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Once upon a time, /b/ ws a place where anons could share a heartwarming story. Today I come with just such a story. Remember the good old days? Do you? Nurse-kun, Blindmute Loli, Uncle Anon? Though really only the first meant much of anything to anyone.
This story starts a few years ago. I was just finishing college and working at an after school program. During this period, my father who had been ill for quite a while passed away. His death obviously ripped apart my life in many ways, he and I were always close, my mother being a much more emotionally distant person. I was not there when he died, which contributed to my feeling of being a worthless child. Returning to the country he lived in and spending time with family, I slowly began to piece together my life, ready to return to studying and particularly the school that now dominated much of my life.
Once I returned to the after-school program, the children were aware of what had happened and were very sympathetic albeit curious about this particular type of devastation. I was a coordinator of the program, helping in different areas while doing general crisis prevention and most parent communication. In the neighborhood I lived in, I couldn't walk down the street without scads of children swarming me with happy shouts of "Anon, anon!". But back to where we were.
One girl wasn't curious about my Dad. Cassie. This girl had always been part of the quiet group, though her louder older sisters made up for her reticence. Cassie was seven years old as our story begins, still quite young and more a follower than a leader. Cassie's emotions were easily triggered, brought to tears and needing hugs and reassurance fairly constantly.
She stayed back, stayed away, shyly refused to bring up my trauma. After several days of her avoiding me, she finally pulled me aside and told me that her daddy had died too. I was shocked, understandably, and while I was frozen she reached up to give me a hug before saying she understood how I felt. My mouth was dry, I didn't know what to say, this was completely unexpected. Cassie scampered away before I could gather myself to respond, and I spent the rest of the day and even the week in a little bit of a daze. Little did I know how much this girl would play into the following years of my life.
My phone rang the next day, Cassie's mother identifying herself as such immediately upon my answering the phone. Obviously a call from a parent isn't something I ever really WANT to deal with, but this was a bit different. The woman explained that Cassie had told her about my situation during bedtime the previous night, and now she couldn't get me out of her head. She asked if I was free to enjoy tacos with the family that evening, and I immediately accepted.
Later in the day I received a text reading "girls BUZZING about you coming over!" and I couldn't help but smile, thinking of the excitement my arrival was likely causing. I knew Cassie's sisters a bit, two other girls aged 9 and 12. They were also adorable girls, very cute, very easy to be around, with bright and engaging personalities. However, they lacked the bittersweet qualities of Cassie, the quietness, the solemnity belying her age. This quality, this ethereal thing I could never nail down kept my thinking about Cassie throughout the day until I arrived at their home.
I'll be honest, the tacos were shit. Cassie's mother does not know how to cook, even something as simple as that. BUT, the company made the food taste far better than it would have otherwise. The girls were so bright, so engaging, so ready to impress me and outdo one another. Towards the end of the meal, the oldest girl asked if I would be staying overnight, making me smirk and look to the mother, who immediately said no nononono. This time (he added, foreshadowing).
Following dinner, I interacted a bit more with Cassie just one-on-one, the others engrossed in either some electronic device or cleaning up. "What do you for fun?" She asked, and I told her I loved watching television and we began to discuss various Disney shows (ugh, yes, I'm too familiar with them). She didn't seem to care that I'm not the best-looking person in the world, not the most socially adjusted, by far more ordinary than special. She was just Cassie, wearing her tank top and short shorts (especially selected for my arrival, her eldest sister had informed me gleefully).
Does this sort of thing interest me? I'll admit there was a twinge of attraction towards her. She had the Delicious Flat Chest we've heard so much about, a rare beast to see up close. She also wasn't an airhead, enjoying tearing apart Disney with me and bringing up various books she was enjoying (Roald Dahl at seven, waaaaat). Cassie is something more than just a loli, more than just that idealized little girl. I could see that. I just wanted to figure her out more.
The time came for me to go. The girls had gone to bed, I had stayed up watching TV with their mother and discussing the grief process. She told me more about her husband's (pretty horrific) death, and the girls' responses to that occurrence. I had no words, who would, but gave her a listening ear which she returned in kind.
Cassie's mother isn't a supermodel. However, she retains something of the nymph-like charm each of her daughters have in varying amounts. I wondered idly about this, though our age gap was well beyond ten years. Could this be something that would happen? Her chest was certainly not flat, she wasn't someone I could show off to my college friends. But. She was there, her daughters were there. These were the thoughts flashing through my head on the drive to my apartment, the prematurity of these concepts dawning on me finally, causing me to laugh it off and decide to just leave the night as it was. A fun night, quality time with a loll, and nothing more.
I'll resist the urge to fast forward. You need to earn this one, Anon, much as I do. Plus I need to remember how this all happened, my journals from this period of my life have been fairly consistently purged to ensure I don't run into the issues Humbert Humbert encountered with his new wife.
PROTIP: Getting that joke and recognizing this image are pretty key indicators as to whether or not you should keep reading. This isn't a repost from ASSTR or a fucking Bel-Air, this is just a story. My story. Nameless for now.
[Lolipurple explains it: Humbert Humbert is the protagonist of the novel Lolita]
Anyway. Taco night came and went, I continued to see Cassie at the program and offered her a tiny bit of extra attention, which she began to reciprocate hugely (as did her sisters). Obviously appearing to play favorites did NOT go over well with the other children, so I had to do my best to be very even-handed. I continued to work on my relationship with the mother, emailing with her and texting every now and then, genuinely reacting to all her wisdom related to grief were really helping me. And beginning to see a future being created was more than enough encouragement, as the girls began to beg me to come over again, to spend more time with them, to be with them outside the boring context of after school.
I wanted to so much. But I took my time. But things started to come together very quickly.
The next weekend oldest sister, Olivia, had a school play. I am normally a bit loathe to attend those sort of things, since I don't like passively killing myself. But Cassie would be in attendance, and I'd be surrounded by other children I knew and thus be putting in 'outside time' that would likely mean something to them. Though I had only one little girl on my mind. Pulling into the school parking lot I almost sprinted out of my car. I had slapped on a tie and shaved and actually tried to look presentable, lol i know right, and Cassie immediately spotted me and waved me towards their car, where Olivia was in hysterics over some costuming issue. I offered to take Cassie and Mary (middle sister) in while this was dealt with, and their mother readily agreed. Walking into a big auditorium as a single guy, looking good, a loll on either side…HOLY SHIT don't knock it til you've tried it. Heads turned upon seeing my entrance, lol local celebrity what a badass, and the fact that Tragic Dead Dad Anon was with Tragic Dead Dad Lolis got many tongues wagging.
The girls showed me off to their friends I didn't know, and I did my best to be charming, causing Cassie to at least become a tiny bit defensive, as I was "hers" for that evening. Seeing her get a little miffed, her wide blue eyes narrowing a tad as I spoke with one of her classmates for just a little too long… The jealousy of a little girl has no equal, I tell you.
The fight over who sat next to who was an epic struggle, with Mary ending up on one side of me and Cassie on the other, their mother relegated to the edge. This was quite alright by me. Both girls had on modest-enough dresses, but seeing their skinny little legs poking out beneath the skirts…oh my. Every time I got physically close to Cassie, she grew only more perfect, more incredible, more desirable.
Oh right, I forgot to talk about how she looked all dolled up. At this point in time Cassie was still seven, still a very little girl, not yet reaching pre-teen years while long out of the princess phase. The perfect age, I would say, and I still stand behind that for the most part. She had dirty blonde hair cut relatively short, barely brushing her shoulders, almost always pulled back into a mini ponytail (what do you call that thing where the top is in a ponytail and the rest is loose? anyway, that). That particular night she had been allowed to curl her hair a little, so it looked incredibly soft and bouncy. Her face is…beautiful. A combination of all the things described before, wisdom beyond her years while retaining innocence, a mask of youthful adorableness over a complicated character that misses her Daddy every day and thus looked for a man ANYwhere. She was well-proportioned then, yet to develop the horribly long or awkwardly shaped legs and arms that precipitate puberty, Olivia having hit that point already, and Cassie retained her Flat Chest as well. And one final detail -- while I hate hair for the most part, she had the lightest down on her legs that…oh my god, changed my mind about leg hair the moment I saw it. Anyway, that's Cassie at seven, I suppose, what little of her I can manage to encapsulate. For now.
This was the first time Cassie actually managed to show a little bit of emotional attachment to me, beyond the subtle hints dropped otherwise. My heart, honestly, still flutters even remembering this moment. After the play ended, ps it was awful and hours long, the girls begged for ice cream. As their financial situation was more than incredibly delicate, their mother said no much to their chagrin before GOOD GUY ANON stepped up to the plate and offered to treat. This was met with heavy resistance from their mother and heavy cheering from the girls, Olivia grabbing onto me and squeezing me tight, mashing her body against mine very hard (making Cassie jealous as ever, lulz). Being surrounded by three girls, all loving and cheering me…again, oh my. But it got better.
I decided to drive with the family to ice cream and then get dropped off back at the school, and after another fight about seating Mary and Cassie got me to sit in the back of the van with them while Olivia and the mom were in the front. I was in the middle again, Mary on my right and Cassie on my left, chattering about types of ice cream filling my ears. And then it happened.
There was an insistent tapping on my left elbow, and I glanced over to see Cassie looking at me very seriously. She moved her left hand away, back across her body, revealing her right hand sitting next to her, palm up to face me, fingers outspread just a little. I looked at her eyes again, unsure what she was asking for, realizing suddenly as she tapped my elbow once more.
I moved my left hand over to her very slowly, looking to see if anyone was seeing. No one seemed to be paying attention, and I relaxed a bit until -- our fingers made contact. She grabbed my hand, tightly, fingers quickly intertwining with mine, gripping my much-larger hand as best she could.
Looking up at me, her brow furrowed upward, afraid of my reaction, I just nodded at her and smiled.
I'll be honest, I popped over nine thousand boners at this point, this was the most skin contact I'd had with a desirable person since a messy breakup a year previous. And she initiated it, she kept it silent. I felt her tiny fingers flex in a row, pinky to thumb and back again, squeezing me, her little hand growing hot and sweaty as we continued to chatter. No one noticed, it was just the two of us.
Cassie and I. Holding hands, squeezed tightly together, neither one willing to let go.
It had only been a week. My mouth was dry when we got out of the car, my boner had to be tucked away discreetly. Cassie didn't speak of it, going right for ice cream, busy eating on the return trip and not going for further hand-holding.
But I thought about it for ages. Or perhaps hours, until I was back in my own home and could Take Care of Business.
She held my hand.
Sorry guys. I kid you not, I just got interrupted by Cassie. UH-OH SPOILER ALERT. I look forward to refreshing the page after this goes up and seeing the gads that missed me.
Back to non-present day.
The hand-holding incident fueled my self-gratification for weeks afterwards. I honestly obsessed about it, as it was the sort of situation I never saw coming. I know it wasn't sexual for her, just emotional, but honestly emotion is all I'm ever really looking for and the emotional has become sexual and hang on when did this become my therapist's couch stfu.
The after-school program continued and I got to see Cassie almost every day. Another smaller occurrence that was BURNED into my memory happened a month or so later. I had been invited over to dinner a few other times but only made it once, always having to run, such is the life of a socially maladjusted overcommitted douche. I realized after one dine and dash, seeing Cassie's crestfallen expression, that that would never happen again.
Olivia continued to deliver hugs all the time, Mary remained stand-offish, and their mother was getting more and more attached. Cassie remained an enigma, the only one I cared about.
Right, I was talking about the next incident. The Soccer Shorts.
The soccer shorts. Holy shit this may come across as another small incident to you, but to me it was huge. Remember how the family doesn't have money to burn? This extended to their wardrobes, with the occasional ratty/ugly/generally old piece of clothing making an appearance, to the girls' complete humiliation. I had this on my list of Things To Fix, but at this point had no method to try and get at it. Fortunately, as it turns out.
After saying goodbye to all the after-school kids one day I noted all three sisters still left behind, and they said they had soccer practice soon and as such were going to eat there and then walk to the field. Their mother pulled up soon after, running in with a bag of soccer clothes and a pizza. Seeing me, she grinned and immediately invited me to join them. Since I, for once, had nothing to do, I said OH SHIT FUCK YES PLEASE I WANT. Sitting on the floor to eat, Olivia and Mary emerged in boring ol' soccer uniforms and tucked in, and then Cassie appeared, obviously embarrassed and sorta hiding around the corner. I waved her over and she sat across from me, face a little red (hard to tell from tan).
I looked up. And this is when I first really noticed the tiny bit of downy fuzz on her legs, only noticeable in the right light, barely even there. But this wasn't what grabbed my eyes. Nope. Her shorts were clearly from, what, when she was five? Younger? They were short. Really short. Her shin guards covered up to a bit below her knees, and then what seemed like miles of exposed skinny thigh led up to… Well, should have led to purple athletic shorts. But while the shorts were there, they exposed as much of her panties as could have been possible.
I had a heart attack and died immediately. I screamed and passed out. My mouth dropped open and an entire pizza fell out. I stared.
Pick one.
You probably picked the right one. A strip of fabric obviously ran between her legs, the bit of shorts managing to cover up a tiny bit of her modesty, but otherwise I could see everything. Honestly, I had hoped for something like this, but had no idea it would be so sudden, so unexpected, and so SO perfect.
She was wearing little-girl panties. Little butterflies or flowers, I didn't really get a great look. But there they were, multi-colored, white ribbing, etc. She knew I saw. We ate, we talked, she remained red and essentially sprinted to soccer practice when we were done.
Our hand-holding suddenly wasn't quite so inspiring.
