Sean Harris

Annie_s Dirty Diary


Dear Diary: ‘I was coming home from school today and you won‘t believe what happened to me!

I was raped… Well… Almost! I mean, it was like the same thing, like some big, ugly man had jumped out of the bushes and stuck his dirty cock in my little slittie and just fucked me silly. I mean, it was almost the same thing …’

When Annie left the school grounds, she was already excited. The seat of her bicycle was pulsing hot from the sun and her cunt mini-skirt wasn’t much protection when she got on the bicycle. The hot leather seemed to burn right through the thin nylon of her panties and her fat, little cunt lips were pressed reluctantly against the seat. Hurriedly, she started pedaling, standing up as she pumped the bike into motion. But the damage was already done. The soft, hairless lips of her slit were so agitated that the motion of her thighs as she pedaled the bicycle was enough to create a rising excitement in the little girl.

On her bicycle, Annie was a postcard maker’s delight. Her dark, curly hair blew out behind her exposing a cute face, innocent with a stubby nose and wide brown eyes. Her gay miniskirt, with its tiny primroses on a bright yellow background, was made all the more interesting by the soft swell of immature breasts that just barely poked the material out from the flatness of her chest.

Her buttocks sloped back. A man looking on, the way Hal Green was doing, couldn’t help but think that his hands would cup those soft cheeks almost perfectly with room for his fingers to slide between her slender thighs and stroke her pure little box.

The thought was so strong that Hal Green wanted to turn away when he saw Annie pedaling her bike down the boardwalk along the beach. But he couldn’t. The girl’s miniskirt was so short that as her knees came up, Hal imagined he could see the white crotch of her panties.

He stared, and after a moment, he was sure. He could see the flashes of white between the naked flashes of her soft inner thighs which were tanned an even, golden brown.

It might have stopped there, the girl riding by and the man continuing his stroll, but Annie chose that particular place to stop her bike and try to relieve the frantic itch that had been building up.

It was embarrassing. At least to Annie. The itch had started with the hot bicycle seat and had grown and grown until it seemed to the girl that she was being consumed by the itch in her crotch. She desperately wanted to scratch, but she couldn’t do that. At least, not there on the boardwalk where everyone could see her.

There was only one thing to do, and Annie did it.