The Fan

Little girl shoes

She first contacted me four years ago. Told me she loved me because of what I wrote. Told me she couldn’t stop thinking of me.

Turned out she was far too young. Illegally so. I did the right thing and let her down. I told her not to communicate with me.

Years went by and she periodically tried to reconnect. I pushed her away, though from time to time I would engage for an email or two.

Recently she became of age. Legal, so to speak.

She sent a barrage of emails asking for just one night. Just one meeting.

I thought,”she lives far away, she could come into town for the weekend and I could give in, just for a little while.”

It felt good to be so desired for so long. It felt powerful to be an object of obsession by someone so seemingly innocent in so many ways.

The awkwardness of the meeting was far more than I ever imagined. I wasn’t prepared for the reality of her youth. I wasn’t prepared for the intensity of her emotions. I wasn’t ready for her body, small but seemingly unbreakable.

She begged me to be cruel. She actually got on her knees and pleaded with me to use her body.

When I gave in it was like a monster was unleashed. 48 hours in a hotel room and we did nothing but kiss and fuck and play dark little games.

It took a long time to disconnect. She had a life to go back to that I couldn’t even conceptualize. Parents and school and drama. I finally convinced her to let me go and to move on with her life.

Still, in dreams all I can think of is her. There was something about having her so completely. There was something about the adoration in her eyes and her willingness to give me every part of her body without question. There was the dirtiness of being so much older, older than her father even, and taking her.

It is a battle every day not to send the email that I know could make her drop everything and come to me again. There is a weight in knowing her heart is in the palm of my hand.

And secretly my heart is hers too, but I am old and wise enough or jaded enough to hold back, knowing that it wouldn’t work out and most of all fearing the responsibility of it all.

5 thoughts on “The Fan

  • As someone who has been in a very similar situation, the inflation of ego can be quite heady. I have a playmate that is almost 30 years my junior. She first approached me online when she had just turned the age of consent. I was quite leery of the sort of emotional dangers that existed for both of us, but with caution agreed to meet her.

    She has been a regular playmate of mine for over a year now. This weekend my wife and I will take a road trip with her and her fiance who is older than me. We have all become very good friends, and are looking forward to a very good time.

  • I don’t know where to begin…

    Some 15 years ago, towards the end of my first marriage, I had a similar opportunity with a woman almost this young (early 20s). I was working in Silicon Valley at the time, and was into the BDSM scene there. I met her at a house party and we clicked immediately. Friends later told me it was obvious we were insanely attracted to each other.

    She had just graduated college. New to the scene, but had done her research and was pretty sure what she wanted: an older man, dominant, to introduce her to it.

    I let her down gently and walked away from the opportunity.

    I don’t even remember her name. I DO remember her eyes, her petite body, her scent. her…

    No, I won’t forget her.

  • I have been there – as the teen lusting over a much older and much more experienced man. It was years ago now – almost twenty, but every few months his image and our experiences dance through my mind. Sometimes I look back and smile – other times I get those feelings deep down that I wish I could relive those moments again.

    The long weekends of just fucking. His total control. Twenty years later, I still have those memories. That weekend that you shared will probably stay with her forever.

    I lost connection with him a long while ago. We had our weekends of fun. When I went off to university, we only met up two more times in those four years. Emails were exchanged a few times a year, then once a year, then they stopped. I’m not sure where he is now, what his life is like, even how time has changed him since our debauched weekends.

  • She was 18, and she contacted me. I didn’t learn her age until we’d exchanged a number of emails, and I’d already offered to meet her for lunch. Lunch became coffee, but neither of us drink coffee, so that became the back of my van, parked on a residential street, with my cock in her mouth.

    It’s been four years now. I’ve encouraged her to move along, to find someone her own age. But we still seem to get together every now and then. We have plans to meet for lunch today.

    God, I miss having that van.

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