Don't worry, things ease back a little from the Soccer Shorts. She did thankfully get a new pair of shorts before too long, which I was glad about as at this point I had developed as much jealous protectiveness over Cassie as she had over me.
Taking a wider look at the situation, there are obviously three other major players in this little tale that have yet to show up too much. Cassie's mother is the only one who really needs to be brought up to a larger extent (don't worry, back to loli soon). We shared glasses of wine, shitty television, and discussions about parenting (since, you know, some random college kid has great advice for a mother of three). Things were developing. The girls were pleased, the town was scandalized when they found out I was sleeping over (we'll get there, don't worry), and my family was, for the most part, horrified as I appeared to drown my grief in a weird relationship.
But I established a relationship with her outside the girls. Not to get access to the girls, nothing that insidious, but to get to know someone I did find interesting albeit someone whose romantic interest I did not return in any way. I let that side of things go, and the two of us enjoyed a "not-really-dating" relationship that began the summer following all these occurrences.
Around this point we had a talk about babysitting. She did not want me to think she had me around to provide free childcare…but… I obviously liked the girls. The girls liked me. My schedule was suddenly clearing up everywhere (I suddenly had something Far More Important to pay attention to). It just…made sense! And it finally gave her time out of the house, something sorely lacking following her husband's death.
I said of course I'd be her babysitter, I'd be honored. As long as the local teenage girls didn't gang up to kill me.
And that was it. I was Olivia, Mary, and (mostly) Cassie's babysitter.
Let's just go right to the first overnight. I don't think you can imagine a more nervous scene than me after receiving the call to babysit that weekend. I ran around my home, assembling clothes, sprucing myself up, trying to not look like my normal piece of shit self, though the girls were likely used to it by now. I managed to NOT kill myself on the drive to their house, picking up a movie at the local vidya store, barely even paying attention to what it was, visions of sugar plum fairies dancing in my head.
I prayed to the spirit of Humbert Humbert again, asking for his blessing upon the coming evening. When I arrived the mother ran out the door, saying she'd be back around lunch the next day, I knew where the food was, blah blah. She had some function for some thing, I don't even know or particularly care.
I made a PASTA BAR for dinner which was pretty snazzy compared to the normal garbage the girls ate, and they loved picking a kind of pasta/sauce/topping and eating until they were sick. Eating around the kitchen table, just the four of us, made me allllmost start to cry, our first time as a foursome and not a five some. It was like…almost like real life. A life I could have. Three beautiful, smart girls and their…brother? Uncle Anon? Dad? I wasn't sure how to define it. Or if I could. How about "Male Emotional Attachment Vehicle" for now.
But that's about everyone still. Let's get back to the central player in this tale. Cassie. She turned eight during a weekend I was traveling (trust me, I was as angry about it as you are now) (damn it should I go back and write that) (nope) but still remained the sweetest thing to enter my life in…ever. And this was essentially just the two of us. (with her sisters, but whatev)
Okay, so that night. My hands sweat a little bit even now remembering how nervous I was, unsure what was going to happen, barely having even hugged Cassie that much, our hand-holding many months previous the peak of our physical contact (one I still relived).
I told them I had a movie, we went into the living room and I ordered them to get their PJs on before we continued. (Yeah, I know. Babysitters are the boss.) They ran and returned quickly, Olivia and Mary coming down in whatever, Cassie finally appearing in a.d.o.r.a.b.l.e. monkey PJs, a large monkey on a fuzzy purple top with loose PJ pants below covered in monkeys throwing coconuts and shit(?!). I sat on the couch. Olivia and Mary sat closer to the television.
And, after much hesitation, Cassie sat…next to her sister. BONER KILL.
I have never been more disappointed (hyperbole, total lie), but fortunately things turned around soooon~
The movie starts, it is some shitty animation thing that was popular then but not at all good (i.e. A BARBIE MOVIE, god help me). I almost fell asleep, but started watching the back of the girl's heads instead of the movie, memorizing their hair, the backs of their necks, their shoulder blades pressing back out against their PJs (Mary had on a white nightgown, Olivia something similar to Cassie's, her training bra still proudly on, pretty sure you don't wear those at night). Nothing too tight, so I couldn't really see their contours or anything, but… I do like hair, and they all had pretty little dos on from the day. So this continues for a while until I am genuinely close to drifting off when…
Cassie says she's cold!
Controlling myself a bit, I just picked up the edge of the blanket near me, spreading it on the couch, patting the spot next to me and saying I wasn't cold. And she got up. And she clambered onto the couch. And I put the blanket over us. And that beautiful, angelic eight-year-old girl snuggled up against your faithful anon, sleepy head resting gently against my shoulder, fuzzy PJs rubbing against my bare forearm. Ten thousand million boners. But then she stopped paying attention to the movie and decided to pay attention to us instead.
[For anyone eagerly F5ing, spoiler alert/protip#2: this does NOT end with me raping her, stop reading now if you are looking for that.]
So she is all snuggled against me and then she turns a little to make eye contact, those baby blues boring into me just a little bit too hard. I had no idea what she was going to say. Despite being in a couple shitty non-loli relationships previous, I was completely blank at the moment. And I'm pretty sure she knew she had me at that point. A little smirk played across her lips and she looked back to the movie, causing me to breath a sigh of relief while I peaked past the 9000 boner mark and moved towards legendary boner territory. This could potentially become an issue -- l did not have on anything that could hide it. And it wasn't going anywhere. UH-OH MIDDLE SCHOOL DANCE AWKWARDNESS.
This struggle is obviously all in my head, though I may have made a few horrible strangled choking noises as she continued to lean against me. Holy shit you guys do you know how a little girl smells after a long day playing, how she feels when her skin seems to radiate warmth from the sun absorbed earlier, how she looks when she feels completely safe and cared for. YOU GUYS SERIOUSLY.
So then she says she's still cold. I shit you not. I say sorry, blanket and me are as good as it is getting. And she asks to sit on my lap. I can't say no, duh.
Keep in mind this is a girl who could barely talk to me LESS THAN A YEAR AGO. How did I get in this situation? I still wonder. This was what flashed through my mind as she shifted over to get onto my lap.
(her sisters were actually watching the movie, haha, oh them)
The lighthouse eagerly warning ships away from my pants (do you get what I'm talking about) was quickly snapped into waistband (jesus christ, seriously middle school) but I knew that there was pretty much nothing for it.
So she plopped, literally plopped onto my lap. I put my arms around her, what else was there to do, and she let out the most contented sigh I think I've ever heard. Again, let me wax eloquent for just a second, I'm sure you're reading this to see my incredible prose, right? So. A little girl on my lap. A beautiful, smart, fantastic little girl. Possessor of the Delicious Flat Chest that launched a thousand ships. Of downy-haired legs and tiny hands. Raw emotions right there at the surface, damaged by her tragic loss, now latched onto me, ME of all people. And again, how she felt, she smelled, she looked.
Just a couple other little details -- those of you who remember Jenny Jones will appreciate hearing that she had some kind of swirled purple and pink nail polish on, applied days ago, beginning to chip. And she weighed almost nothing. Almost less than nothing. A feather on my lap, really.
She wrapped her legs around mine, pushing back against mine, trying to get comfortable and practically melt into me. UH-OH, BONER NOTICED. She sat up a little.
I swear to god, she only said one thing. Well, at that point. "Anon, are you wearing a belt?"
Shitfuckshitfuckfuckshitfuck. "No."
"Oh." The most awkward silence in the world, praise be to Humbert that her sisters did not hear this exchange. My face was BEET red, I was sure this was it, raped up the butt forever'never in the big house. Seriously, my heart stopped beating, I could barely breathe. The only thing worse than starting to have feelings is when those feelings are discovered. And not in the correct way.
But, Shii bless her innocent eight-year-old heart, she just leaned back again. I put my arms back around her. She moved her arms up and around mine, so I was just encircling her torso, holding her closer, her hands over mine, holding me against her against me. My boner was horrified into disappearing, but began to reappear slowly, despite me willing it to go away.
I realize "lol rape her, popper her, stick it in her so hard OP do it do it" is the more common response, but this is my actual life, and that isn't how actual life works. YET. Haha, or ever, maybe. Don't worry, this is NIGHT ONE.
We stayed like this for what felt like eternity, before she started to get droopy eyes. I turned her in my lap so she sat sideways, legs spread out to my left, head resting against my chest, my arms now around her shoulders, one straying down to her hip, holding her close against me, her contented sighs and little mews as she began to drift off making me even more boner-rific…not that she seemed to care.
Remember everything I said about snuggling with a loll? Now try having a loll sitting on your lap, falling asleep, hands curled up against your chest (ps want your muscles to look big? little girl hands make everything huge. WINK.)
Movie ended. Bedtime. But oh no, Cassie is asleep on my lap! What do!
YOU GUESSED IT, carry to bed! I carried Cassie up the stairs, like a rag doll, limply hanging against me. Fortunately I am totally alpha and can bench like 200C (two hundred Cassies). I walked into Olivia's room with her, told her to get in bed, did the same with Mary, shut their lights off, and carried Cassie into her bedroom.
Realizing this was my first time in her bedroom, I took stock. Little girl room, in the classical albeit somewhat sparse style. That was probably the moment I decided to give this family all my love AND MONEY forever and always. She would have the most princess bedroom since Princess Diana if I had anything to do with it. Carrying her to her bed, I gently lay Cassie down on her pillow before pulling back the sheets, sliding her in gently before pulling them back up. Again, quick pause to say that tucking a loli into bed is the sort of drug you'll do once and then never. get. enough. of. As I tucked in the sheets quite…rigorously, sorta outlining her body in the sheets, admiring how my ARMS were about as big as her entire body, Cassie stirred and opened her eyes.
"Anon?"
"Yeah, Cassie?"
"Don't go yet."
BONER CITY, POPULATION ANON. I realize this exchange might sound implausible, but I wrote it in my journal verbatim to ensure I would remember it accurately. Because how many times does that happen.
I sat on the floor and she shook her head, patting her bed.
I tried not to dive onto the bed. I tried not to bury my face in her hair, trail down to her mouth, kiss her insistently but gently, roll atop her, feel her tiny body below mine, desirous but unsure of what, worried but wanting, anxious but aroused, can't think of more alliterations.
Fortunately I succeeded in trying not to do that.
I got onto bed next to her. I lay down, as this was happening regardless. How was all this happening in one night? This gorgeous loli, an entire night and morning still ahead of us, her already showing all signs of…I'm not sure what. Some kind of emotion.
Our faces were inches away from each other. A little, sleepy smile on hers, eyes barely cracked open, beginning to shut again already. She rolled onto her side, facing me, I scooted towards her a little but also pushed her back a tad to make sure it didn't get too untoward (….I wish I wasn't serious). I thought about rolling over and shutting the light off, but instead waited just a moment longer, watching MY soon-to-be-sleeping loli. She was mine now, right? Didn't this night mean something more than just being a babysitter? It felt like a huge step.
I got a little bit stupid at that point. Her cheeks, so deeply tanned, so perfectly rounded, unblemished with invisible pores. Perfect skin. Her entire face, really. Perfect. Her mouth drooped open slightly, eyes shut, breathing even. I reached a hand out and touched her cheek for just a moment, just a single moment, pulling back instantly. She didn't wake.
Running a finger across her cheek, I sighed as it lived up to my expectations, so perfect, so exquisite. How did I get to live this life? How?
The few seconds of this felt like years. I rolled over and turned the light off, rolling back to continue looking at her, my big body next to her tiny body, both in her little girl bed, one exquisite loli and one hopelessly infatuated Anon.
This is probably where I lose you. I got out of her bed. I looked down at her for a little while. I knew I could probably get away with something, I could probably go crazy, it'd probably be awwwwright as long as I was cool about it.
But this was something more than stupid lust. This wasn't "oh cool i met you and now we can fuck". That isn't how things are supposed to work anyway, and they weren't how I wanted it to work between myself and Cassie. She mattered to me, and matters to me. I went over every scenario in my head, standing there, probably looking creepy as fuuuuuck but really that line was crossed ages ago. I slowly, oh so slowly, walked out of her room. Looking at her. Memorizing her. Afraid I would wake up and realize that entire situation had been a dream, afraid I'd walk out and Chris Hansen would cheat in his wife with me, afraid…afraid of it not being real.
Sorry, I'll go from overly emotional to ultra juvenile now.
But it was real. I retreated downstairs to the guest room, where I was sleeping, first stopping in the bathroom.
Where I found the remains of the soccer uniform from that day. Cassie's was instantly recognizable, the only purple shorts. Panties hastily discarded inside.
I came buckets. Buckets. I drowned the earth, and I apologize. The obelisk I once called my penis began to calm, finally, though I knew falling asleep was going to be (wait for it) hard.
I don't have the tenacity to write out the next Major Incident between the two of us right now. But this is still more than eighteen months in the past, much has happened since then.
And if you're wondering, Cassie is doing GREAT.
END PART ONE
inb4 pics or it didn't happen.
oh, and I'll be updating this topic as soon as new posts arrive by Humbert-kun.
Some people decided to call me Humbert-kun. I am accepting that title for now. If you missed part one, I know someone capped it and you can probably catch up there. I wrote about a dozen pages about my experiences with Cassie, a lonely loli who quickly became my whole world. This is a true story, involving little to no poopering and plenty of emotion and flowery language. There is a guaranteed 100% lack of dinosaurs, greentext, newfag punch lines, and fresh princes.
