Mating Dance

Story codes: Mg9, Mg12, Mgg, cons, illust, collab
Summary: A tantrum leads to unexpected fun for two young girls and one admiral. A collaborative work by author Admiral Cartwright and 3D artist lcKilli.

The following work of fiction is written by Admiral Cartwright (a pseudonym) and illustrated by lcKilli (a pseudonym) and presented for entertainment purposes only. Copyright © effective 2019. Distribution of this material or of any predecessor(s) for profit and/or with this information abridged shall constitute a violation of intellectual property law and may result in some serious shit. Unless, of course, you ask the authors first.

Praise for Mating Dance

“Admiral, I’m soooo jealous! This is nice work, for sure.”

“That’s sooo freaking hot and kinda romantic, I love the characters you guys have created.”

“This is a great collaboration! Your talents are yielding a wonderful story with great visual art. Thank you both!”

“I like the collaboration idea, it keeps the momentum going forward too. Great job!”

“I fucking love it! As it sometimes happens with craft beer or experimental music, talents creating something out of mutual interests tends to be quite awesome.”

So, one day, I’m hanging out at Lolicit and a 3D artist nicknamed re-introduces one of his characters, Felicity. I mention that I have a character with the same name. In exchange for allowing me to (slightly) reimagine the character as my waifu, lcKilli challenged me to write an erotic story which, given a logical progression, could only be the events leading to the wedding.

The backstory doesn’t match my original character, but a lot can change in three-plus years so, who knows?

Mating Dance

Mating Dance teaser

Scene One

“Sir? Please stay.”

The admiral stood frozen for a moment, unsure whether he should even acknowledge the girl’s plea, let alone turn back toward the sight that greeted him upon walking into the multi-purpose room at the recruitment centre. Seconds earlier, he saw a young girl sitting naked on a wet, red-stained floor, rocking an even younger girl who appeared to have latched onto a breast and was nursing in the middle of the room. A crisp about-face and attempt to leave had evoked the plea; high-pitched, but calm.

“Please? I need help.”

The Navy officer turned, slowly, not sure what to expect. His eyes had not deceived him; the girl, who looked twelve, maybe thirteen, was sitting in a puddle—one of many—of some reddish liquid, cradling a girl of nine or so, who was literally nursing on the older girl. Finding his voice, the admiral said, “What can I do?”

“There’s clothes in the sink. They’re going to stain if you don’t wash the Kool-Aid out of them. Please?”

The admiral’s eyes quickly found the sink and the soiled garments, then scanned the floor. So, that’s what the liquid was; good, at least it’s not blood. He walked to the sink and began tending to the clothes—dance outfits, it looked like. He vaguely recalled the earlier conversation with his old friend, the Navy recruiter, who mentioned in passing that his daughter was teaching dance classes here.

Mating Dance Scene One

Scene Two

Turning back toward the girls, he got his first good look at the daughter, an incredibly good-looking young woman with short, dark hair, green eyes, and amazing little titties, one of which was currently occupied. The younger girl, a blonde, was also nude; her outfit was in his hands under running cold water, but he was busy staring at the girl-flesh that was bringing his admiral’s mast to life.

“You gonna water the floor?” the older girl asked, grinning, her full lips stretched acro—oh, shit, the water! The admiral turned back to his duty, a knowing smile greeting him each time he turned back toward the girls—when she wasn’t wincing in pain at the girl chewing on a nipple.

Rinsed out and wrung out, the clothes were hung from a portable barre, and the admiral walked carefully toward the girls and sat, trying to conceal the raging hard-on he’d been sporting almost since he’d first walked in. He failed; the blonde noticed, let go of the older girl’s tit, and grabbed a handful of admiral-cock, stroking it firmly through the material of his uniform trousers, clearly familiar with the concept of a hard penis. As if that wasn’t sufficiently shocking, the admiral’s fly was opened moments later, and a hot mouth had engulfed him, taking half his length.

He looked toward the older girl, who was getting an eyeful of a mouthful. “Just gonna let her suck your cock, huh?”

“Well, seems she wants it, why would I argue?” the admiral smirked.

“Felicity,” she said, offering her hand. “Cartwright,” he responded, taking it.

