me with a request if I could entertain her eighteen year-old cousin from France for one afternoon because she has to go away on business. I naturally agree kindly in the hope that the girl speaks English.

As a good guide I planned a visit to several museums and a hike to a nearby hill. The day is unpleasantly foggy, the sidewalks are full of slush, so the hike is out of the question.

I’m watching the promising future student of art history while walking around the galleries. She’s wearing a puffy white sweater which accentuates her girlish small breasts. Her light curly hair is a bit messed up and her porcelain skin a bit flushed because of the cold air outside. Even though she politely listens to my lecture and occasionally asks me something in a happy French accent which transforms my name into a soft and very sexy word, I feel that there’s worry and perhaps even sadness hidden behind the curious eyes.

When we return to Ariana’s apartment, we make some hot chocolate with coconut liqueur. The lovely Celine becomes quiet and her eyes are sad. I carefully ask her what’s troubling her. Slowly, she starts telling me about her boyfriend in France who left her without any explanation. She’s been listening to Jacques Brel ever since and asking why it happened. She’s talking quietly, softly, while it’s raining and not snowing outside. Tears are silently running down her perfect cheeks.

I don’t know how to console her. I wipe tears from her face and stroke her soft curls. She leans her head on my shoulder confidentially and I start murmuring an old lullaby to her. When she looks at me with tears in her eyes from beneath her brow, something stirs inside me. Stop, I say to myself. She’s too young! She’s crying! No, no, no.

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I move away discretely, but this triggers the opposite effect from what I expected. Celine is looking at me for a long time and with a smile reaches with her thumb towards my lips to wipe a trace of hot chocolate from the corner. She slowly slides across my lips, which spread slightly independently of my self-control.

Our gazes meet. I don’t know how much this girl knows about sex, but she looks at me with such longing that I feel warmth all over my body.

I kiss her salty face virtuously and she buries her face in my neck. I think that she’ll continue weeping and she does, but she is also kissing me greedily and asking me why she’s doing this in French.

“Celine, you’re so beautiful,” I whisper to her. “No one should be able to hurt you.” I shower her face with kisses and the girl gets rid of her sweater in a fever. She has a sky blue silk undershirt beneath, which reveals her hard nipples. I slowly remove the straps from her shoulder, so that the small breast reveals itself to me in all its loveliness. I watch it, then hold it in my hand. Celine shudders and is again full of tears. I kiss her tears, then I start kissing her lower – to her gentle neck and all the way to her small breast, which I warm up in my hand. I put the hard nipple in my mouth and suck on it gently. I circle around it with my tongue and take pleasure from her moans of delight which are replacing her weeping.

I want to do this with her clitoris as well because I’m certain it hasn’t been worked on like this before. I take her out of her velvet skirt and nylon stockings. She’s wearing blue girlish panties underneath. Before I take them off, I look at her for permission. She nods bravely and I take her clothes off slowly. The sight of her natural bush full of innocently gentle fair hair makes me sigh. The girl looks at me with a worried face and I start kissing her bush to make her feel at ease as soon as possible. Oh, I’ll soon get to know her taste, are the thoughts spinning in my mind, but I continue kissing her slowly. Before spreading her thin legs, I look at her for permission and she nods eagerly.

I again take the time to admire her young pussy which is revealing itself in front of me like a young flower. I touch her labia minora as if testing and she responds like she felt an electric shock. I continue with delight and once in a while gaze at the charmed and surprised look of the blushing beauty shuddering under my tongue. And I haven’t even really started working on her seriously.

When Celine is really on edge, I open up her flower, so that the pistil curves in front of me. I lick it a few times, then start hitting it with my tongue and enjoy the sight of her small hands grabbing the pillow on the couch with great effort. I circle all of it with my tongue and watch Celine writhing with pleasure. Her tears have dried up, but her flower is wet. I want to feel the muscles of her vagina contracting, so I gently slide my finger into her. Her whole body is curved with pleasure and she starts thrusting her hips towards me, so that I have a hard time keeping up with her butterfly-like clitoris. When she comes, she emits a rush of French words. I silence her with a possessive French kiss, with my finger deep inside of her, so that I still feel her muscles contracting for a while every time I move my finger slightly.