Today’s entry should be about the same length as yesterday’s. I’m writing up most of it beforehand but will likely catch up to where I am writing after I begin posting. There are ideally five separate anecdotes tonight, much like last night had three. We’ll see how far I make it. I’m not sure anon will earn over 10,000 words from me in one night.
Last night I finished the story after sadly leaving Cassie’s bed, my ability to control my more animalistic side simultaneously heartening to me and disappointing to my fellow anons. Sorry about that. I’ll briefly finish up that first overnight before moving forward. Again, this occurred more than a year in the past.
I remember stumbling onto the couch after the mind-shattering roller coaster the night had been, falling asleep in just about the same spot I had shared with Cassie just hours earlier. Falling asleep there, with an afghan pulled over me, was one of the more comforting moments of my life. I belonged there, I was needed and loved, and I felt secure and safe. Classic feelings for a young child to have, and yet your faithful emotionally stunted Humbert-kun enjoyed them as well in that moment. Mary’s bedroom was directly over where I lay, and I thought about that...a (now) ten-year-old, sleeping right above me. Cassie and Olivia’s bedrooms not too far away either. Just us. I fell asleep soundly, emotionally drained and already preparing for the next day.
Waking up at about the crack of dawn, I brewed coffee and sat to read the news. Pretending to be a family man. Or really being one? Weird. Scary. Exciting.
While I sipped coffee I decided to make the girls breakfast purely because I knew how poorly they usually ate. I found a pan and whipped up some basic pancake batter, deciding I’d include chocolate chips because I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to be the most fun babysitter of all time. The girls came downstairs one by one, first Mary who eagerly assisted in scooping batter, flipping pancakes, and making a general mess.
Mary is certainly not Cassie, but has her own qualities which are fun. I talked with her and got to know her as an individual for a bit, her desire to be a ‘popular kid’ and be up with the latest trends, however inane, quite evident. This was clearly the source from which Cassie picked up the few trends she seemed to be into.
Olivia came down next, making me decide Cassie was obviously playing hard to get, and I almost decided to go get her before realizing that leaving two pre-teens cooking was one of my worse ideas. So I impatiently continued cooking while the girls started eating, talking about their weekend plans.
And then, finally, there she was!
I had thought I’d reached the pinnacle of loli perfection when holding Cassie the previous night. She had been so exquisite, so picture perfect, so beyond what I thought any girl could really be. But early morning, just woken up, somewhat disgruntled Cassie set my mind ablaze yet again.
She still had her purple PJs on, monkeys still up to no good. Her face was as lovely as ever, even in a state I’d yet to see it in. Her hair was fantastically mussed from a hard night’s sleep, sticking up in various directions and generally looking unkempt. But unkempt in a good way? Does such a thing exist? Her eyes were hooded, voice scratchy, not in the mood for my immediate lavishing of attention.
We ate breakfast together, me and my three girls. It was perfection. Absolute perfection.
They watched cartoons while I cleaned up. I hoped for a repeat of the previous night’s cuddle session, thinking about pulling PJ-clad Cassie onto my lap again, holding her tight, letting her know I was here for her.
And then a car pulled up the driveway. All too soon, their mother walked in the door. All too soon, I was packing up my overnight bag again and bidding a sad farewell. The girls grabbed onto me, all three for the first time, begging me not to leave and then singing my praises to their mother. All struggling to hold onto me, even their combined strength essentially nothing as I trudged towards the door with my heart feeling like it was made of lead.
I realized very quickly, walking out the door, the girls waving before marching back inside at their mother’s command, that I couldn’t do this many more times.
No, not babysit.
I couldn’t leave like that again. I didn’t want to leave. I had experienced an ideal life, one I wanted. And I decided to get it.
[oh boy looks like a few people are refinding me, yay hooray]
We’ll skip ahead in time just a little bit, closer to Christmas time. A few little things happened with Cassie around this period, and I also got lavish the family with gifts for the first time, actually using my money on something worthwhile instead of Halo 8 or Slay Battles II.
I continued to babysit them for the months leading up to Christmas, including more overnights, though none quite so memorable as the first. Except for one small thing, that being Cassie’s insistence that she always sit next to me at dinner, next to me during family movies, and on my lap whenever she could. At first she was very shy to clamber onto me with her mother around, but soon enough made it clear where her ‘spot’ was, regardless of who else was in the room. Any time the television was on, she would get onto my lap, nearly weightless body melting into me, arms wrapping around my own arms, entwining into me as much as she could.
I loved this. I loved hearing the TV turn on, hearing a movie suggested, knowing that I would soon be joined by the girl I was quickly growing to love. However I retained fear that I was doing something wrong. That I was hurting her. That this sort of love was unacceptable, and despite not overtly doing anything to her, even this cuddling was a step too far. She couldn’t like it, couldn’t want it, likely was just buying into my own eagerness.
Then she proved me wrong.
I remember coming downstairs from helping Olivia with homework one weekend shortly after lunchtime, their mother and Mary out buying groceries for whatever dish I was hoping to teach them to make that night (oh right, need to talk about Cassie’s aspiration to own a restaurant combined with a pet grooming salon at some point).
Cassie had called me downstairs, her sweet voice chirping “Humbert, humbert!”, knowing full well I would likely sprint down within moments. Which I did.
She was sitting on the couch, wearing what could be called an...eclectic outfit? This was in the winter, mind you, not that it got all that cold, but still. She had on a white tank-top with ultra-thin straps, collar bone and shoulders fully exposed, her Delicious Flat Chest almost looking a little bit defined, slightly curving chest almost looking as if she might be about to be cursed with those horrible mammaries, though it was obviously just her body shape. Not that it made me not drool. Not that I didn’t glance to see if her nipples were in any way showing...they were not. Yet.
On her legs she was wearing black leggings, and yes I know leggings aren’t pants, she must have also as she had on a pair of pink puffy shorts over the leggings.
mfw, +9000 boners.
So I got called downstairs by Cassie, who appeared to be dressing in this Bohemian innocence personified getup that had me pitching a tent worthy of moving into for a few months, drooling, frozen, etc. BUT IT GOT BETTER.
She was holding the television remote. She looked at me and smiled, not bothering to talk. She turned the TV on and stood up, looking at me expectantly.
I didn’t get it. I couldn’t get it. My brain wasn’t processing.
“Aren’t you going to sit?”
“Oh. Yeah! Do you want to...” I tried to decide what to ask, then decided to keep up the facade. “....watch TV together?”
Huge nod. I sat my ass down right quick. Cassie moved in front of me, aware this was somewhat naughty, aware she had me under her spell, no sly or knowing grin plastered across her face, rather a somewhat serious look, the look she got when doing homework, concentrating, not wanting to fuck up, etc.
moot strike me down if I tell a lie, Anon.
Cassie was standing right in front of me, in an outfit she had clearly picked out for me to see her in. My knees pressed were together like a girl on her first OKCupid date, nervous as fuck. I’m not sure why that was my reaction, but thank god that it was.
My gorgeous girl reached her hands out to me and I perhaps a bit too eagerly pulled her onto my lap, about to turn her away to face the TV, before she struggled a little to remain as she was. She reached her arms up and around my back a bit, head buried into my chest, turned to the side, not moving or saying anything for a moment.
Her legs were spread out around my hips, knees bent so she would have been sitting on her feet if she hadn’t been planted on my lap. Her chest was pressed fully against my stomach, her head resting very neatly underneath my chin.
She pressed down and into me, cuddling closer, and I very cautiously put my arms around her back as well, the sheer fabric of the tank top seeming to barely exist. No belt question this time, though she must have noted the presence of my immediate unstoppable response to this touch.
Loli in my lap, 9008 boners in my shorts, and she started it. Perfect(?) situation.
I breathed in her scent, which I was starting to recognize, almost like a Cassie Perfume that only she had got ahold of (don’t worry, no actual perfume on her just yet, my girl stays natural!). I am not sure how to describe it. A bit of sweat, but not the pungent awful sweat of an adolescent locker room, rather an almost sweet reminder of earlier fun. A sweetness mixed with the tiniest hint of a sharp though not unpleasant note, of something else underlying, something I will only ever identify with her.
She weighed nothing, as always, and I’d think I was only imagining it if I wasn’t able to just flex my arms to squeeze her tighter, hold her closer. My fingers found the edge of her tank top, just around her shoulder blades, and I ran them along this edge, enjoying the feel of her and her clothing, the contrasting fabric and blemishless skin beneath, a tiny bit pale due to the winter months but still ever-so-much-more tanner than myself.
I didn’t dare move my hips, flex my legs, even breath in too deeply, afraid of ruining the moment, of scaring her off, of revealing the monster that was about to split the crotch of my pants in two or explode.
I closed my eyes. I held Cassie.
[ ;_; srsly this better make your cold dead heart feel.]
She put her lips up near my ear, after several long moments, the first movement other than my hand on her back and her occasional twitches. Her lips seemed to nearly brush the edge of my earlobe, something held back, something she wanted to say, breathy syllables tried out and discarded.
It sounded like: “Uh. Aw. Um. Oi. We.” x infinity.
Then she found the words. And she said them. She said those three words -- yup, those are them.
“I love you.”
My brain blew up, overwhelmed, rational thought escaping me. How to respond. What to do. Did I jizz in my pants god i hope not this is my only pair of clean underwear.
“I love you, Cassie. I love you.”
I had really done it this time. Maybe I hadn’t crossed a line before, but saying I loved her? If this was repeated to her sisters in a normal gloating argument, what would I do? And what did I really feel, I mean truly? Did I love this girl?
And if I did, how? What kind of love? She needed a daddy. She needed a male figure in her life. She needed someone to be connected to. And for some unknown reason she picked me. Why?
Why me?
I won’t ever really know the answer to that question, I don’t think. But she did pick me. And I picked her. I picked that life after I left that first overnight, and here it was coming to fruition. This was my life. This was everything I wanted. A girl (four girls, I suppose) that adored me, seemed to understand me, and NEEDED me. And I needed them.
I love you, Cassie.
Uh-oh sorry I got sappy again. I’ll try to work in a bit more juvenilia in this post.
All too soon, our cuddle was over. But it was stuck in my memory, much like all the rest, earning pages of adoring journal entries I later burned (DRAMA QUEEN). I actually ended it, sadly, with Olivia insistently calling for more homework help and reminding me Cassie wasn’t allowed to watch TV just yet anyway. Haha, because we had definitely been watching TV.
I stood up, and she clung to me, arms locking around my back, legs around my thighs, sagging downwards. Her tank top billowed slightly, proving once and for all that yup Delicious Flat Chest was nowhere near being ruined. PHEW. I waddled towards the stairs before realizing my expertly tucked boner was horribly near her chin, and I scraped her off quickly before running up to continue with homework help. I doubt she noticed, but talk about playing a risky game.
How many more times could she get this response from me, I wondered. I’m not used to being attracted to anyone for all that long. Likely the lack of sexual contact kept me at her beck and call. But I’d like to think this wasn’t about lust, not about sex. This was about her and me. It was about something special we had.
inb4 emofag
So how about a slightly more emotional moment -- Cassie doesn’t just have a face that launched a few thousand ships (if u kno wat i mean), she also has a really fun personality and is fairly ingenious. BUT ONE DAY THAT GOT HER IN TROUBLE, OH NOOOO.
We had reached a point now where I was coming over very frequently (oh fuck I skipped Christmas entirely, oh well, I’ll go back to it). I could essentially show up whenever at their home and always be greeted with open arms from everyone.
Quick update on relationship with the mom: we had started not-dating in a not-official way. We went out to dinner. I brought her little gifts, nothing near boyfriend material, but near “I care about you, I don’t want you to be alone like I was” level. Yet only one of the ladies in that house got to sit on my lap during TV time. So I still slept on the couch (at least when she was home, sometimes Cassie would still request my company while she drifted off). She had decided she maybe loved me, but it was too close to her husband’s passing, and that regardless of that her girls needed a man in their lives. Also I was...very, very, very much younger than her. But there I was. And there I stayed. Anyway.
So, the day Cassie was crying. This was a bit more than week following the previous incident.
I drove to their home right after work, the best kind of day in my opinion, avoiding my own apartment which was beginning to feel like a tomb (had yet to invite the girls over, don’t worry, it happens). Walking into their house was always a delight, always some crisis happening, girls screaming, at least one massive hug greeting me, their harried mother accepting whatever gift I happened to bring (upon discovering her love for and lack of money to buy a certain kind of wine, I started getting it very frequently).
This day when I walked in I was created with an affectionate squeeze from Olivia, saying that Cassie was melting down about something that had occurred at school, and their mother was dealing with it. I walked into the dining room where Cassie sat, head buried in her hands, crying loudly, her mother talking softly but very firmly from the seat next to her.
Obviously, I HATED seeing her upset in any way and immediately wanted to chip in and make it better, but then Cassie’s mother asked me to wait in the living room. WTF OH SHIT.
Thus, after shitting my pants, I ran into the living room and sat down and decided that this was, for real, the end of it. The constant lap-sitting, the statement of love, the boner frequency rivaling an entire middle school. It had been discovered, and despite doing nothing, I was done for. DONE FOR.
Thank goodness I did not run out the door then and there, but I definitely felt queasy as I heard the conversation continue with the sobs starting to slow in frequency, finally stopping. I broke my eardrums trying to hear what they were saying, but missed all of it. I did catch: “Cassie, just wipe that idea out of your head. I don’t want you to think about that again.”
WHAT, WHAT DID THAT MEAN, WHAT WAS HAPPENING
The two of them walked into the kitchen, which opens onto the living room, and Cassie’s mother said; “I’m making dinner still, why don’t you go cuddle with Humbert.”