Mating Dance Scene Two

Scene Three

Felicity, the daughter of Cartwright’s old friend the recruiter, lay back on the floor, ignoring the puddles underneath her back. “My boob hurts,” she cooed. “Make it better.”

No preliminaries with these two, Cartwright smirked. He leant back into a puddle all his own and took the girl’s breast gently into his mouth, letting his tongue wash over her inflamed nipple, trying both to cool the pain and offer some pleasure. Felicity’s neck relaxed, her head finding the floor, her hand finding the back of the admiral’s head, and her other hand making its way to her pussy, soaking wet from something that was definitely not Kool-Aid. She came quickly, her back arching and driving a small but well-developed young tit deeper into the admiral’s mouth.

It was too much to take. Cartwright’s orgasm was explosive, flooding the blonde girl’s mouth with spurt after spurt of his hot semen as a star field danced across his retinas in time with his convulsions.

Felicity was still twitching in the afterglow of her own orgasm when the blonde finally let loose of the admiral’s cock, sat up, wiped her mouth, slid over between Felicity’s legs, and took the older girl’s clit between her lips, slurping with a practised intensity that immediately drew Felicity’s hands to the back of the girl’s head as another orgasm slammed into the perfect preteen, whose squeal was somewhere between little girl and professional porn star.

Just what the hell have I gotten myself into? Admiral Cartwright mused, looking down at his still-hard member.

Mating Dance Scene Three

Scene Four

Cartwright wasn’t the only one who noticed his unflagging arousal—the tiny blonde had once again wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, this time to clean off Felicity’s orgasm, and moved almost mechanically to straddle the admiral’s hips, wide enough to keep her knees off the floor as she lined up the tip of Cartwright’s cock with her young flower.

The admiral was just a fraction late in reacting, but it was enough. “Wait! That’s not going to f—”

But it did. All the way to the hilt. “Fit,” he finished, lamely.

The tiny girl with the impossibly forgiving vagina leant forward slightly, her hands finding Cartwright’s still-powerful chest, and began riding as if she’d fucked for years. He didn’t even see Felicity lean over him at first.

“So, you’re just going to let her fuck you, huh?”

Cartwright laughed so loudly that the tiny blonde stopped for a moment, then resumed her bronco ride. Felicity, meantime, finished leaning in and kissed him gently, lovingly, passionately, intensely. Cartwright took one hand off a tiny, bucking hip and placed it on the back of Felicity’s head, their kiss adding to the rush of blood to his midsection, leaving him slightly light-headed, perhaps giddy for the first time in his many years.

Was he falling in love with a 12-year-old girl?

Mating Dance Scene Four

Scene Five

The tiny girl riding admiral-cock for all she was worth had begun keening, as if chasing an orgasm that wouldn’t cum.

“I’m going to stand up,” Cartwright announced to no one in particular, then sat up, held the blonde in place, stood with some effort, cock firmly implanted in immature cunt, and walked to a table, where he lay the girl on her back. The perfect height for a real pounding, the admiral held her legs apart and did exactly that, slamming into the girl’s cervix with each stroke.

Felicity stood to the side for a moment, then knelt down to take one of the younger girl’s tiny breasts into her mouth, a sensuous view quickly blocked by the older girl’s short, dark hair.

An even better view was quickly forthcoming as Felicity moved a hand to the blonde’s pussy, flicking and diddling her tiny clit with a practised expertise that shouldn’t have surprised Cartwright, but did. His cock was sliding effortlessly in and out of the tiny vagina just underneath, and the blonde’s keening had changed to a more guttural moan, her orgasm finally arriving with uncontrolled tremors that Cartwright could feel envelop his own body, climaxing in his second expulsion of semen into this young, yet clearly experienced, cum receptacle.

Mating Dance Scene Five

Scene Six

It took several minutes for the three to catch their breaths, including Felicity, who seemed to have cum again herself, by way of her other hand. When Cartwright’s ‘admiral’ had softened and plopped out of the blonde’s used, but still tiny, pussy, she sat up and reached out to him as if to be let down off off the table. He obliged.

“C’mon, Martina, let’s see if our clothes are dry,” Felicity said, and the girls walked to the barre where their dance outfits had been hanging.

Martina, the admiral mused. Is that the first time I heard her name?

Cartwright quickly came to his senses. “Ladies, don’t get dressed yet,” he said, sounding more like an order than he’d intended.

As the girls turned back to face him, Cartwright took full stock of them for the first time. Martina, the little blonde, didn’t look a day over nine, but she’d already begun to develop: tiny but growing breasts and an ample midsection topping legs that were somewhere between baby fat and a woman’s gams. She looked almost like a smaller version of Felicity.

Ah, Felicity. Cartwright’s eyes truly lingered on the older girl’s form, which she displayed almost proudly, her hands clasped behind her back, her hips thrust slightly forward. Small but perfect breasts, tiny areolae tipped by good-sized nipples, almost red in colour—especially the one Martina had been chewing on when he first walked in on the girls. A slight pudge to her belly, rounded hips, full thighs. Felicity could have been a petite woman—and she was perfect. Perfect. The admiral felt that tugging at his heart again, one he hadn’t felt in years.

But there was unfinished business. “Your clothes will wait. There’s Kool-Aid all over you, all over the floor, all over the table. That will not do. Not at all. Felicity, I need to chat with your dad. You two need to clean up. Understood?”

Felicity marched—actually marched—back toward Cartwright and snapped to attention, her eyes forward, her arms to her sides, her hands cupping unseen rolls of coins; a near-perfect military stance that was not at all mocking. “Yes, SIR!”

Cartwright smiled in spite of himself, performed a quick about-face, and left the girls to their duty.

Mating Dance Scene Six

Scene Seven

“You are not going to believe what I walked in on,” Cartwright began.

Larry Styles leant back into the corridor wall, the same one he’d nearly fallen into after almost colliding with the admiral on his way out of the can. “Uh oh …” he started, smirking slightly.

Cartwright painted the scene in the next room in meticulous detail, from the nude girls, to ‘nursing’ Martina, to the younger girl’s expert fellatio, cunnilingus and unbridled fuck, all of it as if it was expected of her. Felicity’s expert frigging of Martina’s little pussy, finally bringing the girl off.

And, the kiss. That amazing kiss. It was the first time he’d ever met Felicity—she is twelve, that’s right—and they’d kissed like young lovers.

Styles shifted his feet several times during this hot exposition—and Cartwright had no doubt why.

“Larry, I have to ask,” the admiral began. “Martina, clearly, is someone’s fuck toy. Your daughter, clearly, had no problem with that. I know …” He hesitated. “I know we two, you and I, share a … an appreciation, let’s say, for the younger set. How far have you and Felicity gone?”

Styles was indignant, but only slightly. “We’ve never fucked,” he said simply.

“That’s not an answer,” Cartwright smiled.

Styles smiled back. “Okay, Admiral Asshole,” he teased, “Felicity is an incredibly sexual being. Got it from her mother, I’d have to guess. She told me one day that she’d been with several girlfriends, but none of the boys she knew was worthy—that’s how she put it, worthy—of her, and she really wanted to experience her first cock. Yeah, I tried to talk her out of it, but I was really trying to talk myself out of it, I suppose.”

“You failed, then.”

Styles laughed. “Failed completely. I’ve adamantly refused to fuck her—and she later decided against it anyway—but, goddamn if she doesn’t give better head than anyone else I ever knew …” Styles trailed off, the memory of one particularly hot blowjob while still in her school uniform lingering.

“Wow. Better than me, even?”

“Well, okay, anyone else but you. But that’s the funny part: she took that as a challenge.”

Cartwright blinked. “You told her?”

“It slipped out, sorry. But she thinks it’s cool, being completely bisexual herself. I should’a figured.”

“Don’t sweat it, buddy,” Cartwright said, “but I’m not sure how you’re going to react to this next part.”

Styles raised an eyebrow.

“That kiss,” the admiral continued. “It was the sweetest, hottest kiss I’ve ever been given. By anyone. This is going to sound completely stupid, but I think I’m …” He trailed off.

“You think you’re what?”

“I think I’m falling in love with your daughter.”

Mating Dance Scene Seven

Scene Eight – Cumming Soon

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