Relief flooded my veins, I started to breathe again, and I’m pretty sure I looked like a death row inmate who just got reprieve. Thanks for visiting, guilt-driven anxiety! Don’t ever come back!
WHAT IS GOING ON
Cassie stumbled into the room, eyes red, tears still glistening down her flushed cheeks. This Cassie was one I rarely saw, and her clear broken-heartedness made my heart reach out hugely.
Putting my arms out to her, I waited while she curled up into my lap. Her body was racked with hiccups and little choking breaths as she attempted to continue calming down, hot tears still flowing just a bit, dampening my shirt. ;_;
She was sitting sideways on my lap, legs running down the couch and away from us, head against my right shoulder, forehead barely pressing into my chin. One of my arms stretched across her front, the other supporting her from behind. Each breath she gasped in made her chest press insistently into my encircling arm, the omnipresent lustful Humbert-mind noting her skirt, her skinny legs, that light down, and the rib cage swelling with each inhalation.
I’m a monster, but at least I know it.
Waiting for her to calm further, I finally started to get the story out of her.
What is the bane of all nine-year-old’s everywhere? Duh, school. Within school, Cassie had particular difficulties with spelling. Spelling sucks. Not for your genius author, though. I always loved spelling and managed to win a spelling bee or two (lies, I actually got second once and just barely).
There had been a spelling test that day. Cassie had been studying her brains out for it, leading to a lack of watching TV with me (this escaped my memory in the anxiety of being banished from the room), and a general level of stress building. She took the test in the morning and had received it back in the later afternoon.
She got one question wrong.
Then she decided that she was sick of getting the lowest scores among her sisters. While her academic standing in her own class is quite alright, she is always coming up in third to the grades her sisters are bringing home, despite her lower level of difficulty (apparently age doesn’t count into the equation).
After getting the question wrong, she had erased her original answer, rewritten it with the correct spelling, carried it to the teacher, and announced that whoever had graded the test fucked up.
Weirdly, it didn’t go as planned. She got told off, she got an F, she cried in front of the class, everyone called her a crybaby. ROUGH DAY.
“I just wanted to get perfect. Just once.” Cassie sobbed into my chest, burying her head, super embarrassed to be seen like this but obviously comforted by my presence.
In my head I went to her school and told all her classmates they were the crybabies and gave her teacher a lesson about correcting negative behavior correctly. In my physical body, I just held her. I told her it was alright. I cried a little bit somewhere deep inside my black emotionless soul.
[Alright, I’m going to not write about Christmas now but instead lump it into a later installment, if such a thing seems to be wanted. I was going to also write about the first gymnastics meet I watched with the girls in it, which trust me is memorable, but I’ll save that as well, I think.]
Instead, let’s move forward in time a little bit more, getting even closer to the present, to the day the game was changed yet again.
You’d think after finding such a physically affectionate, emotionally needy girl, the game would have been changed about as much as it could be. But Cassie, apparently, had other plans for me.
I was content with how things were. I loved having a loli on my lap four or so nights a week. She didn’t tell me she loved me really at all, she had yet to move beyond kisses and cuddling. But I was content in that space. Safe in that space. Why push it further? The risks outweighed the rewards (as a lovely reader pointed out above). So I left it as it was.
Again, though, Cassie had other plans.
I was over at the house, Mary upstairs in her room doing whatever, Olivia and mother away doing whatever. I had work to do and while I wanted to spend my every waking second with Cassie, I decided getting shit done first and having fun later was a better way to live. So I was at the kitchen table typing away and I hear Cassie in the living room doing whatever, positioned just so, thus I could not see her from my position.
She obviously wanted my attention, duh who wouldn’t, but I was deep into Important Things That Needed Me and tried not to pay attention. Do you know what it is like to have a loli lolling around in the other room while you try not to get distracted? It is difficult.
Anyway, soccer practice was coming up in an hour or so, and I shouted to Cassie to remember to change into her uniform at some point.
La dee da time passes, nothing too exciting. Cassie buzzes past me a couple times, creating situations that need my immediate attention, gently turned away each time. Ack how can she want my attention more than I want hers. Aaaack why am I not delivering, I’m going to let down literally eight or nine anons some day far in the future by my cowardly reticence.
She doesn’t come in the kitchen for a while. I click save, deciding I can do work when I’m dead. I am not sure which of the pantheon of gods was looking down on me, but I am tempted to say Nabokov himself smiled benevolently upon my to provide me with the timing I stumbled into.
I stood up and closed my computer. I walked towards the living room, where I could hear Cassie still moving around or doing whatever.
Let’s slow down time for this next part. I am telegraphing what follows, hopefully you’re picking up on it.
First thing I see as I walk around the doorframe. Soccer shirt on floor. Soccer shorts (purple, of course!) on floor.
I’m going to drag this out, don’t worry! So there’s the soccer uniform, good, she listened to me. (he thought in the half a second that passed)
Continue coming around the corner.
...what’s on the floor now? The black Nike shirt she had been wearing, tossed near the soccer shorts. And the pink shorts she had had on a moment ago.
But. What. Why.
My brain tried to process what I was about to walk into as I finished turning the corner. And there she was, /b/. There she was.
I’m going to try and somehow do her justice. Let’s start with a snippet of Lolita, shall we? Sorry to drag this out, I just want to try and get the concept of Cassie across to you all. She’s not just another loli. She is so much more, so so much more.
Quote:
Now I wish to introduce the following idea. Between the age limits of nine and fourteen there occur maidens who, to certain bewitched travelers, twice or many times older than they, reveal their true nature which is not human, but nymphic (that is, demoniac); and these chosen creatures I propose to designate as "nymphets". the number of true nymphets is strikingly inferior to that of provisionally plain, or just nice, or "cute," or even "sweet" and "attractive," ordinary girls, plumpish, formless, cold-skinned, essentially human little girls, with tummies and pigtails, who may or may not turn into adults of great beauty (look at the ugly dumplings in black stockings and white hats that are metamorphosed into stunning scars of the screen). A normal man given a group photograph of school girls or Girl Scouts and asked to point out the comeliest one will not necessarily choose the nymphet among them. You have to be an artist and a madman, a creature of infinite melancholy, with a bubble of hot poison in your loins and a super-voluptuous flame permanently aglow in your subtle spine [...], in order to discern at once, by ineffable signs—the slightly feline outline of a cheekbone, the slenderness of a downy limb, and other indices which despair and shame and tears of tenderness forbid me to tabulate—the little deadly demon among the wholesome children; she stands unrecognized by them and unconscious herself of her fantastic power.
That’s my Cassie. How did I know? I suppose the bubble of hot poison within me pointed her out. The compass that I never asked for pointed me in her direction.
And here was my nymphet, right there.
The first time I really saw her. I’d held her, I’d told her I love her, I’d obsessed over her for days, I’d tried unsuccessfully to get her out of my head. This chance occurence answered the question of ‘why’.
Her body was perfectly formed. Perfectly. Proportions all exactly as they should be. Her arms and legs looking exquisite, baby fat long gone but no unsightly curves to be seen. The light was not right to see the baby down on her legs, though I knew it was there. The sun had started shining and she had been playing outside, and the contrast of her legs to what came above, and shoulders downwards, gave me pause, my Cassie certainly could tan, maybe unhealthily so? Not really though, she looked perfect.
Her chest was as flat as I knew it to be. Nipples actually a darker shade than her skin, not a light pink, lending her an exotic air I never thought I’d really appreciate. Trailing downwards...her stomach was trim and flat, hours of soccer and dozens of awful meals ensuring that. Moving downwards even more, there it was. She took my breath away.
You know the ‘gap’? The spot where the thighs have met the body but do not touch each other? The gap so easily lost by anyone over the age of 16 or so? I’d heard rumors of the gap. Had girlfriends wish to get theirs back.
Oh, did Cassie have that gap. That gap. Woah.
[phew, sorry, not trying to go all softcore on you]
How to describe her, overall?
Perfect. Exquisite. Smooth. Flawless.
Need more? Immaculate. Spotless.
Ultimately? Innocent.
OKAY I’LL PUT THE THESAURUS AWAY
When I came around the corner, we both froze. She turned towards me, making eye contact.
-- Boner City got upgraded to Boner Metropolis! +5 Arousal Points!
When I recovered enough to move, to speak, to do anything...
I told her to put her uniform on. She didn’t seem overly enthused at my response, looking like she was about to pout, picking up her shirt and holding it in front of herself.
derp what say what say what say
Mary was upstairs. She could come downstairs. This wasn’t the time or place. But I couldn’t say that, I couldn’t admit anything. But I couldn’t crush her either, I couldn’t flatten whatever she was trying out, I didn’t want to give her too much of a complex about having one man in her life die and the second reject her.
Bad Psychology 101 was a great class.
I am honestly not 100% on what I said. This incident made it into a journal in a very heavily edited, coded manner. I’d rather not provide evidence that easily.
But I think I said: “You’re very pretty.”
That was it. This didn’t make her happy either. She ran to the stairs and marched up them, shirt clutched to her front, butt on full display, causing me to almost audibly groan. I’m not a butt guy. But on a soccer-obsessed pre-adolescent who is actually in shape? What a girl like that is doing with a butt like that is a mystery. But she had it.
UH-OH, the continuity devils shout, THIS IS FAKE BECAUSE HER SOCCER UNIFORM WAS THERE.
Yup, her soccer uniform was there. I picked it up, along with the other pair of shorts and her discarded panties and brought them upstairs, knocking gently on her door.
“Um, you need to change still.”
Right when I thought I had seen all I could possibly ever want to, the door opened a couple feet and she grabbed the uniform, giving me a flash of her in just panties.
I think a loli in underwear might be better than a naked loli, for reals. I stood there, stunned, while the closed the door none-too gently in my face.
“Wha. What.”
My brain was about as fried as it could be. Was this real life?
Yup. Where could this possibly go next?
Cassie came out of her room in time to be driven to soccer. As usual she ran out of the car and to me, grabbing my hand and letting me walk her to her field, as usual ‘showing me off’, proving there were no hard feelings between us.
Again, quick snapshot moment here: holding a teeny tiny hand that your own dwarfs, looking down and seeing a little girl holding a soccer ball that looks massive next to her. Her head turned, tilted, looking up at you. Adoration in her eyes. Love, even. No big stupid smile, no dumb wisecracks, no stupid drama. Just pure devotion and affection. I was clearly not her father, everyone in the area knew about what happened to her father. Just me, a young single man, walking the girl he loves to soccer practice. That’s the memory I relive above the others, the sort of memory that reminds me why I do any of this at all.
It’s not about satisfying my lust. It’s about the emotions we bring out in each other. The good we do for one another.
That’s me and my Cassie. Still is me and Cassie. Cassie and I. Though time has passed since that moment, more has happened, and life still marches on every day.
I had promised to talk about my first Christmas with the girls this time around, so I’ll start there before I forget again. I’m going to try and slow the pace of the story down a little bit, as I’m blowing through months like Mitt Romney through thoroughbreds. Don’t want to catch up to the present too fast, or story time will be delayed much more than a couple days.
So, my first Christmas. Remember the main characters of our story: Humbert-kun, your faithful anon. Mother, the widowed mother of three special girls. Olivia, 13, oldest. Mary, 10, middle. Cassie, 9, youngest and most special.
Christmas rolls around. I decide to go out to coffee with the mother to discuss the present situation, deciding I was going to blow the roof off every other Christmas they’d ever had. Money was tight for the family following the patriarch’s death, and thus holidays were really not that special at all. While I am not a Saudi prince, I do have a decent level of savings that just sorta sits and collects interest. I am too boring and too not addicted to drugs to have anything to spend all my money on. It just gathers dust.
You know what the perfect thing is to change that? Three girls who pretend they don’t care about Christmas.
Get ready for some heavy feels, anon. This part of our story may be less forbidden fruit-centric and less full of tent pitching, but it is high on emotion.
Put yourself in my shoes now. As said above, too much money in the bank. Can conceivably spend up to eight hundred or so dollars on this Christmas. Three kids. What do?
So, coffee with the mom. Get us on the same page. Convince her they were not receiving some sort of charity money from me, but rather this was something I truly wanted to do.
She picked me up at my home, NICE IM SO INDEPENDENT, shortly after dropping the girls off at gymnastics (don’t worry, anon, we’ll visit the gym soon enough!). Upon getting in the car I looked in the backseat and was confronted with three piles of clothing, tights and dresses on full display. “What happened back there?”
“Oh, the girls had to change in the car since they didn’t have time to change at school.”
The thought of all three girls changing in the backseat literally moments earlier already had me distracted. No, bad Humbert! Christmastime joy, that’s what today is about!
I did still look back and identify which outfit had been Cassie’s. A purple dress. What a surprise.
We arrived. We bought coffee. We sat.
“So, the girls brought up anything they want for Christmas?”
She knew this was coming, but it was still awkward as fuuuuuck. Relaying information she’d heard about their classmates, she said the girls all had something they wanted but there was no way in hell she could make it happen that year, so she was looking at alternates. Since I am an amazing magnanimous person with no equal, I asked her what it was.
iPods.
Shit.
“I can’t find them much below $150. I can’t find $500 to spare on this, Humbert.”
I wanted to make the girl’s Christmas special. But that was kinda way beyond what I was thinking. Ugh, decisions.
“I’ll talk to the girls and suss some ideas out. I’d like to get them something really cool. We can discuss it before I buy it, but there’s no stopping me!”
She smiled. Our relationship had developed to the platonic ideal I hoped it would, though eyes in the coffee shop definitely noted our little outing, our town all too aware of who we were and our age gap.
Let ‘em stare. And when it was just me and Cassie...let ‘em stare more!
Dinner a few days later. Christmas was coming up soon, I didn’t have a lot of time to make a decision. Any time I brought up a gift with the girls (“Hey, a Wii!” “Cool, some book series!” “Neat-o, the complete West Wing!”), they sort of shrugged it off. Was it because they knew Christmas was going to suck again? Or were they just reticent?
Worse yet, had they been told not to tell me much? Hmm. Investigation needed.
While watching television, I was in my customary position, Cassie curled in my lap, a blanket over the two of us. Mary sat next to us, also under the same blanket. Olivia was in the kitchen doing homework, the mom was on her computer (something she only found time for when I was over).
“Girls. Christmas is coming.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You know I’m getting you gifts, right?”
“...really?” This pried their attention away from the glowing hypnobox, both looking at me momentarily, then at each other. Yup, definitely told something.
“What do you want?”
“Um. Nothing, really. It’s okay.”
Derp, better be more obvious about it. I gave Cassie a tight squeeze, the ol’ playful ‘I’ll squeeze you to death if you don’t reveal more details’ move. She giggled as I persisted.
“I heard about something. Something big? Kind of expensive?”
Mary chirped up first, Cassie still somewhat more reticent. “We want iPods. We aren’t supposed to ask you for them.”
And there it was. I felt several hundred dollars poorer immediately, knowing those iPods were as good as wrapped and under the tree. “Really? You want iPods?” Ignoring the second part for now, possibly for good, wanting to hear them give me a good enough reason to drop the dough.
Furious nodding from the two of them, Cassie sliding over to sit sideways on my lap, one little hand curled over my shoulder to hold herself steady.
“We could text our friends and take pictures and listen to music and write things down and play angry birds and they’d be soooo cooooool and everyone else has them and we’ve wanted them for soooo long and [etc etc].”
Dang, they were definitely getting iPods. This was the first time the girls had ever really asked me for anything, my babysitting and dinners and quality time not really of any monetary value (to them). But this was a real gift, a real chance for me to show how serious I was about them.
“Hm. Sounds like you really want iPods.”
I gave Cassie another squeeze, pulling Mary in for one as well, then returning to watch the television.
FAST-FORWARD
Christmas morning is basically over. And yes, I was there for it, abandoning my family for the first time in quite a while. Don’t worry, the drama this produced in my relationships will be relayed soon as well.
I had been told to show up around 8am, allowing them to have a Humbert-less Christmas initially, with the Big Presents held on until I arrived.
So I walk into the house. Wrapping paper scattered around, though not quite to the amounts of my incredibly hedonistic childhood Christmases. ;_; The girls were looking a liiiiitle bit crestfallen, still in their nice Christmas nightgowns, surrounded with some basic junk from the five and dime.
Oh anons, have you seen a group of lolis trying to look satisfied and brave when they are clearly unhappy? ;_; That feel.
I walk in. I wave. I am not carrying a bag (oh there was a plan, I wanted to make this last as long as my last relationship). I asked how Christmas was, and Cassie announced that her best gift was a singing toothbrush. WHY WOULD THAT BE HER BEST GIFT.
She looked around me carefully before realizing I had no gift hidden on my person. I swear there was a tiny little lip tremble, a tiny bit of tearing-up, but an attempt to remain stoic. “How was your Christmas?” Cassie asked in a small, quavering voice.
“Eh, okay. Not done yet.” Thinking this meant their gifts for me, Cassie nodded gamely and walked towards some clearly hand-wrapped presents sitting under their sorta-sad Charlie Brown tree.
And then I made the Christmas magic happen.
MAGICALLY PULL BAG OUT OF CLOSET
MAGICALLY HOLD IT OUT
MAGICALLY ASK WHAT COULD THIS BE
The girls weren’t sure what to think as I started shouting in all caps, not really putting together that I could have stashed something in their house without them discovering it. Actually, I’m not totally sure how I did that. I reached into the bag and pulled out a box. Just one at first.
Utter confusion on their adorable faces, flickering expressions of confusion, happiness, sadness, and pure what-the-fuck-ness.
I pulled out the next two boxes and put them down as well, beckoning the girls over, all three plopping down and grabbing a box, looking at me, disbelief in their faces until I gave them a nod.
RIP TEAR OH MY GOD IPODSSSSS
Yes, iPods. And since this author is a champion who knows no equal, I’d even pre-purchased some games that would download once the devices were all setup.
Another quick moment, a snapshot burned into my mind as much as the last few I’ve shared with you -- let’s fade Mary and Olivia to a blur for a moment, focusing on the heroine of this little tale, Cassie.
So she’s sitting there in front of me, legs splayed out on either side like a little frog bare feet and calves extending out from a lacy-trimmed red and green checked nightgown, a heavy fleece thing that didn’t do much for her physical appearance but did remind me of her youth, her innocence, her lack of caring about wearing something quite that unsightly.
She’s holding the unopenable plastic brick iPods come in, looking in at the shiny (clean for the last time ever) device inside, with whatever iPod slogan was going at that time emblazoned on it. She is transfixed, as are the other girls, this sort of luxury so far beyond what they expected. Then my angel looks up at me.
Here goes two hundred plus unstoppable words about the expression she gave me.
Her mouth was slightly parted, jaw slackened a tiny bit, the shock of the moment on clear physical display. Her jawline was defined as ever, high cheekbones lacking that unhealthy shine of makeup or deadened skin, complexion as flawless as any other time, pores entirely invisible. Her lips are delicate little things, neither plump nor thin, though her expression usually pulls them down into the beginnings of a frown, though a thoughtful frown rather than an unhealthy one. Eyes not bleary, despite the somewhat early are, bright and blue and boring directly into me.
You’ve seen those wide, wide eyes some lolis have, right? Not the weird camgirl stare, the forced stretching of eyelids, but the naturally innocent wideness that so swiftly flees. Those are her eyes. Her eyelashes seem miles long, extending up and out, curled upwards, always making me wonder how they’d feel running against my own rough cheek. Her hair was pulled back from her forehead into an incredibly messy ponytail, flyaways everywhere. Hair dirty-blonde, bright streaks contrasting with the dark, a natural color no other girl can ever pull off. Her forehead...how to describe it? I’ve never even noticed a forehead before in my life. What was special about her’s? I still do not know.
A little girl on Christmas morning. A little girl whose Christmas morning was just MADE by yours truly.
A little girl full of love. And my own heart screaming how much it loved her back.
Was having her sitting on my lap, playing Angry Birds furiously, as satisfying as having her cuddling up to me and whispering she loved me? Well, no.
My hands continued to hold her close, her arms busy with overwhelmingly massive motions the iPod certainly wasn’t taking as input, thus I rested my hands on her thighs, my palms easily covering her narrow legs.
Remember the gap I saw there? Unfortunately that happened later, otherwise I might’ve lost it right then and there. Instead I focused on the feeling of her spine twisting and flexing, head occasionally knocking back, entranced by her new toy.
Don’t worry, mom came to ruin the fun before she became a complete /b/-lurking video game addict, telling her iPod time would be limited soon, and that she should thank me, leading to Cassie setting down the iPod for a moment to turn around.
Flinging her arms around my neck, she pressed her cheek against mine, legs spread on either side of mine again, holding me in a position that I’d only experienced once before, making my face red and my waistband leap into action. She said “thank you thank you thank you”, a breathy whisper right into my ear, her voice as ethereal and lovely as the first time I heard it. Unaffected emotion, actually allowing herself to feel, making me further realize that I could, indeed, feel back for her. She didn’t hate me. She wasn’t going to.
Was this real?
I hoped so.
CONTINUITY: The entirety of the above story happens AFTER the "I Love You" incident and BEFORE the "Soccer Uniform" incident
Christmas happened. The Soccer Uniform incident happened. Did I follow up from that too much? Well she wasn’t too upset about it. However it did not signal a sudden habit for Cassie, she did not begin prancing around the house naked at all. Understandably, probably, as she might have intuited that that action would’ve killed me.
But when I did see her from then on, being somewhat more aware of what was under the clothes made me even more distracted than usual. I did my best to focus away from the sexual aspect of things, unhappy with the situation I was creating, combining up a few prescriptions do try and deaden my sex drive.
PROTIP: Don’t ever do that, it just makes you an emotional woman.
Life continued in a predictable pattern into the spring and early summer. I was spending several nights a week at their house, usually the full weekend, though not all that much babysitting or unsupervised overnights. Oh well. Patience, anons.
As eagle-eyed readers may have noted, yet ANOTHER extracurricular the girls were involved in was gymnastics, though just Mary and Cassie. I had seen them dropped off, heard it talked about, and envisioned Cassie in a leotard in a gaggle of unremarkable other lolis. But I had yet to experience seeing them performing.
I didn’t push it. I was already doing enough, no reason to try and force that to happen as well. But good things come to those who wait, and I received a very official hand-written invitation from Cassie to her “exhibition meet”, or something along those lines. Essentially I would sit in a crowd of parents for several hours in order to watch her do a tumbling pass for two minutes.
Normal people: ew gross. Humbert-kun: YES PLEASE
I decided to dress like a not-complete slob, make my loli proud of me, and slapped together whatever the most recent Big Black Book had compelled me to purchase. Not a suit, but not sweatpants.
Hopped in the car. Drove to the gym. Watched scads of lolis pouring into the building, eyes popped out of my head. I got out of the car and felt incredibly conspicuous, a random single male anon standing in a field of parents with their young daughters. At least I didn’t look (entirely) like an evil rapist. The walk to the door made it worse, parents seeming to clutch their children tighter, girls already just wearing sheer leotards demanding my attention as much as I tried to focus on the door.
My two cents: Any gentleman who works in a gymnastics center isn’t doing it for the beauty of the sport.
Entering, I was quickly found by the mother, told that Mary and Cassie were changing and we could find our seats. She had recently been given a new camera and I explained how to use it for a little while, despite my immediate inclination being to switch it to A for Auto (or AWESOME). She messed around with it while I waited to see how long it would take the girls to appear, and if I could pick Cassie out of a literal sea of gorgeous sparkling faces with their bodies quite...on display.
It took me one second.
There she was. Behind many bouncing ponytails, many Delicious Flat Chests, plenty of panties peeking out of leotard edges...there she was. I didn’t care about any of the former upon spotting my Cassie. She had some hairspray or something on, hair appearing to sparkle under the harsh gym lights, sitting cross-legged with a couple friends, seeming unfazed by the amount of people and general buzz.
Cassie was wearing a red and white leotard, quite fetching if not overly exotic. Fortunately I don’t need overly exotic, Cassie’s exotic enough.
Then some group stretching started. Have any of you watched thirty lolis stretch to prep for gymnastics? I don’t have words for it. Fortunately Cassie maintained all my attention, everyone else just window dressing to her.
As I began to realize this, a few new thoughts began to filter through my head. Was this a good thing? Did this mean I really felt something for her?
Did this mean I was definitely a...one of those? Would I have even noticed the other girls before? Would I notice them without Cassie there?
Not easy things to think about.
The gymnastics exhibition itself lasted about as long as the extended Lord of the Rings trilogy watched eight times in a row. I grew a foot-long beard and was reported as a missing person by my family. My body fused to the seat I was in. Right before the scurvy reached the point it would be incurable, Cassie stood up for her three minutes (seriously) in the spotlight.
Everyone watching. Breath held. The parents of girls who fucked up begging for her to fuck up too, everyone else scared she would, myself almost pissing myself with terror. Maybe this is why I’m not one to do public performances?
She ran, she did a cartwheel, she did a flip or tuck or whatever, she did some other basic moves. She stuck all her landings. She was done. And...that was what I waited that whole time for.
Yes, I stood up and clapped. Yes, she beamed and waved. Yes, her mother took a picture of that moment, a picture I’ll cherish forever.
Shortly afterwards she appeared next to me, panting heavily, face red, somehow tired from the one and a half seconds of physical exertion. I gave her a HUGE bear hug, lifting her off the ground, still as light as ever. Those leotards are slippery though, make sure you have a good grip before doing as Humbert does.
Putting her down I extolled her virtues, genuinely, letting her know I really didn’t expect her to know all those moves. She beamed even more, walking over for a mom-hug and then looking out to alllllll the girls still waiting to go.
Indecision time ensued, as she weighed sitting down or returning to friends or begging to leave (and abandoning Mary, always an option I say).
Then, with glorious timing, two other girls I’ve worked with at the after-school program that started it all ran over in THEIR leotards, nicer and newer than Cassie’s ( ;_; ), asking if I saw them, wondering why I was there, suddenly seeing Cassie and putting it together, jealousy immediately filling all parties.
I defused the situation by doing nothing, interested to see how this would go. The other girls were around 11, clearly older than Cassie and far higher than her in whatever gym pecking order existed. No words were spoken for a moment, while I watched some girl stagger around trying to do a forward roll out on the floor.
And then! Cassie walked right up to me and made an actual “hmph” sound, something I thought only happened in movies, spun around, and hopped onto my lap, facing away, arms folded.
The other girls looked at her, shocked, backing away and then waving a meek goodbye to me. “I’ll see you later!” I called after them, knowing that I’d now have to deal with their lovely tween attitudes in a couple days. Awesome.
But onto more pressing matters. GET IT?!
With the great battle of Cassie vs. The Other Girls quickly and definitively over, I waited to see if she was going to be upset with me for daring to pay attention to other girls. And yes, I did get a tiiiny bit of attitude, close to the first time.
Her, still facing away, arms still folded: “I invited you here.”
Me: “....I know,”
Her: “...”
Me: “I’m sorry, if I see people I know I’m going to say hi.”
Her: “...”
Me: “You’re the one who gets to sit on my lap, so.”
This was true, she couldn’t really argue it. Yay, victory(?) for Humbert-kun.
So, the actual situation here. She had a leotard on, and I think you know what those look like -- a somewhat shinier one-piece bathing suit. I hadn’t had a girl this undressed in my lap for quite a while. I tried not to focus on it, tried to be a respectable father figure for the sake of all parties (mostly for those watching).
She unfolded her arms after another quick second of mild pouting, then raised them slightly into a position that I guess is hard to describe but essentially meant for me to put my own arms around her, for her arms to settle onto. Gulp. This wasn’t under a blanket on her couch in her house. This was out in public, with a big ol’ audience.
I did it anyway, encircling her side with my hands, first folding them around her stomach before letting them fall to rest on her thighs. Despite her seeming sweatiness, her skin was cold and dry to my touch, goosebumps raised all along her thighs as my hands rested on them. I feared this maybe meant I had gone too far and was about to pull back when she put her own hands on top of mine, generally an indication that all was fine, focusing on watching the gymnastics. I resisted the urge to gently rub her skin, just enjoying the feel against my fingers, settling for remaining still and focusing on trying to get my heart to beat at non-catastrophic-heart-failure levels.
I guess ultimately the lesson I learned that day was that somehow it isn’t all that odd for a young male to have a nine-year-old girl in a leotard sat on his lap. No weird looks, no questioning, and a warm smile from her mother. I’m still trying to understand how this was okay, even as I write it now.
Later in the meet one girl had obvious panties showing through the edge of her leotard and Cassie laughed a little too loud, whispering to me “if they can see your panties that’s really bad for your score”. Not that I knew what that meant, exactly, but no matter. I hadn’t heard her say the word panties before, was unaware that lolis even said that (“underwear”, am i rite?).
She got some participation award or maybe she won, Mary did the same, who knows how those things work. I treated them to ice cream, the appropriate reward for being physically active according to Michelle Obama,
That was essentially it for that day at gymnastics. And now I am writing live so things are going to get pretty goddamn slow, sorry, didn’t get the head start I had wanted. One more “story” and then that’s it for this part.
This probably didn’t happen the next overnight babysitting job I had, but it was pretty close. You’ll remember the first time I watched the girls overnight Cassie had initiated now-traditional lap-sitting, and requested I lie next to her while she fell asleep. That was one major contributor to the emotions I began to develop, along with all else written about and perhaps a few things kept to myself.
So their mother was headed out of town for something related to an advocacy group she was becoming involved in, and asked if I could watch the girls for the entire weekend rather than just one night. Obviously the answer was yes, this would give me even more chance to pretend I was a dad with kids and not a single loser whose idea of fun a year ago was getting a new kind of eggo.
I packed up my overnight bag, yaaaayyyyy, and arrived at their home two or three weeks early and sat in my car waiting for the time to pass. More seriously, once I arrived the girls were all over me, certain this weekend would be the neverending party having me around always was (haha jk).
The girls knew I was coming over and I had promised to make ANYTHING they requested, and the only cookbook in the house had been dissected a few thousand times prior to my arrival. Once mom was sent packing I asked what they had decided on, and once that fight was over, we headed to the supermarket.
Quick reality check, food shopping with three little girls is a bit much. Just Cassie would likely have been a joy, but all three was just a constant plea for twizzlers despite the fact that we were only there to get ham and au gratin potatoes and other hella boring things.
But the annoyance factor is balanced out by people smiling fondly at us, thinking me the best older brother or really young father in the world. Except the store manager, acutely aware of what happened to their father, tearing up when she saw us. Fortunately only I saw that little faux pas.
Headed back home, cooked together, burned the shit out of Olivia’s leg by mistake but really it was her fault for being a teenager I say.
Oh, there’s another thing I keep neglecting, Olivia’s development of breasts was a huge point of contention, with her bringing them up/showing them off/announcing their existence purely to piss off her sisters and maybe somehow make me care (lol, joke was on her). But anyway.
Make food, eat food, watch some new rented movie, hold Cassie tight on my lap throughout, play whatever new confusing card game they had just learned, sent them to bed. Wait, Humbert-kun, why are you skipping through time so quickly! That sounds like good times! Don’t worry, the better times are on the way and also my computer is hot as fuuuuck.
In the time that has passed since the last overnight I wrote about, I was upgraded from couch to my own cot. Woohoo! Movin’ on up! So I’m lying on my cot dozing off, trying to ignore the fact that I had yet to commit an act of self-pleasure that particular day, hoping I could make it through the night without it, knowing that I was obviously in a hopeless endeavor, dreaming about Cassie, wondering if she was asleep, hoping she’d invite me to lie next to her again tomorrow etc.
And then.
And then.
A knock on the door. A tiny, barely-there, just-louder-than-a-mouse-walking knock. More a tap, really. A nudge. On the door. My door.
I decided after freaking out and tucking the ol’ 9000 bone that I had imagined it, rolling over to succumb to slumber/more fantasizing when THERE IT WAS AGAIN.
“Blurghlkmmph come in.” I muttered, attempting to sound asleep, ready to send whichever girl it was back to bed, knowing absolutely NOTHING good could possibly come of this situation. But still, at the same time.
The door creeaaaaaked open, revealing...purple pajamas. Cassie. Why was she. What was she. I sat up in a heartbeat, obviously fully awake, then noting the tears on her face. Suddenly remembering myself just a little, I reached down to pull a t-shirt on, deciding I’d rather not give her that scarring image for too long.
“What’s wrong, sweetie? Are you hurt?” I crawled over to the edge of the cot looking MEGA-awkward, due to tent status, beckoning her over.
She did the incredibly dramatic yet genuine weeping collapse of the overwhelmed child, slumping down next to the cot after a few steps.
“Cassie. What’s wrong?”
She choked out something about being scared, and I sighed, reaching down, lifting her up by her armpits, sliding back and setting her down next to me. Cassie rolled onto her side immediately, somehow fitting onto the cot with me there as well, her head angled up on my side, inching her body close to my leg.
“Cassie.”
I knew I couldn’t handle this. I knew I did not have this in me. This was one step too far, and I was honestly afraid. She didn’t respond to her name, despite her eyes obviously cracked open.
“Go to your own bed, Cassie. I’ll walk with you.”
Now she shook her head, burrowing down a little, letting her head shift to lie flat next to me.
Oh my moot, she really expected me to let her stay here.
This was probably the first time Uncle Anon first popped into my mind. I remember when he started sleeping in the same bed as his niece, how dumb and unbelievable it was. Looks like I judged an iota too quickly.
“Cassie, you really need to go.”
I realized I was sounding a little insistent, maybe too much so, maybe it’d make her upset. Yes, those thoughts legitimately went through my head. I’M SORRY ANONS/MYSELF, I am only a man, I have my limits.
She stayed still now, pretending to be asleep, not even expanding on why she had been crying. Had she even been really crying? Fortunately the raging pants monster had died down purely from my nervousness at the situation. I thought about it critically for a moment. She was nine. Her mother wouldn’t be back the next day. She could have nightmares, maybe really bad ones, maybe she needed me. Maybe I was scared to carry her back upstairs. Maybe she screamed when I tried. Maybe...maybe...
Yup, justification time already. Rejection to justification in minutes, watching her curled up there, this time HER in MY bed. Sure, it had been months since I had been in hers, but this moment was just as electric, just as overwhelming to me.
The mental wrestling continued. I fought myself for as long as I could, and in the end I won. Meaning I lay down.
Her head was at my shoulder as I pulled up the sheet, resting it right below her chin, not covering nearly enough of me. I was still scared, worried this was a test I was failing, that Olivia would perhaps burst through the door in a moment. Or, even worse, that I’d have a “special dream” and end up in prison.
I couldn’t close my eyes and sleep. That wasn’t an option. I lay there and looked down at her, just far enough away to keep physical contact from happening. She was so angelic, so cherubic, reminding me of every reason I’d ever thought of her. If the sexualization of innocence is a real phenomenon, she is its creator. There couldn’t be another.
Did minutes pass? Did hours? I memorized every millimeter of her, of what I could see, preserving this memory for eons. Burning it into my head. Just writing it now, I can see her there, lying beside me. Asleep? I can’t really be sure.
I see you screaming at your computer screen, but unfortunately past Humbert-kun is beyond the reach of your advice and/or demands. I kind of wish I could get to him too. But he is a shy, timid creature who is set in his ways.
I did dare to reach a hand out, to touch her cheek again, very gently, forgetting that quickly how recently she’d been awake. A quick brush. The tracks of recent tears still moist on her cheeks, meaning at least part of her reasoning (my reasoning) was accurate. I knew I couldn’t lie like this, facing her, and survive the night.
Rolling onto my back I tried to breathe. And I looked at her. Even a quick tuck wasn’t enough to distract my personal pyramid of Giza (yes, I realize that I’m running out of erection jokes, I’m as sick of them as you are).
I scooted down the bed a little bit. Got her head on level with my arm. She lay on her right side, facing me, and I very slowly put my arm around her, pulling her just a tad closer.
And I held her like that. I held her tiny body close to my own, reminding me of my own wasted youth for a split second, her beauty for a long moment, my necessity of my self-control for an age, and the perfection of what was between us for the rest of the night.
I don’t really think I slept. I didn’t want to miss a second. Not one second.
I was sharing my bed with someone I...loved. Someone I actually loved. I thought I had done it before, but those classmates were classless, disgusting, the lowest common denominator when compared to what I had with me right now.
Only one question dominated my head, in the end: Is this what love feels like?
Ok, I'm all done
NEXT TIME ON GAME GRUMPS I quote: "The morning after. Things get complicated."
When we last left you, Cassie was curled up by my side in my bed, after entering my room upset about something. I was wrestling with an emotion I was having difficult defining. Love? Something else?
I remember lying there with my arm around Cassie still, as if she was here with me right this moment. I only wish that she really was. Her little body pressed close up to mine, emphasizing the size difference between us. Her heavy breaths causing her entire torso to feel like it was expanding against my side, making just tiny little noises despite the seeming vast quantities of air being taken in. Cassie’s body was still all straight lines and flat surfaces, no development, still the little girl I had once just barely known. Now sharing my bed, something beyond even my wildest expectations from our time together. And it was happening.
My arm around her. Hand gently rubbing against her back while her head pressed firmly into my armpit, adjusting so her head eventually rested on my shoulder, breaths washing across my chest. Moving her hands upwards, she had them clasped in front of her chest, blocking off that contact, seeming comfortable, one foot nudging over my leg, about as entwined as I could ever see us getting. I wondered what would happen if someone saw us. Was this crossing the line yet? This had yet to reach beyond the lines of what any father would do, right? If you ignored the beast inside my head, thus far subdued, I was well within my limits. Wasn’t I? These questions were starting to come fast and furious, and soon it was going to be time to face them head-on and make some tough decisions.
The only reason I know I slept for even a moment that night was that Cassie ended up waking me up. In the rose-colored glasses I use to examine my past, I see her sitting up over me while my eyes flutter open, bright rays of sunlight shooting from behind her head, outlining her mussed hair, face darkened as I squint to recover my vision. In even more rose-colored glasses, this would be our Enchanted Hunter. Or would that even be rose-colored? Did I want to experience The Enchanted Hunter with Cassie? Did I want to risk the fate of the last couple to enter that place? Heartbreak, prison, death.
Needless to say none of the above happened in reality, and the mildly very specific literary reference in the latter part likely lost some of you. But no matter. She poked my side as many times as necessary, I sat up quite quickly, checking for my ol’ morning friend as well as frantically trying to recall what, exactly, had transpired the previous night. Dreams have such a pesky habit of intruding upon reality at times, and I believe my dreams may have involved acts which were beyond that which could be termed in any way acceptable. Judging purely by Cassie’s expression and the state of dress we were in, I decided that I had dreamed anything beyond my arm around her. This was starting to become troubling. Yes, I know, this is the part where it became troubling rather than all the other times.
Seeing my eyes finally open, Cassie gave me a sleepy grin and put her arms around my neck, pulling herself close to me, her sitting on her knees, me sitting up with my legs straight in front.
I managed a quick “Good morning, sweetie.” Unused to too many affectionate names, Cassie gave a much more delighted smile before responding “Morning, Humbert.” No pleasantries about how I slept or explanations of joining me, merely that quick exchange before she hopped off the bed and stared, waiting for me to follow, me deciding on the quickest route to disguise my legion of boners as a non-threatening sock puppet. Failing at this, I settled for an incredibly obvious stand-up-and-stoop-and-shoo-her-out move that resembled something I’d assume a 96-year-old grandfather with crippling arthritis would have done, though he’d have likely been more of a racist.
Clothes changed, headed up stairs, hearing breakfast being started and groaning. Mary was manning the stove, which she knew wasn’t allowed, attempting to start a grease fire. I gave her a curt explanation of all the ways in which her current actions were unacceptable, scraping the debris she had been searing into the drain before switching to the old-fashioned standby of pancakes with chocolate chips, Humbert-tested and kid-approved. Mary helped and was eating shortly, followed by Olivia, Cassie apparently having decided to get a shower before eating.
Naturally, she called me to the stairs with a screeching “Huuuummbeeerrttt” that reverberates still, somewhere north of Belgrade.
While this was not the first time she’d attempted to engage me in conversation while in a towel, this was the first time in a bit and she knew she immediately had me at an advantage. Whether or not she knew that she was standing in a towel on stairs directly above me and what that meant re: my viewpoint was likely lost on her. The jeans I selected for that day were the right choice.
This up-towel viewpoint wasn’t the most, ah, conducive to my attention, so I moved up the stairs partway. Sorry anons. She was adorable as usual -- there’s something about a girl in a towel, I love how their wet hair is plastered hard against their skulls, almost like a helmet, skin even more shining and lustrous than it normally is, a feat accomplished by basically just standing in water. And the towel tied firmly across a non-existent chest, ironically hiding something which is not even there. Towel not even reaching her knees, still using the ‘little-girl’ towel she’d had for ages. Anyway, what I’m trying to get across here is it is a good look.
I’m pretty sure she just wanted to find out what I was making to see how fast she should get dressed. Or maybe she wanted to show off. But it only continued when I said chocolate chip pancakes while she ran to her room and shouted ‘don’t look’. Guess what I did.
I wouldn’t say I was disobeying her per se. I mean, why shout don’t look. It is a guaranteed recipe to make me look. I AM JUST A MAN, my beloved anons. I do my best.
So I looked.
Dropped towel, duh. But I did not expect the coquettish look over her shoulder, waiting for me to look. The gorgeous tan lines striped across her back? Expected that, had seen it before. The miniature butt, practically non-existent, just as accenting to her tanline. Expected that as well, though seeing it wasn’t exactly an everyday experience.
But the look, anon. The look.
Quick eye contact. Edge of her lips flicked upwards into a half smile for a split second. Eyes saying something. Something unidentifiable. Looking for approval? Likely. Seeing what’d happen? More than likely. Wanting some sort of positive confirmation? Can’t really say.
I couldn’t find words. I turned away as the door closed. Sprinting downstairs to continue making breakfast, I used my Green Mile to flip the pancakes, as it was in the way (GET IT!?!?!!?).
Cassie came downstairs not much later and we had breakfast. There was no awkwardness, no real boundary-pushing beyond what had happened moments before. The euphoria of family breakfast had yet to wear off, thank goodness, and I basked in the attention of all three girls while we ate, though it only lasted for a few scant moments as Olivia and Mary headed off to whatever activities they had that day.
Pausing there. A complete Norman Rockwell moment. If Norman Rockwell painted moments involving three fatherless children, accompanied by a man who is not their father, eating an extremely unhealthy breakfast and generally trying to outdo one another with recollections of the school week and/or homework load they had waiting for them. I am fairly certain that was a Saturday Evening Post cover towards the end of Rockwell’s career, a print I’m going to have to hunt down at some point.
Remember, I was watching them for the entire weekend. This was night one. Things were getting a little bit out of control, which I realized every time I had more than a split second to reflect.
What to do?
We had a great day together. I could write thousands of words detailing our every action for the day. Instead, a few snapshots:
Buying any kind of candy she wanted from a stand near the soccer fields Watching her run the equivalent of six or seven marathons from a sugar high Picking out a recipe to cook together, buying groceries Playing video games together, horrible kid games that I was destroyed at Introducing her to the correct way to play Mario (she literally thought it was only the overworld map, lol wut)
I could get into this life. YOU could get into this sort of life, anon. Or so I’m guessing. Maybe those of you who lack the self-control of a frozen mammoth would struggle.
Only one more incident happened that weekend. But it was the one thing that pushed over a domino for me, setting off a chain reaction, leading towards an inexorable breaking point.
That evening all four of us played a game together before I tucked in Olivia and Mary, saving Cassie for last, a fairly unconscious decision I used to ‘reward’ myself. Just time with her was all I needed at that point in time. The game was nothing special, Olivia stomped everyone making Mary and Cassie both fairly upset, with Cassie settling into a red-faced funk and Mary morphing into Mothra for a few moments before I subdued her with a bright light.
Waved to Olivia from her door, told her to go to sleep, said I’d see her in the morning. Pulled Mary’s sheets up to her chin, gave her forehead a little pat, wished her sweet dreams.
And then walked to Cassie’s room, remembering what I’d seen standing in that doorway earlier in the day. I knew the sleeping-together activity had to be nipped in the bud to prevent it becoming a regular occurrence, no matter how much I wanted it to happen it was outside of what she needed, and decided to briefly address it.
When I stepped over the threshold, Cassie immediately sat up with a smile and patted her bed for me to sit next to her. Usually this would be before asking me to read a chapter of her book to her or something, but she had no book and I wondered if she had planned on having a ‘talk’ with me as well.
Deciding to speak first, I opened with: “Going to make it through the night in your own bed tonight?” She made a face, and I gave her a little laugh. “It’s okay. Just making sure.”
Unfortunately even just ‘making sure’ seemed to have crushed whatever she had been harboring when beckoning me in. I can tell when a child is stonewalling me, after years of working with them, and Cassie was a master of it. Practically seeing the steel shutters drop over her eyes, I sighed and stood up. “It’s alright, Cassie.”
...I can’t lie, anons, I cannot recall my exact choice of words in that moment. Something about how sleeping together wasn’t something we could do all the time. That she needed to be used to sleeping on her own. Stupid stuff I should have realized would be far more appropriate to share with a six-year-old. Past Humbert! Shut up and pick up on the signals! You’re an idiot!
Her face was clearly masking a bit of sadness, I did manage to notice that. Deciding seeing her smile before I went to sleep was more important than enforcing this new rule (that neither of us wanted), I pulled up her sheets and wrapped them tightly around her, slightly under her body, a move she always loved. Her head and arms protruded, and while she still looked sad, she at least appreciated this small gesture as I rarely did it (another type of touch I was deciding on the appropriateness of).
And then I leaned over to give her a customary head pat and wishing of sweet dreams when... My mind said fuck it, and my head moved downwards towards hers.
We both saw it coming. I was terrified as I saw a boundary being crossed, deflecting what my id was absolutely screaming for, or at least doing my very best. Her sadness evaporated into something resembling the look she had given me earlier, after asking me to ‘not look’. An expression I still didn’t have words to describe.
The world started to move in slow motion. This was happening. It was happening right then and there.
I couldn’t let it happen.
I moved my head to the side, I desperately tried to stop entirely.
My lips brushed against her cheek, just missing the corner of her mouth. Her skin so soft and yielding. Her aroma so distinct. Her body frozen as I first made contact, but then --
-- I felt her respond. As my lips brushed away from her cheek, as I started to pull back, in the millisecond (max) she had, Cassie’s lips pushed up against my own, barely touching the corner of my mouth before sliding to land on my cheek.
We both pulled back. Or, rather, I leaped across the room away from her, diving out the window. Outside I was confronted by Cassie, who began screaming that I had raped her, drawing the neighbor’s attention. At that moment my phone rang, it turned out that despite this entire situation only causing one little fight my mom got scared and she said you’re movi-
Just kidding, can you even imagine?
Hopefully I didn’t just lose all my readers (there are, like, three of you), but I felt like I had to follow in the grand tradition of any story ever written on here. Please forgive me.
Back to reality.
She pushed her head up to kiss me back, or so it seemed, her tiny little lips smashed against my cheek for just a moment. I can remember how they felt. Unlike plenty of other kisses, this was one that I already knew would stick with me, despite being by far the most chaste. She kissed me back.
I jerked my head back and looked down at her. She smiled up at me, the previous expression completely wiped from her face. An angelic “goodnight” slipped from her lips, lips that had just touched me, lips that I had almost touched.
Stammering out “g-g-g-g-goodnight”, I fled the room to my own, wondering what exactly I had done. Had the line finally been crossed?
That night I made the decision. The decision I knew had been coming this entire time. The decision I knew the right answer to, despite knowing the answer I wanted to give.
It had gone too far. It continued to move too fast.
I couldn’t do it any more.
[We’ve now caught up to the point where I am writing live, so don’t think that the sudden slowdown is related to me giving up on our tale. I have perhaps another eight hundred or so words in me tonight.]
I am well aware that if my poorly-timed joke up above didn’t lose you, the turn our story now takes just might. But give me time, anons, give your lowly Humbert-kun time to sort his own head out.
Cassie wanted a father. I was getting confused, I was picking up the wrong signals, I was creating something from nothing. I had to get away from the situation, away from her. I had to break it off. It had to end.
I took action, anons.
I am not proud of myself.
Suddenly removing myself from their lives would not be the right move. That would devastate all of them, and I could not live with that on my conscience. So I decided the first move would be to find a suitable partner of an appropriate age, one I could introduce around and use to relieve some of my pent-up frustrations. Easy, right?
Oh anons, hold my hand while I walk this shameful road.
A previous messy breakup had left me with an ex who would still try and stay in touch with me. She had just wanted ‘time’, and I said if she wanted time we might as well just end it so she could be as free as she wanted. NICE, TOTAL ALPHA. This resulted in us both being very upset, though really it was primarily on me. She was still around, she had told me she had had enough time and wanted to give it another shot. That was a few months previous. I decided to follow up on it.
Yes, I had a girlfriend within two weeks of making the decision. This girl does not belong in my story, I wish I had not brought her into this story, I would love to erase her from it entirely. But I want to tell you the ugly truth, as I said in the opener.
Why didn’t I think it through? Why didn’t I think through what this would do to my poor, sweet Cassie? What made me do it, anon? What?
It hurts me to bring up these memories. We’d remained in the golden age for so long, our first time together, all the firsts we shared. Well, mostly. Now we have to walk down into a more treacherous time.
I brought my girlfriend to meet the girls. This had to be done. They knew I had been hanging out with someone lately, that there was someone in my life who wasn’t them. They had not had to share me. More specifically, more heart-rendingly, Cassie had not had to share me in so long. She had had all of me for so long. And now there was a mysterious person between us.
I brought her to meet them.
You know how the popular mean girls “freeze people out”? My girlfriend got frozen out. The girls refused to speak to her. Even their mother was only polite, no more, though she told me she was glad I’d found someone to make me happy. She shared stories about her deceased husband. It was...cathartic for her, perhaps? But it was not cathartic for me. It was breaking me. Having someone sit next to me at dinner, someone I cared about so much less than the girl sitting across from me. But I had to do it. I had to.
Except.
It wasn’t the right thing. I know that.
Unfortunately this valley is where I’ll be leaving you tonight. And it gets a little deeper before I’ll be able to let you go.
The awkward dinner was so horrible I dare not recount it in any more detail. It was horrid. I was horrid to hoist it upon them. The girlfriend didn’t understand why I raved about this fantastic family when they clearly weren’t all that special.
Yes, she said that. Not in those exact words, but that was the meaning behind them. Or the meaning I bestowed. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t. But I had to.
Then I visited the girls without the girlfriend with me. We were in a public place, yes we do interact outside the walls of their home. The girls ran around on playground equipment while I sat and talked with their mother. Eventually I decided to get up and play with them a little, ending up on the swings next to Cassie. She went from playful to serious in a heartbeat, face immediately growing hard and displaying emotion beyond her years.
“Do you still have that girlfriend?”
“...yes.”
“Why?”
I wrestled with the ‘why’ for quite a while, too long as it turned out, Cassie hopping off her swing and walking to the edge of the playing area, taking a seat facing away from me. I took a guess as to what to expect as I got off my own swing and walked towards her, searching for the right words.
But she wasn’t crying. Ugh, Cassie, why must you always be more than I expect.
I kid with the ‘ugh’, that girls ability to exceed expectations was one of the first things that made me fall for her in the first place.
She was looking across the field, expression as solid as a rock. No smile, no tears, just looking. I sat down next to her.
I made the decision. I was done. It was over. But I couldn’t not put my arm around her, which I did.
And she shrugged it off. SHE SHRUGGED MY ARM OFF. I immediately started cursing the tears that came unbidden, my own emotions less under control than a goddamn nine-year-old’s. The bullies were right all along! I was a little girl! Seriously, though. My girlfriend didn’t stir up that kind of emotion. She was just a prop. A prop to hide from the emotion.
Was I just scared? What was I scared of?
I tried to crawl out of my own ass to address the stoic girl next to me.
“I’m sorry, Cassie.”
Did she know what I was apologizing for? Did she see through the ruse? ...really, there’s no way. No way she could have known. Right? Right.
She continued to look across the field next to the playground. Her face remained impassive. She didn’t turn to look at me. I tried to find the words again, but found myself at a loss. What had I done?
I wasn’t finished. I couldn’t be. This girl meant more to me than...anything.
Why had I been cursed with---
And again diving into myself, so inward-focused, so egocentric, I likely missed another chance.
Finally she spoke.
“I’d like to sit by myself for a little while, please, Humbert.”
Hello my dear readers, new and old alike. I hope your morning has been wonderful thus far. Some time has passed since I last sat down to write one of these, and I feel strangely comfortable again recounting to the faceless masses (by masses I mean the three people interested in what I have to say). No real need for announcements this time, we should be looking at a fairly straightforward if somewhat short entry this time around.
It is likely that part seven will be the final entry, but let’s wait until that time comes. I’m writing this ahead of time, but will likely yet again ‘catch up’ as I am posting and thus will slow down. Or maybe I’ll pump out all I have to say in the thirty minutes I’ve given myself prior to our start time.
As always, I will be around to chat after this part ends. While every question has likely been asked before, I’m open to answer them again. Don’t worry if you’re frantically searching for parts one through five, as I am certain links will appear at some point.
Alright enough boring announcements, let’s get to the good shit, the only reason anyone pays attention to me (lulz, totally accurate, hard to accept, oh god now I’m crying). And that reason is, duh, Cassie, the lovely loli for whom our tale is named.
Following an almost disastrous encounter with Cassie, one where I feared hurting her or losing control over what my id was screaming for, I had begun dating a girl, and brought her around to meet Cassie. This did not go well, oddly, and I was beginning to have doubts that I had made the right choice.
When I left you last, I was at the playground with Cassie. She had spoken to me briefly, I had tried to explain that, yes, I was still with my girlfriend. She had seemed upset, though not moved to tears, and when I tried to sit and talk with her more she said those words that are seared into my heart -- “I’d like to sit by myself for a little while please, Humbert.”
Simple words, but forming a white-hot knife that immediately ruined me and my emotional stability. I am not sure what I did initially. I probably stared, tears may have risen a little. Self-awareness kicked in, fortunately, and I stood and staggered back away from her, turning and striding towards her mother, trying to hide what had just happened.
I am about as hard to read as the magic school bus, and thus her mother could immediately see I was upset. She gave me a small, sad smile when I sat down next to her, having seen my sit down and quickly stand up after something was said by Cassie, seeming to be more aware of the situation than I guessed she was.
“She doesn’t want you to sit with her?” I shook my head, not quite willing to speak, afraid my voice would waver and give away how upset I was. Argh, this girl. She actually made me genuinely upset, something that had been hard for anyone to do following the death of my father. I was a hardened man, I was able to overcome situations like this. Or I supposedly was.
Cassie had smashed that theory, and I was almost back to square one.
Her mother continued hesitantly, aware that we were bringing up a topic that had gone unspoken between us for a long time. No, not THAT topic. That accusation...I was sure I’d be hearing it soon, but this wasn’t the day. Instead, her mother talked about how much I meant to them. To all of them. How I was a part of their lives now, a part of their hearts.
I started to pick up on the cues she was dropping. Our age gap was massive, this wasn’t a traditional or expected thing. She spoke in generalities, and while I knew who she was referencing, the little girl sitting yards away, her back to me, staring at the field...she was the one I saw in my mind.
“...so important to us...” “...someone we could all rely on...” “...it was so special...”
The past tense was what was really, really getting to me.
“The girls love you, Humbert. We all love you.”
This was almost as bad as being asked not to sit next to Cassie. But I sat, I took it, I deserved it.
I tried to keep my breathing even. I tried not to cry. I tried to look like an adult talking to another adult. I tried not to let myself wonder if Cassie would ever sit on my lap again. I tried not to even consider...that it was over.
But wait, says the reader, this is what you wanted. You wanted to separate yourself from her. You couldn’t trust yourself with her. You did it for both of us.
That’s true.
But when it began happening, when it was real, when I had to look her in the face and see the pain I had so heedlessly caused...that’s the shit that changes you, my dear reader. It can take any opinion and turn it around.
After I navel-gazed for another couple years, I turned to look at Cassie’s mother. She seemed to almost be out of words.
“We want you to be happy. I hope you are happy with [girlfriend, who I will call Ursula]. But...this... I think you know what I’m saying, Humbert.”
I did know.
Don’t worry, reader. We’re almost through the hard part. You’ll be back with Cassie soon, as will your faithful Humbert, but first we must walk through the trials and tribulations of the relationship. Have I apologized already? I think so. I’m sorry.
Anyway, I did know what she was saying. The girls were soon done playing, loudly announced by Olivia, none of the girls coming over to me as they prepared to leave. I gave their mother a long hug before getting in my own car, swiftly driving to my apartment, crashing through the door, collapsing on my couch. I lay there, unmoving, for forty days and forty nights. Roughly.
When I was done NOT CRYING, BECAUSE WHO WOULD DO THAT, HAHA FUCK YEA BRO, I realized I had come to another crossroads. A crossroads where I could get back on the road I had been on before. I could go back to my previous life. Be back with Cassie, repair the relationship, promise to not pull this shit again... Or I could continue to date this girl, break up after she discovered my multitude of emotional handicaps, die alone in a trailer and be eaten by a raccoon.
Which path, dear reader? Which path?
I’ve managed to glaze over much of my deepest emotional struggle. I’m two gins into the evening, though, working on my third as I continue to write this. Could this be the first time you see truly unfiltered Humbert-kun? ...I doubt it, but know that I’m trying at least a little.
For moot’s sake, could this entry be less boner-inducing? I apologize, person-who-reads-only-to-fap. Though if you’re turned on by emotional distress, this is probably like nirvana.
Sorry, getting my head stuck up my ass again. Let’s get back to the nitty-gritty.
Do you think I’d still be writing this if I chose path two? The more commonly tread path, the safer, the less exciting? I suppose I could be if this was a massive joke but I don’t invest hours of my life into jokes but that’s a good idea so I’ll file that one away for later.
Let me say it straight: I didn’t see how I could live without her. Yup, she had taken over my life. Her rejection stung more than any breakup, more than I thought possible. Cassie was sick of my antics, and she was forcing my hand in this choice.
I chose Cassie, anon.
Surprised, right?
Unfortunately life has no ctrl-z, no ability to jump backwards to the point where you made a huge fucking mistake (unless you live in this year’s hottest movie LOOPER, starring Bruce Willis and I think Bart Simpson, “Seven days to die hard in the looper matrix, will he deep impact his avatar? IN THEATERS NOW”).
Obviously I make these jokes to try and avoid having to detail the next few weeks. They were shit, readers. Complete and utter shit. Because I had to undo, and that is so much easier said than done that that cliche doesn’t begin to cover it. I broke up with Ursula (lulz) and she was obviously not-too-happy about being obviously used (more on that later, maybe). My family was informed that she was gone, and they lost their minds, thinking I was going to return to Cassie’s family and ruin my future. Which was accurate, except the latter part. And during that time period, no contact with Cassie at all. Nothing.
The longest I’d gone without seeing her in the previous year was two weeks. The longest I’d gone without speaking to her was perhaps five days when she was on vacation, but insisted on calling me anyway. As the days slipped into weeks, I felt tortured.
Finally things were stable again. My life looked almost the way it had before I even met Cassie. I was single, living alone, going through the motions of a mesmerizingly dull life. LIKE YOU, READER, HAHA JK OR MAYBE NOT.
I’m sorry, reader, insulting you in the middle of the most Cassie-free chapter was not a nice move. I love you still, and hope you are fond of me in return.
Reading the previous few pages with nary an appearance by our favorite loli gives you a glimpse into my life without her. Finally, I had had enough. Due to indirect communication, ah the small town grapevine, I heard enough about Cassie’s life and I knew her mother was aware of my newly-single status.
What was the straw? What made me decide I had punished myself long enough? Obviously, seeing my idol, the object of my adulation, my muse, the utterly delicious namesake of our tale.
I was walking out of a sandwich store and she walked in. What a big moment, wow, better take a seat!
Excuse my sarcasm, but everything at that point was such a huge portent that looking back I have a hard time believing myself. But I love melodrama to my core, and this fed that desire. I was eating my sandwich like a disgusting slob, reading the news or pretending to so people would think I was literate, and looked up when the door opened.
I hadn’t seen her in weeks. And she walked in, accompanied by her best friend’s mother, best friend trailing behind with who cares what, honestly, everything but Her was instantly rendered invisible, like if I had a PLAYSTATION 360 CUZ THEY SUUUCK. Cassie didn’t see me at first, and I tried to melt through my chair.
Let’s describe her for a moment, I’ll likely be as verbose and flowery as I usually am.
Our little Cassie soon turns ten. Not really soon, but closer to ten than to nine. She was coming from soccer practice, made clear by flushed cheeks, messy ponytail, and most tellingly the green stains on her delicate knees. Oh and the soccer uniform. While Mary, other sister, had begun to display signs of losing her own Delicious Flat Chest, Cassie continued to stave off the inevitable hormonal tidal wave. Her t-shirt, white, was somewhat on the smaller side and showed off her lack of curves, of bumps, of really anything overly defining. And that’s what was defining, reader. Her purple shorts were the same as she had had since after the “soccer shorts” incident (can you believe how long it has been since then, reader? for me, a long time. for you, a couple weeks. still a while.) Her legs thin and looking somewhat longer, perhaps accentuated by the shorts and her lack of shin protectors at that moment, perhaps because she was beginning to grow. While from this distance that sprinkling of downy hair was invisible, I knew that was there as well.
How to describe her face for you, reader? I can’t, quite honestly. And a picture seems like a bad idea. But just imagine the most beautiful girl you’ve seen, that girl you swept past one day in the supermarket, the loli you noticed while feeding pigeons, the loli who was seated in the plane before you, eagerly anticipating flight. The one girl who you got to glance once, and was burned into your memory. That girl? That’s Cassie. The girl you saw and is with you forever.
She saw me and her eyes lit up with happiness, or so it seemed from a short distance, but there was no run-and-hug tearful reunion. No massive scene. Not yet, anyway.
First off, I realize the caliber of my writing is slipping a little, I likely overdid the drinking, I apologize for that and won’t drag out the rest of this entry.
Cassie got food and left. Yup, not even a conversation. Sandwich ordered, bag handed over, the little group leaving for...who knows what? That should have been ME driving her to some activity, ME picking her up from soccer, ME buying her a sandwich. Time to make it me once again. Nothing happens without a little bit of work.
So I bit the bullet, tried to look humble, and made the huge move of SENDING A TEXT. I know, reader, I’m so alpha it fucking buuuuurns.
Shortly after the text was sent, dinner was on the calendar. Yup, with the whole family, at their home. My first time seeing all of them in so long. Their mother seemed happy to hear from me, happy to have me ‘back’. Though she had been the one to subtly push my away, she must have know I was essentially coming back, groveling, willing to do anything to reclaim what had once been my life.
That first dinner back was almost like the first night. It was perfect, simple, quiet, etc. Oh wait sorry I got stuck inside my imagination, in reality it was awkward as fuck and miserable. The girls barely spoke to me, Cassie was clearly furious I was there, it seemed she had decided to move on from me shortly after I tried to move on. Now I was back, my plan shattered, hers swiftly coming apart.
I don’t like thinking about Cassie angry, sad, any other negative emotion. And thinking back on this knowing it was all me is even worse. She didn’t deserve what happened, and didn’t deserve to have me treat her life like my plaything, jumping in and out as I pleased.
I would not jump out again. I was in this for the long haul. This was my life now.
I can’t say those realizations came while I choked down a nearly inedible chicken casserole thing (seriously she is a shit cook, how many ways can I say it). It took time. But that night, well, that didn’t take much time at all.
I had been planning on writing far beyond this point, but unfortunately the words are not flowing and the readers are not there tonight. Not that I do this solely for attention, but writing to an empty room gets boring as the minutes roll by. I’m picking a new point to leave you at, just know it wasn’t planned this way, and it makes things look worse than they actually were. Get ready.
That night. The girls went to bed without many words. No hugs, no laps, everything gone to shit since the last time I had been in a situation similar to this. No cute PJ-clad girls running past, giggling, getting me to join their fun. Just a chilly atmosphere that I created, that I was at fault for, that I felt horrible about.
Their mother and I cracked the bottle of wine I had brought over, harkening back to when this was a normal occasion, trying to act like we could ignore what had happened.
You see where this is going, don’t you?
We polished the bottle off pretty quickly. We sat on the same couch. Her feet were in my lap, rubbing them while we talked and watched TV felt very natural. The wine dulling my senses led to me being able to squint while looking at her, picking out Cassie’s features, marveling at the beauty the girl had inherited from her parents, the best features of both and a sprinkling of magic seeming to have constructed her.
I talked previously about our age gap. Cassie’s mother is very much older than me, almost enough to be my own mother. This had kept things friendly between us, nothing more, but that was about to change.
OH FUCK screams the reader, seeing Humbert once again destroying the fragile peace he had been constructing.
I saw it coming from a mile away. Believe it or not I am not a neckbeard who has never known the touch of a woman (as I am a neckbeard that has a fleshlight, of course). She shifted towards me, I leaned towards her, we were kissing before anything could be done about it. She was surprisingly soft yet forceful, clearly desiring this in some way, though whether it was the wine allowing her to express a general need for affection was left to my interpretation.
Kissing an older woman is surprisingly similar to kissing someone of your age. Only she knows much more, or so it seemed. She moved quickly, maneuvering my more clumsy body, our kiss quickly becoming something more.
But you’re not reading this to hear about Humbert’s adventures with the mother of his girl. If you are, well, sorry.
Ironically, I can’t say that was the first night in that house for much of anything outside the Act itself. Not my first overnight. Not my first time sharing a bed with a member of the family. Not my first kiss in that house. But beyond that, sure, the first time.
The Humbert-kun nickname seems particularly fitting as we enter the home stretch of our story together. Yes, I was involved with Cassie’s mother that night. Haha see how I become a gentleman in the 1800s? “Involved”. Anyway, it happened. It wasn’t a cunning scheme on my part to try and get things back together...but that was part of the result. We didn’t talk about it, I scurried away from the bed when I woke up in the morning, back to my normal routine of making breakfast.
The girls, coming downstairs, were mildly surprised to see me still there. Wearing the same clothes. Ack. Olivia knew, Mary likely knew, and while at the time I assumed Cassie was too innocent to be aware...she probably knew too.
But they smiled at me. I was back. Their Humbert was just that -- their very own Humbert once again.
“Good morning, girls.”
I remember their faces as I served them breakfast. I remember the satisfaction on them. The relief. I was back.
Cassie bit into her pancake. We made eye contact.
This was all I wanted. I wasn’t leaving again.
END PART SIX
Humbert-kun is turning into the real Humbert Humbert!
"And I dreamed that when I met him that we would wait until our wedding night to give ourselves to one another, to make the ultimate sacrifice." "A goat?"
_________________ In The Words of A.A. Milne, "Get Out of My Chair Dill-hole!"
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